"Aw, Ratch, let the poor little thing out, wouldja?"
Ratchet paused in his examination of the bud on the top of Wheeljack's head, sighing in exasperation at the mournful sounds coming from the bud on his left forearm. As his own buds had gotten older, fulfilling his medical duties had gotten much trickier with the addition of five sets of energetic, curious little hands. The buds on his legs and shoulder were at least usually out of the way enough to not interfere with anything important, but the buds on his chest and arm were another matter; he'd had to resort to soft, stretchy fabric "mufflers" to keep their hands and arms secure so as to avoid endangering his patients, or the buds themselves.
The bud on his chest didn't seem to mind. As long as it could still see what was going on, it seemed content to beep and wriggle and grab handfuls of the stretchy fabric and try to stuff it in its mouth, but the one on his forearm hated to be confined, and had lately begun to grab the muffler as Ratchet was putting it on and attempt to push it back off, all the while making sad, pitiful weebles and tweeps. Ratchet felt like the worst parent in the universe, but what else could he do? He couldn't manage everything one-handed.
"What am I going to do with you?" The little red-and-white bud twisted around at the sound of his voice to cheep at him hopefully, optics bright over the top of the muffler. Ratchet couldn't help but smile, despite his weariness and frustration. In the last few days all of his buds had developed tiny little red chevron-nubs on their forehelms. They were completely adorable, if he did say so himself.
"There's not really too much damage it could do right now, is there?" Wheeljack suggested, trying to look up at Ratchet without moving his head and thereby moving the bud Ratchet was examining, also muffled, although this one didn't seem to mind for now, thank goodness. Somehow it had managed to grab a piece of pine branch when he'd walked too close to a tree, and then cram it into its mouth where it had gotten thoroughly stuck. Ratchet had gotten the largest piece out, but needed to ascertain if the sap and smaller fragments were going to cause any problems - not an easy prospect on a tiny, squirming budlet, even if it did have its arms restrained. "It's not like there's any open circuitry or anything."
"Hrm." Ratchet looked at the hopeful blue optics again for a moment, before pulling off the muffler. "No grabbing," he said sternly, even though he knew quite well there was no reasoning with budlets at this stage. The bud warbled delightedly at being freed and waved its hands at him, and Rachet shook his head. Oh yeah, that had been a mistake. This was going to take three times as long with all the 'help.'
"Here," he said, picking up one of the unused cleaning swabs he'd laid out on a tray nearby and holding it in front of the bud until it grabbed the end. "You can be the nurse, ok?"
The bud poked itself in the face a few times with the soft swab, and then managed to rotate it around, holding the swab facing outwards with a very determined expression. Ratchet cautiously grasped Wheeljack's bud again to continue the examination. To Ratchet's surprise, his bud didn't flail or wave the swab around; instead, again with an expression of great concentration, it lowered the swab very gently to touch Wheeljack's bud, starting at the attachment end and working its way up and down the little frame, making a sound with each touch.
"Doot. doot. doot."
"What's the little bugger doing?" Wheeljack asked, trying not to crane his neck curiously.
Ratchet laughed. "I think it's pretending to do a medical scan." Buds at this stage weren't supposed to be capable of purposeful actions like this, but it looked like maybe he had an exception. The little bud twisted around to look at him with a questioning beep. "Yes, you're doing very well," he told it, nodding in approval. "Carry on."
The bud cheeped happily and turned back around.
"Doot. doot. doot."
"Looks like you've got an assistant, Ratch," Wheeljack said, laughing.
