Hey! No word for six months and then two updates in two days! That's how I roll! (...apparently) Thank you all for your kind comments! They are always so very appreciated! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.
Switchshade blinked up at Optimus in confusion, his processor taking a moment to catch up with how, exactly, he'd ended up on his backplates on the floor. Initially, a rush of fear overcame him, and he felt his frame tremble slightly as his frame-memory cried out that he would be struck for his fault. When Optimus lifted his servo, Switchshade was proud he managed to avoid flinching or cowering away, willingly holding still to accept a strike. An astroklik later, he realized the Prime was merely offering a servo to assist Switchshade in sitting up, and very hesitantly, he complied. His servo was gripped as gently as a mechling's might be, in servos capable of rending him apart with ease if their owner so desired. Switchshade marveled at Optimus' control, being so powerful and capable of so much damage and yet still possessing the ability to be impossibly gentle.
Once he was seated, his spinning processor began to calm, and he felt a flush of energon rise to his dark gray faceplates. "F-Forgive my clumsiness, my lord- O-Optimus," he amended, lowering his gaze respectfully despite the insolent address. Lord Optimus Prime had made his wishes clear on how he was to be addressed, and Switchshade swore to himself to try to obey in this as in all other things. "I meant n-no disrespect!"
Optimus, against all odds, smiled at Switchshade, and putting away his datapad, rose to his pedes only to offer the young mech a servo once again. Switchshade looked up at the Prime, but seeing only that gentle smile, he once again placed his servo in Optimus', and was lifted to his feet just as effortlessly and gently as before. "There was no harm done, Switchshade, and no need to apologize. Perhaps, in the future, it may be wise to keep an optic on where you are moving? It may be wise to avoid possible injuries that could occur." Despite the admonishment, his tone was gentle, and Switchshade's trembling plating eased as he read no true anger or even annoyance in the Prime's field. The dark mech ducked his helm in a respectful if embarrassed nod, and then quickly retreated back towards Ratchet, who by this time was advancing rapidly on a stammering Cliffjumper, infamous Wrench held high.
As Switchshade watched, Cliffjumper reached out a beseeching servo towards him, pleading, "Switch! Ya gotta help me! The Hatchet's gonna get me!" Feeling his lipplates twitch in a reluctant grin, the dark mech gently touched the furious medic on the arm. "Ratchet, I'm afraid I feel rather tired after the events of the last several days. If you have a moment, could I trouble you to escort me to my berthroom? I wouldn't want to fall and undo all of your hard work at patching me up."
The grumpy old medic snorted, lowering the wrench slightly although he kept it aimed in the vicinity of Cliffjumper's helm, and he waved the dark mech on. "Fine! But!" he turned back towards the red mech who had only just started to relax, foolishly thinking himself safe. "Don't assume this is the end of this 'discussion'! I'll be right back." The expression that crossed Ratchet's faceplates in that moment could not in any way be considered a smile, and Cliffjumper felt his energon draining from his faceplates. "O-Of c-course, Ratch' old buddy! I-oh look! Arcee, Bulk', and 'Bee are back! What timing!"
That said, the red mech rushed over to his conjunx endura and promptly attempted to hide behind her much slighter frame. Arcee, well accustomed to her partner's mischievous tendencies, only smirked and glanced at Ratchet before twisting around to say. "Whatever this is, you probably deserve it."
Ratchet heard Arcee's comment, and the ancient medic grinned, but obligingly offered an arm for Switchshade to lean on while they moved to the dark mech's berthroom. Switchshade did not stumble once, in quite good health despite his earlier comments, and the medic felt another grin making its way onto his faceplates. "For being 'rather tired' and 'worried about falling' you seem remarkably recovered" Ratchet muttered, to which Switchshade offered a matching, if still only slightly hesitant smile.
"In truth, I only sought to protect Cliffjumper from your wrath." Switchshade admitted, but no longer did he fear Ratchet or indeed any of the Autobots to bring physical harm to each other. If nothing else, this had been proved, and while he still feared Lord-Optimus, he knew in his spark if not his frame that even the great Prime would not bring harm to those under his command. His strength was used only to protect. Switchshade knew, too, that Ratchet, likewise, while more than capable of inflicting a great deal of harm to Cliffjumper, would go no further than a glancing blow with his trusty wrench, leaving not even a dent or scratch on the red mecha.
The medic scoffed, but glanced away, reluctant to admit the dark mech was right. Still, he carefully made certain Switchshade was settled on his berth and comfortable, before pulling a moderately sized cube of energon from his subspace and pushing it towards his patient. "Drink all of this, and then recharge as long as you are able. I know you're nearly entirely recovered, but there's no need to push things. The next crisis will hit us soon enough, and I'd rather not see you die… again." To his shame, Ratchet heard his vocalizer break into static at his last few words, and he turned away. For millennia of war, he had seen the darkest side of mech-kind, as a medic on the frontlines he knew what horrors they were capable of, and he had lost dearly loved ones before. Still, seeing Switchshade so still on that med-berth… He had needed to be strong for Optimus, and for all of the Autobots, but his ancient spark had grieved bitterly when he had believed the dark mech offlined so young.
Switchshade, utterly touched by the medic's deep affection, reluctant as he was to show it, gently rested a clawed black servo on Ratchet's white-and-orange arm plating. "I'm so sorry to have worried you, Ratchet. You have become very dear to me, and I… I trust you, and hold great affection for you. It was never my intent to cause you distress."
That said, he leaned towards the medic slightly, and when Ratchet did not pull away or give any indication of displeasure, Switchshade hesitantly wrapped his arms around him, pulling himself closer to the larger mech and tucking his faceplates into Ratchet's neck cabling. Ratchet huffed softly in surprise, but then quickly returned the embrace with a firm hug, rumbling softly in his chassis in reassurance.