“Hey, Ratchet! You’ve gotta try these!”
“I’m a little busy, Wheeljack.” Ratchet didn’t bother looking up from picking debris out of Bumblebee’s ankle joint. It was amazing how much gravel could fit in one mini-bot before they felt the need to seek help.
“This will be completely worth it, trust me,” Wheeljack said. He stepped right up to the med berth and leaned over to crowd Ratchet’s space.
“Watch it! You’re blocking my light!” Ratchet snapped, casting a glare at Wheeljack.
Bumblebee grit his teeth where he laid beneath them. Why did these two always start bickering when he just needed a little simple maintenance?
“Ratchet, just trust me on this one. Open your intake.”
“What?! I’m not putting a mysterious o- MMPH!!” Ratchet didn’t get to finish his thought, as Wheeljack took that opportunity to shove something small into Ratchet’s intake and then clamp it shut with his servos around Ratchet’s helm.
Ratchet’s tools clattered as he collapsed backwards, bringing Wheeljack down with him. Bumblebee shot up from the med berth and quickly put it between himself and the other two mechs, optics wide.
“I think,” Bumblebee started, “I think I’ll just come back latER-!”
With a flash of green, red, and gray, Wheeljack lept clear across the med berth to capture the small yellow mech.
“Leave my patient ALONE!” Ratchet shouted as he scrambled after the scientist. “If we have negative reactions to… whatever it is you just force fed us, I swear-!”
Ratchet quieted down at the lack of noise from the other two. He finally managed to heave his bulk up to peer over the berth to find Bumblebee sitting on the floor, knees pressed to his chest, and quietly shoveling what appeared to be tiny metal cylinders into his intake.
Wheeljack gave Ratchet an exceptionally pleased look.
“I promise they’re safe to eat. I tested them out myself.” Wheeljack didn’t even bother dampening his very chipper EM field.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Ratchet grumbled.
Bumblebee butted in, “we’ve gotta spread the word about these things! What’d you call ‘em, Jackie?”
“The humans call them ‘batteries’”
Prowl was not sure what he had done in life to deserve this.
“Come on, Prowler, just a lil’ bite,” Jazz sing-songed, having practically climbed across the enforcer’s desk and into his lap. Prowl was very adamantly focusing on his datapad and calculations. He wouldn’t let a downright ridiculous problem like this sway him from his duty. He had refused to respond to Jazz’s pleading thus far, and Primus below, he knew he could outlast the other bot if it really came down to it.
Until Jazz decided to change tactics and just shove his fingers right into Prowl’s intake.
With a decidedly undignified and un-Prowl-like noise, Prowl threw himself back, knocking himself, chair and all, onto the floor.
Bright, delicious zaps of electricity danced across his glossa. He froze.
“‘S good, right?” Jazz asked, standing over him with a knowing smirk.
Prowl sluggishly moved to return himself to a state more befitting his station. He had just gotten his desk and chair straightened out when Jazz plopped himself right on top of Prowl’s Very Necessary and Important Datapad.
“I’m gonna need a review before I leave you alone,” Jazz said, tossing a battery up in the air and catching it with his intake.
“No.” Prowl glowered.
“Aww, come on! You know I can do this all day-”
“-Cycle-”
“Yep! And I know just how badly you want to get back to work so you can impress the boss.”
“Fine, fine! They were good.”
Jazz leaned in, “Just ‘good’? All that processing power and you can’t be a little more descriptive?”
Prowl muttered something.
“What? I didn't catch that, Prowler.”
Prowl huffed. “Resplendent.”
“There ya are!” Jazz absolutely beamed.
Prowl tried and failed to keep his face and door wings from broadcasting his own happiness