Title: Blades and First Aid II
Rating: K
Summary: When they were younger

First Aid had never spoken...

It had been almost two stellar cycles since the war had ended for them. After the camp had been attacked and they had been freed -by the sparkling they thought to be dead, of all things- Hot Spot had taken his family far away from all the madness of the final orns of the war, pleading for sanctuary and help. The ones that had first brought Blades to them gave it gladly; setting up a humble home for the broken family to escape to, in the safe and normal Iacon.

Groove had hoped things might turn out okay. Even despite Blades being thirsty to dive back into the thick of it all, Hot Spot wanting to come out of retiring and... well...

He focused on their youngest, not knowing what else to do. So young, and raised only in the nightmare that had been their lives for the past, few stellar cycles... Groove hoped, that given his age, First Aid could shed off the horrors they had experienced and would laugh and play like other sparklings his age. But how could he even expect that to happen when the little australian shepherd would not even speak...?

That's what concerned him the most.

The komodor saw as the orns rolled by... and then the weeks... and months... and slowly, some life came back to First Aid's optics. He could even smile again, and the sight of that the first time broke the burdened carrier down into tears. Groove couldn't help it. In that one, fresh smile was all the innocence and love that the world had to offer...

But still no words.

He'd tried. Primus, had he tried. He thought perhaps First Aid had never picked up on the language. He attempted to teach him. He even tried practising out the vowel sounds with his sparkling... Nothing worked. He realized shortly after, that it wasn't a matter of knowing the words -Groove had discovered just how smart the tiny autodog was when he found him reading the newspaper and following along with the stories- no, the cause lay in a psychological issue. Too afraid to take First Aid to a vet and lost at what else to do, Groove had no choice but to accept that his son may never speak at all.

"Don't give up, love," Hot Spot had soothed. The affenspincher was hardly ever home. His new work kept him away long cycles; he even slept at the office most nights. This visit would be the first that Groove had seen his bondmate in a long time, and even more importantly, Blades as well. His wayward son had been in the city and Hot Spot had dragged him back home to see the family.

The komodor pressed into his husband's touch, sighing wearily. "I... I know... but..."

"You... y-you must give it time," the other mech patiently insisted. "W-what happened to us... it... it's not something easily forgotten or healed. If we just... We need to give him more time. First Aid's bright. We've seen that. That can only mean that he'll be talking like the rest of us soon. If we try to force it, we may end up doing more damage than good..."

"I-i know that!," Groove snapped, tears filling his optics, "B-but, but I can't deal with this! We-we're barely holding it together as it is, a-and if-"

The two older mechs had not been paying attention to what was going on around them. They never noticed as little First Aid tip-toed into the room, walking up to the bored Blades who was sitting on the couch's arm, playing with a dagger. Blades, of course, did notice as something gently tugged at his pants' leg. Glancing downwards, the unstable youngling was surprised to see his baby brother staring back at him; no fear, no anger, no... nothing in those optics, but quiet serenity and innocence.

"...yeah?," he asked, uncertainly.

His question interrupted his parents, who turned, staring in a mixture of shock and fear at the little sparkling standing calmly at the killer's pedes. Groove made to step forward, but Hot Spot touched his shoulder plating, stopping him. The komodor opened his mouth next to say something in protest, yet stopped even in that as First Aid slowly smiled up at his brother.

Then, he did something even more amazing...

He reached forward, wrapping his tiny arms around the bull terrier's leg and... "Blades."

He spoke. The australian shepherd, honest-to-primus, spoke!

The entire room was stunned into silence; none of them knowing what to do. But First Aid seemed to know exactly what to do for all of them. He snuggled closer to Blades, smiling and awkwardly opening his mouth, as if attempting to say more, but instead only blushing again; grinning brighter and warmer, repeating Blades' name periodically.

"I... uh... guess he's speaking now...," the youngling interjected nervously, trying not to squirm. He was unnerved by his baby brother's affection, but... he didn't want to be cruel and rip away from it either. No matter how badly it made him uncomfortable.

Groove smiled, tears of joy now filling his optics. "G-go on," he encouraged, trying not to sob, "P-pick him up! Give your little brother a hug back." Hot Spot nodded his agreement alongside his bondmate.

Trying not to scowl, Blades reached down and as gently as he could, lifted First Aid up. The sparkling shuttered his optics in surprise at first, before he smiled widely, almost bouncing as he was set down again in Blades' lap. "Blades!," he chirped.

"Yeah...," the older autodog mumbled back, cheekplates tinging slightly with a blush. "I'm...uh... Blades." He softly poked First Aid in the chestplates. "And you're First Aid."

The little mech beamed, turning and pointing at Groove and Hot Spot each. He said 'mommy' and 'daddy' as he gestured at each, bringing gasps of delight from both of his parents, before he turned his beautiful, unjudging optics to his big brother again. Blades shuttered his optics as a little servo pressed against the sparkling's chestplates, that warm smile having yet to leave his face.

"Blades," First Aid said. He reached out and pressed his servo next on Blades' chestplates, right above his spark, "First Aid."

Before he could even question it, the bull terrier found little arms wrapped as far as they would reach around his chestplates; his baby brother snuggling closer with a little sigh. Blades didn't even have a chance to say anything before First Aid drifted off to recharge entirely. Smiling, Groove came up, resting a servo on the bull terrier's shoulder plating and stroking the smaller mech's ears. "Please say you'll stay?," the komodor asked his son. "Just for a little while... I think it might do First Aid good to have you here."

Glancing up quickly first at his mom, and then his dad, Blades vented softly, turning his gaze finally down to First Aid, recharging peacefully against his chestplates. "...Alright," he agreed with a huff. "It's not like I have anywhere else to be for the moment anyways."

His parents said nothing, only smiling; for once, looking as happy as they all used to be before the war.