![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixNow I need to think of what the hell Raider is supposed to look like as a human so I can sketch him...
Title: Promises Not Made
Fandom: Transformers IDW- human AU
Rating: PG, more or less
Word Count: 1542
Characters: Topspin, Sandstorm, Fireflight and Air Raid
Summary: Sandstorm recovers from being shot, Fireflight frets, and Topspin and Air Raid makes sex jokes.
They watched quietly as Topspin walked slowly just behind Sandstorm. “Think you’re up for one more circuit?”
Sandstorm winced subtly with every other step but nodded.
“How’s it feeling?”
“Stiff. Hurts like hell.”
“You’re doing good- healing up fast.” Topspin said, eyes catching every movement as Sandstorm continued the slow walk. “We might be able to get you off the crutch in a month or so.” Even if it still meant he’d be stuck doing physical therapy for longer and who knew if he’d be able to run as hard again.
“So what happened?” Air Raid asked, sitting on one of the counters in Xantium’s medbay. The Aerial Squad had just gotten back from a mission in the outer systems and heard that Sandstorm had been shot. Fireflight didn’t even bother to dump his gear, just made a straight bee-line to the ship and Air Raid had followed- mainly for just-in-case purposes.
“Doing a little S&R.” Topspin told the two as the Wreckers moved at a crawl. “Busting out some hostages and had to go through a hot field. One of the hostages fell and hurt themselves so Sandy here,” being wisely on Sandstorm’s injured side all the sniper could do was snarl, “broke cover, grabbed him by the back of the flak and tossed him into a building.” The medic said cheerily, even as he put a hand to Sandstorm’s elbow as he faltered just slightly on a step. He led him back to a bed. “Then he got shot.”
“How bad is it?” Fireflight took Sandstorm’s other side, helping him to sit.
“Not all that bad, actually. Well, comparatively. Lot of torn muscles, lots of blood, slight fracture but all the major damage has already been healed up thanks to modern medicine. And what the bullet managed to miss. It got deflected off his protective gear so when it entered it was at an angle and lost a lot of energy. Wouldn’t hit any major organs and when it struck just below the iliac crest it didn’t go all the way through. That was some messy surgery right there.”
The dark haired pilot pressed his lips together. “So the Sandstorm was…”
“He was shot in the ass.”
“Pffffft-“ Air Raid balked under Fireflight’s look. “I mean- that’s terrible.”
“Go ahead and laugh.” Sandstorm gritted out. Topspin knelt down next to him, feeling along the entry point for any tears and pressing on his abdomen and hip for abnormalities. “Not the first time and doubt you’ll be the last.”
“There’s no permanent damage, right?” Fireflight asked. His hands covered one of Sandstorm’s and as the medic checked the range of movement of the leg he squeezed tightly on the pilot’s fingers, hissing.
“Nope! He’s a healthy guy and I’m damned good so he’ll be up and about in no time. The worst that might happen is he won’t be able to endure as much physical stress as he normally could.” Topspin tilted his head down to give Fireflight a knowing look over his shades. “That being said, sexual activity is not recommended for a few more weeks. Don’t want to run the risk of putting him back in medical because you two can’t keep your pants on.” He then took on a considering look. “Though I suppose if you kept him from moving too much you could indulge in,” he grinned wickedly and elaborated with the appropriate hand gesture, “as we call it in the medical field, manual stimulation-“
“Why don’t you shut up and get me my medication?” The sniper growled. Beside him, Fireflight turned faintly red as Air Raid snickered.
“You can tell he hasn’t had sex in a month.” Topspin said to Air Raid in a sotto voice. “Damn irritable-“
“Topspin!”
“I hear ya.” But he couldn’t get rid of the grin. “I guess you’re allowed to be cranky when you’re this lucky.”
“This was lucky?” Fireflight asked quietly.
“Oh yeah. A lot of people don’t realize how many vital organs are in the pelvic area. Could’ve ruptured his liver, spleen, kidney, intestines- damn lucky it didn’t, I wasn’t anywhere near him at the time. Broadside had to patch him up and pray like hell there wasn’t any-“
“Goddammit, Topspin!” Sandstorm snapped. “Shut up!”
Allowed or not, there was only so much hostility Topspin would take before he’d snap back and he turned to do so-
And he saw how pale Fireflight had gone and how tightly he grasped Sandstorm’s hand. Ooooooh.
“But you know,” he tried to say lightly, “that’s why Springer and RB are always on our case about wearing all our protective gear. Especially the uncomfortable stuff, like groin protectors…” That didn’t seem to be making the situation any better. He looked over his shoulder to give Air Raid a ‘yikes’ expression. Deciding a different tactic would be best, he stood up. “Alright, still looking sharp. I’m keeping your daily exercises the same but if you keep healing this fast we can probably start the bulk of the PT next week.”
“Thanks.” Sandstorm gruffed out.
“Hey, Flight.” Topspin said gently.” You think you can help Sandy to his quarters for some bedrest? I promised Twist next time I saw Air Raid I’d kidnap him. He doesn’t believe the boy can salsa.”
The other pilot perked up at that. “Is that so? I’ll salsa him right into the floor!”
“Especially if you try to dip him. He’s heavier than me.”
The change in subject being distracting enough, Fireflight smiled. “You’ll have to tell me how that goes.”
His wingmate winked. “All the sordid details, of course!”
Giggling at his best friend’s insatiable nature, the red haired pilot turned to Sandstorm. “Are you okay to go? Do you need to rest more?”
“I’m good.” He slid off the table, biting back a hiss as he slowly put a little weight on his injured side. He brought the crutch under one arm and Fireflight grabbed the other. As they left the other two men waved them off.
It wasn’t a particularly long walk but by the time they reached the door to Sandstorm’s quarters he was exhausted and leaning almost entirely on the crutch and pilot. Fireflight hurried the sniper as quickly as he could to the bed and hovered as Sandstorm slowly, carefully made himself comfortable. “Do you need me to get you anything?” He asked, even as he knelt to take off his shoes- practically slippers as they were.
“I’m fine.” He reclined uneasily. “Just needs to catch my breath.” Sandstorm put an arm over his forehead, concentrating on slowing his breathing and heartrate, trying to ignore the throb at his hip. He listened to Fireflight shuffle around his quarters, getting a glass of water and setting it on a nearby stand. Then, ever so gingerly, as if he were afraid Sandstorm would break, Fireflight laid a blanket over him.
Sandstorm couldn’t help it, hated being invalid, hated how everyone treated him like one and tried to look like they weren’t. “I’m not fragile!” He snapped.
Startled, Fireflight dropped the edge of the blanket. “I- sorry, I…. ‘m sorry.”
And just like that his temper vanished, leaving only guilty. Sandstorm reached up, took his shades off his face and placed it next to the water glass. He held out a hand. “Flight, c’mere.”
Hesitantly Fireflight did so, curling carefully under the arm and against Sandstorm’s uninjured side.
“I’m sorry.” The Wrecker said against the soft red of Fireflight’s hair. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you just want to help.” Fireflight didn’t say anything but the way he nuzzled Sandstorm’s shoulder was forgiveness enough. “It’s just been… tough. Stuck on the ship for every mission, barely able to go down the hall on my own, having everyone itching to do everything for me. It’s really- I just- I feel useless like this!”
“But you’re alive.” Came the quiet reply. “And you’ll recover.” Fireflight twisted, bracing an arm on either side of Sandstorm’s shoulders. “You could’ve gotten really hurt. You could’ve been killed and I know this is a risk- for both of us –but seeing you like this, knowing what could’ve happened scares me. I don’t want to lose you, Sandstorm. I know you can’t make those kinds of promises but just tell me you won’t leave me.” With Fireflight looking at him like that Sandstorm regretting taking off his shades, wishing he had the familiar red band to hide behind. “Just promise me that.”
“I… I can’t.” He said lamely and felt his heart squeeze painfully as the pilot’s despairing face. He put a hand to Fireflight’s cheek, stroking the angle and tracing the curve. “I can’t promise that no matter how much I want to because that’s not something I can keep. I can promise I’ll do my best to come back to you, but I can’t say I always will.”
Fireflight’s bright eyes teared up and he buried his face against Sandstorm’s neck, hands fisted in his shirt. “Promise you’ll try.” He whispered brokenly. “Promise you’ll do whatever you can to come back.”
Sandstorm’s arms came up tight around his back. “I promise.”
Title: Promises Not Made
Fandom: Transformers IDW- human AU
Rating: PG, more or less
Word Count: 1542
Characters: Topspin, Sandstorm, Fireflight and Air Raid
Summary: Sandstorm recovers from being shot, Fireflight frets, and Topspin and Air Raid makes sex jokes.
They watched quietly as Topspin walked slowly just behind Sandstorm. “Think you’re up for one more circuit?”
Sandstorm winced subtly with every other step but nodded.
“How’s it feeling?”
“Stiff. Hurts like hell.”
“You’re doing good- healing up fast.” Topspin said, eyes catching every movement as Sandstorm continued the slow walk. “We might be able to get you off the crutch in a month or so.” Even if it still meant he’d be stuck doing physical therapy for longer and who knew if he’d be able to run as hard again.
“So what happened?” Air Raid asked, sitting on one of the counters in Xantium’s medbay. The Aerial Squad had just gotten back from a mission in the outer systems and heard that Sandstorm had been shot. Fireflight didn’t even bother to dump his gear, just made a straight bee-line to the ship and Air Raid had followed- mainly for just-in-case purposes.
“Doing a little S&R.” Topspin told the two as the Wreckers moved at a crawl. “Busting out some hostages and had to go through a hot field. One of the hostages fell and hurt themselves so Sandy here,” being wisely on Sandstorm’s injured side all the sniper could do was snarl, “broke cover, grabbed him by the back of the flak and tossed him into a building.” The medic said cheerily, even as he put a hand to Sandstorm’s elbow as he faltered just slightly on a step. He led him back to a bed. “Then he got shot.”
“How bad is it?” Fireflight took Sandstorm’s other side, helping him to sit.
“Not all that bad, actually. Well, comparatively. Lot of torn muscles, lots of blood, slight fracture but all the major damage has already been healed up thanks to modern medicine. And what the bullet managed to miss. It got deflected off his protective gear so when it entered it was at an angle and lost a lot of energy. Wouldn’t hit any major organs and when it struck just below the iliac crest it didn’t go all the way through. That was some messy surgery right there.”
The dark haired pilot pressed his lips together. “So the Sandstorm was…”
“He was shot in the ass.”
“Pffffft-“ Air Raid balked under Fireflight’s look. “I mean- that’s terrible.”
“Go ahead and laugh.” Sandstorm gritted out. Topspin knelt down next to him, feeling along the entry point for any tears and pressing on his abdomen and hip for abnormalities. “Not the first time and doubt you’ll be the last.”
“There’s no permanent damage, right?” Fireflight asked. His hands covered one of Sandstorm’s and as the medic checked the range of movement of the leg he squeezed tightly on the pilot’s fingers, hissing.
“Nope! He’s a healthy guy and I’m damned good so he’ll be up and about in no time. The worst that might happen is he won’t be able to endure as much physical stress as he normally could.” Topspin tilted his head down to give Fireflight a knowing look over his shades. “That being said, sexual activity is not recommended for a few more weeks. Don’t want to run the risk of putting him back in medical because you two can’t keep your pants on.” He then took on a considering look. “Though I suppose if you kept him from moving too much you could indulge in,” he grinned wickedly and elaborated with the appropriate hand gesture, “as we call it in the medical field, manual stimulation-“
“Why don’t you shut up and get me my medication?” The sniper growled. Beside him, Fireflight turned faintly red as Air Raid snickered.
“You can tell he hasn’t had sex in a month.” Topspin said to Air Raid in a sotto voice. “Damn irritable-“
“Topspin!”
“I hear ya.” But he couldn’t get rid of the grin. “I guess you’re allowed to be cranky when you’re this lucky.”
“This was lucky?” Fireflight asked quietly.
“Oh yeah. A lot of people don’t realize how many vital organs are in the pelvic area. Could’ve ruptured his liver, spleen, kidney, intestines- damn lucky it didn’t, I wasn’t anywhere near him at the time. Broadside had to patch him up and pray like hell there wasn’t any-“
“Goddammit, Topspin!” Sandstorm snapped. “Shut up!”
Allowed or not, there was only so much hostility Topspin would take before he’d snap back and he turned to do so-
And he saw how pale Fireflight had gone and how tightly he grasped Sandstorm’s hand. Ooooooh.
“But you know,” he tried to say lightly, “that’s why Springer and RB are always on our case about wearing all our protective gear. Especially the uncomfortable stuff, like groin protectors…” That didn’t seem to be making the situation any better. He looked over his shoulder to give Air Raid a ‘yikes’ expression. Deciding a different tactic would be best, he stood up. “Alright, still looking sharp. I’m keeping your daily exercises the same but if you keep healing this fast we can probably start the bulk of the PT next week.”
“Thanks.” Sandstorm gruffed out.
“Hey, Flight.” Topspin said gently.” You think you can help Sandy to his quarters for some bedrest? I promised Twist next time I saw Air Raid I’d kidnap him. He doesn’t believe the boy can salsa.”
The other pilot perked up at that. “Is that so? I’ll salsa him right into the floor!”
“Especially if you try to dip him. He’s heavier than me.”
The change in subject being distracting enough, Fireflight smiled. “You’ll have to tell me how that goes.”
His wingmate winked. “All the sordid details, of course!”
Giggling at his best friend’s insatiable nature, the red haired pilot turned to Sandstorm. “Are you okay to go? Do you need to rest more?”
“I’m good.” He slid off the table, biting back a hiss as he slowly put a little weight on his injured side. He brought the crutch under one arm and Fireflight grabbed the other. As they left the other two men waved them off.
It wasn’t a particularly long walk but by the time they reached the door to Sandstorm’s quarters he was exhausted and leaning almost entirely on the crutch and pilot. Fireflight hurried the sniper as quickly as he could to the bed and hovered as Sandstorm slowly, carefully made himself comfortable. “Do you need me to get you anything?” He asked, even as he knelt to take off his shoes- practically slippers as they were.
“I’m fine.” He reclined uneasily. “Just needs to catch my breath.” Sandstorm put an arm over his forehead, concentrating on slowing his breathing and heartrate, trying to ignore the throb at his hip. He listened to Fireflight shuffle around his quarters, getting a glass of water and setting it on a nearby stand. Then, ever so gingerly, as if he were afraid Sandstorm would break, Fireflight laid a blanket over him.
Sandstorm couldn’t help it, hated being invalid, hated how everyone treated him like one and tried to look like they weren’t. “I’m not fragile!” He snapped.
Startled, Fireflight dropped the edge of the blanket. “I- sorry, I…. ‘m sorry.”
And just like that his temper vanished, leaving only guilty. Sandstorm reached up, took his shades off his face and placed it next to the water glass. He held out a hand. “Flight, c’mere.”
Hesitantly Fireflight did so, curling carefully under the arm and against Sandstorm’s uninjured side.
“I’m sorry.” The Wrecker said against the soft red of Fireflight’s hair. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you just want to help.” Fireflight didn’t say anything but the way he nuzzled Sandstorm’s shoulder was forgiveness enough. “It’s just been… tough. Stuck on the ship for every mission, barely able to go down the hall on my own, having everyone itching to do everything for me. It’s really- I just- I feel useless like this!”
“But you’re alive.” Came the quiet reply. “And you’ll recover.” Fireflight twisted, bracing an arm on either side of Sandstorm’s shoulders. “You could’ve gotten really hurt. You could’ve been killed and I know this is a risk- for both of us –but seeing you like this, knowing what could’ve happened scares me. I don’t want to lose you, Sandstorm. I know you can’t make those kinds of promises but just tell me you won’t leave me.” With Fireflight looking at him like that Sandstorm regretting taking off his shades, wishing he had the familiar red band to hide behind. “Just promise me that.”
“I… I can’t.” He said lamely and felt his heart squeeze painfully as the pilot’s despairing face. He put a hand to Fireflight’s cheek, stroking the angle and tracing the curve. “I can’t promise that no matter how much I want to because that’s not something I can keep. I can promise I’ll do my best to come back to you, but I can’t say I always will.”
Fireflight’s bright eyes teared up and he buried his face against Sandstorm’s neck, hands fisted in his shirt. “Promise you’ll try.” He whispered brokenly. “Promise you’ll do whatever you can to come back.”
Sandstorm’s arms came up tight around his back. “I promise.”
