Lovely Features

Medical Dispute

        Ratchet and Knock Out never really got along for long. They always seemed to disagree about every little thing, getting into heated arguments about anything and everything. Sometimes it seemed one of them disagreed just for the sake of disagreeing. Just for a chance to irk the other medic. Be it over the best way to perform a procedure, what level of a virus a patient is at, or simply the right way to hold a tool.

        They were currently having one of said disagreements

        "I insist that my way is better." The small red mech sounded full of himself, as he usually did.

        "Of course you do, you just don't want to admit you're wrong." Ratchet scowled down at the smaller medic, displeased.

        "Who's to say you didn't just describe yourself, hmm?" Knock Out smirked when Ratchet growled at such an idea. "I mean certainly a younger medic might actually be in on the newest knowledge. Your processor's too slow to really diagnose the problem and assess the correct treatment."

        "Excuse me!" Ratchet bellowed in disbelief, glaring at the vain doctor. "I've been doing this since you were a youngling. I'm sure I know exactly what I'm doing."

        "As I had said..." Knock Out leans in close, drawling out the next part, "You're an older model."

        Ratchet wanted to hit him more than he had wanted to hit anyone else. And Primus, he's wanted to hit people pretty bady throughout his life. But something about the ex-Decepticon made him uncomfortable. He just knew how to get under his plating.

        "What's the matter, Ratchet?" Knock Out's voice was a purr, as he smirked up at the older medic, jerking Ratchet from his internal fuming, "Cat got your glossa?"

        "Wait..." Ratchet gave Knock Out a skeptical look, "How do you know about cats?"

        "The internet." The smaller mech shrugged, waving it off as if it were nothing, "But that's not important right now. This could be life or death, you know?"

        Ratchet sputtered in disbelief at the smaller mech's claim, "It's just welding, Knock Out!" The older mech admonished, throwing his servos into the air. "It's not rocket science."

        "On the contrary, my dear fellow doctor... It's a big, important thing to get right. I mean, look at me for example?" Knock Out gestured down to his currently flawless frame. "You can't dare expect sloppy welding to work for a frame such as my own. You should have let your assistant help you out and weld up the bug."

        Ratchet fixed Knock Out with a firm, hard glare. "His name is Bumblebee--"

        "Whatever."

        "--and I never asked you to be my assistant. I was fine on my own. Actually, more than fine. I don't need some vain butcher telling me how to do my job, which I've been doing for eons now."

        Knock Out appeared hurt momentarily, before he quickly covered it up with a scornful laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to go tell Prime that you have an issue with accepting the aid of this so called... butcher, was it? I'd be oh so willing to go and let him know. I don't like being around foul company, after all."

        Ratchet scoffed at Knock Out's words. "Foul company? You're one to talk."

      "And here I thought you liked my company." Knock Out feigned a look of disbelief. Then snorts. "Yeah, right."