Tough Love

SLEEPOVER AT MECH

That night was not a peaceful one. Silent, but not in a good way. The cell was eerily quiet, and neither mech could recharge comfortably – or at all – because of it. It's especially frustrating for Thunderhoof, who desperately wants to sleep his pain away yet can't because the universe just hates him, apparently. The only good thing about this situation is that he isn't alone; Bumblebee is stuck with him.

The Autobot hasn't budged an inch since they settled down hours ago. Thunderhoof could only assume that he's deep in thought, which wouldn't be much of a stretch since the humans that caught them are affiliated with the group from Bumblebee's past.

Not that Thunderhoof will admit it out loud, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the slightest bit impressed by what these humans accomplished, even at the expense of his pride.

By the stars, if the others saw me now, they'd never let me live this down!

Thunderhoof inadvertently, audibly chuckled at the thought.

"Something funny?" Bumblebee asked.

"Just thinkin' about how the other 'Cons would react," Thunderhoof replied, shifting in place. He grimaced when he rotated his injured hoof a little too much to the side.

"Scrap. Can't heal fast enough."

"Maybe if you stayed put like you were supposed to..." Bumblebee started.

"Then the bitlits would've been buried under a pile of rocks," the Ex-Con interrupted pointedly, drawing his injured hoof closer. "And who knows how long it would've taken yous to find 'em."

"You're underestimating the Rescue Team's abilities."

"Did I mention anything that remotely suggests I underestimate them?"

Bumblebee didn't answer, preoccupied with sulking. Thunderhoof scoffs and rolls his optics, then turns to his injured hoof. On the outside, everything looks fine, but in the space between plating and proto-form and below, things are still healing on a microscopic level. With the amount of stress Thunderhoof has put on it, the hoof has taken longer than estimated to heal.

Deducing that he can't do anything about his hoof until after they escape, Thunderhoof raises his gaze to his chassis. From what he can see, sparse scorch marks and small cracks don't stretch any further than the edges of his armor. The more pliable, vulnerable, sheet plating of his abdomen is, thankfully, unscathed. Thunderhoof vents a sigh of relief and reaches up to place a servo on his chassis. He restrains himself from making any sort of noise when feeling the point of impact, where the cracks are wider, deeper, and burn like the Pit.

"Thunderhoof, stop touching your injury," Bumblebee ordered, finally breaking away from his thousand-yard stare to look at his companion. "You're just going to aggravate it, and even someone like me who has almost no medical training knows that that isn't a good idea."

"I don't need yous policin' my every move," Thunderhoof grumbled, though he did stop rubbing and rested his servo in his lap. "I already have enough to deal with."

"Aside from the past couple weeks, what else is there?"

"Anything and everything involving Steeljaw."

Bumblebee hums. He nods a minute later.

"Fair point. Honestly, I'm surprised you're holding it together this well. You haven't had a violent outburst once."

Thunderhoof barks out a laugh.

"Hah! Yous are actin' like I have a choice!"

Bumblebee tilts his helm.