Title: Others Who Shared Everything
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: PG-13 for Heavy Petting, and language
Characters: Ratchet, Bluestreak, and ensemble
Summary: Ratchet confronts Bluestreak about potential counterproductive behavior, and ends up having to assist in implementing a solution.
Prompt: Ratchet/Bluestreak: Fighting the Demons
Word Count: 3940 both part
Warning: Language use in the joking tl;dr summary at the end
Continuity: G1
Disclaimer: Transformers is property of Hasbro/Takara
Ratchet cycled air in a sigh. This would be the third time he'd scheduled a meeting with the gunner since their awakening on Earth to discuss his behavior, and it seemed as though he was going to be here for the third time filling out reports instead of speaking to the younger mech as he'd intended. He had warned him. He'd told Bluestreak that this was his last chance before he decided to let Prowl in on the situation, and yet the younger mech still hadn't shown up.
Leaning forward in his seat, the medic rubbed at his chevron. His optics were no longer focused on the datapad as he thought about the Praxian. They'd met regularly since he'd been assigned to the crew that was to be on the Ark. Only the best were selected to go with their Prime. He'd received the medical file from the previous medic that had worked with him, and had utilized Hound, the tracker that had pulled the Praxian survivor from the rubble, as a resource to assist in deciphering the mech's behavior.
He could simply assume that Bluestreak's behavior was potentially derived from his natural temperament. He could just let it continue. He could drop the subject and let the younger mech continue to find false solace in the berths, arms, and for all he knew potentially the sparks of his fellow crewmechs. This wasn't something that was healthy. If Bluestreak had settled for a partner, or even two such as the twins, or frag it, had even slowed to just three regulars he may have even decided to forget the situation.
It really shouldn't have been his business what Bluestreak did in his free time, or otherwise. The medic would almost preferred to forget and plead that he had no clue of the other's actions, but he was inclined to believe that it was a resurgence of one of the personal demons that seemed to plague the gunner. Even calling Bluestreak in for an appointment wasn't to tell him to stop. Seeking comfort was a promising thing, but with how the habit seemed to be shaping these trysts it was obvious they weren't meeting the younger mech's needs and could possibly lead to other problems.
What had gotten back to him was watered down. He'd heard the talk in the rec room, and had seen how it casually changed when the marksmech entered. How his previous lovers would coax him close, and how they, more than others, would tolerate his rampant vocalizer. Ratchet palmed his chevron at the stray question of 'If the younger mech always was that talkative?' It had been suggested he was at least from the conversations, which lent support to the theory that these encounters did nothing productive for the mech.
The hour was up. Out of habit, through it wasn't necessary…especially from the upgrades in technology over time, Ratchet moved his hand from his chevron to his rounded audial on the side of his helm and activated his comlink. First he'd try the gunner just to make sure that the younger mech had in fact intentionally missed the appointment.
It took several moments for the com to be answered, but when it was Bluestreak's voice rattled forth, the gunner profusely apologizing, and explaining, and explaining. Ratchet gently cut in to the explanation. "Bluestreak, I'm still in my office. Please report in next time before I inadvertently decide to com Prowl first."
Ratchet smirked as Bluestreak again apologized, and in something between a plead and a request asked him not to call Prowl before straying to six other topics. If the chatter weren't linked to deeper and darker problems it would have almost been pleasant. The less he avidly responded to it, the faster it became, and the more stressed the vocal undercurrent continued to evolve. If the mech had been in his presence while speaking, he would have non-verbal cues to draw from at least to acknowledge his uncomfortable diagnosis.
It didn't take long for the mech to get to his medbay, looking as though he'd made a quick run through the washrack before actually arriving. The mech appeared cheerful. His doorwings were pegged high and flicked accordingly but seemed a second slow in reaction to stimuli in Ratchet's educated opinion. Water and some suds of cleaning solution still dripped of the Praxian's form. "You could have just told me you were going to stop by the washracks, and taken your time."
"But I was already an hour late. Which I'm still really, really sorry about. Today's been nuts. I was out late for a patrol and then ended up staying out later than I had expected to and didn't get to actually recharge till early this morning, and then I ended up staying in recharge longer than I usually do, and then I had to do a shift on the monitors and had to stay over cause I was late, and I hadn't had a chance to clean up from patrol last night, and well now I'm here. You wouldn't happen to have any cubes around cause I think I may have missed that in all the confusion the morning and I really should say afternoon, again I'm really sorry about that. Please tell me you didn't call Prowl." Bluestreak's speech seemed to just flow without end, prompting the medic to nod where expected till there seemed to be a possible break.
"I did not call Prowl. I should have, but I would like to think you are not deliberately avoiding speaking with me." Ratchet shot the gunner a look to state he knew that was exactly what the other had been doing. The younger mech ducked his helm sheepishly as he received the glare. The CMO's hand gently placed itself between the other's doorwings and applied pressure to direct the mech forward and toward his office. It would be best to discuss this where other crewmembers feared to tread.
Bluestreak hesitantly led the way knowing he was stuck this time. He respected the older mech. The other only wanted what was best for him, what was best for everyone. The gunner had to wonder if anybody ever thought about what was best for the red and white mech. He had automatically started practicing mind numbing rambling about the weather in this part of the nation at this time of year. Not that they had seen many years to compare it to but Earth's weather was so varied in comparison to Cybertron. At least Earth's rain didn't burn them though right?
They entered the office taking their seats as they had before. Ratchet behind the desk, and Bluestreak attempting to but never quite succeeding at making himself comfortable in the chair before the desk. "Do you have any idea what in your behavior might have caught my attention?"
The gunner never liked it when Ratchet asked him to incriminate himself, looking down at his hands he wished for once that like other's had voice time to time that he could just turn off his vocalizer but it never seemed to work especially when he was being asked to engage in conversation. "I don't know. Maybe something to do with my talking, but I've always done that it's not very new. I'm comfortable with how much I talk. Sometimes I think others get annoyed but they know I can't stop. It is just habit now. It keeps my thoughts from straying, even if the topic is something unrelated to the situation. I know it's sometimes inappropriate but I can't help it, but most people still like me so that's alright."
Ratchet held up his hand and the Praxian sat up straighter and quieted making sure to give the other a chance to speak. "Bluestreak, I'm going to get to the point. I might be holed up in the medbay, but that doesn't mean I don't know what's going on outside. I'm going to ask an intrusive question. You don't have to answer. I just ask you to think about your actions, and how you view yourself and perhaps how others will start to view you if you continue." Bluestreak nodded in compliance, and with how easy this appointment was going. "The question I have for you is, How many times, by how many different mechs do you have to be held by to know you are not alone, disliked, or whatever it is you're searching for?"
The younger mech's optics went back to his hands and his red thigh plating. He was quiet and a shiver ran up his spinal struts causing the tips of his wings to quiver. He wanted to respond back. To tell the medic that he was just having fun, that he was young and just liked the act, but as usual Ratchet's diagnosis was correct with a surgeon's precision. "I don't know, Ratchet. I don't even know what I'm supposed to be getting from, from that. I-" He held his hand in front of him. "I feel better for a moment. I don't remember, don't have to." His optics looked to the medic as the other stood.
Ratchet went through the motion of brushing nonexistent dirt from his thigh before walking over to kindly set his hand on the other mech's shoulder. He squeezed the plating in a reassuring way as their optics locked. "I said I didn't need you to answer. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I, as your friend, request that you settle for your sake with a partner or at least narrow your field. You can't find anything if you don't give yourself the chance to." While he spoke Bluestreak's hand had wandered to shyly cover his. "Come on, I'm against causing you more stress. You need to fuel and get recharge, preferably in your own berth."
Letting his hand fall from Ratchet's he shook his helm in reply to the medic's last statement. "Hound is away on mission and it's too quiet in our quarters… I keep coming out of recharge in a start." He slipped out from under the red hand on his shoulder as he stood.
Ratchet nodded familiar with the gunner's complications with recharge; it was one of the reason he'd been roomed with Hound. The caring tracker woke easily and didn't mind rousing his roommate from any ghosts or demons that plagued him in recharge even if it had earned him a dented cheekplate or two. "Take a berth in the medbay then, I'll be around and making noise. I'll have Prowl regenerate the schedule so you can recharge a full rest cycle. I think he's expecting the 'Cons to act up again soon so he'll want you ready for it." The medic's hand went to the door pad and pressed to open the sliding door for them, prompting Bluestreak to go first with a small tip of his helm in the direction.
"Thanks Ratchet, you really don't have to. I mean, I can find places to recharge, but I guess it wouldn't hurt this once. I've recharged here before, just never when I'm not well you know, missing a limb or something." He walked through the door and turned on his heel to continue engaging Ratchet walking backward to do so. "I won't mess anything up while I'm here I promise."
"I wouldn't have offered if I thought you were going to be trouble." The senior officer pointed to a line of empty berths along one of the far walls. "I'd suggest taking one of those, just so you don't get disturbed if someone comes in. Go on and I'll bring the energon over, alright?" He patted the gunner's shoulder before heading over to the cubes he'd fetched that morning for him and the science team. He could always ask Wheeljack to grab a couple more on the mech's way in from running tests on the weapon's field. Bluestreak headed over to the berths indicated with no objection, just more thanks. The gunner really was a good-sparked mech for all he'd been through; Ratchet couldn't deny that.
Second Part to be posted Thursday!