FIC: Prime and Punishment (Human Series)
Title: Prime and Punishment
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Sam/Bumblebee, Optimus/Ratchet, Sideswipe/Sunstreaker
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
4x4
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
~~*~~
Sam hadn't seen the large hanger from the inside before and he might have been more interested in the jets and other human vehicles stored inside it if he weren't here to get 'his due punishment', as Bee had called it. Yet here he was, waiting in silence with the twins for Optimus to get here and let them all know exactly how disappointed with them he was.
It had been past noon when Bumblebee had finally woke him up with soft kisses, little whispery touches against a mouth that was a little sore from the night before. He'd been relishing muzzy memories of it when Bee had suddenly pulled away, ignoring Sam's sleepy protests.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he'd apologized, "but I told Optimus I'd have you at the main hanger in twenty minutes and I suspect you'll want to take a shower before you go."
A shower, yeah, and then a caffeine transfusion would be nice. Sam had given Bee's neat clothes and hair a sleepily resentful look before he'd dragged himself into the shower. Blissful hot water woke him up the rest of the way and since Bumblebee was the best alien boyfriend ever, he'd had a cup of coffee waiting for Sam when he'd stumbled back into the main room.
His mumbled gratitude and professed love were gurgled into hot coffee but Bee's amusement told Sam he'd gotten the idea.
"Better hurry up. I'd prefer not to keep Optimus waiting," Bee had cautioned and Sam had agreed, downing his coffee fast enough that the scalding heat made his eyes water as he scrambled into one of the nicer outfits Bee had chosen for him to wear on-base. He was in enough trouble and honestly, he pretty much deserved anything he got handed. Optimus was way too busy and way too important to deal with something like this, and what had started out as just a bad idea had rocketed into nearly lethal.
Frankly, Sam felt like shit for causing them all this trouble; Sideswipe and Sunstreaker who'd just been trying to help and Optimus who trusted him. He remembered Optimus telling Bumblebee that he expected better from him and cringed to think of that disappointment directed at him. Getting it from Optimus would be even worse than his parents-
"Aww, man," Sam slapped his forehead, his shirt hanging open as he wriggled into his pants. "My parents are gonna kill me! Are they going to be there? At the hanger?"
Bumblebee's expression hadn't made him feel much better. "Ah, no, they're unaware of what happened. I told Optimus that as you are an adult of your species, it was unnecessary to inform your parents of your actions."
"Really?" Sam perked up.
"He agreed. And said that since you are an adult of your species, you should be able to inform them yourself. Sorry."
"Great," Sam sighed, flopping down on the bed. He'd taken just a second to mourn his fate before slipping on his shoes, tying them quickly and following Bee's Holo out the door and into his car form. Bee sat in his own driver's seat, hands on the wheel, and Sam watched him, a little bemused. So which one of them was actually driving?
"So what's going to happen here?" Sam asked instead, deciding to satisfy his curiosity on that another time. Better to know what he was facing now.
"Optimus will inform you how disappointed he is in your behavior and may add that he expects better from either Autobots or you in general. Then he will hand out work detail. He is a great believer that busy hands are well-behaved hands," Bee said dryly.
"You sound like you've heard that speech before."
"More than once. Sideswipe has heard it so many times that he made a chart that documents its conception, evolution, and various additions that are included based on just how much trouble you caused and how remorseful you are."
"What do you think I'll get?"
"For this? My guess is a week or two of manual labor plus confinement to quarters, depending on just how pissed off he is. What you did wasn't all that bad but the outcome was, so…" Bee shrugged. "Plus, this is your first offense. He'll take the variables into account."
Translation, he was grounded and he'd have to do chores. That didn't sound like anything he couldn't handle. He hoped Sideswipe and even Sunstreaker fared just as well. It had been his fault they'd gotten in trouble to begin with and none of them had factored in them getting arrested and attacked by Decepticons.
At least Bumblebee wasn't angry with him. Sam was almost shamefully grateful for that and wouldn’t have blamed him if he had been angry. He should have asked, he should have talked to Bee, or even Ratchet, before going off like that but panic always equaled stupid in his personal life equations. Bumblebee wasn't angry with him and they'd managed to avoid anyone dying. If all he got was a dose of Optimus's disappointment and chores, he'd call it good.
Bumblebee had left him at the door with instructions not to talk to anyone in there until Optimus arrived. The hanger was huge, loaded with jets and equipment that Sam didn't recognize, the walls lined with racks and boxes. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had already been there, sitting against one of the walls and Sam had hesitantly gone up to them. Sideswipe had offered him a wry smile and a wave in the direction of a weird metal scaffolding thing that Sam had gone up, a little wary and confused. When he got to the top, though, he got it. From here, he was tall enough to actually talk to Optimus without either him staring at his ankles or Optimus crouching on the ground.
Sam leaned against the metal railing and sighed quietly, waiting for the leader of the Autobots to come and ground him. All in all, it could be worse.
It could be his mom.
~~*~~
Optimus waited until five minutes past the appointed time before he went in to speak to his recalcitrant troops and his young charge. The twins would feel the passage of time keenly and he suspected Sam would as well, allowing their anxiety towards their punishment to draw out like a blade.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were already on their feet as he approached and Sam noticed him a moment later, straightening automatically to match the twins posture. Two of them bore the properly repentant expression and Sunstreaker…well, Sunstreaker was as he was. His expressions rarely bore any truth to his emotions.
The twins, one of the last remaining true spark twins amongst his people. This was not the first time he'd had these two before him and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He did not question their loyalty-- Sunstreaker in particular had obviously proven himself very recently protecting their own with his very life-but they did have something of a troublesome side.
Although he would certainly never say it, Optimus had never faulted them for their unruliness. He was no Megatron, to demand unthinking obedience from his troops; so long as they accepted that their actions had consequences and they could choose to accept those consequences as their due. A just society had rules, even if that society was currently in tatters.
Normally, Optimus had no trouble punishing them for their transgressions, giving them the appropriate lecture along with their punishment. Not that he expected any of his lectures to make a dent in these two: he'd seen Sideswipe's chart on his speeches and had been privately amused. Today, though, he was tired. Spark-deep weariness after dealing with human politicians and military leaders as he tried to carve a place for his people into this world. As he tried to find his people, find the Decepticons, build a city around them…so many things to do and he very much didn't want to deal with youthful foolishness today.
His knee also ached, the new gears grinding just enough to cause irritating pain. Ratchet was more thorough than gentle in his work, although there was certainly occasion to appreciate that. Not that he had been able to persuade Ratchet in that direction today, not after he'd made his desires so very clear. Optimus had been of two minds about saying anything at all, and yet, Jazz was so fresh in his mind lately and he wanted…well, what he wanted and what he could have were undoubtedly two different things, but that was a truth he'd grown accustomed to a very long time ago.
His three miscreants were still waiting patiently for him to begin what they undoubtedly thought would be a lengthy tirade. Sideswipe's chart on his speeches had been very thorough; perhaps it was time to add an unknown variable.
Optimus stopped in front of them and crossed his arms over his chest, regarding them sternly. "You all know what you did and you all know that the consequences of those actions could have resulted in your death or the deaths of innocents. It did not. Therefore, I am giving you each work detail and confinement to quarters. Sam, as a human you are to work eight hours a day with Ratchet for one week. He volunteered to make sure you were 'kept busy', in his words."
Sam winced visibly, to Optimus's satisfaction. His assessment of that situation was correct, then. Ratchet's wrath held more weight with Sam than Optimus's disappointment. Certainly it would last longer, he thought wryly.
He turned to the twins. "Sunstreaker, you will continue working with Ironhide and you will repair the sensor array that you damaged in order to leave the base undetected. I trust you have no issue with that?"
A curt nod was his only response.
"I would like to add that this punishment will be concurrent with your previous one. You saved Sam and Sideswipe's lives and very possibly the lives of many other humans, and that is reason alone to be grateful. Your punishment is for not going through proper channels, not for your actions."
There was no response, but Optimus hadn't expected one, though he sighed inwardly. That small praise had been for more for his benefit than Sunstreaker's, as he knew it would go unappreciated. If he was no Megatron, than Sunstreaker was certainly no Bumblebee, eager for praise and delighting in proving himself. In one moment he would nearly die to save another and in just the next, he would be discovered with a highly illicit firewall in place. A mass of contradictions wrapped in a frequently sullen and angry form, his brilliant choice of paint held no hint of the darkness within him.
Truthfully, he'd probably chosen that shade of yellow as a wordless slur against Bumblebee.
It didn't matter; even if Sunstreaker never showed a hint of pleasure at any praise Optimus offered, he would still give it.
"Sideswipe," Optimus continued, "I shall see to your punishment myself. Two weeks, sixteen hours on duty, double shifts for the both of you, and eight hours of recharge, confined in your quarters…Sam, when you are not otherwise occupied with work detail and meals, you shall also be confined to quarters, however, I will allow you visitors."
"Wait, wait," Sam protested, holding up both hands. "I get one week and they get two? That's not fair, they were only trying to help me out."
Optimus shifted to bend down slightly. Even on the raised platform, Sam was nowhere near his height. While Optimus had no issue with making use of his size for intimidation, Sam was not one that he ever wanted to be afraid of him. "Be that as it may, this is far from their first infraction. They are both aware of the consequences they would face."
"It's still not fair," Sam persisted, stubbornly. The Twins held their silences, although Sideswipe shifted uneasily as though he wanted to silence the boy. Those two certainly knew that defiance of orders often resulted in additional punishment. It would seem that Sam had a similar idea. "If they are getting two weeks then so should I."
"Very well. Two weeks," Optimus agreed and he was silently proud of the young human. His actions had been equal parts foolish and dangerous, and while Mikaela's explanation, as it had been sent to them through Prowl, had been frantic and disjointed, Optimus had still understood Sam's fear. He was brave in his actions, oh, very brave, but when it came to emotions…well, there were older beings than Sam who had a difficult time with their emotional entanglements.
Optimus knew a few personally.
Proud or not, his probability calculators had told him that the margin of error had been very slim indeed. If Sunstreaker had arrived even seconds later, if Sideswipe had had even the tiniest bit less power, none of them would be having this discussion. "Sam, as the savior of this world and my life, I hope you understand that I would appreciate if you would consider your own life worth protecting as well. Please remember that we brought you here to keep you safe."
Sam wilted visibly under the rebuke, as Optimus had expected. He gentled it, just a little, not wanting the boy to be overburdened with guilt. "We were very lucky that no one was hurt, including you. Another reason to be grateful."
He would have dismissed them at that, but Sunstreaker spoke abruptly, his optics still focused forward.
"Permission to speak, Sir," Sunstreaker said curtly.
"Permission granted," Optimus said, warily. He had been waiting for some input from Sunstreaker since they'd met on the highway. Sunstreaker was normally very vocal in his displeasure, trying even Optimus's patience at times. On one occasion, Optimus could recall Sunstreaker being injured in battle and Ratchet doing field repairs. When his ranting had reached a fevered pitch, Ratchet had calmly tweaked his voice modulator to run several octaves higher than normal. Everyone on the remnants of the battlefield who had still been conscious had laughed to hear Sunstreaker swearing in a voice better suited to a petrorabbit.
The memory was so keen, particularly Sunstreaker's expression when he actually paused long enough to really hear himself, that Optimus had to dial down his amusement levels to keep from smiling. He didn't, however, close down the memory. Knowing Sunstreaker it would be best to have something running in the background that would help him keep his temper.
As if just to prove he still had the capacity to surprise, Sunstreaker said firmly, "Sir, with your consent, I'd rather be confined to quarters on my own."
More than surprising. In all their long years of service, he couldn't recall a single instance of Sunstreaker asking to be separated from his brother. Sideswipe's expression was stricken; although he kept silent, he was obviously trying to message his brother. Messages that Sunstreaker ultimately ignored, his optics focused with surprising calm on Optimus.
Sideswipe turned those messages to Prime but Optimus sent them back, unopened. This was a personal issue between brothers and he was having no part of it.
"If that is what you prefer, I have no objection," Optimus agreed, guardedly. Sunstreaker nodded, ignoring Sideswipe's obvious devastation.
Sam was looking at Sideswipe with obvious concern but if he had objections, this time he kept them to himself.
"Sam, as your bodyguard, Bumblebee will escort you to the infirmary." He waited to hear if Sunstreaker would comment on that, fully expected him to murmur some snide remark on the human or Bumblebee, perhaps both. But the smaller 'bot kept his silence, his optics focused forward.
"If there is nothing else, then you're dismissed. Sideswipe, you are with me. I trust you two can find your own way?"
Two equally mute nods and he watched as both of them made their way to the door, Sam trailing far behind Sunstreaker's much longer strides.
"Sam?" Optimus called, with a touch of inner mischievousness that he doubted Sam would believe. The boy turned back to him, his expression wary. "Tell Ratchet I said hello."
~~*~~
Sam hadn't expected Bumblebee to actually come with him into the infirmary, in both his forms no less, but he wasn't sorry that he had. Dealing with Optimus on his own had been enough on his nerves for one day and damn, but he could do the 'I'm disappointed' so freaking well. He wouldn't have had to even say anything; Sam had been ready to throw himself on the ground and beg forgiveness at the first saddened look.
It was strange to think that not all that long ago, he wouldn't have even realized Optimus was upset. Robotic faces weren't perfectly suited for expressing human emotions but it hadn't taken much time at all for Sam to learn to read them, to notice the minute changes in their optics as they shifted with their moods. Whether that was just because he had them figured out or that his receptors were feeding him tips, Sam didn't know, but he wasn't about to complain about it.
And if he wasn't mistaken, by Ratchet's expression, he was in a good mood.
"Don't linger at the door, come in," Ratchet called, and good God, he sounded practically good-natured. "There's a great deal of delicate and perishable items in here so I keep the cooling units quite high."
Good natured, hell. He sounded downright cheerful and that was just seriously creepy.
A little warily, Sam did as he was told, Bumblebee both beside and behind him as they let the door swing shut. Ratchet was across the room, doing something on the floor, but Sam was in no hurry to find out what. He was kind of scared that Ratchet in a good mood meant someone was dead.
Maybe Bumblebee agreed, because he wasn't exactly rushing over, either.
"Um, Optimus said I was supposed to come here for my punishment. I mean, work detail," Sam corrected hastily, just in case Ratchet got any weird ideas. Who knew what kind of files he'd found on the internet? He added, tentatively, "He also said to tell you hello."
"Of course he did." And that sounded more like the Ratchet they all knew and feared. "Bumblebee, would you please help him up on one of the exam tables? I'd like to get some scans on him."
Wordlessly, Bumblebee did, letting his holo fade away as he scooped Sam up with deft gentleness that might have surprised a human who didn't know him as well. Sam just relaxed back into the cup of his palm as they stepped close enough to Ratchet to see he was crouched on the floor next to a table. Or what was left of one, anyway, this one was literally melted in half, with hardened dribbles of metal pooled on the floor. Sam's mouth dropped open as he stared and Bumblebee made a little chirp of surprise.
"What the hell happened in here?" Sam asked, blinking. Now that he was closer, he could actually see a line burned right into the floor, like some kind of laser fire.
"It's classified. I'd tell you, but then I would be forced to destroy you," Ratchet said calmly and Sam transferred his stare to him. Ratchet had a really weird sense of humor which meant that might be a joke. Or he might be trying to pick the best form of execution, it really was hard to say.
Bee's grip was very gentle and it was enough of a connection for him to send, --He and Optimus probably broke it last night--. Aloud, a quick blurt of bow-chicka-wow-wow music played, in the best of porn tradition.
Sam covered his ears but there was no blocking that mental image, "Seriously, Bee, gross!"
Ratchet went a long way towards proving that he had what Sam thought might be bizarre psychic powers by chuckling, "Contrary to what you may believe, the two of you did not invent sexual interaction."
"No, that was Ratchet," Bumblebee said, and while his face in his robotic form wasn't constructed for smiling, Sam could hear the smirk in his voice mod. "Back at the beginning of time when he was sparked."
"I'll defer the title of eldest to our fearless leader," Ratchet said blandly. "However, I could well believe that he may have invented pleasurable interfacing. He's particularly talented at-"
"Stop, stop," Bee begged, shuddering dramatically. "You win."
Personally, Sam thought he'd gotten the worst end of deal. Autobots didn't have to dream and he'd be having nightmares about this discussion for weeks.
"I thought I was here to work," he grumbled as Bee finally set him on an exam table that was large enough for almost any Autobot. It meant Sam was all but swimming in a sea of shiny stainless steel and he couldn't help being relieved when Bee's holo form shimmered into existence next to him. He took Sam's hand without a word, lacing their fingers together and squeezing encouragingly.
Ratchet seemed to have decided that the table was a loss, given the kick he gave it when he stood up, hydraulics whirring as he finally came over to them. "You were assigned to me, which means I get to decide what you do and right now, I want you to sit still so I can examine you."
"Optimus will get mad if you dissect me," Sam warned as he lay back.
"I'll just tell him it was an accident with a laser welder," Ratchet murmured, wryly and Sam decided he really, really didn't want to ask. No, sir, he did not.
A faint beam of light swept over him from Ratchet's wrist, slowly moving from his ankles on up. It didn't feel like anything although why Sam thought it should, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he could feel an x-ray, either.
"Why don't you make a holoform to exam me?" Sam asked, warily, as that bluish beam hit him as waist level. He hoped like hell it wasn't some kind of radiation, because he wasn't sure he was ever going to actually have kids, but he did kind of want to keep the option.
"Because I hate it," Ratchet said absently. His optics were focused to the left, something Sam had come to associate with them either accessing the internet or thinking particularly hard. "The imprecision of what is essentially secondhand knowledge to my central possessors is aggravating, as is having to compensate for it. Holo forms, as you call it," and the distaste in his voice mod told him how much Ratchet liked that description, "were not designed for providing the accuracy that is required for medical procedures. I often use one when I am assisting one of the human soldiers because it calms them when they are already in a stressful condition. You are unbothered by my natural form."
Translation, Sam didn't mind so he didn't bother. It was true enough, anyway. Scans finished, Sam stood back up and took Bee's hand again. He felt better holding it.
"Your receptors are essentially unchanged since the last time I scanned them," Ratchet murmured. That didn't sound like bad news to Sam but Ratchet didn't seem particularly pleased by it. "I had hoped that they would develop the ability to draw from your energy source on their own but they seem content to remain as they are. As pleasurable as frequent sexual intercourse must be for you, Sam, I think we've determined that this isn't really workable as a long term solution."
Ratchet tapped one finger on the exam table, hard enough that it made a mellow ringing sound, as he considered. "Sideswipe told me you had some success at recharging during a session of masturbation."
Sam was glad he missed that conversation. He wasn’t entirely thrilled to be here for this one. The warm hand holding his squeezed gently, comfortingly, an assurance that at least Bumblebee wasn't upset to be talking about this, and thank god for small favors.
"The adaptions they've already made are quite fascinating," Ratchet murmured, almost as though he'd forgotten the two of them were sitting right there. Bee mouthed 'Spock' and Sam stifled a snicker. "I just can't figure out why they won't try to pull from your energy source. It would be a great deal more efficient. Perhaps it's time for us to find a way for you to communicate with them."
Immediately, Sam tensed, just the thought of them installing parts into him like some kind of creepy cyborg filling him with rising terror, insane thoughts of Robocop, of a hundred stupid sci-fi movies, no, no, no fucking way he was a human and he wanted to stay a human, weird receptors aside--
The harsh whine of feedback was like a sudden shriek, Ratchet and Bumblebee flinching back hard. Both of Bumblebee's forms clapped their hands over their ears, his face twisted in pain as his robotic form staggered and went down on one knee.
"Stop that!" Ratchet shouted and Sam jerked in surprise, the sound cutting off with a garbled squawk of static. His heart was still hammering in his chest, the taste of panic sharp and bitter in his mouth but he swallowed it away as Ratchet leaned over Bumblebee, one finger lightly touching each audio receptor.
"Better," Ratchet glanced briefly at Sam. "I'm sorry for shouting but I was hoping your subconscious reflexes would be faster than me bypassing your receptors and shutting it down for you. For someone who doesn't have his own speakers, you do a remarkable job at hijacking others."
"I don’t want my own speakers!" Sam blurted. "I don't want anything like that, I don't want any…any parts installed on me or in me or---"
"Who said anything about installing parts on you?" Ratchet asked irritably. "Adding Cybertronian parts to a human?" Ratchet shuddered visibly as he helped Bee to his feet. A tentative touch on Sam's shoulder told him that Bee's holo form had crept back to him. "That kind of complication I do not need."
Oh. Well. That was different. A little sheepishly, Sam asked, "Then how?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of a visor of some sort," Ratchet said, tapping his own optics. "Something to provide you with a viewscreen."
"Like sunglasses?" Bee prompted.
"Yes, sunglasses would work," Ratchet mused. "I could arrange for them to have a visual display on the inside. Should be easy enough ."
Computerized sunglasses. Only in Autobot City. Sam frowned as he considered it, "Like…Halo?"
Ratchet looked baffled but Bee nodded eagerly. "Yes, like Halo. A HUD display."
Ratchet's optics flicked to the left as he assessed the web and found the information.
"Halo," he grunted. "Yes."
"But, to communicate them wouldn't they still have to be attached to me somehow?"
Ratchet and Bumblebee glanced at each other and Sam could feel that they were communicating silently. "Just spit it out," Sam said impatiently.
"Spitting it out always seems to result in damage to my audio cortexes," Ratchet said dryly, flicking one finger against the side of his head. He considered a moment long before he said, finally, "Sam, your receptors are already connected to your central nervous center."
Okay, and that was news to him. "What? I thought they were just, on my skin or something." Almost absently, he rubbed his fingertips over the tattoo on his upper arm, Bumblebee's name interposed on him like a skin-deep love letter.
Ratchet crouched down in front of the table so his optics were level with Sam, his expression obviously upset. "I thought you realized. Do humans really know so little about their own functions?"
"Well, I don't have a personal HUD display," he snapped. Yet.
"You have eyes!" Ratchet shot back. "They are causing physical responses in you. Sexual arousal, healing, didn't you notice that your bruises from yesterday are almost gone?"
He hadn't. He hadn't noticed a damned thing and he couldn't even get mad at Ratchet about it because he was sort of right and really, he should have noticed something.
Okay, maybe he could still be a little mad at Ratchet, he was the alien doctor, he should know enough about human culture to realize Sam would be blissfully oblivious, damn it. "Why do I need to communicate with them anyway? You guys talk to each other through the wifi all the time, why can't you tell them to stop treating Bee like a giant Red Bull?"
Another shared look. "We tried." Bee admitted. "But they don't understand our language."
"But they speak Cybertronian!"
"No, they don't," Ratchet sighed. He closed his optics and rubbed a thumb between them. "Verbally, they are assisting in your language skills but their programming language is different. They will work together with the receptors you have from Bumblebee but they are not actually communicating. Their mutual co-existence allows for some bleed over in their assistance with your primary functions but minor interaction is not interconnecting."
All Sam could do was stare at him blankly. Why was it his receptors could help him understand Cybertronian but not Ratchet?
"Sam, the Allspark is from the beginning of our existence. Bumblebee is barely older than an adolescent," Ratchet said, a bit impatiently.
"Hey!"
Ratchet ignored Bee's objection. "Programming changes and adapts. We no longer speak the internal language of our ancestors." At Sam's doubtful look, Ratchet's optics flickered, the Autobot equivalent of an eye roll. "I can't help but notice that you don't speak Aramaic, Sam."
"But what about you, you're old!" Sam protested.
"Much as I appreciate your faith in my ancient linage, I am not that old," Ratchet informed him tartly. "Even Optimus attempted to communicate with them but their language is even older than that of the Primes."
"So what makes you think that I'll be able to communicate with them?"
Ratchet raised his hands a helpless gesture. "They are a part of you, chances are they'd be more willing. When Bumblebee attempted it, they were affectionate but uninterested in deeper communication and they had no interest in all in Prime or myself. Not rude, just oblivious. Perhaps if you could make some rudimentary contact with them, you can convince them to draw off of you instead of piggybacking energy off of Bumblebee."
Sam was starting to think there wasn't enough Tylenol in all the world to deal with the headache he was getting. "I guess it's worth a try."
"Glad you approve," Ratchet said dryly. "Until you get your medical degree, perhaps you'd prefer to defer to me with any of your health care issues?"
"You don't have a degree either," Sam pointed out.
"I doubt there is a facility on this planet that would be qualified to evaluate my knowledge. Now, before I put you to work, and I am, I do have one last question for you."
Sam shrugged. "Shoot."
"Please do not tempt me," Ratchet murmured and Sam felt Bumblebee shake with silent laughter. "Now, Sideswipe sent me a detailed report about your encounter with Barricade. At one point, you were in a jail cell and he was attacking you with plasma bursts, correct?"
"Yeah," Sam said a little weakly, swallowing hard and didn't protest a bit when Bee wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, resting his chin on Sam's shoulder. It made it easier to look at Ratchet and repeat, firmer, "Yeah, that's right."
"According to Sideswipe, he pushed you to the floor and covered you both with a force shield. His power cells were already operating at minimum and according to him, you assisted in energy support of his shield."
"I did?" Sam blinked in surprised, brow furrowed as he thought back on it. At the time, he'd been a little too busy trying not to die to pay much attention to anything his receptors were doing. "I guess I did."
"Can you explain what happened?"
"Er…no?"
That earned him a sharp look. "At least attempt to work with me, Sam, I am trying to help you."
This time, it was Bumblebee who made an impatient sound, "Ratchet, he doesn't know-"
Sam interrupted him, "Wait…Sideswipe was shielding me and I could just feel it was going down so I just pushed….kind of."
"Pushed," Ratchet said thoughtfully. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the opposite wall, looking for all the world like a twenty foot tall high school student waiting by his locker between classes. "Hmm, interesting. Can you do it again now?"
"Uh. How?"
"I have no idea. My functions are as innate to me as breathing is to you. How did you do it the first time?"
Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to push, like he had when he was a kid trying to move his toys with his mind, just to see if he could.
Nothing.
He tried harder, tried to reach for the energy that just had to be there, he'd done this once…
Another minute ticked past before Ratchet finally spoke up. "All right, all right, stop before you have a stroke. You must have simply been lending your energy. It’s easy enough to do even subconsciously."
Sam opened his eyes to find Ratchet had already abandoned them and gone back to his wounded table. "So…that's cool, then?"
"It's a lot better than you spontaneously generating a force shield," Ratchet replied, almost absently. He was studying the table as if by sheer force of concentration he could make it rise again, whole. Then again, this was Ratchet; for all Sam knew, he could. "Receptors are a very basic form of nanotechnology. They aren't supposed to be able to create anything that complex."
Oh. "So what should they be able to do?" Sam asked. Really, he should just get Bumblebee to put together a user manual for him.
"Beats me." That made Sam blink in surprise but Ratchet just shook his head a little. "Your receptors are from the Allspark and are unlike ours. I suppose I could guess but please remember, I am not a magic 8 ball."
"No, that's okay. I guess."
"Good. If you don't have any further questions, I believe we should begin on your work detail. Bumblebee, I'm sure your skills are needed elsewhere?"
It was a very pointed, very polite, get the hell out. Bee took a moment to kiss the back of Sam's neck, finding a surprisingly sensitive place that made Sam shiver, leaning back into the damp touch of lips.
"Are sure you don't need a quick recharge before I go?" Bee murmured softly. But before Sam could reply, Ratchet did it for him.
"His power cells are fine, did you two sleep at all last night? And I am not about to go stand outside just so you two can engage in coitus. He's here to be punished, Bumblebee, you may recall?"
"Yeah, yeah," Bee grinned, tossing a flippant salute in Ratchet's directions. It earned him a rude gesture in return and he left laughing, leaving Sam to Ratchet's tender mercies.
Sam sighed and sat down, waiting patiently for whatever was to come. Whatever it was, he hoped that it didn't have anything to do with what had happened to the table.
-finis-
Read Next Chapter
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Sam/Bumblebee, Optimus/Ratchet, Sideswipe/Sunstreaker
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
4x4
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
~~*~~
Sam hadn't seen the large hanger from the inside before and he might have been more interested in the jets and other human vehicles stored inside it if he weren't here to get 'his due punishment', as Bee had called it. Yet here he was, waiting in silence with the twins for Optimus to get here and let them all know exactly how disappointed with them he was.
It had been past noon when Bumblebee had finally woke him up with soft kisses, little whispery touches against a mouth that was a little sore from the night before. He'd been relishing muzzy memories of it when Bee had suddenly pulled away, ignoring Sam's sleepy protests.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he'd apologized, "but I told Optimus I'd have you at the main hanger in twenty minutes and I suspect you'll want to take a shower before you go."
A shower, yeah, and then a caffeine transfusion would be nice. Sam had given Bee's neat clothes and hair a sleepily resentful look before he'd dragged himself into the shower. Blissful hot water woke him up the rest of the way and since Bumblebee was the best alien boyfriend ever, he'd had a cup of coffee waiting for Sam when he'd stumbled back into the main room.
His mumbled gratitude and professed love were gurgled into hot coffee but Bee's amusement told Sam he'd gotten the idea.
"Better hurry up. I'd prefer not to keep Optimus waiting," Bee had cautioned and Sam had agreed, downing his coffee fast enough that the scalding heat made his eyes water as he scrambled into one of the nicer outfits Bee had chosen for him to wear on-base. He was in enough trouble and honestly, he pretty much deserved anything he got handed. Optimus was way too busy and way too important to deal with something like this, and what had started out as just a bad idea had rocketed into nearly lethal.
Frankly, Sam felt like shit for causing them all this trouble; Sideswipe and Sunstreaker who'd just been trying to help and Optimus who trusted him. He remembered Optimus telling Bumblebee that he expected better from him and cringed to think of that disappointment directed at him. Getting it from Optimus would be even worse than his parents-
"Aww, man," Sam slapped his forehead, his shirt hanging open as he wriggled into his pants. "My parents are gonna kill me! Are they going to be there? At the hanger?"
Bumblebee's expression hadn't made him feel much better. "Ah, no, they're unaware of what happened. I told Optimus that as you are an adult of your species, it was unnecessary to inform your parents of your actions."
"Really?" Sam perked up.
"He agreed. And said that since you are an adult of your species, you should be able to inform them yourself. Sorry."
"Great," Sam sighed, flopping down on the bed. He'd taken just a second to mourn his fate before slipping on his shoes, tying them quickly and following Bee's Holo out the door and into his car form. Bee sat in his own driver's seat, hands on the wheel, and Sam watched him, a little bemused. So which one of them was actually driving?
"So what's going to happen here?" Sam asked instead, deciding to satisfy his curiosity on that another time. Better to know what he was facing now.
"Optimus will inform you how disappointed he is in your behavior and may add that he expects better from either Autobots or you in general. Then he will hand out work detail. He is a great believer that busy hands are well-behaved hands," Bee said dryly.
"You sound like you've heard that speech before."
"More than once. Sideswipe has heard it so many times that he made a chart that documents its conception, evolution, and various additions that are included based on just how much trouble you caused and how remorseful you are."
"What do you think I'll get?"
"For this? My guess is a week or two of manual labor plus confinement to quarters, depending on just how pissed off he is. What you did wasn't all that bad but the outcome was, so…" Bee shrugged. "Plus, this is your first offense. He'll take the variables into account."
Translation, he was grounded and he'd have to do chores. That didn't sound like anything he couldn't handle. He hoped Sideswipe and even Sunstreaker fared just as well. It had been his fault they'd gotten in trouble to begin with and none of them had factored in them getting arrested and attacked by Decepticons.
At least Bumblebee wasn't angry with him. Sam was almost shamefully grateful for that and wouldn’t have blamed him if he had been angry. He should have asked, he should have talked to Bee, or even Ratchet, before going off like that but panic always equaled stupid in his personal life equations. Bumblebee wasn't angry with him and they'd managed to avoid anyone dying. If all he got was a dose of Optimus's disappointment and chores, he'd call it good.
Bumblebee had left him at the door with instructions not to talk to anyone in there until Optimus arrived. The hanger was huge, loaded with jets and equipment that Sam didn't recognize, the walls lined with racks and boxes. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had already been there, sitting against one of the walls and Sam had hesitantly gone up to them. Sideswipe had offered him a wry smile and a wave in the direction of a weird metal scaffolding thing that Sam had gone up, a little wary and confused. When he got to the top, though, he got it. From here, he was tall enough to actually talk to Optimus without either him staring at his ankles or Optimus crouching on the ground.
Sam leaned against the metal railing and sighed quietly, waiting for the leader of the Autobots to come and ground him. All in all, it could be worse.
It could be his mom.
~~*~~
Optimus waited until five minutes past the appointed time before he went in to speak to his recalcitrant troops and his young charge. The twins would feel the passage of time keenly and he suspected Sam would as well, allowing their anxiety towards their punishment to draw out like a blade.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were already on their feet as he approached and Sam noticed him a moment later, straightening automatically to match the twins posture. Two of them bore the properly repentant expression and Sunstreaker…well, Sunstreaker was as he was. His expressions rarely bore any truth to his emotions.
The twins, one of the last remaining true spark twins amongst his people. This was not the first time he'd had these two before him and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He did not question their loyalty-- Sunstreaker in particular had obviously proven himself very recently protecting their own with his very life-but they did have something of a troublesome side.
Although he would certainly never say it, Optimus had never faulted them for their unruliness. He was no Megatron, to demand unthinking obedience from his troops; so long as they accepted that their actions had consequences and they could choose to accept those consequences as their due. A just society had rules, even if that society was currently in tatters.
Normally, Optimus had no trouble punishing them for their transgressions, giving them the appropriate lecture along with their punishment. Not that he expected any of his lectures to make a dent in these two: he'd seen Sideswipe's chart on his speeches and had been privately amused. Today, though, he was tired. Spark-deep weariness after dealing with human politicians and military leaders as he tried to carve a place for his people into this world. As he tried to find his people, find the Decepticons, build a city around them…so many things to do and he very much didn't want to deal with youthful foolishness today.
His knee also ached, the new gears grinding just enough to cause irritating pain. Ratchet was more thorough than gentle in his work, although there was certainly occasion to appreciate that. Not that he had been able to persuade Ratchet in that direction today, not after he'd made his desires so very clear. Optimus had been of two minds about saying anything at all, and yet, Jazz was so fresh in his mind lately and he wanted…well, what he wanted and what he could have were undoubtedly two different things, but that was a truth he'd grown accustomed to a very long time ago.
His three miscreants were still waiting patiently for him to begin what they undoubtedly thought would be a lengthy tirade. Sideswipe's chart on his speeches had been very thorough; perhaps it was time to add an unknown variable.
Optimus stopped in front of them and crossed his arms over his chest, regarding them sternly. "You all know what you did and you all know that the consequences of those actions could have resulted in your death or the deaths of innocents. It did not. Therefore, I am giving you each work detail and confinement to quarters. Sam, as a human you are to work eight hours a day with Ratchet for one week. He volunteered to make sure you were 'kept busy', in his words."
Sam winced visibly, to Optimus's satisfaction. His assessment of that situation was correct, then. Ratchet's wrath held more weight with Sam than Optimus's disappointment. Certainly it would last longer, he thought wryly.
He turned to the twins. "Sunstreaker, you will continue working with Ironhide and you will repair the sensor array that you damaged in order to leave the base undetected. I trust you have no issue with that?"
A curt nod was his only response.
"I would like to add that this punishment will be concurrent with your previous one. You saved Sam and Sideswipe's lives and very possibly the lives of many other humans, and that is reason alone to be grateful. Your punishment is for not going through proper channels, not for your actions."
There was no response, but Optimus hadn't expected one, though he sighed inwardly. That small praise had been for more for his benefit than Sunstreaker's, as he knew it would go unappreciated. If he was no Megatron, than Sunstreaker was certainly no Bumblebee, eager for praise and delighting in proving himself. In one moment he would nearly die to save another and in just the next, he would be discovered with a highly illicit firewall in place. A mass of contradictions wrapped in a frequently sullen and angry form, his brilliant choice of paint held no hint of the darkness within him.
Truthfully, he'd probably chosen that shade of yellow as a wordless slur against Bumblebee.
It didn't matter; even if Sunstreaker never showed a hint of pleasure at any praise Optimus offered, he would still give it.
"Sideswipe," Optimus continued, "I shall see to your punishment myself. Two weeks, sixteen hours on duty, double shifts for the both of you, and eight hours of recharge, confined in your quarters…Sam, when you are not otherwise occupied with work detail and meals, you shall also be confined to quarters, however, I will allow you visitors."
"Wait, wait," Sam protested, holding up both hands. "I get one week and they get two? That's not fair, they were only trying to help me out."
Optimus shifted to bend down slightly. Even on the raised platform, Sam was nowhere near his height. While Optimus had no issue with making use of his size for intimidation, Sam was not one that he ever wanted to be afraid of him. "Be that as it may, this is far from their first infraction. They are both aware of the consequences they would face."
"It's still not fair," Sam persisted, stubbornly. The Twins held their silences, although Sideswipe shifted uneasily as though he wanted to silence the boy. Those two certainly knew that defiance of orders often resulted in additional punishment. It would seem that Sam had a similar idea. "If they are getting two weeks then so should I."
"Very well. Two weeks," Optimus agreed and he was silently proud of the young human. His actions had been equal parts foolish and dangerous, and while Mikaela's explanation, as it had been sent to them through Prowl, had been frantic and disjointed, Optimus had still understood Sam's fear. He was brave in his actions, oh, very brave, but when it came to emotions…well, there were older beings than Sam who had a difficult time with their emotional entanglements.
Optimus knew a few personally.
Proud or not, his probability calculators had told him that the margin of error had been very slim indeed. If Sunstreaker had arrived even seconds later, if Sideswipe had had even the tiniest bit less power, none of them would be having this discussion. "Sam, as the savior of this world and my life, I hope you understand that I would appreciate if you would consider your own life worth protecting as well. Please remember that we brought you here to keep you safe."
Sam wilted visibly under the rebuke, as Optimus had expected. He gentled it, just a little, not wanting the boy to be overburdened with guilt. "We were very lucky that no one was hurt, including you. Another reason to be grateful."
He would have dismissed them at that, but Sunstreaker spoke abruptly, his optics still focused forward.
"Permission to speak, Sir," Sunstreaker said curtly.
"Permission granted," Optimus said, warily. He had been waiting for some input from Sunstreaker since they'd met on the highway. Sunstreaker was normally very vocal in his displeasure, trying even Optimus's patience at times. On one occasion, Optimus could recall Sunstreaker being injured in battle and Ratchet doing field repairs. When his ranting had reached a fevered pitch, Ratchet had calmly tweaked his voice modulator to run several octaves higher than normal. Everyone on the remnants of the battlefield who had still been conscious had laughed to hear Sunstreaker swearing in a voice better suited to a petrorabbit.
The memory was so keen, particularly Sunstreaker's expression when he actually paused long enough to really hear himself, that Optimus had to dial down his amusement levels to keep from smiling. He didn't, however, close down the memory. Knowing Sunstreaker it would be best to have something running in the background that would help him keep his temper.
As if just to prove he still had the capacity to surprise, Sunstreaker said firmly, "Sir, with your consent, I'd rather be confined to quarters on my own."
More than surprising. In all their long years of service, he couldn't recall a single instance of Sunstreaker asking to be separated from his brother. Sideswipe's expression was stricken; although he kept silent, he was obviously trying to message his brother. Messages that Sunstreaker ultimately ignored, his optics focused with surprising calm on Optimus.
Sideswipe turned those messages to Prime but Optimus sent them back, unopened. This was a personal issue between brothers and he was having no part of it.
"If that is what you prefer, I have no objection," Optimus agreed, guardedly. Sunstreaker nodded, ignoring Sideswipe's obvious devastation.
Sam was looking at Sideswipe with obvious concern but if he had objections, this time he kept them to himself.
"Sam, as your bodyguard, Bumblebee will escort you to the infirmary." He waited to hear if Sunstreaker would comment on that, fully expected him to murmur some snide remark on the human or Bumblebee, perhaps both. But the smaller 'bot kept his silence, his optics focused forward.
"If there is nothing else, then you're dismissed. Sideswipe, you are with me. I trust you two can find your own way?"
Two equally mute nods and he watched as both of them made their way to the door, Sam trailing far behind Sunstreaker's much longer strides.
"Sam?" Optimus called, with a touch of inner mischievousness that he doubted Sam would believe. The boy turned back to him, his expression wary. "Tell Ratchet I said hello."
~~*~~
Sam hadn't expected Bumblebee to actually come with him into the infirmary, in both his forms no less, but he wasn't sorry that he had. Dealing with Optimus on his own had been enough on his nerves for one day and damn, but he could do the 'I'm disappointed' so freaking well. He wouldn't have had to even say anything; Sam had been ready to throw himself on the ground and beg forgiveness at the first saddened look.
It was strange to think that not all that long ago, he wouldn't have even realized Optimus was upset. Robotic faces weren't perfectly suited for expressing human emotions but it hadn't taken much time at all for Sam to learn to read them, to notice the minute changes in their optics as they shifted with their moods. Whether that was just because he had them figured out or that his receptors were feeding him tips, Sam didn't know, but he wasn't about to complain about it.
And if he wasn't mistaken, by Ratchet's expression, he was in a good mood.
"Don't linger at the door, come in," Ratchet called, and good God, he sounded practically good-natured. "There's a great deal of delicate and perishable items in here so I keep the cooling units quite high."
Good natured, hell. He sounded downright cheerful and that was just seriously creepy.
A little warily, Sam did as he was told, Bumblebee both beside and behind him as they let the door swing shut. Ratchet was across the room, doing something on the floor, but Sam was in no hurry to find out what. He was kind of scared that Ratchet in a good mood meant someone was dead.
Maybe Bumblebee agreed, because he wasn't exactly rushing over, either.
"Um, Optimus said I was supposed to come here for my punishment. I mean, work detail," Sam corrected hastily, just in case Ratchet got any weird ideas. Who knew what kind of files he'd found on the internet? He added, tentatively, "He also said to tell you hello."
"Of course he did." And that sounded more like the Ratchet they all knew and feared. "Bumblebee, would you please help him up on one of the exam tables? I'd like to get some scans on him."
Wordlessly, Bumblebee did, letting his holo fade away as he scooped Sam up with deft gentleness that might have surprised a human who didn't know him as well. Sam just relaxed back into the cup of his palm as they stepped close enough to Ratchet to see he was crouched on the floor next to a table. Or what was left of one, anyway, this one was literally melted in half, with hardened dribbles of metal pooled on the floor. Sam's mouth dropped open as he stared and Bumblebee made a little chirp of surprise.
"What the hell happened in here?" Sam asked, blinking. Now that he was closer, he could actually see a line burned right into the floor, like some kind of laser fire.
"It's classified. I'd tell you, but then I would be forced to destroy you," Ratchet said calmly and Sam transferred his stare to him. Ratchet had a really weird sense of humor which meant that might be a joke. Or he might be trying to pick the best form of execution, it really was hard to say.
Bee's grip was very gentle and it was enough of a connection for him to send, --He and Optimus probably broke it last night--. Aloud, a quick blurt of bow-chicka-wow-wow music played, in the best of porn tradition.
Sam covered his ears but there was no blocking that mental image, "Seriously, Bee, gross!"
Ratchet went a long way towards proving that he had what Sam thought might be bizarre psychic powers by chuckling, "Contrary to what you may believe, the two of you did not invent sexual interaction."
"No, that was Ratchet," Bumblebee said, and while his face in his robotic form wasn't constructed for smiling, Sam could hear the smirk in his voice mod. "Back at the beginning of time when he was sparked."
"I'll defer the title of eldest to our fearless leader," Ratchet said blandly. "However, I could well believe that he may have invented pleasurable interfacing. He's particularly talented at-"
"Stop, stop," Bee begged, shuddering dramatically. "You win."
Personally, Sam thought he'd gotten the worst end of deal. Autobots didn't have to dream and he'd be having nightmares about this discussion for weeks.
"I thought I was here to work," he grumbled as Bee finally set him on an exam table that was large enough for almost any Autobot. It meant Sam was all but swimming in a sea of shiny stainless steel and he couldn't help being relieved when Bee's holo form shimmered into existence next to him. He took Sam's hand without a word, lacing their fingers together and squeezing encouragingly.
Ratchet seemed to have decided that the table was a loss, given the kick he gave it when he stood up, hydraulics whirring as he finally came over to them. "You were assigned to me, which means I get to decide what you do and right now, I want you to sit still so I can examine you."
"Optimus will get mad if you dissect me," Sam warned as he lay back.
"I'll just tell him it was an accident with a laser welder," Ratchet murmured, wryly and Sam decided he really, really didn't want to ask. No, sir, he did not.
A faint beam of light swept over him from Ratchet's wrist, slowly moving from his ankles on up. It didn't feel like anything although why Sam thought it should, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he could feel an x-ray, either.
"Why don't you make a holoform to exam me?" Sam asked, warily, as that bluish beam hit him as waist level. He hoped like hell it wasn't some kind of radiation, because he wasn't sure he was ever going to actually have kids, but he did kind of want to keep the option.
"Because I hate it," Ratchet said absently. His optics were focused to the left, something Sam had come to associate with them either accessing the internet or thinking particularly hard. "The imprecision of what is essentially secondhand knowledge to my central possessors is aggravating, as is having to compensate for it. Holo forms, as you call it," and the distaste in his voice mod told him how much Ratchet liked that description, "were not designed for providing the accuracy that is required for medical procedures. I often use one when I am assisting one of the human soldiers because it calms them when they are already in a stressful condition. You are unbothered by my natural form."
Translation, Sam didn't mind so he didn't bother. It was true enough, anyway. Scans finished, Sam stood back up and took Bee's hand again. He felt better holding it.
"Your receptors are essentially unchanged since the last time I scanned them," Ratchet murmured. That didn't sound like bad news to Sam but Ratchet didn't seem particularly pleased by it. "I had hoped that they would develop the ability to draw from your energy source on their own but they seem content to remain as they are. As pleasurable as frequent sexual intercourse must be for you, Sam, I think we've determined that this isn't really workable as a long term solution."
Ratchet tapped one finger on the exam table, hard enough that it made a mellow ringing sound, as he considered. "Sideswipe told me you had some success at recharging during a session of masturbation."
Sam was glad he missed that conversation. He wasn’t entirely thrilled to be here for this one. The warm hand holding his squeezed gently, comfortingly, an assurance that at least Bumblebee wasn't upset to be talking about this, and thank god for small favors.
"The adaptions they've already made are quite fascinating," Ratchet murmured, almost as though he'd forgotten the two of them were sitting right there. Bee mouthed 'Spock' and Sam stifled a snicker. "I just can't figure out why they won't try to pull from your energy source. It would be a great deal more efficient. Perhaps it's time for us to find a way for you to communicate with them."
Immediately, Sam tensed, just the thought of them installing parts into him like some kind of creepy cyborg filling him with rising terror, insane thoughts of Robocop, of a hundred stupid sci-fi movies, no, no, no fucking way he was a human and he wanted to stay a human, weird receptors aside--
The harsh whine of feedback was like a sudden shriek, Ratchet and Bumblebee flinching back hard. Both of Bumblebee's forms clapped their hands over their ears, his face twisted in pain as his robotic form staggered and went down on one knee.
"Stop that!" Ratchet shouted and Sam jerked in surprise, the sound cutting off with a garbled squawk of static. His heart was still hammering in his chest, the taste of panic sharp and bitter in his mouth but he swallowed it away as Ratchet leaned over Bumblebee, one finger lightly touching each audio receptor.
"Better," Ratchet glanced briefly at Sam. "I'm sorry for shouting but I was hoping your subconscious reflexes would be faster than me bypassing your receptors and shutting it down for you. For someone who doesn't have his own speakers, you do a remarkable job at hijacking others."
"I don’t want my own speakers!" Sam blurted. "I don't want anything like that, I don't want any…any parts installed on me or in me or---"
"Who said anything about installing parts on you?" Ratchet asked irritably. "Adding Cybertronian parts to a human?" Ratchet shuddered visibly as he helped Bee to his feet. A tentative touch on Sam's shoulder told him that Bee's holo form had crept back to him. "That kind of complication I do not need."
Oh. Well. That was different. A little sheepishly, Sam asked, "Then how?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of a visor of some sort," Ratchet said, tapping his own optics. "Something to provide you with a viewscreen."
"Like sunglasses?" Bee prompted.
"Yes, sunglasses would work," Ratchet mused. "I could arrange for them to have a visual display on the inside. Should be easy enough ."
Computerized sunglasses. Only in Autobot City. Sam frowned as he considered it, "Like…Halo?"
Ratchet looked baffled but Bee nodded eagerly. "Yes, like Halo. A HUD display."
Ratchet's optics flicked to the left as he assessed the web and found the information.
"Halo," he grunted. "Yes."
"But, to communicate them wouldn't they still have to be attached to me somehow?"
Ratchet and Bumblebee glanced at each other and Sam could feel that they were communicating silently. "Just spit it out," Sam said impatiently.
"Spitting it out always seems to result in damage to my audio cortexes," Ratchet said dryly, flicking one finger against the side of his head. He considered a moment long before he said, finally, "Sam, your receptors are already connected to your central nervous center."
Okay, and that was news to him. "What? I thought they were just, on my skin or something." Almost absently, he rubbed his fingertips over the tattoo on his upper arm, Bumblebee's name interposed on him like a skin-deep love letter.
Ratchet crouched down in front of the table so his optics were level with Sam, his expression obviously upset. "I thought you realized. Do humans really know so little about their own functions?"
"Well, I don't have a personal HUD display," he snapped. Yet.
"You have eyes!" Ratchet shot back. "They are causing physical responses in you. Sexual arousal, healing, didn't you notice that your bruises from yesterday are almost gone?"
He hadn't. He hadn't noticed a damned thing and he couldn't even get mad at Ratchet about it because he was sort of right and really, he should have noticed something.
Okay, maybe he could still be a little mad at Ratchet, he was the alien doctor, he should know enough about human culture to realize Sam would be blissfully oblivious, damn it. "Why do I need to communicate with them anyway? You guys talk to each other through the wifi all the time, why can't you tell them to stop treating Bee like a giant Red Bull?"
Another shared look. "We tried." Bee admitted. "But they don't understand our language."
"But they speak Cybertronian!"
"No, they don't," Ratchet sighed. He closed his optics and rubbed a thumb between them. "Verbally, they are assisting in your language skills but their programming language is different. They will work together with the receptors you have from Bumblebee but they are not actually communicating. Their mutual co-existence allows for some bleed over in their assistance with your primary functions but minor interaction is not interconnecting."
All Sam could do was stare at him blankly. Why was it his receptors could help him understand Cybertronian but not Ratchet?
"Sam, the Allspark is from the beginning of our existence. Bumblebee is barely older than an adolescent," Ratchet said, a bit impatiently.
"Hey!"
Ratchet ignored Bee's objection. "Programming changes and adapts. We no longer speak the internal language of our ancestors." At Sam's doubtful look, Ratchet's optics flickered, the Autobot equivalent of an eye roll. "I can't help but notice that you don't speak Aramaic, Sam."
"But what about you, you're old!" Sam protested.
"Much as I appreciate your faith in my ancient linage, I am not that old," Ratchet informed him tartly. "Even Optimus attempted to communicate with them but their language is even older than that of the Primes."
"So what makes you think that I'll be able to communicate with them?"
Ratchet raised his hands a helpless gesture. "They are a part of you, chances are they'd be more willing. When Bumblebee attempted it, they were affectionate but uninterested in deeper communication and they had no interest in all in Prime or myself. Not rude, just oblivious. Perhaps if you could make some rudimentary contact with them, you can convince them to draw off of you instead of piggybacking energy off of Bumblebee."
Sam was starting to think there wasn't enough Tylenol in all the world to deal with the headache he was getting. "I guess it's worth a try."
"Glad you approve," Ratchet said dryly. "Until you get your medical degree, perhaps you'd prefer to defer to me with any of your health care issues?"
"You don't have a degree either," Sam pointed out.
"I doubt there is a facility on this planet that would be qualified to evaluate my knowledge. Now, before I put you to work, and I am, I do have one last question for you."
Sam shrugged. "Shoot."
"Please do not tempt me," Ratchet murmured and Sam felt Bumblebee shake with silent laughter. "Now, Sideswipe sent me a detailed report about your encounter with Barricade. At one point, you were in a jail cell and he was attacking you with plasma bursts, correct?"
"Yeah," Sam said a little weakly, swallowing hard and didn't protest a bit when Bee wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, resting his chin on Sam's shoulder. It made it easier to look at Ratchet and repeat, firmer, "Yeah, that's right."
"According to Sideswipe, he pushed you to the floor and covered you both with a force shield. His power cells were already operating at minimum and according to him, you assisted in energy support of his shield."
"I did?" Sam blinked in surprised, brow furrowed as he thought back on it. At the time, he'd been a little too busy trying not to die to pay much attention to anything his receptors were doing. "I guess I did."
"Can you explain what happened?"
"Er…no?"
That earned him a sharp look. "At least attempt to work with me, Sam, I am trying to help you."
This time, it was Bumblebee who made an impatient sound, "Ratchet, he doesn't know-"
Sam interrupted him, "Wait…Sideswipe was shielding me and I could just feel it was going down so I just pushed….kind of."
"Pushed," Ratchet said thoughtfully. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the opposite wall, looking for all the world like a twenty foot tall high school student waiting by his locker between classes. "Hmm, interesting. Can you do it again now?"
"Uh. How?"
"I have no idea. My functions are as innate to me as breathing is to you. How did you do it the first time?"
Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to push, like he had when he was a kid trying to move his toys with his mind, just to see if he could.
Nothing.
He tried harder, tried to reach for the energy that just had to be there, he'd done this once…
Another minute ticked past before Ratchet finally spoke up. "All right, all right, stop before you have a stroke. You must have simply been lending your energy. It’s easy enough to do even subconsciously."
Sam opened his eyes to find Ratchet had already abandoned them and gone back to his wounded table. "So…that's cool, then?"
"It's a lot better than you spontaneously generating a force shield," Ratchet replied, almost absently. He was studying the table as if by sheer force of concentration he could make it rise again, whole. Then again, this was Ratchet; for all Sam knew, he could. "Receptors are a very basic form of nanotechnology. They aren't supposed to be able to create anything that complex."
Oh. "So what should they be able to do?" Sam asked. Really, he should just get Bumblebee to put together a user manual for him.
"Beats me." That made Sam blink in surprise but Ratchet just shook his head a little. "Your receptors are from the Allspark and are unlike ours. I suppose I could guess but please remember, I am not a magic 8 ball."
"No, that's okay. I guess."
"Good. If you don't have any further questions, I believe we should begin on your work detail. Bumblebee, I'm sure your skills are needed elsewhere?"
It was a very pointed, very polite, get the hell out. Bee took a moment to kiss the back of Sam's neck, finding a surprisingly sensitive place that made Sam shiver, leaning back into the damp touch of lips.
"Are sure you don't need a quick recharge before I go?" Bee murmured softly. But before Sam could reply, Ratchet did it for him.
"His power cells are fine, did you two sleep at all last night? And I am not about to go stand outside just so you two can engage in coitus. He's here to be punished, Bumblebee, you may recall?"
"Yeah, yeah," Bee grinned, tossing a flippant salute in Ratchet's directions. It earned him a rude gesture in return and he left laughing, leaving Sam to Ratchet's tender mercies.
Sam sighed and sat down, waiting patiently for whatever was to come. Whatever it was, he hoped that it didn't have anything to do with what had happened to the table.
-finis-
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