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“I don’t get it.”
“What’s not to get?”
Pharma huffed and crossed his arms as they continued walking side by side. “Please, as if it’s not obvious. I’m just as capable, why can’t I get the fun secret missions every now and then?”
Ratchet groaned and even though he hadn’t turned to see, the medijet knew he’d rolled his optics at him (which was awfully rude in his opinion).
“I assure you that being held at gunpoint by Decepticon assassins doesn’t even remotely enter the category of things I consider ‘fun’.” Ratchet sighed and opened the door for him when they reached the end of the corridor, and let him into the small balcony.
This was their balcony, not officially by any means, but they came here all the time to decompress and spend as much time as they could with each other, chatting and venting (and on bleak days, merely standing next to each other in silent understanding).
“Sure, but still. Is it because I’m not as close with Optimus? Ugh, I knew we still had this overly-polite barrier between us.” Pharma leaned against the railing and hung his helm in defeat, his wings dipping low as the rest of his frame deflated.
He felt a bit annoyed by Ratchet’s little snort at that. “And now you’re accusing the Prime of nepotism! Can’t believe this really bothers you that much. Believe me, Optimus thinks you’re a fine medic.”
The ambulance bot patted him twice over his turbine, and leaned on the railing next to him. “What’s even the issue you have with this? You got a death wish or something, buddy?”
Pharma turned to frown at him, practically pouting. His best friend merely nodded at him, as if to encourage him to spill it out already.
The medijet looked down at the city for a moment, and mumbled something (very unlike himself. Mumbling was for cowards, and idiots, and insecure mechs with things to hide).
“What was that?”
“I SAID— That I’m worried something will happen to you.” Pharma finally turned to glare at Ratchet, indignant that he was being forced to be this honest with him. Despite how close they’d grown as friends, it still didn’t come natural to the medijet to… Open up about these things.
They were at war, for Primus’ sake. The first rule of a combat medic was simply to not get attached, accept that death was imminent any moment.
And that included the friends you held close to your spark.
“Things have already happened to me, I’ve been shot and stabbed and—“ Ratchet started listing off the things he’d survived and now it was Pharma’s turn to groan.
“I know, you massive jerk! I mean…” He took a deep vent and looked away, still too embarrassed to admit the next part. “Something will happen to you, and I won’t be there to help you.”
Ugh, he hated feeling like this! His frame had started heating up from how degrading it was to say these types of things. He felt disgusting.
By his side, Ratchet’s expression softened, and he flicked one of Pharma’s wings.
“Ow!”
“You know I’m not fragile, yeah? I’ve survived way worse things and—“
“Yes, but what if the next time you don’t?!” Pharma raised his voice without meaning to. “One day I’ll read the morning reports and find your designation under the list of daily casualties and I… I’ll…!” When had he started trembling? How demeaning to suddenly become so emotional.
He hated it. Ratchet always brought the worst parts of him to the forefront.
“Hey.” The ambulance bot placed a servo on his pauldron, gently caressing around his vents. “I get it, you’re worried. But haven’t you considered that’s why I do it?”
“Huh?” That caught him by surprise.
“Well if I wasn’t the one going with Prowl’s agents, who do you think they’d pick?”
The medijet spent a moment thinking about it. They’d requested the best medic so…
“…Me. They’d pick me.” He whispered, and looked at Ratchet with wide optics.
The other only nodded and let go of him to stare at the distance, listening to the busy sounds of the city.
Pharma almost felt himself get choked up. Idiot, what an idiot he’d been. Still…
He took a moment to regain control of himself and to take deep vents. Then he stood straight and with a very determined voice said: “Have them take me with you next time.”
It seemed to startle Ratchet, who turned with a baffled expression. “Are you dumb or—?”
“I can’t have you taking these risks all on your own anymore, and they need the best of the best with them, yeah? So, easy solution, I’ll go with them too. And so I’ll get to watch your back while you watch mine.” Pharma crossed his arms, body language making it clear he was making this non negotiable.
“You…” Ratchet huffed, but Pharma didn’t care how annoying he was being with this. He’d decided just now that he’d rather perish alongside his best friend than be nowhere near where he could still save him if the worst came to pass.
“Fine. Prowl will not be happy about it, and believe me, if there’s one mech you don’t wanna piss off it’s him.”
“Don’t care. It’s either that or I’m locking you up in our office so I’ll at least know you’re safe.” He hadn’t meant to let that last part slip, but it was too late to take it back, so Pharma cringed at himself as his face turned a light shade of red.
“Fine, you absolute control freak.”
“Thank you, selfless moron.”
“It’s not the dig you think it is.” Ratchet teased as he weakly punched his arm.
The two spent the rest of their short break talking in hushed tones about the dangers they’d face, and though he didn’t say it, Pharma was quietly glad that they’d at least be facing those dangers together.