Sheer Dumb Luck part 8
Sheer Dumb Luck
Part Eight
By Dreaming of Everything AKA dream_it_all AKA dreams_of_all, betaed by mmouse15
Series: Transformers 2007
Ratings/Warnings: M for sex and possible language, plus sexual themes. Warnings for multiple partner scenes and themes, plug-and-play, slash. Updated G1 characters.
Characters/Pairings: Ratchet, Constructicons, Ratchet/Constructicons. (Yes, all of them.)
Summary: The Constructicons found Ratchet and asked him to repair their sixth gestalt member. He couldn't say no, although he knew he needed to. Forced into an uneasy truce, he's almost starting to get attached...
Sheer Dumb Luck chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Sheer Dumb Luck @ FFnet
Sheer Dumb Luck: Chapter 8
When Ratchet came to he felt distinctly out of it, and the way he was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling didn't help. The fact that he could stare at the ceiling-that is, that he was in his root mode-was cause for alarm in and of itself.
It was distinctly unnerving. He had no recollection whatsoever of how he’d ended up-
A brief movement had him turning and loosing off a shot in the general direction of the movement, on nerves alone. He froze for a second as his processor identified ‘Decepticon’-the build was unmistakably not Autobot-and then relaxed suddenly as he recognized Hook. That was where he was, on the Constructicon base. He’d given a good portion of his energon to Long Haul to replace what the larger mech had lost-apparently more than he’d readily been able to spare-
Ratchet froze again as he realized he’d just shot at Hook. Amazingly, incredibly, he hadn’t been attacked in return.
He met the other’s gaze. “…Sorry?”
“Considering the circumstances, I’ll forgive you. How are you?”
“-Good, when all’s said and done. And considering the circumstances. Where are Mixmaster and Long Haul?”
“Med bay.”
“Where are we?”
“My room.”
Huh. He hadn’t thought about what their living quarters would look like… Hook’s, at least, was totally bare, except for a small table with a single datapad resting on it.
“Why am I here?”
“You were less likely to be woken up-everyone else is in the med bay. Long Haul and Mixmaster-and Bonecrusher, of course, although he’s not really present yet, is he?-are there by necessity, and Scrapper’s there to keep them in order. Scavenger’s there for the company, which leaves me. I was charged with watching you, and I figured it would be easier here.”
“Um, thank you. What day is it?”
“You were out for just over twenty-seven hours.”
Good. It could have been a lot worse, Ratchet knew. Oddly, he found himself surprised by the news that the Constructicons apparently didn’t sleep in one big crowd-given the amount of physical contact they all indulged in.
“Alright. Where’s the medbay from here?”
“I’ll show you-we’re close.”
“Thank you.” Ratchet lurched to his feet, taking a minute to stabilize-his systems were still feeling the effects of the energy drain, even though some of what he’d lost had been replaced. He didn’t miss the way Hook reached out a set of hands, wanting to stabilize him, offer support-that was weird. Maybe it was just another extension of the tactile nature they all had. That made sense: now that he wasn't irrevocably the enemy, it got harder to control their bizarre gestalt-born tendencies.
Although Hook did not strike him as having a particularly open personality when it came to that sort of thing.
oOo
Long Haul had onlined again, probably naturally-he hadn’t been bad off, after Ratchet’s repairs had finished, and his gestalt mates would have supplemented his energy levels, doubtlessly. Mixmaster, Ratchet was happy to see, was still unconscious-he was a different matter altogether, of secondary importance at the moment. He was in a considerably more stable state than Long Haul had the potential to be.
“How are you feeling?” Ratchet demanded briskly as he walked up next to the mech.
“Fine. Can I leave?”
“What?”
“Can. I. Leave. Please.”
“…After I run a diagnostic.”
“Oh, slag.”
“Two minutes either way won’t make that much of a difference. Stay still!”
The scan didn’t even take two minutes. It finished barely thirty seconds later. “Okay, there, you’re free to go. Keep your energon levels extremely high-that’s not a recommendation. Don’t dip below ninety percent reserves, and ninety-five percent is better.”
Ratchet watched the Decepticon leave, and then turned to Mixmaster. He’d been wondering, vaguely, where the other two Decepticons were-Bonecrusher was still on his table, and Hook had gone to the comm. room-since Hook had said that they were in the med bay: he was relieved to catch sight of them, leaning against each other with their backs to the wall, recharging.
Apparently he’d been partially right-some of them, at least, liked to sleep with someone else there.
But that was neither here nor there. He double-checked the progress of Mixmaster’s systems, but it looked like his internal repair systems were working remarkably quickly: he was very happy with the result. Nothing had been too badly damaged, beyond the short-term memory storage, and they’d already figured out an answer to that-
Speaking of which. Technically, there was nothing to stop him from rebooting him then and there, but it would probably be best to wait until one of his gestaltmates were there. After all, Ratchet had just woken up confused enough to attack Hook-and having an enraged Mixmaster going after him, even if just for a few seconds, wasn’t something Ratchet wanted; it could also cause more damage, if he wasn’t careful enough in his movements-
Ratchet sat down instead, trying to enjoy the downtime.
That lasted for less than two minutes, before Ratchet found himself facing Bonecrusher’s body again, welder in hand.
After all, he had work to do.
oOo
Ratchet was the one to online Mixmaster again, carefully sending a brief electric pulse through the right wires, jumpstarting the proper systems, so Ratchet was the first sight Mixmaster saw as he came back to consciousness.
“Aut-tobot,” he identified, sounding remarkably calm.
“Er, yes,” Ratchet replied, glad that he wasn’t being shot at-yet, at least. “State your designation.”
“Mixmaster. Ob-viously. ’Crusher?”
“Still in bad shape. The others are fine, though-you’re fine, which is something of a miracle. We are going to have a talk.”
“Why-y woul-d y-ou t-t-t-alk with me, Aut-to-”
“Calm down,” Hook said carefully, stepping forward. He ran gentle fingers along one of Mixmaster’s arms, not even trying to disguise the gesture as casual, obviously relieved. “You lost your short-term memory-this is Ratchet, he’s patching Bonecrusher back together. He also saved your life. And Long Haul’s.”
“I wouldn’t need to if he had an ounce of common sense-”
Ratchet’s sentence was derailed by the sight of Hook casually accepting a cable from Mixmaster, handing one of his own over in return, then the two of them initiating in the tie-
They were interfacing. Or something slagging close to it.
So that was how they transferred memories back and forth. Of course. So they got the memories in the first place through a combination of bond and interface-or maybe combiner form, when they were whole-and they were preserved as individual thoughts through the gestalt mind, which could then be moved back to the originator if they lost their copy of the data…
Ratchet turned away and ignored how Scavenger was clearly distracted, probably picking up feedback, and how Scrapper had just shuddered at the feel of a phantom data transfer, at how Long Haul was utterly still-
Apparently all the rumors about gestalt bonds were true.
Ratchet was leaving the room, headed for the outside if not actually going back to town-the one place he knew how to find, because Scavenger’s arrows were still up-when he heard his name and paused.
“Ratchet. Thank you.”
The four-fold echo was unnerving, in a familiar way. Their voices fit together.
oOo
“Hey Ratchet!” Scavenger said loudly, sliding into the room. His sensor spikes were raised high, flaring out in a fan around his head and bristling along his back.
“Scavenger. You’re looking better-your, ah, spikes looked partially damaged.”
“What, my sensors? Oh, they heal fast. And Hook looked them over.”
Ratchet frowned. “Would you mind if I looked over them? Sensors can be tricky-if something went wrong with the self-heal function, it could have ramifications.”
“What? Sure-here.” There wasn’t a hint of shyness in any part of the Decepticon’s demeanor as he moved closer, leaning over as he pressed his side into Ratchet, giving the medic full access to his back.
Ratchet decided to ignore the way his tail had curled around his leg, and bent to examine a spine, running sensitive fingers down it, rotating it slightly-though it was obvious that it responded to Scavenger’s moods, it could be moved manually by him, as well, it wasn’t locked into place. After a minute he turned to another, carefully noting the electrical impulses and how they varied in different areas-everything seemed to be working fine, at least-
“Ratchet?” Scavenger said, unexpectedly quiet and voice strained, somehow. “If-Do I need to dampen my sensitivity for this?”
“What?” Ratchet said, and only then he caught the way Scavenger’s engine was working, body vibrating slightly, subliminally, with the increased force of it, and the way the mech was leaning into his inquisitive fingers, arching against them. “Oh! I’m sorry, yes, it’s fine if you cut it off almost entirely-”
“Don’t be sorry,” said Scavenger abruptly, straightening but not moving away, leaning into the medic; Ratchet hadn’t realized how much taller the other mech was. Then, abruptly, he changed topics: “You’re saving Bonecrusher, and you saved Mixmaster and Long Haul.”
He felt uncomfortable. “Long Haul probably would have survived-”
“You saved them.” His tone was fierce. “So-you-should-” Scavenger ran determined fingers along a seam in Ratchet’s armor, engine running even more fiercely, the vibrations carrying over into the other’s frame. “I want to thank you-because you-”
That was downright alarming. He tried to back up, but Scavenger pressed an arm around him. “You don’t owe me a thing and, really, this isn’t so much a thank-you as it is-”
“Interfacing? Oh. That’s just because I want to. Partly because you’re helping us-you’re- It’s not because I think I need to, it’s that you would, you have, and so you’re someone I’d want to ’face with. But I do want to say thanks. So: thank you.” He probed a finger further into Ratchet, sending a brief flick of electricity dancing over a bunch of sensory nerves, making the mech jolt a little, his own engine rumbling to life.
“…Why me? And I’m an Autobot, Scavenger.”
“No, not really-you’re Ratchet. Kind of like I don’t think of myself as a Decepticon the way I think of myself as Scavenger, or Devastator. It’s just a job description. And you’ve helped us.” His tones were hushed with happy respect. “And you’re nice-and interesting. You’re not always nasty. You apologized once.” This time, he released a brief crackle of electricity from a sensor-spike Ratchet was holding, the energy snapping to his hand, and he shuddered at the sensation.
“-Fine,” Ratchet said. “If you-want it.” He shouldn’t be interfacing a Decepticon, but-
But it was Scavenger, who wasn’t really a Decepticon, or just a Decepticon. And an overload didn’t mean much more than friendship, or at least enough trust for physical intimacy, depending on how it was undertaken...
Scavenger brightened, and backed up, giving Ratchet more space, moving back into the hunched-over position, facing him this time. Hesitantly, the medic ran a finger along one of the sensors on his head, and Scavenger made a needy noise, then spoke. “Is there-somewhere on you?”
“Nowhere particularly. My hands…”
Scavenger brightened, turning immediately to grab one of the digits, turning it over in his hands, observing. Ratchet wasn’t expecting it when he produced another wave of energy, bringing him to his knees, joining the other, and then forcing him to lean on him when he repeated it, optics blurring momentarily with the feedback.
“Tell me how I do, ’kay? I’m not used to this with someone who’s not one of us.”
Ratchet snorted. “You’re ridiculous-you know exactly what you’re doing. You-ohhh…”
“Okay, maybe I do-but I’m a Decepticon, right?” He smiled unashamedly, then pointedly moved the hand he was holding back to a sensor. Ratchet shifted so his arms went around the mech, his other hand joining the other, forcing Scavenger to hunch a little to make up for the differences in their height, and smirked once his face was hidden from the other’s view. He wasn’t the only one who had a few tricks-he let one hand start to vibrate, a low hum, with a quick modification of what he used for the saw, then pressed a single finger to one of the spikes, deliberately.
He… Honestly, he liked the way that made Scavenger jerk against him, armor scraping against armor and the other reduced to a low, static Cybertronian babble. He pulled the finger away again, and Scavenger made a low, annoyed noise.
Ratchet made up for it by deliberately tugging the wire his other hand had singled out-he could just barely see it, with the position his head was in, but he could see enough to figure out which ones were primarily for pleasure and which for pain. It worked a little differently than it did on Autobot designs, but Ratchet had gotten good at telling the difference, working on Bonecrusher-
Scavenger responded with a sudden flare of his personal energy field, warm against Ratchet’s nerves where it got through his layer of armor, brushing his neural nets. Ratchet was reduced to speechlessness and his grasp tightened convulsively around the other, something Scavenger seemed to like almost as much as deliberate manipulation of pleasure sensors.
“Can we- Link up?” asked the other hopefully. “I can’t feel you-it’s weird.”
Gestalts, Ratchet had decided, were weird, but he could understand the need, if it was what he was used to.
“Give me time to put up firewalls.” It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes. To fill them up, Ratchet tried scraping one head spike against the other-which Scavenger didn’t actually seem to like. He tried wrapping a purposefully overheated hand over it instead, and felt gratified by the response.
Then Scavenger was handing him a cable-a hardline-and Ratchet accepted. He had firewalls cutting off anything important, Autobot secrets-he handed the other his own, and shuddered as he clicked the port into place. The reaction was immediate, a flood, a roaring ocean of data-it abated as Scavenger completed the circuit, and the immediate effects of feeling exactly what he’d been doing to his partner flooded his systems, along with the acknowledgment of what he’d done for them, for the Constructicons as a group, and there was also the feeling of their minds fitting together, a match that let everything sync-he was still himself but he could feel what being Scavenger was, could feel the other’s thoughts and happiness and, yes, what he was feeling-
He made the conscious effort to move his own body and ran his hand down another sensor, gripping the base of it, firmly-he liked having such an easy way to create a reaction, to make him feel-
Scavenger’s mental presence flowed into his, searching, and Ratchet let him, bemused, and the surge of emotion when he found the fierce, odd fondness that Ratchet had for the Constructicons, it sent him spiraling out of consciousness and into pure sensation, then nothingness.
--End chapter 8--
Edited 5-26-09 for phrasing issues; thank you for pointing the issue out, okami_myrrhibis and Carmilla DeWinter.
Part Eight
By Dreaming of Everything AKA dream_it_all AKA dreams_of_all, betaed by mmouse15
Series: Transformers 2007
Ratings/Warnings: M for sex and possible language, plus sexual themes. Warnings for multiple partner scenes and themes, plug-and-play, slash. Updated G1 characters.
Characters/Pairings: Ratchet, Constructicons, Ratchet/Constructicons. (Yes, all of them.)
Summary: The Constructicons found Ratchet and asked him to repair their sixth gestalt member. He couldn't say no, although he knew he needed to. Forced into an uneasy truce, he's almost starting to get attached...
Sheer Dumb Luck chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Sheer Dumb Luck @ FFnet
Sheer Dumb Luck: Chapter 8
When Ratchet came to he felt distinctly out of it, and the way he was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling didn't help. The fact that he could stare at the ceiling-that is, that he was in his root mode-was cause for alarm in and of itself.
It was distinctly unnerving. He had no recollection whatsoever of how he’d ended up-
A brief movement had him turning and loosing off a shot in the general direction of the movement, on nerves alone. He froze for a second as his processor identified ‘Decepticon’-the build was unmistakably not Autobot-and then relaxed suddenly as he recognized Hook. That was where he was, on the Constructicon base. He’d given a good portion of his energon to Long Haul to replace what the larger mech had lost-apparently more than he’d readily been able to spare-
Ratchet froze again as he realized he’d just shot at Hook. Amazingly, incredibly, he hadn’t been attacked in return.
He met the other’s gaze. “…Sorry?”
“Considering the circumstances, I’ll forgive you. How are you?”
“-Good, when all’s said and done. And considering the circumstances. Where are Mixmaster and Long Haul?”
“Med bay.”
“Where are we?”
“My room.”
Huh. He hadn’t thought about what their living quarters would look like… Hook’s, at least, was totally bare, except for a small table with a single datapad resting on it.
“Why am I here?”
“You were less likely to be woken up-everyone else is in the med bay. Long Haul and Mixmaster-and Bonecrusher, of course, although he’s not really present yet, is he?-are there by necessity, and Scrapper’s there to keep them in order. Scavenger’s there for the company, which leaves me. I was charged with watching you, and I figured it would be easier here.”
“Um, thank you. What day is it?”
“You were out for just over twenty-seven hours.”
Good. It could have been a lot worse, Ratchet knew. Oddly, he found himself surprised by the news that the Constructicons apparently didn’t sleep in one big crowd-given the amount of physical contact they all indulged in.
“Alright. Where’s the medbay from here?”
“I’ll show you-we’re close.”
“Thank you.” Ratchet lurched to his feet, taking a minute to stabilize-his systems were still feeling the effects of the energy drain, even though some of what he’d lost had been replaced. He didn’t miss the way Hook reached out a set of hands, wanting to stabilize him, offer support-that was weird. Maybe it was just another extension of the tactile nature they all had. That made sense: now that he wasn't irrevocably the enemy, it got harder to control their bizarre gestalt-born tendencies.
Although Hook did not strike him as having a particularly open personality when it came to that sort of thing.
oOo
Long Haul had onlined again, probably naturally-he hadn’t been bad off, after Ratchet’s repairs had finished, and his gestalt mates would have supplemented his energy levels, doubtlessly. Mixmaster, Ratchet was happy to see, was still unconscious-he was a different matter altogether, of secondary importance at the moment. He was in a considerably more stable state than Long Haul had the potential to be.
“How are you feeling?” Ratchet demanded briskly as he walked up next to the mech.
“Fine. Can I leave?”
“What?”
“Can. I. Leave. Please.”
“…After I run a diagnostic.”
“Oh, slag.”
“Two minutes either way won’t make that much of a difference. Stay still!”
The scan didn’t even take two minutes. It finished barely thirty seconds later. “Okay, there, you’re free to go. Keep your energon levels extremely high-that’s not a recommendation. Don’t dip below ninety percent reserves, and ninety-five percent is better.”
Ratchet watched the Decepticon leave, and then turned to Mixmaster. He’d been wondering, vaguely, where the other two Decepticons were-Bonecrusher was still on his table, and Hook had gone to the comm. room-since Hook had said that they were in the med bay: he was relieved to catch sight of them, leaning against each other with their backs to the wall, recharging.
Apparently he’d been partially right-some of them, at least, liked to sleep with someone else there.
But that was neither here nor there. He double-checked the progress of Mixmaster’s systems, but it looked like his internal repair systems were working remarkably quickly: he was very happy with the result. Nothing had been too badly damaged, beyond the short-term memory storage, and they’d already figured out an answer to that-
Speaking of which. Technically, there was nothing to stop him from rebooting him then and there, but it would probably be best to wait until one of his gestaltmates were there. After all, Ratchet had just woken up confused enough to attack Hook-and having an enraged Mixmaster going after him, even if just for a few seconds, wasn’t something Ratchet wanted; it could also cause more damage, if he wasn’t careful enough in his movements-
Ratchet sat down instead, trying to enjoy the downtime.
That lasted for less than two minutes, before Ratchet found himself facing Bonecrusher’s body again, welder in hand.
After all, he had work to do.
oOo
Ratchet was the one to online Mixmaster again, carefully sending a brief electric pulse through the right wires, jumpstarting the proper systems, so Ratchet was the first sight Mixmaster saw as he came back to consciousness.
“Aut-tobot,” he identified, sounding remarkably calm.
“Er, yes,” Ratchet replied, glad that he wasn’t being shot at-yet, at least. “State your designation.”
“Mixmaster. Ob-viously. ’Crusher?”
“Still in bad shape. The others are fine, though-you’re fine, which is something of a miracle. We are going to have a talk.”
“Why-y woul-d y-ou t-t-t-alk with me, Aut-to-”
“Calm down,” Hook said carefully, stepping forward. He ran gentle fingers along one of Mixmaster’s arms, not even trying to disguise the gesture as casual, obviously relieved. “You lost your short-term memory-this is Ratchet, he’s patching Bonecrusher back together. He also saved your life. And Long Haul’s.”
“I wouldn’t need to if he had an ounce of common sense-”
Ratchet’s sentence was derailed by the sight of Hook casually accepting a cable from Mixmaster, handing one of his own over in return, then the two of them initiating in the tie-
They were interfacing. Or something slagging close to it.
So that was how they transferred memories back and forth. Of course. So they got the memories in the first place through a combination of bond and interface-or maybe combiner form, when they were whole-and they were preserved as individual thoughts through the gestalt mind, which could then be moved back to the originator if they lost their copy of the data…
Ratchet turned away and ignored how Scavenger was clearly distracted, probably picking up feedback, and how Scrapper had just shuddered at the feel of a phantom data transfer, at how Long Haul was utterly still-
Apparently all the rumors about gestalt bonds were true.
Ratchet was leaving the room, headed for the outside if not actually going back to town-the one place he knew how to find, because Scavenger’s arrows were still up-when he heard his name and paused.
“Ratchet. Thank you.”
The four-fold echo was unnerving, in a familiar way. Their voices fit together.
oOo
“Hey Ratchet!” Scavenger said loudly, sliding into the room. His sensor spikes were raised high, flaring out in a fan around his head and bristling along his back.
“Scavenger. You’re looking better-your, ah, spikes looked partially damaged.”
“What, my sensors? Oh, they heal fast. And Hook looked them over.”
Ratchet frowned. “Would you mind if I looked over them? Sensors can be tricky-if something went wrong with the self-heal function, it could have ramifications.”
“What? Sure-here.” There wasn’t a hint of shyness in any part of the Decepticon’s demeanor as he moved closer, leaning over as he pressed his side into Ratchet, giving the medic full access to his back.
Ratchet decided to ignore the way his tail had curled around his leg, and bent to examine a spine, running sensitive fingers down it, rotating it slightly-though it was obvious that it responded to Scavenger’s moods, it could be moved manually by him, as well, it wasn’t locked into place. After a minute he turned to another, carefully noting the electrical impulses and how they varied in different areas-everything seemed to be working fine, at least-
“Ratchet?” Scavenger said, unexpectedly quiet and voice strained, somehow. “If-Do I need to dampen my sensitivity for this?”
“What?” Ratchet said, and only then he caught the way Scavenger’s engine was working, body vibrating slightly, subliminally, with the increased force of it, and the way the mech was leaning into his inquisitive fingers, arching against them. “Oh! I’m sorry, yes, it’s fine if you cut it off almost entirely-”
“Don’t be sorry,” said Scavenger abruptly, straightening but not moving away, leaning into the medic; Ratchet hadn’t realized how much taller the other mech was. Then, abruptly, he changed topics: “You’re saving Bonecrusher, and you saved Mixmaster and Long Haul.”
He felt uncomfortable. “Long Haul probably would have survived-”
“You saved them.” His tone was fierce. “So-you-should-” Scavenger ran determined fingers along a seam in Ratchet’s armor, engine running even more fiercely, the vibrations carrying over into the other’s frame. “I want to thank you-because you-”
That was downright alarming. He tried to back up, but Scavenger pressed an arm around him. “You don’t owe me a thing and, really, this isn’t so much a thank-you as it is-”
“Interfacing? Oh. That’s just because I want to. Partly because you’re helping us-you’re- It’s not because I think I need to, it’s that you would, you have, and so you’re someone I’d want to ’face with. But I do want to say thanks. So: thank you.” He probed a finger further into Ratchet, sending a brief flick of electricity dancing over a bunch of sensory nerves, making the mech jolt a little, his own engine rumbling to life.
“…Why me? And I’m an Autobot, Scavenger.”
“No, not really-you’re Ratchet. Kind of like I don’t think of myself as a Decepticon the way I think of myself as Scavenger, or Devastator. It’s just a job description. And you’ve helped us.” His tones were hushed with happy respect. “And you’re nice-and interesting. You’re not always nasty. You apologized once.” This time, he released a brief crackle of electricity from a sensor-spike Ratchet was holding, the energy snapping to his hand, and he shuddered at the sensation.
“-Fine,” Ratchet said. “If you-want it.” He shouldn’t be interfacing a Decepticon, but-
But it was Scavenger, who wasn’t really a Decepticon, or just a Decepticon. And an overload didn’t mean much more than friendship, or at least enough trust for physical intimacy, depending on how it was undertaken...
Scavenger brightened, and backed up, giving Ratchet more space, moving back into the hunched-over position, facing him this time. Hesitantly, the medic ran a finger along one of the sensors on his head, and Scavenger made a needy noise, then spoke. “Is there-somewhere on you?”
“Nowhere particularly. My hands…”
Scavenger brightened, turning immediately to grab one of the digits, turning it over in his hands, observing. Ratchet wasn’t expecting it when he produced another wave of energy, bringing him to his knees, joining the other, and then forcing him to lean on him when he repeated it, optics blurring momentarily with the feedback.
“Tell me how I do, ’kay? I’m not used to this with someone who’s not one of us.”
Ratchet snorted. “You’re ridiculous-you know exactly what you’re doing. You-ohhh…”
“Okay, maybe I do-but I’m a Decepticon, right?” He smiled unashamedly, then pointedly moved the hand he was holding back to a sensor. Ratchet shifted so his arms went around the mech, his other hand joining the other, forcing Scavenger to hunch a little to make up for the differences in their height, and smirked once his face was hidden from the other’s view. He wasn’t the only one who had a few tricks-he let one hand start to vibrate, a low hum, with a quick modification of what he used for the saw, then pressed a single finger to one of the spikes, deliberately.
He… Honestly, he liked the way that made Scavenger jerk against him, armor scraping against armor and the other reduced to a low, static Cybertronian babble. He pulled the finger away again, and Scavenger made a low, annoyed noise.
Ratchet made up for it by deliberately tugging the wire his other hand had singled out-he could just barely see it, with the position his head was in, but he could see enough to figure out which ones were primarily for pleasure and which for pain. It worked a little differently than it did on Autobot designs, but Ratchet had gotten good at telling the difference, working on Bonecrusher-
Scavenger responded with a sudden flare of his personal energy field, warm against Ratchet’s nerves where it got through his layer of armor, brushing his neural nets. Ratchet was reduced to speechlessness and his grasp tightened convulsively around the other, something Scavenger seemed to like almost as much as deliberate manipulation of pleasure sensors.
“Can we- Link up?” asked the other hopefully. “I can’t feel you-it’s weird.”
Gestalts, Ratchet had decided, were weird, but he could understand the need, if it was what he was used to.
“Give me time to put up firewalls.” It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes. To fill them up, Ratchet tried scraping one head spike against the other-which Scavenger didn’t actually seem to like. He tried wrapping a purposefully overheated hand over it instead, and felt gratified by the response.
Then Scavenger was handing him a cable-a hardline-and Ratchet accepted. He had firewalls cutting off anything important, Autobot secrets-he handed the other his own, and shuddered as he clicked the port into place. The reaction was immediate, a flood, a roaring ocean of data-it abated as Scavenger completed the circuit, and the immediate effects of feeling exactly what he’d been doing to his partner flooded his systems, along with the acknowledgment of what he’d done for them, for the Constructicons as a group, and there was also the feeling of their minds fitting together, a match that let everything sync-he was still himself but he could feel what being Scavenger was, could feel the other’s thoughts and happiness and, yes, what he was feeling-
He made the conscious effort to move his own body and ran his hand down another sensor, gripping the base of it, firmly-he liked having such an easy way to create a reaction, to make him feel-
Scavenger’s mental presence flowed into his, searching, and Ratchet let him, bemused, and the surge of emotion when he found the fierce, odd fondness that Ratchet had for the Constructicons, it sent him spiraling out of consciousness and into pure sensation, then nothingness.
--End chapter 8--
Edited 5-26-09 for phrasing issues; thank you for pointing the issue out, okami_myrrhibis and Carmilla DeWinter.