positiveenergy | Ratchet and Drift Voice Test

Ratchet and Drift Voice Test

Drift pauses as he reaches the entrance to the medibay. He’s already put this off for too long, and he can just FEEL Ratchet’s disapproval. Still…there’s only so many days he can take with one of his hands not working properly. Not even mentioning that it was on BACKWARDS.

In retrospect, going to one of those second-rate, unnamed clinics was not one of his greatest ideas. Especially not when it was a procedure on one of his hands. All he’d wanted was a break from the constant chastising he got every time he went in for a repair. And using close combat weapons meant a LOT of repairs.

He decides that he may as well go in; he’s going to have to face Ratchet sooner or later to get this mess straightened out. The room is empty when he walks in and he stands in the center for a moment, looking around for any sign of activity. “Hello…?”

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"Drift," Ratchet says from behind a large piece of equipment, not bothering to look up from whatever he's doing just yet. "It's a good thing you came in voluntarily, you missed your regular--"

Ratchet finally pokes his head around and stops. And straightens slowly from where he was bent over a worktable, abandoning whatever he was doing in favor of moving so his whole body is clearly visible and crossing his arms. His optics linger on Drift's wrist and the backwards hand attached to it before dragging slowly up to Drift's face, his expression unnervingly mild as he waits patiently for an explanation.

Now that he’s here, now that he’s in front of Ratchet, he feels a sudden rush of guilt. Not that it makes much of a difference. No doubt Ratchet would be able to tell what had happened from just a quick glance.

Drift laughs nervously and waves his limp hand back and forth. “Hey...I’ll save you the trouble of a bad pun and just…could you help me out with this?” He walks across the room and tentatively extends his arm.

Ratchet's optics flare bright, and he doesn't move.

"And why would I do that?" he asks, all poison sweetness. "You've already clearly gone somewhere else to get it fixed. Maybe you should go make a suggestion to them, since my medibay's services are obviously grossly inadequate."

Drift recoils from shock at the sheer bitterness in Ratchet’s voice. He’d expected Ratchet to be angry, of course, but not like this.

“Come on! It wasn’t like that!” He pulls his hand back and lets it hang down at his side. “Everyone knows you’re the best. There’s no question about that. That’s not why I went somewhere else.”

"Yeah?" Ratchet's optics narrow slowly.

"Why don't you enlighten me, then, since you've dragged your aft in here asking me to clean up somebody else's completely embarrassing, egregious, totally unnecessary mess?"

A sharp laugh escapes his mouth. “Nobody who passes for a doctor is this bad. Not by accident, at least.” He shrugs and uses his good hand to rub his forehead. “I’m sure there’s no need to tell you that.”

Drift backs away further and turns his gaze to the side. The idea of admitting to Ratchet why he left feels embarrassing now and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. All these years later and you were still the only one who was actually willing to fix me up.”

Ratchet stiffens a little, then holds out a hand imperiously.

"Get back here," he snaps. "Do you want to be able to use both your hands or not? And I'm still waiting for an explanation as to why you didn't come here, first."

A look of surprise flashes across his face for a moment, but he frowns and shakes his head again.

“No, hold on. I insulted you. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking of it that way at the time. I…I shouldn’t accept your help after doing that. Let me at least try to make amends first."

"Kid, just get over here," Ratchet says, sounding deeply nettled. "You can apologize while I'm working, if you feel so bad about it. I'm not letting you wander around the ship with your hand on backwards, somebody might think I did it."

“Heh. Alright, well I guess if you put it that way.”

He walks up and raises his hand towards Ratchet’s. “Can it even be fixed? I can barely feel it anymore.” He tries to move his fingers and only manages a slight twitch.

Ratchet tsks severely and takes Drift's wrist, tugging it closer and pulling out the tools he'll need to take it off and reattach it. He disconnects the hand carefully and starts checking it for damaged or stressed components at the wrist, his face... softening almost, his optics fixed on his work.

"Not like I don't owe you a set of hands, anyway," he says after a long moment, his voice quiet.

Drift studies his expression for a moment before letting his optics trail down to Ratchet’s hands. He watches them quietly as they work, letting himself become absorbed in the display.

“You don’t owe me anything. You use those hands to help people, to save lives, all the time…Myself included.”

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't have 'em if not for you, on top of being very shot, so why don't we call it even?"

He slots Drift's hand back in place and reattaches it carefully, then draws his hands back.

"Test that. Gently, please."

The hand feels slightly numb once it’s reattached, but he’s relieved that he can feel it at all. He raises it up and carefully tries to clench and unclench his fist. Most of his fingers respond, but his index finger stiffens up and he’s met with a sharp pain.

Wincing as he uncurls his fingers, Drift looks back up to Ratchet. “What happened? It didn’t even hurt before.”

"Yeah, well, it was completely numb before, so I'm not surprised," Ratchet grumbles, pressing Drift's arm flat to the worktable and popping open the plating along the hinge of his palm to prod carefully around the metacarpal cabling, nudging very gently to push the bundle of wires that was being pinched in a hinge back into alignment.

"Wiggle a little, see if that's better."

“Hey, you don’t have to just pull my arm around. I can put it on the table myself.”

He tries to move his finger again and is met with more success this time. It’s still a bit rigid, but the pain has all but vanished. The feeling of movement has started to return to his hand and he stretches all of his fingers outwards. A few moments of quiet pass before he speaks again.

“Would you still let me come back here again?”

Ratchet looks genuinely startled for a moment before his optics narrow in irritation.

"You're the third-in-command and this is the ship's medibay. Yes, I'd 'let you come back here again.'"

Drift isn’t sure if Ratchet was being serious or if he was dodging the question, but he can’t hide the frustration in his voice.

“Ratchet! I’m not going to use my authority like that! I’m asking if you’re okay with it!”

"Huh." Ratchet turns, starting to put his tools away, but he watches Drift out of the corner of one optic as the hard set of his mouth softens, just slightly.

"I didn't toss you back out of my medibay when you were half-rusted and glitched blind on circuit boosters. I'm not about to start now."

The corner of Drift’s mouth twitches into a little smile and he feels a tension leaving that he hadn’t noticed until now. He’s surprised at how relieved he is considering the whole thing started with him going to see a different doctor. After a moment’s hesitation, he walks up to Ratchet and places a hand on his shoulder.

“I feel like you’re letting me off too easily. Why don’t you let me help you clean the place up at least?”

Ratchet's optics flick to Drift's hand on his shoulder, then drag slowly up to Drift's face.

"I have a lecture all prepared for you if you're really that disappointed." He doesn't shrug Drift off of him, but his optics narrow. "Though I'd settle for that explanation I asked for."

As Ratchet’s optics narrow, Drift pulls away again. It doesn’t look like he’s going to let this one go.

“Alright, well… Honestly? It’s the constant ridicule. Every time I come, even for a checkup! It’s one thing if you don’t agree with my beliefs, but most of the time you seem to be going out of your way to pick a fight.”

Ratchet stills, surprise and a tiny hint of guilt flickering across his face before he looks away again, huffing air sharply out of his vents.

"I didn't think you'd be irresponsible enough to go somewhere for sub-par medical care because I'd hurt your delicate feelings," he says, but there's not nearly as much heat in his voice as usual. He pauses, his face setting. "...and I put enough work into keep you from falling apart as it is. It wouldn't kill you to actually take care of yourself every once in a while. In between me patching you up, I mean."

Drift can’t even bring himself to be irritated at Ratchet’s comment. Some of the tension has started to ease out of the air, so he just feels good instead.

“What, when I’m fighting? It’s not like I’m trying to get hit or anything. Close combat can get kind of heated…Tell you what though, I promise I’ll be more careful if you do the same. When’s the last time you’ve had yourself checked up? Every time I’m here, you’re always busy working on something.”

"I'd have less work to do if you didn't take stupid risks all the time," Ratchet grouses before he jerks back a little, looking affronted.

"I'm fine," he tells Drift, sounding almost offended by the implication that he might be otherwise. "In case you haven't noticed, I work in a medibay. I can hardly get away with wearing myself down into stasis lock, who would be here to reattach your limbs back on straight?"

A short sigh leaves his mouth. It seems like any time he and Ratchet start to get along, something like this happens. Inevitably, one of them will slip up and say the wrong thing.

“Listen, Ratchet. I’m not saying you aren’t fine! I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself. I don’t doubt that even if you did overwork yourself, you’d be just as capable. But it doesn’t matter how capable you are. As your friend, I think I’m entitled to worry at least a little bit. Even if I know you can handle things just fine.”

He leans against the wall and tests his hand out again, flexing his fingers gently and admiring the how quickly they’ve recovered.

“Maybe you could just think of it as…doing me a favor? Either way, I’ll try to be more careful.”

"Good," Ratchet says, but his face eases a little as he watches Drift test the range of motion in his hand.

"That loosening up all right?"

“It feels great, especially considering I can feel it at all now.”

His optics tilt up towards Ratchet. “Trying to change the subject?”

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Ratchet and Drift Voice Test

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