Backdated like whoa

[sword_redemption]

Who: Drift and First Aid
What: Unsurprisingly someone got his stupid aft injured fighting the terrorpedes.
Where: field medic field?
When: after the battle.
Warnings: Drift's still an idiot: First Aid may get poofy at him again.

All right. Okay. Fine. Even Drift could--occasionally--admit he was actually a little on the need-of-repairs side of the line. He's only doing this though, because he had plans for later. Big plans. Plans which he did NOT want interrupted or curtailed by nagging.

So he rolled over--a bit limpily on one flattened tire--to where First Aid has set up shop. He'd gotten some bug gut goo all over him, a few bites, and a crushed wrist, but hey, it's all in a day's fun.

He pushed up to his bipedal mode, trying to hide the wince. "Hey. Uh. You busy?"

Comments

[lifepersists]

First Aid had been at the battle too, seen the injuries and the death first hand, had participated because that was what has been expected of him. Megatronus had made it clear that he had wanted him on the battlefield as a soldier. It had been a long time since he was on the field last; even more so since he ever had to take a combat role.

Of course, now that the fight was over, it didn't mean that his work was done. There was damage to assess and repair, and First Aid was working quickly to wash the gooey blood from his hands with whatever water rations he managed to bring. He turns abruptly, casting a glance at Drift as he approached.

It only took a moment for him to assess that Drift was a mess, so he points to the ground in front of him.

"Take a seat and lay down. I'll get to you in a minute."

[sword_redemption]

"All right." Drift sounded meek as he settled down, because First Aid looked tired. Beyond tired, really. Drift wished he could loan the other mech some energy: combat always fired him up, years on the battlefield building a sort of stamina to exhaustion, to pain.

"I can, I mean, it's no big deal. Nothing that can't wait till later."

[lifepersists]

"You're not driving back like that. Now, sit." He points again.

First Aid flicks his hands to shake the water off, before wiping the rest off with a clean cloth. He grabs his kit off his bike and turns, giving Drift a pointed and expectant look, before opening the kit and checking the tools.

"You should take better care of yourself, Drift. I'm not sure if you don't care for yourself, but other people do."

[sword_redemption]

His mouth snaps shut as Drift plonks down, like an obedient dog. "...okay."

He squirms, and First Aid isn't even examining him yet. "I just...First Aid, I can do this. It's the only thing I can do. And I'm careful. Sort of."

[lifepersists]

Perfect.

First Aid kneels in front of Drift and gives him a stare before shaking his head. It was obvious disagreement, but this was not a new argument with Drift. He's had it several times before.

"I've seen you do a lot of other things."

He goes ahead and starts wiping down Drift's plating so he can get a clearer look at the damage.

"Right, well. Tell me where it hurts."

[sword_redemption]

Drift subsides into silence. Maybe he shouldn't have bothered First Aid. Maybe he deserved the withering look. All he knows is he doesn't want to make it worse. "Sorry," he mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

That's a tricky question. "The, uh, the leg's the worst. Kind of got bitten. And. You know. Acid spit." That didn't sound like enough so he added, "I was trying to lead it away from Wing."

[lifepersists]

Alright, leg first. First Aid concentrates on wiping down the area first, making sure to cleanse it thoroughly. Don't want to get any of the gunk inside of Drift. Who knew what would happen then.

"That's very brave of you."

The plating is warped. There's only so much he can do about that in the field, but at the very least he can relieve the pain and pressure. He turns the leg in his hands, following the seams, then skillfully begins to remove the plate.

"So tell me a little about Wing? He's real pretty."

Something to keep Drift's mind off the pain while he works.

[sword_redemption]

"Not really. Just better me than him." Meaning a lot of things, but mostly, Drift could deal with himself injured better than the thought of it happening to Wing.

The pain doesn't bother him: he's been hurt before, and hurt worse, and honestly after the Red Rust sliming around his systems for a few weeks, a simple clean pain of a bite is almost a relief. It's at least familiar.

"Wing is...Wing." That's not helpful. "He, uh, he died for me. Before."

[lifepersists]

"'Is Wing' is not very descriptive, you know. I kinda wanna know what your view of him is."

Gossip with him, Drift. Let him live vicariously through your love life.

First Aid is very tender as he works, minding Drift's wiring as he strips his leg. The outer plating was just an armor for the more vulnerable parts and it was those inner parts the nurse was mostly concerned about.

"He must love you a lot." To die for someone else usually meant a certain amount of loyalty. First Aid wouldn't deny he was a little envious of Drift to have that kind of thing.

His optics lift to Drift's face, just briefly as an apology, as he purposely snips a hopelessly crimped hose and then quickly works to reattach the ends with a patch.

[sword_redemption]

"I, uh, I wouldn't know where to start. He's better than me. At everything. And I owe him everything."

The squirming isn't from pain: Drift's too manly for that, at least.

"I'm...I'm trying to make up for that." Forever. For as long as it takes.

He doesn't flinch at the cut. He's been hurt worse.