Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Well, it wasn’t always smooth sailings. Adjusting to a new life, new environment, new…company, took some time obviously. However, after being introduced to the so-called medbay—more like a large storage room really—Ratchet found it easy to settle in and take stock of his new domain.

He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he’d actually agreed to join with Deadlock. A bounty hunter of all mechs. Mech sure worked for it, he’ll give him that. Fragger wouldn’t leave him alone even when Ratchet threatened to bag him to the elite guard (not that he would have, but kid didn’t know that). Now it was too late to turn back so Ratchet would make the best of the situation he threw himself in.

Deadlock’s ship was a sturdy thing. A moderate-sized ship with a few rooms and corridors, including a medbay, brig, and control room. After a quick tour of the entire ship, he was immediately led to his new quarters which was conveniently located right next to the medbay and was left alone to adjust to his new living situation. Without having many belongings to unpack, Ratchet was quick to throw himself to his medbay—yes, his—and arrange everything to his own liking.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Deadlock acted more or less polite—or polite as any rogue bounty hunter could manage. He made it clear that Ratchet was a full-fledged member of The Pursuer (very original) and had full access to all her facilities with the exception of a particular room that Ratchet was absolutely not supposed to enter under any circumstances. When he inquired why he was met with a flash of razor-sharp teeth in a non-friendly smile.

“Captain’s Orders” was his growled reply.

That told him all he needed to know. Member of the ship and partner he may be, but when it came down to it, Deadlock called the shots. He might have a say in certain areas or when he really pushed his weight around, but if Ratchet wasn’t careful, he could find himself in the receiving end of those teeth.

Or those pistols hanging at the side of Deadlock’s hips.

For now, his main position was The Pursuer’s, Chief Medical Officer. Everything medical and associated with it was his responsibility, and he’d be damned if he didn’t complete his function with his utmost performance. He may not be part of a unit anymore, but he was still a medic and a damn good one at that, reputation or no reputation.

He was also to assist Deadlock in his commissions when he was called upon, though only on the tasks where his help was absolutely necessary. For the most part, Deadlock liked completing his operations alone which Ratchet was secretly thankful for; he really wasn’t keen on the whole hunting and capturing business, even if Deadlock said he only went after criminals and escaped prisoners.

He’d rather stick to the medical side of this partnership thank you very much.

Partners. The word left a weird taste in his intake. He’d either get used to it or he won’t. Not like he had much of a choice at the moment. He’ll stick with Deadlock for now. Mech made him an offer and Ratchet had accepted it, finally. He’ll see where this path takes him, whether he’ll find living life on the edge had all the perks he was promised or if this was another mistake in Ratchet’s never-ending list.

If worse came to worse, he’ll hightail it back to Cybertron when the opportunity arises and forget this ever happened. Not that Deadlock needed to know that little part.

No, Deadlock had other things to worry about right now.

“Oy! I said I was fine dammit!”

“And I said I your word is slag until I do a scan myself.”

Like submitting himself to one the Hatchet’s infamous physicals perhaps?

“I don’t need you tinkering with my frame ‘less I’m injured or after a job now quit it!"

“As CMO of this ship, my job is making sure every crew member on board is in top shape now shut up and come with me!”

And that was the honest truth. He had made it his top priority to survey the health of all members of the Pursuer and being the only person on this ship other than Ratchet, Deadlock was in for an overdue checkup.

It was admittedly, a little difficult to mech-handle the bounty hunter into the medbay. Most of his patients were standard build—Autobot standard build. Deadlock was most definitely NOT an Autobot.

He wasn’t overly large either. Ratchet was certainly wider and stouter, but Deadlock was tall with wide shoulder pauldrons and extra-long limbs and could tower over Ratchet if he really wanted to. His frame was built for speed but could easily take a punch with minimal damage. He supposed the extra armor around his frame came in handy for handling his most extreme targets.

Still, Ratchet wasn’t going to let something as simple as size difference prevent him from performing a routine exam. No matter how much Deadlock complained the entire way.

When they finally arrived at the medbay (which was newly refurbished after Ratchet’s delicate influence), he turned to his unruly crewmate and partner with a fixed glare.

“You either sit and behave like a good little patient or I’ll strap you to the berth.”

The larger mech, who’d been seething the entire trip here, shot him a wicked smirk. “Didn’t know you were into that kinda thing doc.”

Ratchet remained unfazed. “Strap or no strap. Your choice.”

He watched as Deadlock considered his options for a nanoklik before lumbering over to the freshly polished medical slab and plopping his behind on it with an air of finality. Turning to Ratchet with a leveled stare, he waited for the medic to make his next move. Red optics burning into blue.

Oh, this was gonna be an interesting arrangement indeed.