#distraction time

Providing aid to four injured and deeply upset Decepticon younglings, whose mental age Ratchet was slowly putting lower and lower the longer he was in the same room as them, was proving to be almost impossible.

Even if they had watched him resuscitate their second in command. 

The Stunticons had all but formed a wall around Starscream the second they’d realized he’d gone down, but by the time they’d managed to even make it to him Ratchet was already elbows deep in his internals and snarling that if they wanted him to live they’d better stay the hell out of his way. 

“I am a medic, I swore an oath, now quit bothering me his spark is starting to destabilize!” He had bellowed, and apparently that had gotten through, because they had formed a line against the few Autobots who’d trotted up to check in with Optimus. 

For once, Ratchet had been thankful for his Prime’s presence. No one on their side would try and offline the seeker while he stood watch. There would be no arguments when Ratchet “wasted” medical supplies on him, no comm’ed commands to kill Starscream from mechs who damn well knew Ratchet could not be ordered to do any such thing. 

There wouldn’t be mechs horribly angry at him, holding a grudge that he didn’t kill someone they held a deep hatred against. 

Ratchet understood war, and he absolutely agreed that some mechs simply deserved to be offlined. His guns never wavered and his aim had always been true when he’d been forced to use them, but the fact remained that he hated it. 

That he had spent his entire function focused on saving people--not killing them.

There were kills he didn’t regret, but most of them haunted him. Part of it was that he understood what had caused the war, had been there, next to Optimus, from day zero, to see the whole thing blow up in their faces. 

To end this war, meant they would have to put aside their differences with the Decepticons. The hatred, the stereotypes and stories, would have to end. They would have to see them as people instead of their enemies and when one did that, you started to see who might help you achieve peace.

Many mechs--most mechs--disagreed when Ratchet named Starscream as one such person. 

What they didn’t see was what Ratchet was witnessing now.

The seekers and Stunticons both had refused to leave the temporary med-bay. One could expect his trine to watch him, one could even argue that the ‘Cons were grouping together because there simply wasn’t that many of them and they were all injured--but there was no reason for the care they were showing one another openly. 

No way to explain the worry, written plainly on all of their faces. 

Or even the way they handled the Stunticon;s, the youngest of which kept trying to grab onto Starscream’s hand to reassure himself. He had been repeatedly shooed away by Thundercracker and finally gave up, crawling under Starscream’s medberth and hiding his face in his knees. 

There was also the matter of questions. 

“He’s going to be okay though, right?” Wildrider asked for what had to be the fifth time, and once again Thundercracker made a face before answering him over comms. The blue seeker was physically, the least exhausted of all of them, and yet it was clear he was struggling to hold it together simply by the way he kept having to wipe the frustration off his face when dealing with the younglings.

Still. No one yelled. No one threw things. 

There was just a painful, awkward silence and the normal beeps of a medbay. 

“He’s going to make a full recovery.” Ratchet reassured once again, having finally managed to get the portable energon dispenser up and running. Perceptor had finished his latest prototype, one that mimicked a medbay’s usual dispenser and allowed the many additive options a normal medbay dispenser could create.

Now was turning into the perfect day to test it.

“I can’t say the same for you lot though.” He added with a frown, hands on his hips. “At minimum, all of you need to refuel.” 

“We’re not taking energon from you.” Thundercracker said firmly. He’d been the defacto leader, and Ratchet was convinced that was the entire reason Starscream had teleported him out first. The blue mech had a quiet control on the Cons, the kind that said he could keep things calm so long as he himself, remained calm.

Which meant they would also follow his lead if Ratchet got him to agree and so, Ratchet pointed a scanner at him. 

Thundercracker jerked back as though the medic was trying to shoot at him, but was instead interrupted by a shrill beep!

“You are running on tanks that are less than 30 percent full.” Ratchet informed him, reading off the back of the scanner. He moved to point it next at Dirge, then Thrust and Skywarp. “35 percent. 27 percent. 15 percent-- Primus Skywarp!” He barked, optics jerking up at that. 

Skywarp looked down, avoiding his gaze, his fingers tightening on his arms. 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that without refueling, all of you are about to offline. I don’t even know how you’re online right now!” He said, pointing accusing at Skywarp. “I don’t even want to know what the youngling’s levels are!”

“They’re well fueled.” Thundercracker said, armor bristling at the implication they couldn’t take care of their own. 

“Will it help if I leave and you all can test it to your sparks content? I have to go check in with Optimus but do not--and I am serious--do not disconnect Starscream from any of the wires he’s attached to. If he wakes up comm me at this frequency immediately.”

Drag Strip’s optics got big at that. “You said he was stable.” The speedster said, clearly worried. 

“I said he was going to make a full recovery. That involves actually doing the recovering part.” Ratchet threatened back.

Then abruptly checked himself when he saw the scared looks the younglings traded.

Despite himself, despite everything, Ratchet felt his cold demeanor melt a touch. Sparklings had always been his soft spot. The Stunticons, Decepticon or not, were no exception. For all the destruction they had caused, they were painfully young, and currently hurting. 

The virus wasn’t their fault. The war wasn’t their fault--and right now, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt them further, when someone they clearly relied on was down. 

“What will help him the most right now, is the lot of you being rested and fueled.” He said, gentling his voice. “I know it’s hard. I know you are in enemy territory. I will do what I can to help, and I will do it because we are going to need everyone to overcome this virus.” 

With careful movements, he activated the machine so that it poured energon into a freshly activated cube. 

“Okay?” He said, optics on the Stunticons, and the Stunticons alone.

“Okay.” Drag Strip said, after a long moment.

He and his brothers--even the paranoid one--slowly edged forward, as Ratchet carefully took a step back. He looked away only when Drag Strip had the cube in hand, activating another for his brothers, and promptly caught Thundercracker’s optic.

The look the seeker gave him was cautious, distrustful, and under it all, full of hope.