Work Text:
Knock Out hates medicine.
While he understands the usefulness of this field, this understanding does not make his hatred any more bearable. Every time he enters the med bay, it was as if invisible walls are closing in on him, and their pressure makes him feel claustrophobic. Every time he has to touch medical instruments that feel heavy, disgusting, and cursed. Every time from him expected to do his job brilliantly, that the mech in front of him will soon stand up, even if it is almost reduced to gray scrap metal. And if he fails, then death will lie on his servos. Death doesn't bother him as much as it had to. But this feeling was almost unbearable. After most of operations, Knock Out was dirty and tired. Too much work, too much dirt, too much pressure, too much responsibility. Even if their leader doesn't care about the health of his soldiers. He didn't choose to be a medic, and this fact only makes it worse. Sometimes, on particularly bad days, he remembers how the thin and seemingly fragile servos burrow into his cabels and deeper, alarmingly close to his restlessly flickering spark, how roughly they dig into his plates and tear them away without turning off the pain receptors and he writhes, writhes, trying to reach for that place but he can't. It hurts, Primus, it hurts, just stop...!
— ...oc? Knock Out? Knocks? Amberlight? — Knock Out can't help but flinch slightly as a vaguely familiar voice breaks through the abyss of dark memories.
He yanks one of the servos off the table to swing, but the larger servo intercepts it almost immediately, squeezing too gently for such a firm grip. Before he can try to break free, familiar voice reaches him again:
— Are you with me now, Amberlight? — It takes Knockout a humiliatingly long time to realize that his optics were offline, and when he finally turns it on and focuses, a familiar orange faceplates framed in gray and blue metal appears right in front of him.
— Welcome back, Doc, — the mech (Breakdown, Knock Out reminding to himself, his Conjux, Breakdown) says softly, smiling, causing the corners of his optics to wrinkle slightly. Now then Knock Out is no longer struggling, Breakdown lets go of his servo and and moves his own servo to his back under the wheels, soothingly massaging the plates while grabing and pushing the medic’s other servo away from the table. — You blacked out for a while. Are you having another attack? Want to rest?
— Uh… — he forces out a glitchy answer, but almost immediately reboots his vocalizer, looking back at the table where his claw marks remain. — I'm fine, Br-rakedown. Just some bad thoughts. Nothing special. I need to get back to finish work.
— Work can wait. You're clearly in no condition to work right now. — The former wrecker remarks, wrapping his field around medic, and it feels like a blanket, making Knock Out lose what little bravado he'd managed to muster. — I may not be an expert, but I understand that you're exhausted and need a rest. You've done a lot of work today and you deserve it. I can handle the details. After all it's not for nothing that I'm your assistant.
He chuckles, causing Knock Out to smile weakly.
— Seriously, take a rest, maybe even go on a recharge. I'll finish everything for you, it's not a problem for me. — His voice softens even more as he leans down to press his helmet to Knock Out's, and servo that wasn't on medic back touches his chest, right where the spark was. — And I'm pretty sure carriers don't need extra stress.
Knock Out snorts quietly, pressing his helmet lightly in response. He closes his optics, allowing himself to enjoy this cozy moment with mech that has caught his spark for a moment.
— You do realize that I won't rest properly until you come, right? — medic says half-jokingly.
— I'll finish everything in no time, you won't even have time to notice, — Breakdown answers him with such a confident grin that Knockout doesn't have the strength to argue further.
— Well, then I'll be waiting for you, my spark. — pressing his helmet against the other's one last time, Knock Out pulls away and heads for the exit of the med bay.
Before leaving, he stops and turns around, watching bulky figure of his Conjux painstakingly assemble the jumbled instruments, and his spark sings with love for this mech.
Knock Out may hate medicine, but thanks to it and his servos, Breakdown is still alive. And no matter how strong this hatred is, Breakdown is much more important than his feelings to medicine. Those sweet smiles, that sometimes almost naive behavior and such gentle treatment are worth it to once again go into med bay and take the instruments into the manipulators. His knowledge and position as a medic provide them with some measure of safety
Knockout may hate medicine, but he loves Breakdown. And his gratitude and recognition of the efforts invested, despite the disgust, is enough to enter the med bay. Cut off every damn time. With these thoughts, Knockout leaves the room to wait Breakdown in their cabin.