Fic: 4x4 (Human Series)
4x4
By Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Bumblebee/Sam, Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Optimus/Ratchet, Mikaela/Prowl
NC-17
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Lies of Omission
The Theory of Existence
Beyond My Brave Facade
Parental Interaction In The Third Degree
Field Trips Into the Hypothetical
Arrested Developments of the Heart
Necessary Repairs
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
Notes: Here we go again. Might as well bust out pages while I can. :)
1. Sam and Bee
They'd never done this, not quite like this. Not outside and seriously not right on top of Bumblebee's car form. It brought back a faint memory, lying on the hood with Mikaela and Bumblebee silent beneath them, watching, and what Bee had been feeling then Sam had no idea but then Sam had been clothed and now…not so much.
Tearing through the desert at top speed, music blaring from the speakers had seemed more like foreplay than anything else and when Bee had finally stopped, Sam had already been waiting for it. His holo form had appeared so quickly that he'd been nearly a blur as he yanked Sam out of the abruptly opened door and Bumblebee was surprisingly adept at taking off clothes, considering that he didn't have do it himself.
The hood beneath his hands was still blazing warmth, Bee's engine ticking as it cooled, as Sam clawed at the smooth metal helplessly. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to hold him down, his toes barely on the ground as he sprawled over the hood. It felt like he'd been doing this a lot lately, with everyone but the one he really wanted. Until now and the feel of Bumblebee's fingers sliding into him shocking a breathless little scream out of him, loud in the silent night desert around them.
"You want me?" Bumblebee whispered fiercely and Sam nodded frantically, the dampness of the sweat on his face made his cheek squeak against the metal. The harsh thrust of Bee's fingers inside him pulled a yelp out of him even as he lurched back against them, trying to get them deeper, to get more. Fucking himself on Bee's fingers and begging him wordlessly for more. The smell of his own sex and sweat, of the raw, hot need of it, and Sam spread his legs wider, hot metal beneath him and hot flesh against him.
"Beautiful," Bumblebee groaned and the abrupt withdrawal of his fingers made Sam snarl, would have made him turn and demand Bee give him more if Bee hadn't dropped to his knees and there was a slick, nimble tongue against him, slim hands on his hips as Bee held him open and kissing him there, so wet against him.
There was no air left in his lungs to scream, Sam writhing weakly against Bumblebee's hood, mouthing the smoothness and tasting dust and something else, something visceral, Bumblebee.
Felt Bumblebee inhale sharply against him, his mouth suddenly vicious as he pressed his tongue in hard, licking his way inside with a wet little sound before he abruptly withdrew. There was a near danger of Sam sliding right off the hood into a heap on the ground, or there would have been if Bee hadn't grabbed Sam's hips, hard, one of his feet between Sam's kicking them sharply farther apart and he knew what was coming, knew but still couldn't brace himself for it, the first push against him making him suck in a breath, let it out in a yell.
"That's it." Hotly against his ear, the nasty-wet swipe of tongue licking into it. "That's it, take it, Sam, you can take me."
Hard thrust into him, Bumblebee yanking him back into it, again, again, and Sam screamed until his voice cracked, and all he could do was claw at the hood beneath him, his nails scraping useless at alien metal that he couldn't even scratch. Nothing but the feel of Bumblebee inside him, the hoarseness of his own voice, desperate and pained and he didn't even think to reach for a connection, didn't need anything but this.
Sweet, high noises echoed into his ear and dimly he recognized it was Bumblebee, the hoarseness in his voice having less to do with sex than injury but to Sam he sounded as pretty as he looked, could imagine the tightness to his face, that lovely little oh-god-gonna-come expression and Sam didn't have a sound left in him when orgasm poured through him, a sudden hot rush of pleasure. He threw his head back in a silent cry, felt Bumblebee just barely sink his teeth into the newly exposed skin even as he shuddered through his own climax, the stinging in his neck soothed by suddenly gentle kisses.
"Sam," Bumblebee groaned roughly and Sam just barely made a noise that might qualify as acknowledgement. Christ, Bumblebee was going to kill him like this one of these days. He was surprisingly heavy for a holographic projection, flopped across Sam's back like he was planning on moving in and it was only when Sam squirmed, a little soreness making itself known, that he managed to pull away and then only far enough to sprawl on his back next to Sam.
A little shakily, Sam pushed up to his feet, leaning heavily against Bumblebee as he studied the hood. His come was streaking the bright yellow finish in glossy ribbons and Sam was damned if he was going to sacrifice his nice shirt for Bee's paint job.
"Feel better?" Sam asked, wincing a little at his own hoarseness. Hell, every Autobot in the city had probably heard him howling out here like a coyote. Ratchet had probably recorded it and added it to whatever creepy files he was keeping on human sexual practices, the old pervert.
One green eye slitted open to look at him. "If I say no, will you let me do it again?"
"Bee-" Sam started, yelping as Bumblebee sat up quicker than Sam could blink and yanked him back down, rolling him over into the wet spot, ew. A car hood shouldn't even have a wet spot, he manage to think and then thinking went the way of the dinosaurs, nothing but the sound of skin on skin and against sleek metal.
Not nearly as far away as Sam would have preferred, all the Autobots in the city who weren't currently in recharge once again lowered their audio sensors in resignation and Ironhide made a note to himself to talk to Bee, again, about putting up some form of silencing barrier when they did their human sex things. Not everyone had a scientific curiosity about all that weird organic stuff.
2. Mikaela and Prowl
Mikaela curled up on her bed, holding a pillow tightly against her belly. She was still fully dressed, the lights still blazing overhead as she waited for Prowl to come back or at least send her a text message to let her know just what the hell was going on.
It hadn't taken her too long to figure out what had happened. News that the cops had picked up someone outside had spread through the bar quickly, even to the people on the dance floor, and finding Sideswipe gone had been a pretty big clue as to who.
What the hell had Sam been doing outside anyway, that's what she wanted to ask him. Or rather, what had he been doing that had been enough to get arrested. She chewed on a fingernail, a hundred possibilities flittering through her thoughts and none of them seemed reasonable. He was supposed to be dancing, flirting a little. Having a little fun after an epically weird month of trying to get himself killed.
Even if she had believed that Sam would have taken someone out back for a quickie, the very idea that he'd have taken someone back to make out in Sideswipe…just, no. Not a chance.
Personally, she figured Sam was having a belated wigging-out over a having a few of his preconceived notions about his sexuality take a sharp left turn. She only wished she'd been as surprised as he had. They'd had fun, they really had, but anyone who had eyes could see it was Bumblebee who drew him, eyes and body and heart. Even just as a robot, Sam had looked at Bee in a way he had never looked at her. Sam had looked at her and seen hotness and sex, Bumblebee…she wasn't sure she could quite describe what she'd seen in his eyes when he looked at Bee but it was nothing as simple as just sex.
She sighed and buried her face into her pillow. When Bumblebee had asked her to help him form a human avatar, she'd been happy to help out. She liked Bumblebee, it was hard not to like him, but maybe he was just as oblivious as Sam because the minute she'd realized that his hologram was more than just light, she'd…known. She'd known exactly what was going to happen when the right opportunity hit and it seemed stupid to be too upset when it had. Sam had cared about her, that was obvious, but she should have known exactly where she stood in comparison to Bumblebee the very first time Sam had yelled at her for insulting his piece of crap Camaro, should have let him down gently before she'd forced him to do it himself--
There was a soft sound of the door opening, interrupting her thoughts, and Mikaela looked up to see Prowl standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I believe I am ready to speak to you now," Prowl said, low and calm.
When she'd finally given in and texted him, the reply had been a very brief, curt message for her to remain where she was. He hadn't said a word when he pulled up to the club and the gossip line had probably exploded when she hopped into the front seat. Two cops stealing away with people in one night? That little town probably hadn't seen that much excitement since last fourth of July.
The drive back had been in complete silence, even her timid questions about Sam had been ignored. Then again, Prowl had ignored her quiet, "Well, then fuck you," too, so there was that. It wasn't until they pulled up in front of her quarters that Prowl had told her, curtly, that there had been a Decepticon attack on Sam and Sideswipe while they were in jail, and then she'd been too frightened for them to protest at all when he sent her inside and drove off.
Since then all she'd gotten was a quick text message from Bumblebee letting her know that no one was hurt.
"Ready to yell at me?" Mikaela asked sardonically as she sat up but then she frowned, getting a better look at him. Slowly, a little surprised, she said, "You changed."
He had. There was less of a linebacker look to his holo; still tall but now he was leaner and lithe, and Mikaela couldn't help but notice that it suited him. She'd helped make his last holoform, just like she'd helped Bumblebee, only this one she'd made to her tastes, not Sam's. Bumblebee was hot, sure, but he was undeniably guy-pretty. Prowl she had made hard and muscled, the tall, strong football-type that she was always happy to drool over and it had been pretty effective. She'd sure as hell enjoyed it the past few nights, even if had been a while. She and Sam had never gotten as far as actual sex which should have been a clue right there, if she hadn't already noticed the totally obvious.
Prowl shrugged, patting himself lightly as if he was checking out his own specs. He'd kept the dark hair and eyes, the basic facial structure. Add a uniform and she could see him looking like a young cop. Just the plain dark shirt and jeans he was wearing had a nice enough effect. "This feels more comfortable."
Okay, there was a little Autobot weirdness. "How does that work?" Mikaela asked, baffled. Maybe putting on the wrong holo form was like wearing pants that were too small. A figurative robotic wedgie. But she could see the difference. His holo before had been good but this one was much better, more relaxed and real.
"I'm not sure I can explain it," Prowl said, softly. He looked at her steadily. "You left base with Sam."
No accusations, just a statement of fact. "Yeah."
"And without me."
"Yeah, I did," she said, a little defiantly.
"You're not going to do it again." Prowl stated it like it was fact. No yelling, no threatening, just a simple statement. A fucking order was what it was and it made something inside Mikaela bristle and tighten. She wasn't particularly fond of cops, even alien ones, and she didn't like orders from anyone, especially if she was sleeping with them.
"You think because I let you play human with me that you can tell me what to do?" she snapped.
Prowl didn't so much as blink, no flicker of emotion but that same damnable calm. "No, I think that I am the one who is charged with protecting your life and not even you are going to prevent me from doing it."
"Whatever. I think you're giving yourself too much credit. It's not like I'm trying to die."
"Not trying doesn't seem to be hindering your attempt," Prowl said, his voice bone-dry. "If you had been in that cell with Sam and Sideswipe, you would be dead."
"You don't know that." But uneasy fear stirred in her as she thought about it. She'd seen firsthand exactly what kind of damage Decepticons were capable of, remembered Sam's tight voice when he'd told her what Barricade had tried to do to him.
"On the contrary, I do. Sideswipe's instinct was to protect Sam and he could not have saved you both." Prowl finally stepped closer and Mikaela couldn't help but flinch as he loomed, one arm on either side of her as he leaned in close, his face inches from her. "Barricade would have murdered you in cold blood as he has done to many, many others and I would have been miles away and helpless to stop him."
"I get it, okay! It's your duty to protect me," she leaned back, trying to put some distance between them. He didn't even act like he was mad, just staring at her so close, this was so stupid. "It doesn't even matter. They aren't after me."
"I think you aren't giving yourself enough credit," Prowl said evenly. "You did your part in their defeat and the Decepticons are unlikely to forget it. And whether or not you play human with me, as you say, this is not going to happen again. We brought the two of you here to keep you safe."
"Fine," she muttered, slouching back against the wall. Prowl pulled away enough to stand upright, looking down at her speculatively.
"It's all right for you to be upset, you know."
Startled, Mikaela looked up at him. Was she supposed to be grateful that she was allowed to be pissed off at him? "What's that supposed to mean?"
"At Sam," Prowl clarified. "I've seen the way you act with him and I've heard your heartbeat when you do. The two are not within the correct parameters." Prowl tilted his head a little, studying her while she tried to figure out what the hell all that meant. "You are angry with him and perhaps you should be."
"I am not angry at Sam! He's my friend and he's hurting, and I'm trying to help him!"
Prowl was shaking his head already and Mikaela's hands itched for something to throw into that controlled face. "He is, this is true. He's had a difficult time. He also abandoned you for someone else and didn't even have the grace to tell you to your face. In fact, he probably cheated on you, isn't that right?"
She bristled instantly, where the hell was this even coming from? The evening had already been a disaster, she wasn't in the mood for a psychoanalysis from her freaking bodyguard. "It's not like that," she snapped.
"What is it like, then? He had sex with Bumblebee while still committed to you, didn't he?"
"He didn't-"
"Didn't he?" Prowl said, relentless, his calm steady and strong as he stared down at her dispassionately. "Even if he didn't, he barely let the dust settle before he moved on."
She threw something at Prowl before she even thought about it, the pillow from her bed, and he didn't flinch or duck, allowed her to hit him.
"Yes," he said softly. "Go ahead."
And she did, the hot snap of her temper flaring and she threw everything in her reach at him, books, a bottle of lotion, her alarm clock flew at him with the cord trailing behind it. Her cell phone missed, shattering on the wall behind him and finally her little end table was empty and all she could do was collapsed to the floor, covering her face with both hands, not crying but so, so angry, her face stinging hot with it, hating them all. Sam for abandoning her just like everyone else she'd ever cared about, Bumblebee for stealing him away and Prowl for being right, fucking bastard--
She wrapped her arms around herself and the first hot tears squeezed out from her tightly shut eyes as she choked out a sob, the horrible, unlovely tears of real pain and when Prowl knelt next to her, she let him pull her into his arms even if this was all his fault and she hated him.
Prowl rocked her as gently as if she was a child, his chin resting lightly on her head. His breath stirred her hair as he spoke, softly, "I understand you concealing your anger from Sam, but you don't have to hide or pretend with me, Mikaela. You cannot shock me and you cannot hurt me. Not like this."
Still sniffling, Mikaela wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She didn't look at Prowl, kept her head lowered and her eyes shut.
"And you are correct, it is my duty to protect you. But it isn't loss of duty that would hurt me if you died," And finally there was a ragged edge of emotion to his voice. "I've lost enough."
Jazz. God, she'd almost forgotten that he'd just lost Jazz and what would it have done to him if she'd gotten herself killed. That first night, she'd seen his calm crack sharply, he'd been so lonely, so hurt.
"I'm sorry-"
"No," he shook her very lightly. "Don't apologize to me for that. You don't owe me anything, Mikaela, not a thing. All I want is for you to just let me protect you. Can you at least let me have that much?"
She didn't really nod, more like rubbed her head into the comforting warmth of his chest, but she could talk, thickly and did. "Okay. I won't leave the city without you again."
Prowl's sigh was almost silent and when she tipped her head up, he obeyed her unspoken request, gently pressing his lips to hers in an unspoken promise.
3. Ratchet and Optimus
Ratchet had never been particularly fond of fuel capacitors, beyond his own use of them. They simply performed a necessary function, just as their optics and their audio sensors did. In the past few days however, he had gained a very fine hatred of them. Their delicacy and their unfortunate tendency to violently explode when the proper care wasn't taken with them meant that Ratchet was the only one capable of handling them at the moment. A human might have the steady hands required but not the ability to survive the blast if they made an error and Ratchet didn't even want to consider allowing any of the other 'bots to try.
The only one of them who might have the necessary precision was Bumblebee and he had enough to do. That left Ratchet and an endless supply of fuel capacitors to convert for solar energy. Energon would have been better, infinitely better, but their supplies were short and until they had a better refinery, solar energy would have to do. He didn't even want to consider using any of the humans fuel supplies beyond basic electricity, filthy carbon-based garbage that was as inefficient as it was disgusting. He'd rather convert a thousand capacitors than touch that.
He heard the sound of a door opening just as he began to weld the tiny struts into place, cursed himself for forgetting to lock it. At the rate he was being interrupted, he would still be working on this one capacitor until the return of Primus, never mind that it was his own fault that he'd had to rebuild it in the first place.
The first tiny strut was secured and Ratchet took a moment to glance up, and saw Optimus, always graceful despite his large size as he moved silently around the infirmary, studying the neatly arranges supplies and tools. Automatically, Ratchet straightened and began to lay his tools aside, even as he checked his internal chronometer for accuracy. It was fine which meant Optimus was here far earlier than Ratchet had scheduled.
Optimus waved off his unspoken question absently. "Don't stop on my account."
"You're early for your knee replacement," Ratchet said, warily returning to his work.
"You're supposed to still be in recharge." Optimus countered.
Ratchet only grunted at that, flicking on the laser welder again. Each capacitor had ten struts, tiny fragments that were only the size of a human fingernail and each needed to be welded in exactly the proper spot for the correct level of support. With a delicacy of touch that was essential for his work, Ratchet started on the second. "I need to finish this."
"Then don't let me stop you."
Ratchet didn't look up again, but his peripheral sensors indicated that Optimus had continued his silent inspection, checking over the human and Autobot supplies, respectively.
"Did you need something?" Ratchet asked finally, glancing up as he finished the second strut. Perhaps if Optimus was looking for something, Ratchet could tell him where it was and then he could leave. Optimus seemed satisfied with whatever he had seen and instead settled his bulk on the floor, just behind where Ratchet was working. Leaning against the wall with his legs drawn up in a posture that humans and 'bots alike seemed to favor.
"No." A quiet, simple denial.
That stumped him. Barring a medical emergency, Optimus was the only one of them that he couldn't directly order out of the infirmary. He could ask him to leave but that seemed churlish, given their conversation the night before and it wasn't as if Optimus was in the way or even trying to distract him. He was just…there. Settling in for all the world as if he was just going to sit and watch Ratchet weld.
Ratchet huffed a little but went back to it. Two struts down, eight to go.
"I like to watch you work," Optimus said softly.
"Then watch silently," Ratchet muttered, focusing on his work. He felt as though Optimus was laughing at him, somehow, but he took Ratchet at his word and didn't make a sound.
It was difficult to get back into the rhythm of it, knowing that optics were on him, and twice he started to set the plasma welder down and ask Optimus if there wasn't something useful he could be doing. Twice, he almost did it and twice he resisted.
After a while, his attention focused and he nearly forgot Optimus was there. Such delicate work required pinpoint accuracy and complete concentration and Ratchet turned all his sensors toward it, determined to finish this today. If he had to look at this particular capacitor again, Ratchet thought he might devolve into gibbering insanity that no amount of recharge would help.
There. The last strut was welded perfectly into place and now all this capacitor needed was a little time to let the components set. Ratchet sighed a little in relief and just as he was turning off the welder, two large hands settled unexpectedly on his shoulders. Without his peripheral sensors to warn him, it startled him so much that he squealed like a sparkling, accidentally flipping the switch to the highest setting. With a groan of rending metal and a shower of sparks, the table fell away into two sections and a large scorch mark formed on the floor beneath it.
For a long moment there was nothing but silence as Ratchet stared disbelieving at the damage. Almost absently, he flicked the laser welder off, but he still held on to it since the table he would have set it on was neatly dissected on his floor. The hands that had caused this problem to begin with were still on his shoulders and they started to shake lightly, the body standing so close to his own wracked with tremors until finally Optimus burst out laughing. Loudly. As Ratchet hadn't heard him laugh since…perhaps he had never heard Optimus laugh quite like this.
"What…" Ratchet sputtered, still staring at the smoking wreckage of his worktable and he finally spun around to face Optimus, shaking those guilty hands away from him. "What is wrong with you! You…this….you!"
He was angry past the point of speech, crouching down to salvage the fuel capacitor. Again. It was with relief beyond measure that he found it happily undamaged by the catastrophe and it was that and that alone that kept him from hurling the thing directly at Optimus's head.
Slowly, Optimus slowed into chuckles, "I'm sorry, Ratchet, I…no, wait…" Another burst of laughter, and Ratchet's glare heated as Optimus was forced to lean against the wall to remain upright. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice mod a little gaspy. "I didn't mean to startle you. But the way you screamed…oh…"
His laughter was degenerating into the clicks and whirrs of a protoform, the Autobot equivalent of gasping for breath. Ratchet only watched him with pinpoints of red glaring from his optics, not cracking so much as a smile.
"I could have cut my hand off, you know," Ratchet informed him waspishly. "And would have had to reset it myself since I doubt any of you could do it." By this point, Prime was kneeling on the floor, all but keening with amusement and Ratchet surrendered, taking the rescued fuel capacitor to a safer part of the infirmary.
It was no use. Optimus only followed him, nearly staggering at first but slowly his laughter eased, though Ratchet could still see the amusement lingering. "I am sorry, Ratchet."
He reached up, fingertips close to Ratchet's face just before the medic flinched away. Something in his optics softened, sobered as he withdrew. "You really do dislike being touched, don't you."
"I do not," Ratchet snarled. He stormed over to kicked lightly at the ruined table, calculating what he would need to fix it. He had liked that table, damn it, he'd just managed to get it to the perfect height. "I just don't see the point of it! I am not an organic."
"Neither is Bumblebee," Optimus said with deceptive lightness. "Or Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Or Prowl. Or even Ironhide who enjoys spending time with the Lennoxes. We've been around organics before," Optimus reminded him, "some of us have learned to appreciate their ways."
"Fine, then, have it your way. I'm the strange one who hates to be touched," Ratchet said coolly. He started to kneel, intent on inspecting the damage more closely and froze instead, stiffening as Optimus came up behind him to murmur very close to his auditory sensor.
"That is far from what I said."
Ratchet closed his optics and very carefully did not move. Enough of this, it was a distraction that he did not need. "Why are you doing this? Why now?" he asked bluntly.
To his credit, Prime didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Jazz."
That was unexpected. Ratchet turned enough to look at Optimus who was regarding him gravely. Very close, yes, but respectfully not touching. "Jazz?" Ratchet prompted, quietly.
"I have always been very aware of mortality," Optimus said, softly. "You know this. But losing Jazz…it hurts." He finished, simply, and when he reached out hesitantly, Ratchet allowed the very human embrace. Just this once, he told himself, shivering a little as Optimus's fingers stroked along his back, sliding into the gaps in his armor and against sensitive sensor arrays.
"Then seeing Bumblebee and Sam," Optimus's voice was a deep rumble, close enough for Ratchet to feel the reverberation of it. "Humans do not have a lifespan that allows them the luxury of waiting and perhaps neither do we. So I decided I should ask for what I want."
"And what is that?" Ratchet forced himself to ask, not entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer.
"You." Simply. "I want to be with you, as a partner, as whatever you will allow. If Wheeljack returns I will join you in rejoicing and I will let you go, but for now, I want whatever I can have." A moment's pause, those stroking fingers hesitating before they slipped up to Ratchet's face and gently tipped his head up, forcing him to reluctantly meet Optimus's optics. "I dislike watching you hurting as you wait."
"And that's what you want," Ratchet said, trying to interject his normal harshness into his voice mod. And failed, surely failed. He settled for distance, pulling away from the embrace and Optimus let him go instantly, though his hands lingered briefly, fingers too gentle to dent or even scratch paint.
Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest, felt the need to pull into himself just a little. "And what about what I want?"
The smile that lit Optimus's face was rueful at best. "I suspect that you will make the decision for both of us. But not now," Optimus straightened, sobered, "Just consider it."
He seemed to be waiting for some response and Ratchet finally muttered, "All right."
Just at this moment, Ratchet didn't want to consider it at all, gathering up all the relevant data and stuffing it to the back of his processors to examine later. Right now, all he wanted to do was fix his damned table. He crouched again, considering the damage and when he felt Optimus lean in again, close to his auditory sensor, he only sighed in exasperation.
Very close to his auditory receptor, Optimus murmured. "My appointment isn't for another hour. Just once, would you let me try to show you how good a simple touch can feel?"
"No," Ratchet snapped. He felt petty for it immediately but continued doggedly, "It would seem I need to spend the rest of my free time repairing a table."
His clear disappointment was so keen that Ratchet sighed, again. He was entirely too old for this kind of ridiculousness. "Perhaps another time," he grated out, grudgingly, and he did not feel a flare of warmth at Optimus's obvious pleasure.
He really didn't.
4. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker
Sideswipe had known that none of this was going to end well. From the moment Mikaela had approached him, he'd known that this little expedition was going to end in trouble and work detail. He'd gone along with it, anyway, and why not? Going out dancing was essentially harmless and he wasn't adverse to a little mischief on both sides of the equation, both in sneaking out and not revealing to his charges that he fully intended to get caught.
If he'd been able to calculate just exactly how much trouble this one little illicit adventure was going to be, he definitely would have reconsidered. Maybe there was a glitch in his logic circuit.
The memory of Optimus's anger was one he would have been relieved to lock away in his processors with a select few others, but he knew better than to try. With the way his luck was going, if Ratchet found out he'd done that, he'd flag the file to replay every time Sideswipe was in recharge.
Optimus had been purely furious in a way Sideswipe had never had directed at him. Endangering Sam and Mikaela's life had only been the tip of that iceberg. The officers at the sheriff's department had been injured, though thankfully not severely, the building itself had been nearly demolished by Barricade's attack and by Sunstreaker's subsequent rescue. Sam's general location was now available to any Decepticon who could crack through the local police files, which was all of them that were currently on Earth. Add in the trouble the Government would have to go through to conceal the entire incident and Sideswipe had almost expected Optimus to disassemble him right on the highway. Not that Sideswipe would have blamed him.
Optimus had restrained himself from that, at least, and had ordered them to return to base with Ironhide while the rest of them did a quick scan of the city to be sure Barricade had left.
As Sam would have said, the whole situation really sucked.
The only saving grace was that Sunstreaker hadn't stepped up to make an awful situation worse. Sunstreaker had been uncharacteristically silent throughout it all, accepting Prime's accusations and following Ironhide without a word of protest, even when he'd secured them both in the large hanger normally reserved for the human's jets.
Prime had said he would deal with them sometime in the next day, which really meant that part of their punishment would be staying here, agonizing about what their reprimand would entail. That was a tactic that Sideswipe was very familiar with.
The hanger was dark, Ironhide not bothering to turn on any unnecessary lights before locking them in, and Sideswipe switched his optics to infrared, the better to see his strangely quiet brother. He wasn't in recharge, just sitting so that he was leaning against the steel sheeting that made up the wall. His optics were shut, his scanners running on minimal.
Very carefully, Sideswipe picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it at Sunstreaker's head. He landed a solid shot in the middle of his forehead and Sunstreaker jerked in surprise, weapons cycling to the ready as he sat up and looked around somewhat wildly.
"Mmm…something wrong?" Sideswipe asked, making his voice mod sound as though he'd been startled out of recharge.
"…no," Sunstreaker muttered, settling back down.
Sideswipe waited patiently, counting the passing time in both Earth and Cybertronian measurements until Sunstreaker finally settled down again, his scanners set warily at a slightly higher level.
Again, he picked up a pebble, aiming this time for the auditory sensor on the side of his brother's head. His aim was perfect and this time Sunstreaker didn't ready his weapons, only sat up, looking up at the ceiling above them with some bewilderment. Sideswipe held very still as Sunstreaker finally moved, crawling to sit on his other side. He settled back down, rubbing the side of his head absently and resumed his leaning posture against the wall.
Seconds, then minutes ticked by before Sideswipe slowly, slowly reached for another pebble. His fingers had just closed over a likely one when his hand was painfully grabbed and stilled, Sunstreaker's optics glaring at him through the darkness.
"What?" Sideswipe asked, all pure innocence but his guilty amusement was already threading through their bond, revealing him. Their renewed intimacy was deepening their spark bond again and he was out of practice in fine art of concealing himself from his entirely too cunning brother. Sunstreaker made a sound of exasperation and let him go, only to have to duck from the pebble that would have clipped him right between the optics.
"Stop acting like a child," Sunstreaker said sullenly. But he couldn't hide his own flickering amusement, not from Sideswipe, ducking his head to hide a smile that was trying to show. Sideswipe didn't hide his own smile and wouldn't have if Optimus himself had been glaring down at him. Sunstreaker only sighed and shook his head, as though he were the innocent one in their set, tolerating his brother's antics.
"If you were going to get us both on punishment detail, you could have at least invited me along from the beginning," Sunstreaker said, finally, but there was no resentment in his voice. "I would have enjoyed dancing with you."
"You wouldn't have been satisfied with just dancing," Sideswipe said dryly. But he touched his brother's hand, lightly. They were prohibited from using their holo projectors but a simple touch couldn't get them into more trouble than they already were.
"Then we could have provided the humans with a very interesting show," Sunstreaker quipped. He played a quick, playful blurt of music that Sideswipe's internet search quickly identified as 'The Stripper'.
He laughed inwardly, let Sunstreaker feel it through a private channel and then in a reckless moment of daring, he left the link open, baring himself. It was something he hadn't allowed in a long, long time. Involuntary sharing aside, he hadn't let Sunstreaker actually link to him since…that memory lurched against the locks he'd put on it and Sideswipe resisted seeing it, particularly now with his surface thoughts bared and vulnerable. Physical joining as an holo was safer, less exposed, less likely to backlash and leaving him reeling from his brother's abrasiveness yet again.
But Sunstreaker had saved Bumblebee, and had spilled his own fluids to do it, had saved him just tonight, and Sideswipe needed a deeper joining than a burst of human-style mating. Had to feel that his brother was alive no matter what misery and regret it would cause him later.
Sunstreaker's hesitance in accepting the link was a surprise but after a long pause, he did, twining his surface emotions to his brother's. For once there was no bitterness or cruelty, nothing hidden, lurking darkly beneath the surface. Sunstreaker was his other half, no matter how broken or damaged that half was and to see him like this was as devastating as it was pleasurable, as collected as he'd been since longer than Sideswipe cared to think about.
It made Sideswipe want to cling to him, pressing the link a little deeper with startling fierceness that Sunstreaker felt and responded to, still hesitant but willing. Sunstreaker as he so rarely was and Sideswipe hid deeply in his own processors the fervent, useless wish that it could always be like this. Sunstreaker wouldn't, couldn't be. Whatever fractures that were in his spark would shift again, sharp edges grating, and his mercurial moods would swing back to cruelty and sullen bitterness, but for now in this one moment he was sweet, blissful perfection, Sunstreaker as he could be, if Primus had been kinder.
--I know--, Simply, soft acknowledgment threaded through the link and Sideswipe drew air raggedly into his intakes. --I'm sorry--
So very, very soft, a bare confession. Sunstreaker knew who he was. What he was. Sideswipe's internal processors tracked the time they sat together, basking in the gentle pleasure of joining, and it was some time before Sunstreaker broke the silence, one of his hands hovering over Sideswipe's.
"Can I touch you?" Sunstreaker asked, uncertainly.
Sideswipe smiled a little. "I could never stop you." He felt Sunstreaker wince away, oddly, achingly vulnerable and caught his hand before he could withdraw, their fingers scraping lightly together. "You can always touch me."
It was a lie and they both knew it, but Sideswipe wanted to believe it. He truly did and Sunstreaker didn't press for the truth.
So very long since they had done this, and Sideswipe was so relaxed that his processors brought up a memory of the very last time he'd seen Sunstreaker so collected, hundreds of earth years ago. Sunstreaker collected sexual experiences with organics like others might collect battle trophies but Sideswipe had only ever had one. A brief interlude that he'd meant as a distraction from Sunstreaker's frequent infidelities and equally constant cruelty, but he'd shocked himself by loving her, he'd loved her so much, before, before--
::She's dead!::
::No!:: Sideswipe wailed. Hot blasts of volcanic ash were still raining down around them, her twisted, broken body so tiny in his hands, the screams of her people as they fled from him just as much as they fled from the fury of their own world, and if he'd been scanning the area Sideswipe could have warned them about the shifting tectonic plates, but he'd never even told her the truth of what he was, pre-industrialized organics but for a brief time she'd been his and he'd loved her.
::She's dead and there's nothing you can do about it!:: Sunstreaker shook him viciously.
::I never even told her--::
::And now you never will:: Cruelly but it shocked Sideswipe into looking at his brother, who'd come for him the moment he'd felt Sideswipe's upset and pain ::We need to go! They're too frightened of us to even save their own lives!::
It was true. The little humanoids were in a frenzy of terror and as tenderly as he could, Sideswipe laid her body down and followed his brother, nearly blinded by his own grief as they left first the city, then the planet, rejoining the others on the Ark and Sideswipe had remained there this time, waiting until they had refueled enough to resume their journey and their search for the Allspark.
So close at this moment that the memory had bled through their connection before he could stop it and he realized the very moment Sunstreaker received it, his expression shifting to one of shock.
"You're thinking of her?" he said, blankly.
"No," Sideswipe denied it. It was only a half-truth, but he had been thinking of Sunstreaker first. How strong he had been, hauling Sideswipe back to the ship, how protective he'd been, for just a little while, shielding him from the curiosity of the others. None of that made its way through the connection, sudden firewalls blocking everything but base emotions.
"You're here with me thinking of that little scrap of flesh and bones-" Sunstreaker hissed, optics blazing and the link between them flared with emotion, an uncontrollable stream of data jealous/jealous/hurt/jealous/hate/jealous/hurt/jealo-- before it severed completely.
"Sunstreaker," Sunny, he reached out through wifi, imploring, but the connection was broken, rebuffed painfully hard.
"Don't call me that," Sunstreaker said, coolly. "Don't you dare."
He might have expected Sunstreaker to force him, cling to him with bitter jealousy the way he always did even as he blithely mated with any organic that caught his fancy. He wasn't sure what to do with a Sunstreaker who turned away from him, shuttering his optics closed and ignoring Sideswipe's tentative sending, --Brother? Please. I'm sorry.--
No reply, no indication he'd been heard and after a long moment, Sideswipe went into an uneasy recharge, completely alone in his head for the first time since they'd landed on Earth.
-finis-
Read Next Chapter
By Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Bumblebee/Sam, Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Optimus/Ratchet, Mikaela/Prowl
NC-17
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Lies of Omission
The Theory of Existence
Beyond My Brave Facade
Parental Interaction In The Third Degree
Field Trips Into the Hypothetical
Arrested Developments of the Heart
Necessary Repairs
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
Notes: Here we go again. Might as well bust out pages while I can. :)
1. Sam and Bee
They'd never done this, not quite like this. Not outside and seriously not right on top of Bumblebee's car form. It brought back a faint memory, lying on the hood with Mikaela and Bumblebee silent beneath them, watching, and what Bee had been feeling then Sam had no idea but then Sam had been clothed and now…not so much.
Tearing through the desert at top speed, music blaring from the speakers had seemed more like foreplay than anything else and when Bee had finally stopped, Sam had already been waiting for it. His holo form had appeared so quickly that he'd been nearly a blur as he yanked Sam out of the abruptly opened door and Bumblebee was surprisingly adept at taking off clothes, considering that he didn't have do it himself.
The hood beneath his hands was still blazing warmth, Bee's engine ticking as it cooled, as Sam clawed at the smooth metal helplessly. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to hold him down, his toes barely on the ground as he sprawled over the hood. It felt like he'd been doing this a lot lately, with everyone but the one he really wanted. Until now and the feel of Bumblebee's fingers sliding into him shocking a breathless little scream out of him, loud in the silent night desert around them.
"You want me?" Bumblebee whispered fiercely and Sam nodded frantically, the dampness of the sweat on his face made his cheek squeak against the metal. The harsh thrust of Bee's fingers inside him pulled a yelp out of him even as he lurched back against them, trying to get them deeper, to get more. Fucking himself on Bee's fingers and begging him wordlessly for more. The smell of his own sex and sweat, of the raw, hot need of it, and Sam spread his legs wider, hot metal beneath him and hot flesh against him.
"Beautiful," Bumblebee groaned and the abrupt withdrawal of his fingers made Sam snarl, would have made him turn and demand Bee give him more if Bee hadn't dropped to his knees and there was a slick, nimble tongue against him, slim hands on his hips as Bee held him open and kissing him there, so wet against him.
There was no air left in his lungs to scream, Sam writhing weakly against Bumblebee's hood, mouthing the smoothness and tasting dust and something else, something visceral, Bumblebee.
Felt Bumblebee inhale sharply against him, his mouth suddenly vicious as he pressed his tongue in hard, licking his way inside with a wet little sound before he abruptly withdrew. There was a near danger of Sam sliding right off the hood into a heap on the ground, or there would have been if Bee hadn't grabbed Sam's hips, hard, one of his feet between Sam's kicking them sharply farther apart and he knew what was coming, knew but still couldn't brace himself for it, the first push against him making him suck in a breath, let it out in a yell.
"That's it." Hotly against his ear, the nasty-wet swipe of tongue licking into it. "That's it, take it, Sam, you can take me."
Hard thrust into him, Bumblebee yanking him back into it, again, again, and Sam screamed until his voice cracked, and all he could do was claw at the hood beneath him, his nails scraping useless at alien metal that he couldn't even scratch. Nothing but the feel of Bumblebee inside him, the hoarseness of his own voice, desperate and pained and he didn't even think to reach for a connection, didn't need anything but this.
Sweet, high noises echoed into his ear and dimly he recognized it was Bumblebee, the hoarseness in his voice having less to do with sex than injury but to Sam he sounded as pretty as he looked, could imagine the tightness to his face, that lovely little oh-god-gonna-come expression and Sam didn't have a sound left in him when orgasm poured through him, a sudden hot rush of pleasure. He threw his head back in a silent cry, felt Bumblebee just barely sink his teeth into the newly exposed skin even as he shuddered through his own climax, the stinging in his neck soothed by suddenly gentle kisses.
"Sam," Bumblebee groaned roughly and Sam just barely made a noise that might qualify as acknowledgement. Christ, Bumblebee was going to kill him like this one of these days. He was surprisingly heavy for a holographic projection, flopped across Sam's back like he was planning on moving in and it was only when Sam squirmed, a little soreness making itself known, that he managed to pull away and then only far enough to sprawl on his back next to Sam.
A little shakily, Sam pushed up to his feet, leaning heavily against Bumblebee as he studied the hood. His come was streaking the bright yellow finish in glossy ribbons and Sam was damned if he was going to sacrifice his nice shirt for Bee's paint job.
"Feel better?" Sam asked, wincing a little at his own hoarseness. Hell, every Autobot in the city had probably heard him howling out here like a coyote. Ratchet had probably recorded it and added it to whatever creepy files he was keeping on human sexual practices, the old pervert.
One green eye slitted open to look at him. "If I say no, will you let me do it again?"
"Bee-" Sam started, yelping as Bumblebee sat up quicker than Sam could blink and yanked him back down, rolling him over into the wet spot, ew. A car hood shouldn't even have a wet spot, he manage to think and then thinking went the way of the dinosaurs, nothing but the sound of skin on skin and against sleek metal.
Not nearly as far away as Sam would have preferred, all the Autobots in the city who weren't currently in recharge once again lowered their audio sensors in resignation and Ironhide made a note to himself to talk to Bee, again, about putting up some form of silencing barrier when they did their human sex things. Not everyone had a scientific curiosity about all that weird organic stuff.
2. Mikaela and Prowl
Mikaela curled up on her bed, holding a pillow tightly against her belly. She was still fully dressed, the lights still blazing overhead as she waited for Prowl to come back or at least send her a text message to let her know just what the hell was going on.
It hadn't taken her too long to figure out what had happened. News that the cops had picked up someone outside had spread through the bar quickly, even to the people on the dance floor, and finding Sideswipe gone had been a pretty big clue as to who.
What the hell had Sam been doing outside anyway, that's what she wanted to ask him. Or rather, what had he been doing that had been enough to get arrested. She chewed on a fingernail, a hundred possibilities flittering through her thoughts and none of them seemed reasonable. He was supposed to be dancing, flirting a little. Having a little fun after an epically weird month of trying to get himself killed.
Even if she had believed that Sam would have taken someone out back for a quickie, the very idea that he'd have taken someone back to make out in Sideswipe…just, no. Not a chance.
Personally, she figured Sam was having a belated wigging-out over a having a few of his preconceived notions about his sexuality take a sharp left turn. She only wished she'd been as surprised as he had. They'd had fun, they really had, but anyone who had eyes could see it was Bumblebee who drew him, eyes and body and heart. Even just as a robot, Sam had looked at Bee in a way he had never looked at her. Sam had looked at her and seen hotness and sex, Bumblebee…she wasn't sure she could quite describe what she'd seen in his eyes when he looked at Bee but it was nothing as simple as just sex.
She sighed and buried her face into her pillow. When Bumblebee had asked her to help him form a human avatar, she'd been happy to help out. She liked Bumblebee, it was hard not to like him, but maybe he was just as oblivious as Sam because the minute she'd realized that his hologram was more than just light, she'd…known. She'd known exactly what was going to happen when the right opportunity hit and it seemed stupid to be too upset when it had. Sam had cared about her, that was obvious, but she should have known exactly where she stood in comparison to Bumblebee the very first time Sam had yelled at her for insulting his piece of crap Camaro, should have let him down gently before she'd forced him to do it himself--
There was a soft sound of the door opening, interrupting her thoughts, and Mikaela looked up to see Prowl standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I believe I am ready to speak to you now," Prowl said, low and calm.
When she'd finally given in and texted him, the reply had been a very brief, curt message for her to remain where she was. He hadn't said a word when he pulled up to the club and the gossip line had probably exploded when she hopped into the front seat. Two cops stealing away with people in one night? That little town probably hadn't seen that much excitement since last fourth of July.
The drive back had been in complete silence, even her timid questions about Sam had been ignored. Then again, Prowl had ignored her quiet, "Well, then fuck you," too, so there was that. It wasn't until they pulled up in front of her quarters that Prowl had told her, curtly, that there had been a Decepticon attack on Sam and Sideswipe while they were in jail, and then she'd been too frightened for them to protest at all when he sent her inside and drove off.
Since then all she'd gotten was a quick text message from Bumblebee letting her know that no one was hurt.
"Ready to yell at me?" Mikaela asked sardonically as she sat up but then she frowned, getting a better look at him. Slowly, a little surprised, she said, "You changed."
He had. There was less of a linebacker look to his holo; still tall but now he was leaner and lithe, and Mikaela couldn't help but notice that it suited him. She'd helped make his last holoform, just like she'd helped Bumblebee, only this one she'd made to her tastes, not Sam's. Bumblebee was hot, sure, but he was undeniably guy-pretty. Prowl she had made hard and muscled, the tall, strong football-type that she was always happy to drool over and it had been pretty effective. She'd sure as hell enjoyed it the past few nights, even if had been a while. She and Sam had never gotten as far as actual sex which should have been a clue right there, if she hadn't already noticed the totally obvious.
Prowl shrugged, patting himself lightly as if he was checking out his own specs. He'd kept the dark hair and eyes, the basic facial structure. Add a uniform and she could see him looking like a young cop. Just the plain dark shirt and jeans he was wearing had a nice enough effect. "This feels more comfortable."
Okay, there was a little Autobot weirdness. "How does that work?" Mikaela asked, baffled. Maybe putting on the wrong holo form was like wearing pants that were too small. A figurative robotic wedgie. But she could see the difference. His holo before had been good but this one was much better, more relaxed and real.
"I'm not sure I can explain it," Prowl said, softly. He looked at her steadily. "You left base with Sam."
No accusations, just a statement of fact. "Yeah."
"And without me."
"Yeah, I did," she said, a little defiantly.
"You're not going to do it again." Prowl stated it like it was fact. No yelling, no threatening, just a simple statement. A fucking order was what it was and it made something inside Mikaela bristle and tighten. She wasn't particularly fond of cops, even alien ones, and she didn't like orders from anyone, especially if she was sleeping with them.
"You think because I let you play human with me that you can tell me what to do?" she snapped.
Prowl didn't so much as blink, no flicker of emotion but that same damnable calm. "No, I think that I am the one who is charged with protecting your life and not even you are going to prevent me from doing it."
"Whatever. I think you're giving yourself too much credit. It's not like I'm trying to die."
"Not trying doesn't seem to be hindering your attempt," Prowl said, his voice bone-dry. "If you had been in that cell with Sam and Sideswipe, you would be dead."
"You don't know that." But uneasy fear stirred in her as she thought about it. She'd seen firsthand exactly what kind of damage Decepticons were capable of, remembered Sam's tight voice when he'd told her what Barricade had tried to do to him.
"On the contrary, I do. Sideswipe's instinct was to protect Sam and he could not have saved you both." Prowl finally stepped closer and Mikaela couldn't help but flinch as he loomed, one arm on either side of her as he leaned in close, his face inches from her. "Barricade would have murdered you in cold blood as he has done to many, many others and I would have been miles away and helpless to stop him."
"I get it, okay! It's your duty to protect me," she leaned back, trying to put some distance between them. He didn't even act like he was mad, just staring at her so close, this was so stupid. "It doesn't even matter. They aren't after me."
"I think you aren't giving yourself enough credit," Prowl said evenly. "You did your part in their defeat and the Decepticons are unlikely to forget it. And whether or not you play human with me, as you say, this is not going to happen again. We brought the two of you here to keep you safe."
"Fine," she muttered, slouching back against the wall. Prowl pulled away enough to stand upright, looking down at her speculatively.
"It's all right for you to be upset, you know."
Startled, Mikaela looked up at him. Was she supposed to be grateful that she was allowed to be pissed off at him? "What's that supposed to mean?"
"At Sam," Prowl clarified. "I've seen the way you act with him and I've heard your heartbeat when you do. The two are not within the correct parameters." Prowl tilted his head a little, studying her while she tried to figure out what the hell all that meant. "You are angry with him and perhaps you should be."
"I am not angry at Sam! He's my friend and he's hurting, and I'm trying to help him!"
Prowl was shaking his head already and Mikaela's hands itched for something to throw into that controlled face. "He is, this is true. He's had a difficult time. He also abandoned you for someone else and didn't even have the grace to tell you to your face. In fact, he probably cheated on you, isn't that right?"
She bristled instantly, where the hell was this even coming from? The evening had already been a disaster, she wasn't in the mood for a psychoanalysis from her freaking bodyguard. "It's not like that," she snapped.
"What is it like, then? He had sex with Bumblebee while still committed to you, didn't he?"
"He didn't-"
"Didn't he?" Prowl said, relentless, his calm steady and strong as he stared down at her dispassionately. "Even if he didn't, he barely let the dust settle before he moved on."
She threw something at Prowl before she even thought about it, the pillow from her bed, and he didn't flinch or duck, allowed her to hit him.
"Yes," he said softly. "Go ahead."
And she did, the hot snap of her temper flaring and she threw everything in her reach at him, books, a bottle of lotion, her alarm clock flew at him with the cord trailing behind it. Her cell phone missed, shattering on the wall behind him and finally her little end table was empty and all she could do was collapsed to the floor, covering her face with both hands, not crying but so, so angry, her face stinging hot with it, hating them all. Sam for abandoning her just like everyone else she'd ever cared about, Bumblebee for stealing him away and Prowl for being right, fucking bastard--
She wrapped her arms around herself and the first hot tears squeezed out from her tightly shut eyes as she choked out a sob, the horrible, unlovely tears of real pain and when Prowl knelt next to her, she let him pull her into his arms even if this was all his fault and she hated him.
Prowl rocked her as gently as if she was a child, his chin resting lightly on her head. His breath stirred her hair as he spoke, softly, "I understand you concealing your anger from Sam, but you don't have to hide or pretend with me, Mikaela. You cannot shock me and you cannot hurt me. Not like this."
Still sniffling, Mikaela wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She didn't look at Prowl, kept her head lowered and her eyes shut.
"And you are correct, it is my duty to protect you. But it isn't loss of duty that would hurt me if you died," And finally there was a ragged edge of emotion to his voice. "I've lost enough."
Jazz. God, she'd almost forgotten that he'd just lost Jazz and what would it have done to him if she'd gotten herself killed. That first night, she'd seen his calm crack sharply, he'd been so lonely, so hurt.
"I'm sorry-"
"No," he shook her very lightly. "Don't apologize to me for that. You don't owe me anything, Mikaela, not a thing. All I want is for you to just let me protect you. Can you at least let me have that much?"
She didn't really nod, more like rubbed her head into the comforting warmth of his chest, but she could talk, thickly and did. "Okay. I won't leave the city without you again."
Prowl's sigh was almost silent and when she tipped her head up, he obeyed her unspoken request, gently pressing his lips to hers in an unspoken promise.
3. Ratchet and Optimus
Ratchet had never been particularly fond of fuel capacitors, beyond his own use of them. They simply performed a necessary function, just as their optics and their audio sensors did. In the past few days however, he had gained a very fine hatred of them. Their delicacy and their unfortunate tendency to violently explode when the proper care wasn't taken with them meant that Ratchet was the only one capable of handling them at the moment. A human might have the steady hands required but not the ability to survive the blast if they made an error and Ratchet didn't even want to consider allowing any of the other 'bots to try.
The only one of them who might have the necessary precision was Bumblebee and he had enough to do. That left Ratchet and an endless supply of fuel capacitors to convert for solar energy. Energon would have been better, infinitely better, but their supplies were short and until they had a better refinery, solar energy would have to do. He didn't even want to consider using any of the humans fuel supplies beyond basic electricity, filthy carbon-based garbage that was as inefficient as it was disgusting. He'd rather convert a thousand capacitors than touch that.
He heard the sound of a door opening just as he began to weld the tiny struts into place, cursed himself for forgetting to lock it. At the rate he was being interrupted, he would still be working on this one capacitor until the return of Primus, never mind that it was his own fault that he'd had to rebuild it in the first place.
The first tiny strut was secured and Ratchet took a moment to glance up, and saw Optimus, always graceful despite his large size as he moved silently around the infirmary, studying the neatly arranges supplies and tools. Automatically, Ratchet straightened and began to lay his tools aside, even as he checked his internal chronometer for accuracy. It was fine which meant Optimus was here far earlier than Ratchet had scheduled.
Optimus waved off his unspoken question absently. "Don't stop on my account."
"You're early for your knee replacement," Ratchet said, warily returning to his work.
"You're supposed to still be in recharge." Optimus countered.
Ratchet only grunted at that, flicking on the laser welder again. Each capacitor had ten struts, tiny fragments that were only the size of a human fingernail and each needed to be welded in exactly the proper spot for the correct level of support. With a delicacy of touch that was essential for his work, Ratchet started on the second. "I need to finish this."
"Then don't let me stop you."
Ratchet didn't look up again, but his peripheral sensors indicated that Optimus had continued his silent inspection, checking over the human and Autobot supplies, respectively.
"Did you need something?" Ratchet asked finally, glancing up as he finished the second strut. Perhaps if Optimus was looking for something, Ratchet could tell him where it was and then he could leave. Optimus seemed satisfied with whatever he had seen and instead settled his bulk on the floor, just behind where Ratchet was working. Leaning against the wall with his legs drawn up in a posture that humans and 'bots alike seemed to favor.
"No." A quiet, simple denial.
That stumped him. Barring a medical emergency, Optimus was the only one of them that he couldn't directly order out of the infirmary. He could ask him to leave but that seemed churlish, given their conversation the night before and it wasn't as if Optimus was in the way or even trying to distract him. He was just…there. Settling in for all the world as if he was just going to sit and watch Ratchet weld.
Ratchet huffed a little but went back to it. Two struts down, eight to go.
"I like to watch you work," Optimus said softly.
"Then watch silently," Ratchet muttered, focusing on his work. He felt as though Optimus was laughing at him, somehow, but he took Ratchet at his word and didn't make a sound.
It was difficult to get back into the rhythm of it, knowing that optics were on him, and twice he started to set the plasma welder down and ask Optimus if there wasn't something useful he could be doing. Twice, he almost did it and twice he resisted.
After a while, his attention focused and he nearly forgot Optimus was there. Such delicate work required pinpoint accuracy and complete concentration and Ratchet turned all his sensors toward it, determined to finish this today. If he had to look at this particular capacitor again, Ratchet thought he might devolve into gibbering insanity that no amount of recharge would help.
There. The last strut was welded perfectly into place and now all this capacitor needed was a little time to let the components set. Ratchet sighed a little in relief and just as he was turning off the welder, two large hands settled unexpectedly on his shoulders. Without his peripheral sensors to warn him, it startled him so much that he squealed like a sparkling, accidentally flipping the switch to the highest setting. With a groan of rending metal and a shower of sparks, the table fell away into two sections and a large scorch mark formed on the floor beneath it.
For a long moment there was nothing but silence as Ratchet stared disbelieving at the damage. Almost absently, he flicked the laser welder off, but he still held on to it since the table he would have set it on was neatly dissected on his floor. The hands that had caused this problem to begin with were still on his shoulders and they started to shake lightly, the body standing so close to his own wracked with tremors until finally Optimus burst out laughing. Loudly. As Ratchet hadn't heard him laugh since…perhaps he had never heard Optimus laugh quite like this.
"What…" Ratchet sputtered, still staring at the smoking wreckage of his worktable and he finally spun around to face Optimus, shaking those guilty hands away from him. "What is wrong with you! You…this….you!"
He was angry past the point of speech, crouching down to salvage the fuel capacitor. Again. It was with relief beyond measure that he found it happily undamaged by the catastrophe and it was that and that alone that kept him from hurling the thing directly at Optimus's head.
Slowly, Optimus slowed into chuckles, "I'm sorry, Ratchet, I…no, wait…" Another burst of laughter, and Ratchet's glare heated as Optimus was forced to lean against the wall to remain upright. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice mod a little gaspy. "I didn't mean to startle you. But the way you screamed…oh…"
His laughter was degenerating into the clicks and whirrs of a protoform, the Autobot equivalent of gasping for breath. Ratchet only watched him with pinpoints of red glaring from his optics, not cracking so much as a smile.
"I could have cut my hand off, you know," Ratchet informed him waspishly. "And would have had to reset it myself since I doubt any of you could do it." By this point, Prime was kneeling on the floor, all but keening with amusement and Ratchet surrendered, taking the rescued fuel capacitor to a safer part of the infirmary.
It was no use. Optimus only followed him, nearly staggering at first but slowly his laughter eased, though Ratchet could still see the amusement lingering. "I am sorry, Ratchet."
He reached up, fingertips close to Ratchet's face just before the medic flinched away. Something in his optics softened, sobered as he withdrew. "You really do dislike being touched, don't you."
"I do not," Ratchet snarled. He stormed over to kicked lightly at the ruined table, calculating what he would need to fix it. He had liked that table, damn it, he'd just managed to get it to the perfect height. "I just don't see the point of it! I am not an organic."
"Neither is Bumblebee," Optimus said with deceptive lightness. "Or Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Or Prowl. Or even Ironhide who enjoys spending time with the Lennoxes. We've been around organics before," Optimus reminded him, "some of us have learned to appreciate their ways."
"Fine, then, have it your way. I'm the strange one who hates to be touched," Ratchet said coolly. He started to kneel, intent on inspecting the damage more closely and froze instead, stiffening as Optimus came up behind him to murmur very close to his auditory sensor.
"That is far from what I said."
Ratchet closed his optics and very carefully did not move. Enough of this, it was a distraction that he did not need. "Why are you doing this? Why now?" he asked bluntly.
To his credit, Prime didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Jazz."
That was unexpected. Ratchet turned enough to look at Optimus who was regarding him gravely. Very close, yes, but respectfully not touching. "Jazz?" Ratchet prompted, quietly.
"I have always been very aware of mortality," Optimus said, softly. "You know this. But losing Jazz…it hurts." He finished, simply, and when he reached out hesitantly, Ratchet allowed the very human embrace. Just this once, he told himself, shivering a little as Optimus's fingers stroked along his back, sliding into the gaps in his armor and against sensitive sensor arrays.
"Then seeing Bumblebee and Sam," Optimus's voice was a deep rumble, close enough for Ratchet to feel the reverberation of it. "Humans do not have a lifespan that allows them the luxury of waiting and perhaps neither do we. So I decided I should ask for what I want."
"And what is that?" Ratchet forced himself to ask, not entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer.
"You." Simply. "I want to be with you, as a partner, as whatever you will allow. If Wheeljack returns I will join you in rejoicing and I will let you go, but for now, I want whatever I can have." A moment's pause, those stroking fingers hesitating before they slipped up to Ratchet's face and gently tipped his head up, forcing him to reluctantly meet Optimus's optics. "I dislike watching you hurting as you wait."
"And that's what you want," Ratchet said, trying to interject his normal harshness into his voice mod. And failed, surely failed. He settled for distance, pulling away from the embrace and Optimus let him go instantly, though his hands lingered briefly, fingers too gentle to dent or even scratch paint.
Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest, felt the need to pull into himself just a little. "And what about what I want?"
The smile that lit Optimus's face was rueful at best. "I suspect that you will make the decision for both of us. But not now," Optimus straightened, sobered, "Just consider it."
He seemed to be waiting for some response and Ratchet finally muttered, "All right."
Just at this moment, Ratchet didn't want to consider it at all, gathering up all the relevant data and stuffing it to the back of his processors to examine later. Right now, all he wanted to do was fix his damned table. He crouched again, considering the damage and when he felt Optimus lean in again, close to his auditory sensor, he only sighed in exasperation.
Very close to his auditory receptor, Optimus murmured. "My appointment isn't for another hour. Just once, would you let me try to show you how good a simple touch can feel?"
"No," Ratchet snapped. He felt petty for it immediately but continued doggedly, "It would seem I need to spend the rest of my free time repairing a table."
His clear disappointment was so keen that Ratchet sighed, again. He was entirely too old for this kind of ridiculousness. "Perhaps another time," he grated out, grudgingly, and he did not feel a flare of warmth at Optimus's obvious pleasure.
He really didn't.
4. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker
Sideswipe had known that none of this was going to end well. From the moment Mikaela had approached him, he'd known that this little expedition was going to end in trouble and work detail. He'd gone along with it, anyway, and why not? Going out dancing was essentially harmless and he wasn't adverse to a little mischief on both sides of the equation, both in sneaking out and not revealing to his charges that he fully intended to get caught.
If he'd been able to calculate just exactly how much trouble this one little illicit adventure was going to be, he definitely would have reconsidered. Maybe there was a glitch in his logic circuit.
The memory of Optimus's anger was one he would have been relieved to lock away in his processors with a select few others, but he knew better than to try. With the way his luck was going, if Ratchet found out he'd done that, he'd flag the file to replay every time Sideswipe was in recharge.
Optimus had been purely furious in a way Sideswipe had never had directed at him. Endangering Sam and Mikaela's life had only been the tip of that iceberg. The officers at the sheriff's department had been injured, though thankfully not severely, the building itself had been nearly demolished by Barricade's attack and by Sunstreaker's subsequent rescue. Sam's general location was now available to any Decepticon who could crack through the local police files, which was all of them that were currently on Earth. Add in the trouble the Government would have to go through to conceal the entire incident and Sideswipe had almost expected Optimus to disassemble him right on the highway. Not that Sideswipe would have blamed him.
Optimus had restrained himself from that, at least, and had ordered them to return to base with Ironhide while the rest of them did a quick scan of the city to be sure Barricade had left.
As Sam would have said, the whole situation really sucked.
The only saving grace was that Sunstreaker hadn't stepped up to make an awful situation worse. Sunstreaker had been uncharacteristically silent throughout it all, accepting Prime's accusations and following Ironhide without a word of protest, even when he'd secured them both in the large hanger normally reserved for the human's jets.
Prime had said he would deal with them sometime in the next day, which really meant that part of their punishment would be staying here, agonizing about what their reprimand would entail. That was a tactic that Sideswipe was very familiar with.
The hanger was dark, Ironhide not bothering to turn on any unnecessary lights before locking them in, and Sideswipe switched his optics to infrared, the better to see his strangely quiet brother. He wasn't in recharge, just sitting so that he was leaning against the steel sheeting that made up the wall. His optics were shut, his scanners running on minimal.
Very carefully, Sideswipe picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it at Sunstreaker's head. He landed a solid shot in the middle of his forehead and Sunstreaker jerked in surprise, weapons cycling to the ready as he sat up and looked around somewhat wildly.
"Mmm…something wrong?" Sideswipe asked, making his voice mod sound as though he'd been startled out of recharge.
"…no," Sunstreaker muttered, settling back down.
Sideswipe waited patiently, counting the passing time in both Earth and Cybertronian measurements until Sunstreaker finally settled down again, his scanners set warily at a slightly higher level.
Again, he picked up a pebble, aiming this time for the auditory sensor on the side of his brother's head. His aim was perfect and this time Sunstreaker didn't ready his weapons, only sat up, looking up at the ceiling above them with some bewilderment. Sideswipe held very still as Sunstreaker finally moved, crawling to sit on his other side. He settled back down, rubbing the side of his head absently and resumed his leaning posture against the wall.
Seconds, then minutes ticked by before Sideswipe slowly, slowly reached for another pebble. His fingers had just closed over a likely one when his hand was painfully grabbed and stilled, Sunstreaker's optics glaring at him through the darkness.
"What?" Sideswipe asked, all pure innocence but his guilty amusement was already threading through their bond, revealing him. Their renewed intimacy was deepening their spark bond again and he was out of practice in fine art of concealing himself from his entirely too cunning brother. Sunstreaker made a sound of exasperation and let him go, only to have to duck from the pebble that would have clipped him right between the optics.
"Stop acting like a child," Sunstreaker said sullenly. But he couldn't hide his own flickering amusement, not from Sideswipe, ducking his head to hide a smile that was trying to show. Sideswipe didn't hide his own smile and wouldn't have if Optimus himself had been glaring down at him. Sunstreaker only sighed and shook his head, as though he were the innocent one in their set, tolerating his brother's antics.
"If you were going to get us both on punishment detail, you could have at least invited me along from the beginning," Sunstreaker said, finally, but there was no resentment in his voice. "I would have enjoyed dancing with you."
"You wouldn't have been satisfied with just dancing," Sideswipe said dryly. But he touched his brother's hand, lightly. They were prohibited from using their holo projectors but a simple touch couldn't get them into more trouble than they already were.
"Then we could have provided the humans with a very interesting show," Sunstreaker quipped. He played a quick, playful blurt of music that Sideswipe's internet search quickly identified as 'The Stripper'.
He laughed inwardly, let Sunstreaker feel it through a private channel and then in a reckless moment of daring, he left the link open, baring himself. It was something he hadn't allowed in a long, long time. Involuntary sharing aside, he hadn't let Sunstreaker actually link to him since…that memory lurched against the locks he'd put on it and Sideswipe resisted seeing it, particularly now with his surface thoughts bared and vulnerable. Physical joining as an holo was safer, less exposed, less likely to backlash and leaving him reeling from his brother's abrasiveness yet again.
But Sunstreaker had saved Bumblebee, and had spilled his own fluids to do it, had saved him just tonight, and Sideswipe needed a deeper joining than a burst of human-style mating. Had to feel that his brother was alive no matter what misery and regret it would cause him later.
Sunstreaker's hesitance in accepting the link was a surprise but after a long pause, he did, twining his surface emotions to his brother's. For once there was no bitterness or cruelty, nothing hidden, lurking darkly beneath the surface. Sunstreaker was his other half, no matter how broken or damaged that half was and to see him like this was as devastating as it was pleasurable, as collected as he'd been since longer than Sideswipe cared to think about.
It made Sideswipe want to cling to him, pressing the link a little deeper with startling fierceness that Sunstreaker felt and responded to, still hesitant but willing. Sunstreaker as he so rarely was and Sideswipe hid deeply in his own processors the fervent, useless wish that it could always be like this. Sunstreaker wouldn't, couldn't be. Whatever fractures that were in his spark would shift again, sharp edges grating, and his mercurial moods would swing back to cruelty and sullen bitterness, but for now in this one moment he was sweet, blissful perfection, Sunstreaker as he could be, if Primus had been kinder.
--I know--, Simply, soft acknowledgment threaded through the link and Sideswipe drew air raggedly into his intakes. --I'm sorry--
So very, very soft, a bare confession. Sunstreaker knew who he was. What he was. Sideswipe's internal processors tracked the time they sat together, basking in the gentle pleasure of joining, and it was some time before Sunstreaker broke the silence, one of his hands hovering over Sideswipe's.
"Can I touch you?" Sunstreaker asked, uncertainly.
Sideswipe smiled a little. "I could never stop you." He felt Sunstreaker wince away, oddly, achingly vulnerable and caught his hand before he could withdraw, their fingers scraping lightly together. "You can always touch me."
It was a lie and they both knew it, but Sideswipe wanted to believe it. He truly did and Sunstreaker didn't press for the truth.
So very long since they had done this, and Sideswipe was so relaxed that his processors brought up a memory of the very last time he'd seen Sunstreaker so collected, hundreds of earth years ago. Sunstreaker collected sexual experiences with organics like others might collect battle trophies but Sideswipe had only ever had one. A brief interlude that he'd meant as a distraction from Sunstreaker's frequent infidelities and equally constant cruelty, but he'd shocked himself by loving her, he'd loved her so much, before, before--
::She's dead!::
::No!:: Sideswipe wailed. Hot blasts of volcanic ash were still raining down around them, her twisted, broken body so tiny in his hands, the screams of her people as they fled from him just as much as they fled from the fury of their own world, and if he'd been scanning the area Sideswipe could have warned them about the shifting tectonic plates, but he'd never even told her the truth of what he was, pre-industrialized organics but for a brief time she'd been his and he'd loved her.
::She's dead and there's nothing you can do about it!:: Sunstreaker shook him viciously.
::I never even told her--::
::And now you never will:: Cruelly but it shocked Sideswipe into looking at his brother, who'd come for him the moment he'd felt Sideswipe's upset and pain ::We need to go! They're too frightened of us to even save their own lives!::
It was true. The little humanoids were in a frenzy of terror and as tenderly as he could, Sideswipe laid her body down and followed his brother, nearly blinded by his own grief as they left first the city, then the planet, rejoining the others on the Ark and Sideswipe had remained there this time, waiting until they had refueled enough to resume their journey and their search for the Allspark.
So close at this moment that the memory had bled through their connection before he could stop it and he realized the very moment Sunstreaker received it, his expression shifting to one of shock.
"You're thinking of her?" he said, blankly.
"No," Sideswipe denied it. It was only a half-truth, but he had been thinking of Sunstreaker first. How strong he had been, hauling Sideswipe back to the ship, how protective he'd been, for just a little while, shielding him from the curiosity of the others. None of that made its way through the connection, sudden firewalls blocking everything but base emotions.
"You're here with me thinking of that little scrap of flesh and bones-" Sunstreaker hissed, optics blazing and the link between them flared with emotion, an uncontrollable stream of data jealous/jealous/hurt/jealous/hate/jealous/hurt/jealo-- before it severed completely.
"Sunstreaker," Sunny, he reached out through wifi, imploring, but the connection was broken, rebuffed painfully hard.
"Don't call me that," Sunstreaker said, coolly. "Don't you dare."
He might have expected Sunstreaker to force him, cling to him with bitter jealousy the way he always did even as he blithely mated with any organic that caught his fancy. He wasn't sure what to do with a Sunstreaker who turned away from him, shuttering his optics closed and ignoring Sideswipe's tentative sending, --Brother? Please. I'm sorry.--
No reply, no indication he'd been heard and after a long moment, Sideswipe went into an uneasy recharge, completely alone in his head for the first time since they'd landed on Earth.
-finis-
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