Chapter Text
"y/n just called," Ironhide's entire frame tenses as Ratchet's sentence stops him in his tracks. "She isn't feeling well, so she said to stop by tomorrow."
"I was just-" He starts, but senses that attempting to finish his sentence would be in vain. Ratchet is only telling him such a thing because he knows that's where he's headed, halfway to the door, t-cog churring slowly as he itches to transform.
"Headed there, yes." The medic finishes, not even looking up from his data-pad, presenting an effortless display of multitasking as he scrolls mindlessly. "She wanted me to tell you that she's not up for company, and like I said, to stop by tomorrow."
"Right," Ironhide drawls, feeling an inkling of worry settle in his chassis. "Well, what does 'isn't feelin' well' mean? Care to elaborate?"
"I have no further information." Ratchet finally moves his gaze to the mech, brow raised curiously. "Likely a typical human illness, the flu or a virus. y/n did not seem that concerned regarding it."
"I'm goin' for a drive," Ironhide moves towards the base garage doors, motions purposeful and determined. "And thank you. For tellin' me,"
"Yeah, yeah." He waves him off, returning to his work. "Tell y/n I said hello since you're obviously ignoring their request."
Ironhide barks a laugh before transforming, turning his engine over as he takes off, Ratchet hitting the button on the control panel without batting an optic.
The red truck rolls down barren roads, eventually turning onto the long driveway that takes him uphill to your house, dirt catching in the grooves in his tires. There was almost nothing that could have stopped him from at least passing by your place today, because the notion was already set in his processor that he was going to tell you just what had gotten him all riled up. After yesterday's demonstration of his inability to keep his composure around you, he owed you in the least an explanation, however, when Ratchet delivered such news, it threw a major wrench in his plans.
"Yo, kid!" A thought passes that you might be asleep, but the urge to make sure you are alright was overpowered by such a disquiet. "Come down here for a klik!"
Ironhide, clearly amused but won't dare say a single word regarding it, watched as your window slinks open, elbows resting on the sill with a defeated look on your face. "Ironhide, I should sell you for spare parts." There is a nasal twinge to your voice, your nose red and face flushed. You feel like crap and know for sure you must look it. "I just told Ratchet to tell you I was sick,"
"I know that," He replies, feeling mildly guilty. "How am I supposed to hear that ya ain't feelin' well, and not come to check on ya?"
"You could have called!" You argue back, a sneeze racking your body as another promptly follows suit. "Thank you Hide, you're very kind for coming, but I feel like shit."
"Ratchet says hello, by the way." Having had enough of shouting up at you, Ironhide transforms, padding over to your window as he looks down at you. "What happened? You were fine yesterday,"
"I dunno. I just woke up like this, all achy and gross. It's probably viral or whatever." He lets the laugh he stifled free, charmed that you are so unnaturally grumpy and displeased. "What? What is so funny to you?"
"I understand now why ya called Ratchet," He reaches a servo up to run down the length of his face-plate, successfully hiding his smirk. "Yer cranky and annoying."
"You're so lucky, I-" Another sneeze, to which you turn into your room and away from the window. "I'm allergic to you, Ironhide,"
"Aw, Princess, don't be like that," He winces as you cough abruptly into your elbow. "I'll leave ya alone, jus' after I steal one more klik from ya,"
You stare up at him, confused clearly, but clear your throat and nod your head in acknowledgment. "Yes, Hide?"
There's a single second where he's caught up in your face. The way you look up at him with glassy eyes, your hair a mess, and crumpled tissue in your hand. It's in a moment like this where all you can see is imperfections and all he sees is a face that he'll never get enough of. He wants to tell you, words sitting once more on his glossa, but a better part of him says he should wait until you're feeling better.
It's not an excuse, it's not a justification for the idea he's not ready. He's not, but he's also an old bot that's been around the block one or two times. You're going nowhere, it can wait until tomorrow.
"Ah, forget it," Ironhide shakes his helm, a short grunt escaping his voice box. "It can wait until tomorrow, I know yer not feelin' the best."
"You came all the way out here, it must be important. I can take it, whatever it is." Nose twitching, you tilt your head to the side, perplexed, giving pause. "Unless you want me to finish your wash from yesterday. If it's that, you can go to whatever the comparison to Cybertronian Hell is."
Ironhide laughs, mirth twinkling in his cerulean optics. "Nah, I wouldn't dream of askin' you that. It's somethin' a lil more personal, but I've got it in me to give it one more day."
"If you're sure," You warble, sniffling slightly. "I'm too tired to argue with you,"
"Oh yeah?" Levity pouring out of him, he can't silence it any longer. "You're a pain, y/n, but I know I'm botherin' you. I'll let ya get some recharge."
"Call me later, okay?" Another cough and the drowsiness envelopes you faster than you'd like to admit. "I'm about to crash."
"Alright, alright," He smiles gently, pulling backward from your window to allow him room to transform. "Yeah, I'll call ya. Feel better, 'kay? Who else is gonna finish cleanin' my plating?"
"Goodbye, Hide," You laugh, waving as he transforms, landing on the grass with a thud. Ironhide observes as you shut your window, a look on your face that he just can't describe, but wants to keep that image locked in his processor forever.
"Rest up!" He calls, throwing his gears in reverse and taking the driveway back down to the street.