Ratchet: *looking down at Jazz and Bee's berth, where Bee is sleeping and hugging Jazz tightly* ...It's a good thing you can't dent anymore.
Jazz: It'd still be worth it. *wink*
Ratchet: *suddenly amused* Does she have your arms pinned?
Jazz: Yup, turned off the pain receptors though. *nuzzles the sleeping Bee*
Ratchet: *shakes head* So it would be useless for me to ask how you're feeling.
Jazz: I'm happy if that helps! *charming grin?*
Ratchet: So I see. How's the cough? Your processor seems to be working smoothly. *busy scanning*
*something crashes outside* Oh, and by the way, your offspring are having a paintball war in your living room.
Jazz: Mostly just a...*moan* I'll get them when running doesn't kill my chassis.
Ratchet: *tsks with concern and switches scanners* So you are
still experiencing pain.
Jazz: Sore from the cough, which is mostly dry. Please don't stick me in the can. *big pouty optics*
Ratchet: *quirks a brow plate* At this point I don't think it would speed your recovery any more. *frowning and rumbling* I wish I knew more about your shell. If you were in a normal one I'd prescribe some WWD40 for that.
Bee: *tightens her grip and snuzzles in her sleep. She hasn't gotten much rest while Jazz has been down*
*Sudden bark of Ironhide's drill sergent voice from the living room, followed by dead silence*
Jazz: ...Ratch? Go make sure 'Hide ain't gonna kill my kids.
Ratchet: Don't be so melodramatic. He won't kill your kids.
Ratchet: I'll be right back. *gone!*
Bee: *blinking and sitting up* Jazz? What's going on?
Jazz: *coughs and then grins* Don't worry lady love. Ratch has a hand on it.
Bee: ...That's supposed to reassure me?
Ratchet: *returns wearing extra paint* They've taken it outside. Oh, hello, Bumblebee.
Bee: *blink blink*
Jazz: *flop back on the bed* Good. Sorry, I know they act up cause I can't get on them.
Ratchet: *resumes scanning* They act up because they're based on you and Bumblebee.
Bee: Oh like Columbia never cuts up.
Ratchet: *blandly* She is
her mother's daughter.
Jazz: *laughs, then goes into another coughing fit*
Bee: *winces and rubs his chest* Hey... take it easy.
Ratchet: *frowning as he listens to the cough and thinks of all the remedies he has that won't work on Jazz's shell* I think you're on the mend. But you'd better stay in bed till further notice. I don't want to see a relapse, or any damage caused by impulsive behavior.
Jazz: *nods and lays back* 'Kay, Doc. Sorry 'bout the trouble.
Ratchet: You've been a very good patient. *nods to himself and pats the smaller mech on the shoulder* Your spark is fine, and your systems are nearly back to their usual levels. I think you're well on your way to recovery.
Bee: *plays a little victory riff on her stereo, then gives a tired beep*
Jazz: *smiles and cuddles his wife* Back to sleep, Bee.
Bee: *blinks at him, not fully assured that he's alright, but then beeps again*
Ratchet: *gently pushes her over and then turns to the door* I'd better get the day's classes started. I can just imagine what the twins are up to by now. Nova's probably got them backed into a corner and missing a few plates.
Bee: *grumbles at the push, but then snuggles Jazz, her optic shutters drooping*
Jazz: *cuddles Bee close to him and kisses her shoulder.* Let's just get some sleep.
Bee: *sighs and complies*