Down Range
"I think that I should be jealous."
"Of?"
"The drone."
Ratchet looked down range at the now smoldering wreckage of the stationary training drone as the molten remains sizzled and popped.
"It does explode rather well." he said, giving it an appraising look as if contemplating it becoming a possible Companion.
Ironhide grumbled and called for the cleaning drone to remove the target and arrange the next set.
"What's the matter, Ironhide? Worried I'll leave you for a replica?"
"Just didn't realize you could shoot like that, s'all." Ironhide added, not falling for the medic's bait and shifting uncomfortably at the thought.
"I can knock out a Lamborghini at forty paces…why would you think I –couldn't- shoot?" smirking despite the apparent discomfort of his partner.
"Hm…Point." the black mech conceded.
"Besides," Ratchet said, reloading the weapon and charging it, "You don't think I've lived with -you- for this long and haven't learned a thing or eight about how to fire a weapon, do you?"
"Heh. Well, when you side with the best…"
"Forty paces, Ironhide."
Ironhide gave a quiet snort and initiated the next phase of the range simulations. Moving targets.
"Fifty paces." Ratchet corrected.
"Mute it and shoot, you old rust bucket." his Companion replied, chuckling.
"I thought you said this would be challenging, 'Hide." Ratchet groused after having shot two of the targets already.
"Oh, it is. It requires absolute concentration."
"Concentration? Ironhide, I could concentrate more on my morning energon than this."
Ratchet's quick yet carefully aimed shot flew wild when Ironhide's hand stroked his aft lightly before smacking it.
"See? Concentration."
"…You cheated." the medic groused, swiping a hand at the now retreating black mech.
"All's fair, Ratch." Ironhide said, voice smug as he stayed far enough out of the medic's grasp in case the other mech attempted further retaliation.
"So you groping me while I have a -loaded weapon- in my hands is your idea of me practicing my 'concentration'?"
"If you don't like that weapon, I know another loaded weapon that would be happy to be in your hands…"
"…you mean you?" Ratchet inquired, eyeing the other mech over his shoulder.
Ironhide gave the Cybertronian equivalent of an eyebrow waggle with a sidelong smirk.
Ratchet found the idea hilarious, his laughter echoing off the range targets.
"'Loaded weapon'…more like over-clocked oil pellet gun."
Ironhide was no longer amused.
"Just…shut up and shoot…"