#healsonwheels

“What? Can’t handle a little buffing?”

It probably did though, judging from how long the jet has had these scuffs. However, it doesn’t stop him from working, KnockOut is of course a professional at this. Plus he’s been dying to get at this particular mech’s frame for a while. The Earth has certainly taken it’s toll on the warper’s frame and poor paint job---a true tragedy that he longed to fix.

An innocent question leaves his vocalizer followed by a hum of curiosity.

“Maybe some Engex would help ease the pain?”

Perhaps that would even make it a little easier to persuade Skywarp into letting the doctor adorn his finish and wings with a little gloss.

@blacknpurplewarpster

“Ahh--! I can but you could be more careful. I thought buffing was supposed to be relaxing. Can’t say the Joes have the best tools in the universe. All sorts of junk besides what I really need in you know, large form.” Rock wasn’t going to put in the hours to buff Skywarp out. 

The high heat from getting buffed out was starting to whack out his sensors some but it wasn’t Knockout’s fault he enjoyed being scuffed up in most places. Hell he should be used to extreme heat. How many times has he been blown up or gone through some human volcanic eruption? He couldn’t count. 

(🔪)—“Knockout.”

His voice purred, wings fluttering as he sauntered over to the smaller mech before him. Blitzwing’s long face was graced with a sweet as sugar smile, and his optics hooded, yet so incredible bright in the dim light of their shared quarters. A massive, black servo reached out, gently taking a hold of one of Knockout’s wheels, and gave it a playful tug.

“There he is, ze love of our lives. Our precious, gorgeous, phenomenal speedster.”

The other servo slipped up, the palm of said servo gently rubbed the left side of the other mech, digits soothingly rubbing the more sensitive parts of him. Blitzwing hummed at the back of his vocalize, and stepped forward, pressing his face against Knockout’s cheek, holding him close, and his denta peaked from behind his lips smooth, thin lips.

No use pushing Knock Out if he didn’t want to admit he was sick. Bumblebee would know, he acted the same way. Even so, he really didn’t like the way the medic’s vents sounded.

“C’mon you and me both know you polish yourself because you like to. Catching someone’s optic is just a bonus, am I right?”

Not that he was complaining of course. He knew he wasn’t the only one who appreciated the work Knock Out put into his finish.

it was definitely a boring day at the clinic. there wasn’t much to do except sit around and wait for patients to show up. which lead them to realizing that first aid rarely curses. 

... and knock out trying to get him to curse.

❛ okay! okay. i’m kidding. slag. ❜  

     Peter expects many things from Mr. Stark. But buying him a brand new car just because he got his permit? That is not one of those things. The boy appreciates it and all, but he’s only just got his permit and Mr. Stark just up and buys a gorgeous car??? He isn’t complaining, but it’s very shocking.

     Peter holds the keys in his hands tightly, as if dropping them will make them wink out of existence or something terrible like that. All he was told was that his new car is in the garage and that he should try it out, but he’s freaking out a little bit right now. The boy approaches the new car and stares at it, his jaw might as well have dropped to the floor and run away because he is actually speechless. Peter moves closer and looks at it, the surface is so clean and spotless he’s afraid to touch it--much less open the door and get in it. His breath catches in his throat and when he finally has the ability to speak again, all that can play on his vocal cords is a whisper.

          “Holy Hell, Mr. Stark really outdid himself...” He mutters, blinking about twelve times before he finally reaches out to place his hand on the door handle and pull it open, eyes widening at the interior.