Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Generation 1.
Warning: "The author of this story suffered severe delusion before writing this chapter...Feel free to run away or throw something at the author's head...I suggest borrowing Ratchet's wrench of doom."
"The 'wrench of doom' line is not my line...I did not create it...Someone else did...I can't remember who..."
"See what I mean? The author has currently lost its head...Please wait twelve hours for its head to be returned to its body."
"I can think perfectly fine, thank you very much! It's not my fault if-Oh, look! Pretty plant!"
*Author gets eaten by monster flytrap...* "Thank you and goodnight...Um, morning...Never mind."
Author's note: Surprise continuation! :D It looks as though you'll have to brave my insanity a little longer. I sincerely apologize to everyone. I really did think that I was done...But then this chapter popped into my head. I'll write a chapter with lots of smut later...or a lemon...or a hot interface? -_- What do you call it again? (1:11 am...My brain's not exactly functional...functioning...I'll stop writing now.)
Okay, so First Aid's processor didn't actually crash...It would be more appropriate to say he...almost fainted before sitting down. It was only after he spoke with his gestalt, reluctantly, in minimum detail, about his...first self-interface...that he realized that he had been talking to them through the bond without his mask on and proceeded to march into the med bay and cross his arms before Ratchet. He finally managed to recall that Ratchet had removed his mask before pushing him into the closet...He didn't know how he did it, but he did know that Ratchet failed to return his mask to him.
"Ratchet, where's my mask?"
"What are you-?"
"Where's my mask, Ratchet? I know you have it."
Ratchet smirked. "What would you do if I said I did have it? Would it really be so bad to have other bots look at you every once in a while? I did just say that interfacing was good for your well being."
Did he seriously just suggest...? What the pit are you suggesting? Of course that would be terrible! "I have a gestalt, what do I need to interface with other bots for?" Ratchet stared at him. "What?"
"You do realize that your problem could have solved weeks ago if you just realized that then, right?"
First Aid's face heated up. He was well aware of it because of...What was the reason again? Oh yes...Ratchet had his mask so his face was exposed and bots could actually tell when he blushed! "I knew that," he mumbled. "I just didn't want to bother them..."
"They're your gestalt Aid. They're supposed to help you with problems like that."
"And I'm just supposed to let them do that?"
"Yes," said Hotspot.
"If you just slaggin'-" Blades began.
"-let us once in a while," Groove continued.
"No it wouldn't!" Aid screamed out loud before tightening the grip on his arms as his face grew hotter. "Ratchet, just give me my mask back," he ground out harshly before he saw the look Ratchet was giving him. He looked...Quite frankly, the look on his face could have rivaled Unicron at the moment. "Please," he added gently.
"Aid," said harshly, but gently enough so that Aid knew that he wouldn't hurt him. "Come here."
"But-"
"First Aid."
First Aid gulped before doing what he was told. He felt like a sparkling getting reprimanded...and it wasn't even his fault!
Aid was about to sit next to Ratchet before Ratchet patted his lap. "Not there. Here." First Aid felt as though his optics would shatter again. What...? What? No! No, no, no, no, no! "Something wrong, Aid?"
Yes! First Aid said nothing as he obediately sat on Ratchet's lap. Now he really felt like a sparkling. He froze before squirming slightly when Ratchet put his arms around his waist and lightly traced his hips. "What?" He growled out so that his voice wouldn't waver.
Ratchet touched his lips to First Aid's audio. "Something wrong, Aid?"
First Aid couldn't repress a shiver and continued to squirm away from Ratchet's dancing fingers. "N-no..."
"Good. Now...about your mask...do you really want it back?"
No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes if...other bots besides Ratchet wouldn't see him. No if...he got to have a hot interface with Ratchet. Not again! "Y-y-yes," he grounded out with another shiver. Damn it Ratchet! Stop...Wait...Hey! Stop it! He attempted to choke on a whimper and got a whine low in his throat instead. He attempted to reach out to his gestalt for help and all he got was overpowering amusement on the other end. To the pit with all of them...
"In that case...I have a deal to make with you."
I'd rather make a deal with Unicron..."I assume you have conditions you want me to follow?"
"Just one." Ratchet's fingers finally stopped moving and his mouth moved so that it was still close to his audio, but wasn't touching it. First Aid supressed a sigh of relief. "I'll give you your mask back if you do one simple thing for me."
"What is it?"
"Have an interface with Optimus Prime after asking him for one."
First Aid's processor really did crash this time.