FIC: Synonymous to an Intermission (Human Series)
Title: Synonymous to an Intermission
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Sam/Bumblebee, Ratchet/Optimus
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
Prime and Punishment
Gravitational Drift
My Mechanical Romance
Eternal Sunshine of a Sparkless Mind
To Serve and Protect
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
Notes: I'm so not up on the Transformers slang, but I think this might fall under the 'plug and play' category? I have to admit, I hope it does, I think that's almost as awesome a mental picture as 'sticky' porn is. *G*
~~*~~
Recharging was not the same as humans thought of as sleep. Autobots were either online and alert, or they were recharging and they could shift from one to the other in seconds with none of the drowsy confusion that humans had to deal with. The only exceptions to the rule were in the case of injury or medically-induced recharge and Sideswipe's processors informed him that he had not been injured.
Not injured but still slowly resurfacing from the equivalent of sedation, his reaction times delayed as severally as if he were trying to move through water. It wasn't pleasant and Sideswipe managed to make a sound, a tiny keen of discomfort and confusion, terrifyingly vulnerable in a time when vulnerability was tantamount to a death sentence.
Instantly, there was a hand on his own, gently stroking his sensor-laden fingers, soothing him, but if they were speaking, he still couldn't hear it, his audio sensors were still offline, along with his optics and Sideswipe made another distressed, pained sound that he couldn't hear. Not injured, there was no sign of soreness from repairs so what had happened?
The hand on his own squeezed gently and Sideswipe couldn't help a flinch, slowly pushing through the syrupy-thickness of his own confusion. That couldn't possibly be Ratchet and he was the only medic on the base right now so who--
--Relax. It’s just me-
The touch of his brother's thoughts made him flinch harder, withdrawing physically and mentally, firewalls snapping hard into place. Sunstreaker let him go, his fingers barely lingering before he pulled back.
"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," Sunstreaker said, aloud, waiting just until Sideswipe could hear him. His voice mod was weary, something that Sideswipe was not used to hearing from his brother. His optics flicked online, blurred vision until he focused and when Sideswipe turned his head he found his brother sitting next to him where he was laying on an exam table. The infirmary, he realized, still trying to clear the static in his processors. He hadn't been injured…had he?
"What happened?" Sideswipe slurred out in Cybertronian, still beyond his English language module.
Sunstreaker propped his chin up on one hand, studying him with half-shuttered optics. "You know, I think I like you like this. You look...charmingly befuddled. It's rather attractive."
The long stroke of a single finger down his arm made him blink but he managed not to flinch this time, only stared at his brother with the same befuddlement that Sunstreaker was enjoying still coiling his processors. Why was Sunstreaker touching him? What was...ah. He hissed air into his vents as his short-term memory finally came online and he remembered…Sam, the Decepticons, Sunstreaker...
"I'm sorry," Sideswipe gasped out, abruptly snatching up Sunstreaker's hand to hold him there as his brother's optics widened in surprise. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, Sunny-"
"Oh, please, do stop," Sunstreaker snapped out but he didn't pull away, let Sideswipe manhandle him closer so that he could cling to his brother. It felt so good to touch him, the growing anxiety and pain that his distance had caused easing. Fearfully, Sideswipe opened a private channel, extending it to Sunstreaker even as he cringed, expecting it to be harshly rebuffed.
Instead, Sunstreaker sighed irritably, a gust of air over Sideswipe's chassis and he accepted it, embracing him very lightly through their mental link. His firewalls were firmly in place and all Sideswipe could feel were surface emotions, but Sunstreaker was there, right where he should be, his mental touch equal parts sweet and roiling dark, and his thoughts were irritated and exhausted and...Ratchet?
"Only you could be here for me and still be admiring Ratchet's framework," Sideswipe muttered, still too tired to do more than feel mildly exasperated.
"Have to be blind not to see it," Sunstreaker smirked at him. "And my optics are excellent, thank you." He shifted a little closer, stroking a hand idly down Sideswipe's chest armor, the black paint of his fingers a sharp contrast to Sideswipe's own red finish. "And I'm sure you're just as thrilled to feel me thinking about someone else right now as I was then."
Sharp guilt sliced through Sideswipe and it didn't matter to him just now that Sunstreaker had done far worse in the past. He didn't do things like that. "I'm sor-"
"Just stop," Sunstreaker interrupted impatiently. "I was pissed about that, don't you dare think I wasn't..."
"I wasn't really thinking about her, I swear, it was about you." And he kept both memories locked firmly away right now. If Sunstreaker was in a forgiving mood it would be very foolish indeed to ruin it.
"You have a very odd way of showing it," Sunstreaker looked away, moodily, and when he tried to pull away, Sideswipe let him, bewildered. "But that wasn't why I cut you off."
Sideswipe still felt a little fuzzy in the processors but he was aware enough to recognize that was completely unlike Sunstreaker. His brother did things or he didn't, occasionally cruel things and even rarer, brilliant, brave things, but unpleasant or otherwise, he didn't explain why he did things. Sunstreaker spoke a great deal but he didn't really say much, to anyone.
"Then why?" Sideswipe asked, hesitantly, his optics on his brother's scowling face.
There was a hiss of hydraulics as Sunstreaker stood and Sideswipe could only stare as his brother withdrew. There was no other way to describe it; his odd, hunched posture, his internal firewalls seamlessly tight, bristling with tension. They were still connected but the trickle of emotion that Sideswipe felt was so tiny as to be nonexistent. The world wide web offered more of a connection than his brother was right now.
Sunstreaker shifted restlessly, his optics shuttered to pinpoints of light. "You know that I'm fucked up," he said finally, his voice modulator raw with emotions that Sideswipe couldn't feel. "Everyone does. I'm surprised Optimus doesn't have a handbook to give everyone. I'd have my own chapter, Sunstreaker is fucked up, please don't mess with him."
"I'll be sure to recommend it if we start a handbook," Sideswipe said automatically, hesitant teasing. Once, he wouldn't have hesitated, he would have said what he liked and took his lumps for it but Sunstreaker didn't even seem to notice.
He only stood there, his frame stiff with tension and his vents streaming air, a sharp indicator of his stress, before he finally said with his usual cold bluntness, "What no one seems to realize is that I know that I am fucked up. I know it."
"I realize it," Sideswipe said, softly, already reaching for his...no. Sunstreaker had accused him of wanting the word brother to be true and he had been right. How much easier would it be if Sunstreaker was only his brother, as humans conceived of the word. His twin, his physical mirror image. But he wasn't and simplicity would never be theirs. Sunstreaker was the other half of his spark and he supposed that soulmate would really be a better description.
Suddenly, that seemed so much easier to accept than it had only days ago, weeks, a century. It sucked, it was equal parts agony and pleasure, but for whatever it was worth, Sunstreaker was his and he couldn't help but love him.
That revelation hadn't made its way past Sunstreaker's viciously tight firewalls. He made a staticky hissing sound, flinching away from Sideswipe's offered hand. "I know. That's why I cut you off. Ever since-"
"Ever since?"
"Ever since that human touched me, I've felt strange," Sunstreaker confessed, his optics flickering around the infirmary a little wildly, focusing anywhere but on Sideswipe.
"The virus?" Sideswipe sat up with a wince, alarmed.
Finally, Sunstreaker looked at him and that scorn was much more like what he would expect. "No, idiot," he snorted. "When the boy kissed me. I have the same...the same impulses, but I can control them better, a little. It's easier when we have our bond open, though." He tipped his head up, shuttering his optics closed. "I shouldn't have cut you off the way I did, it wasn't much more pleasant for me. I'm sorry."
Sideswipe decided he'd worry about the shock of his brother actually apologizing to him later. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
Sunstreaker gave him another scathing look. "Because I know you, too, idiot! You'd get your hopes up that this is going to make me better...you never want me for who I am. I may be fucked up but that doesn't mean I'm broken or that I want to change," he gestured at himself, gleaming yellow armor encasing his spark, his memory, everything that was his brother. "This is what I am, Sideswipe. I can't change that. Not even for you."
"All right."
Sunstreaker blinked, his hands sagging down to his sides. "All right?"
"All right," Sideswipe agreed calmly. "But that means you don't get to be angry when I get upset over certain things. Like when you fuck around with any organic that takes your fancy."
A smirk. "No promises."
Before Sideswipe could come up with a properly offended response to that, Sunstreaker startled him by stepping past his reaching hands and into his arms, climbing up on the table. It gave a faint groan from their combined weight as Sunstreaker straddled him easily, too carefully to scratch either of their paint jobs.
"Interface with me," Sunstreaker murmured, a low growl of sound that made heat rise in the connection between them.
"Wha...here?" Sideswipe squeaked out.
"Yeah. Right here," Sunstreaker dropped a couple of firewalls, reaching to deepen their link and Sideswipe leaned into that slick electric touch, groaning aloud, it had been so long...
A dry cough made him startled, sitting up fast enough to scrape against his brother though he ignored Sunstreaker's loud complaint about his paint. "You two had better not be planning what I think you are," Ratchet said dryly, standing just inside the door. "Sam and Bumblebee were bad enough. The smell lingers for hours, you know."
"Get an air filter," Sunstreaker shot over his shoulder, obviously not inclined to move and Ratchet didn't look like he was about to leave, glowering at them as he crossed his arms over his chest. Pleasure was starting to pulse softly through their link and it was getting difficult to hold still even though he was reluctant to put his firewalls back up. Sideswipe wasn't a prude but this was asking a bit much...
"Please?" Sideswipe begged, a little desperately, and Ratchet blew out a long breath and stormed out, snapping out over his shoulder. "I am trying to run an infirmary not some kind of brothel!"
"Then why does Optimus visit so often," Sunstreaker muttered, but Sideswipe noticed he waited until the doors swung shut.
"Pissing off Ratchet is a fool's bet," Sideswipe managed to gasp aloud, his vocals disintegrating into static.
"Don't I know it."
Then vocalizing was entirely too difficult, all his systems focused with laser precision on the link between them, on the warm pulse of growing pleasure that was tinted with Sunstreaker, Primus, yes. Sunstreaker may have been fucked up, as he put it, but he didn't feel it now, his presence was as cool as a caress, a deep indigo that merged perfectly with Sideswipe's very spark.
love/pleasure/love/mine/pleasure/mine/mine/MINE
The hot blend of their emotions sparked through them sharply and Sideswipe was dimly surprised to realize that fiercely possessive urge was his, fed through the link between them and echoing back. He tried to deny it, no, he wasn't like that, he wasn't-
Yes, you are. Darkly amused and Sideswipe arched up as Sunstreaker brought their consciousness's together with a hard, mental crash, sharing their emotions, the chaotic rush of their desire. Dimly, he felt the creak of metal under his fingers as they dug into his brother hard enough to leave dents, and he keened aloud at the backlash of knowledge mixed with ecstasy. You are, of course you are. You're my other half.
It was too late for protest, excess current was building between them and his temperature sensors were screaming into the red, it had been so long since they had merged like this, so long, and Sideswipe's vocalizers cut out in the middle of their shared pleasure, woven as tight between them as a hardline and Sunstreaker was trembling against him, physically shaken even as his mental touch shuddered against Sideswipe's, tangled together in one instant of perfect alignment.
There was no sound to mark it, their frames freezing for the briefest of moments in a perfect tableau of shattering ecstasy and then Sideswipe was sagging back against the exam table, his fingers loosening automatically and his arms falling aside uselessly. Sunstreaker collapsed down on him, for once oblivious to any damage to his paint as he sprawled out over Sideswipe.
It wasn't in the least bit comfortable; for one, Sunstreaker weighed just as much as he did and his sensors were already protesting the heavy weight pinning him down. Sideswipe pushed the warnings aside, managed to raise one hand in a feeble caress down his brother's arm.
"Hnnn," Sunstreaker murmured, the link between them still sizzling with a hot charge but it was open enough that Sideswipe could tell it was a sound of contentment and not a random vocalization.
"That was nice," Sideswipe offered, chuckling weakly. He fully expected Sunstreaker to shove him away and probably add a loud, profane assessment of Sideswipe's most irritating character traits. That he didn't was actually a little worrisome and that he eased away from their mental link before he sat up was downright frightening.
"Sunstreaker?" he asked, softly.
His brother's optics were oddly somber, wide open and shimmering the same deep blue favored by most Autobots, a symbolic allegiance to their Prime. "That boy has more going on in him than just a few simple receptors."
"If that's true, why hasn't Ratchet discovered it?" Sideswipe asked, but not out of doubt. He had to agree, receptors on an organic being was unusual, but there was nothing about it that should be affecting Sunstreaker even in the slightest. A niggling fear deep in his own spark had him reaching out automatically for his brother, his sensors still braced for rejection but Sunny caught the mental touch easily, sending back a wave of gentle soothing.
"Ratchet is just a medic," Sunstreaker said impatiently, his tone belying his inner emotions, and he groaned a little as he slipped off the table and onto his feet. "He's an excellent medic, but he's no scientist or even a religious leader. How many of us have even seen the Allspark, much less have any of its specifications? He has nothing to compare the little human to, much less any idea of how to help him assimilate."
"But Prime-"
"-trusts Ratchet, probably more than he should."
Maybe so. "Are you going to tell them?"
"Of course not," Sunstreaker said with familiar sardonic amusement. "What difference would it make if they knew? Ratchet is a meddling busybody but he is brilliant at what he does. He'll figure it out, eventually. Probably after he scans me tomorrow. He'll be able to tell something is different because I can tell."
"But-"
The door slamming open cut him off and Ratchet strode in, as though their speaking his name had summoned him like a snarling demon from the Pit. "All right, you're done. Get out."
Sideswipe groaned aloud, "Come on, Ratchet, I can barely feel my hydraulics-"
He didn't see what Ratchet threw at him but enough of his scanners were online for Sideswipe to dodge away from it. The spanner embedded itself firmly into the wall next to him and Sideswipe could only stare at it in disbelief as it quivered to a halt. That could have taken out one of his optics, shit, Ratchet had to be three steps past furious if he was ready to cause actual damage--
His next shout only confirmed it. "I said get out! I swear by all the holy relics, if you aren't out of here in the next minute, I'm putting you on work detail for the next month, after I finish putting you back together!"
Sideswipe scrambled to his feet, ignoring the protests his legs gave him as he grabbed Sunstreaker by the arm and his spark sank as his brother chose that moment to prove he hadn't changed all that much, purring out, "And here we were just about to invite you for a threesome."
Yeah, they were dead. It was too late to do anything but watch with dread as Ratchet nearly swelled with fury, his optics glinting into the infrared spectrum, but Sideswipe was bemused to find that he wasn't really upset. His brother's presence was darkly amused, as splintered and cold as always but it was there and that was enough. For now.
~~*~~
"Is it me or does it smell weird in here?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose. A bizarre combination of burnt rubber and hot electronics all mixed around with transmission fluid, like the world's most disgusting milkshake.
"Please don't remind me, I'm trying to ignore it," Ratchet said curtly from his position on the floor. Sam had been a little surprised to walk in this morning and find Ratchet scrubbing spatters of...something...off the floor but he'd decided against asking and just started picking up the tools that were scattered everywhere. It had only taken one day of working for Ratchet to figure out sometimes it was better not to know.
Today he was determined to make it through the full work day and to hell with being tired. His mom had stopped by with her usual morning fare of humiliation and breakfast, so his blood sugar was fine and Bumblebee had topped off his other, er, energy levels in the wee hours, so he was ready.
Ratchet, on the other hand, seemed to be equal parts testy and silently sullen, which was weird to say the least. He'd barely grunted a greeting when Sam had come in and had yet to even give him a list of tasks for the day. Morbid curiosity made Sam wonder what would happen to the first patient of the day. With the mood Ratchet was in, there was a chance it might be him.
Still, it was sort of, well, creepy to be in here with it so quiet. Ratchet didn't seem to be partial to the radio, unless he was listening to it on his own frequencies, and the only sounds were the quiet hum of the equipment and Ratchet himself moving around. With the floor done, Ratchet took the time to yank a wrench from where it was embedded firmly into the wall and Sam couldn't help a wince when he saw how bent the thing was.
What the hell had Ratchet been doing in here, making explosives?
The quiet was getting to the point of being unnerving and it was weird besides. Certainly Ratchet hadn't had any trouble making conversation yesterday. A little hesitantly, Sam finally spoke up, his voice meek in the nearly silent room.
"I was thinking," Sam said, testing the waters of conversation.
"An excellent use of your brain, I am sure," Ratchet said without turning around. He'd been trying to bend the wrench back into some semblance of useful but it seemed like he was giving it up as a bad job because he tossed it into a waste bin with a disgusted snort. It wasn't the friendliest response but he didn't seemed actively pissed off. Besides, Sam did have a legitimate question. He just needed someone to ask about it and Bumblebee had been gone when he'd woken up that morning, off to plug himself back in or whatever he was doing. Not that he told Sam. Not that Sam was bitter or anything.
Determinedly, Sam plunged on, "I was thinking about maybe signing up for some online classes, only, I wasn't sure if I could. I mean, I know that I'm kind of in hiding but I'd like to at least get my GED, maybe take some college courses, do you think--"
"I think that's an excellent idea, Sam," Ratchet didn't look at him but for once he didn't sound sarcastic or irritated. "Education is as important to our people as it is to yours and that would be a better use of your time than a few other pursuits I could name."
Sam broke in hurriedly before Ratchet could, and probably would, start naming them, "Not that I'm going to be able to sign up at a real college anytime soon. I figured it couldn't hurt to take some basic classes, though, figure out what I want to do."
"You'd make a decent medical assistant," Ratchet offered, dryly. "I don't pay well but I'm sure the experience would be invaluable."
"Thanks but no thanks," Sam shivered at the very thought of it. If watching a very basic surgery on Bumblebee made him throw up, he couldn't imagine standing there handing out tools for something really invasive. Besides, he couldn't help but wonder if that was more along the lines of mechanic than medical assistant, and if so, it was more Mikaela's skill than his. "I'm not sure how I'd be able to list it on my resume. Before I came here, I was actually thinking about pre-law."
"Then be grateful we arrived and spared you from that well of unending boredom."
"Don't care for legal side of things, eh?" Sam grinned. This was a little better. Ratchet might not really have a sense of humor but he was certainly funny enough without it.
"I spent enough time with the lawmakers on Cybertron when I was a politician to know I never want to do it again."
"You were a politician?" And okay, maybe the doubt in his voice was a little insulting. He'd always thought politicians needed to be at least sort of tactful.
Ratchet didn't take offense, only huffed out a laugh. "Yes, I was, for a time. I wasn't always a medic, just as Bumblebee wasn't always an espionage expert and Optimus wasn't always our leader. Ironhide, on the other hand, has always been a soldier in one capacity or another. I'm fairly sure it's hardwired into his spark."
"I guess I never really thought about it," Sam said thoughtfully. "But you guys live a really long time. I guess it would be boring to do the same thing forever."
"I didn't become a medic because I was bored, Sam," Sharply and Sam blinked.
"I know that," Sam said, a little hesitantly. This sounded like the beginning of a lecture, maybe there was still time to head it off...
Too late now, Ratchet was already prattling on, "I became a medic because I couldn't help anymore as a liaison and I had the inclination for it. Someone had to be there to put our people back together instead of just sitting there on a committee, debating back and forth what should be done while mechs were dying all around us in droves."
Whatever else he was going to say, Ratchet cut himself off, his voice briefly squawking static as he sat down at his work table, snatching up one of the far too many fuel capacitors stacked there roughly and slapping it down in front of him. It sparked brightly, spitting smoke and Sam ducked down behind a stack of boxes, peering out warily as Ratchet cursed.
Ratchet had a temper, they all knew that. He was brash and impatient but today he seemed to be all but vibrating with tension. While Sam watched he shoved away the smoking component and picked up another with more care, then stopped, resting his head in his hand. If he were a human, Sam would say he looked exhausted and maybe that wasn't too far off, anyway. As far as he'd seen, Ratchet hadn't stopped working in days.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, finally. He stepped out from behind the boxes warily, slipping closer, not that he was actually expecting an answer. To his surprise, Ratchet went still. He covered his face with one hand and Sam could hear the hiss of air in his vents, the Autobot version of letting out a long breath.
"No, I don't believe I am," Ratchet said with rare, quiet honesty. He flicked at the still smoking fuel capacitor moodily. "I am exhausted with little reprieve in sight. Until another qualified medic arrives, I am the only option. We need these fuel capacitors now, before the need for energy becomes urgent." He sighed again, turning his head enough that Sam could see the blue glow of his optics. "We're also trying to cement relations with your people in at least allowing us to remain here, as well as trying to track down the other Decepticons who are on this planet. We know that they are here but locating them is no small task. And I seem to have developed a few personal issues that are rivaling your own."
Personal issues? "Do you want to talk about it?" Sam offered, a little uncomfortably. Had he really just offered a buddy chat to Ratchet? But, well, after the past couple of days Ratchet felt more like a buddy and it sure seemed like he could use one. Sam couldn’t exactly help with Decepticon tracking or fuel capacitors or political wrangling but he did have ears. He could listen.
"Not particularly. I didn't want to discuss it then, I certainly don't want to talk about it now."
So much for that idea then. Ratchet turned away from him and scowled out the windows at the dusty desert surrounding them. "I wonder if it would be worth the punishment to sneak off base and go somewhere that it rains," Ratchet said, pensively. "It's been a long time since I've been on a planet with rain or at least a form of rain that isn't corrosive."
"Can I come with you?" Sam joked. Rain sounded kind of nice right now. A cool, gentle rain or hell, even a thunderstorm would be a nice change of pace from dust, dust, and hot.
Ratchet snorted. "Now that wouldn't be worth the punishment, as I'm sure all of you can attest, but after spending the morning watching Sunstreaker's attempts to flirt with me and his brother, simultaneously, I really feel the need to scrub out my auditory sensors."
Ugh, yeah. No wonder Ratchet was pissy. "Can I ask you something?"
"I haven't been able to stop you yet."
"Funny," Sam grinned, wracking his brain for a subject. Something that would be less...depressing, would be good. Well, there was one question he'd been meaning to ask Bee-- "So, Ratchet, are you considered hot by Cybertronian standards?"
He'd managed to startled Ratchet, he realized, or at least Ratchet had turned around to blink at him. "I...beg your pardon?"
"Hot. Attractive. Sexy." Sam prodded. "You just said Sunstreaker was flirting with you." Now Ratchet was outright staring at him and with a jolt, Sam wondered if Ratchet thought he was flirting. Ewwwww. "Not that I'm interested or anything, I just wondered."
That got him moving again. Ratchet shook his head and snorted, "We are robotic, physical appearance is not-"
Oh, Sam was so calling bullshit on that. "Whoa, stop right there. If that was true, which it so isn't, this place wouldn't look like a car show every time you guys transform. This place would be full of Buicks not Porsches, so spill. Who is hot to you guys?"
"Prowl, certainly. I suppose Sideswipe and Sunstreaker could be considered physically appealing, if you didn't know them personally," Ratchet said sourly. He seemed to be actually considering the question. "Bumblebee is very young but he is attractive enough. I can't say he's my type but you certainly seem to find him appealing."
Ratchet smirked at that and Sam shrugged. It was true enough. "And you?"
"I believe I am what is termed as dependable. " Very dry. "I do have a steady job."
"And Optimus? Is he hot stuff?" Sam said teasingly, but something about Ratchet's expression made his smile slip and the concern came back full force.
"Yes. He is." Softly, tersely, maybe that explained Ratchet's mood, he and Optimus must've had a fight. That had to be about eight levels of awkward hell. It was probably why humans had rules about dating the boss but it wasn't like there were so many Autobots around that they could afford to be choosy.
Sam was still trying to figure out how to get back into safer territory when the door banged open and Ironhide strode in, his heavy steps almost deafening in the confines of the room. Quickly, Sam scrambled out of the way so that Ratchet could get to him, and how the hell had Ironhide gotten hurt, he was better armored than a tank-
Only, he didn't seem hurt, he seemed pissed off and the first thing he did when Ratchet stood up was shove the medic, hard enough that he stumbled back a step. Sharp, too-quick Cybertronian exploded into the air from both of them and Sam cringed back even as Ratchet gestured at him angrily. Ironhide gave Sam a dismissive glance and went on with his rant, barely letting Ratchet get in a word edgewise.
Whatever he was saying didn't seem to placate Ironhide and Sam determinedly didn't let his receptors translate this one, kept way back because Ironhide was radiating fury. He wasn't scared of Ironhide, not really, but anyone who didn't have a healthy respect for those cannons deserved what they got.
Not that Ratchet seemed to be respecting them and the staticy sound of Cybertronian was rising in volume to a high-pitched whine, reminiscent of an old dial-up modem. Whatever Ironhide was saying, Ratchet didn't seem to want to hear it. He tried to turn away and couldn't, Ironhide pushed him up against a wall and held him there and Sam just stared, too shocked to even think about giving them any privacy. What the hell was going on?
Just when he was on the verge of running out and finding someone who was of a more appropriate size to break up this fight, Ratchet suddenly sagged in Ironhide's grip, almost falling. The bigger mech had a good hold on him though, steadied him for a moment until Ratchet caught his balance.
Ironhide said something else, and Sam caught one word, Optimus's name, and then he turned away and left Ratchet standing as he stormed back out as abruptly as he'd arrived. As Sam watched, Ratchet swayed a little on his feet before he slumped back into his enormous Autobot-size chair, resting his head in both his hands.
Shit. He might not have understood the conversation but Sam had a pretty good guess as to what that was all about and suddenly, he was furious with Ironhide. What the hell was it his business what Ratchet and Optimus did, anyway? He'd had enough people poking around his relationship with Bumblebee to know that it pissed him off royally, and Ratchet had enough going on without other people yelling at him. Didn't anyone else see how tired he was, for crying out loud?
For a second, he was tempted to leave and go find Optimus, or, no, maybe Prowl, but Ratchet probably wouldn't appreciate having anyone else interfering in his personal problem, as he called it. Instead, Sam crept closer, reaching out to rest a hesitant hand on the struts that made up Ratchet's calf. Ratchet didn't quite flinch but Sam felt his sudden tension.
"Do you want me to stay or go?" Sam asked quietly. It was an honest question and he'd come to learn that Autobots appreciated blunt honesty.
"You can stay," Ratchet said softly, and that wasn't really an answer but Sam stayed anyway. Somehow or another, Ratchet had gone from scary Autobot medic to friend and Sam wasn't inclined to leave any of his friends alone when they were like this. He stood there for a moment, offering whatever pathetic support he could, then he went back to straightening up the infirmary. He still couldn't weld fuel capacitors and Ratchet didn't seem to want a friendly ear to listen, but he could be here, if Ratchet wanted.
To hell with work detail, Sam was staying to help his friend.
-finis-
Read Next Chapter
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Sam/Bumblebee, Ratchet/Optimus
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
Prime and Punishment
Gravitational Drift
My Mechanical Romance
Eternal Sunshine of a Sparkless Mind
To Serve and Protect
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
Notes: I'm so not up on the Transformers slang, but I think this might fall under the 'plug and play' category? I have to admit, I hope it does, I think that's almost as awesome a mental picture as 'sticky' porn is. *G*
~~*~~
Recharging was not the same as humans thought of as sleep. Autobots were either online and alert, or they were recharging and they could shift from one to the other in seconds with none of the drowsy confusion that humans had to deal with. The only exceptions to the rule were in the case of injury or medically-induced recharge and Sideswipe's processors informed him that he had not been injured.
Not injured but still slowly resurfacing from the equivalent of sedation, his reaction times delayed as severally as if he were trying to move through water. It wasn't pleasant and Sideswipe managed to make a sound, a tiny keen of discomfort and confusion, terrifyingly vulnerable in a time when vulnerability was tantamount to a death sentence.
Instantly, there was a hand on his own, gently stroking his sensor-laden fingers, soothing him, but if they were speaking, he still couldn't hear it, his audio sensors were still offline, along with his optics and Sideswipe made another distressed, pained sound that he couldn't hear. Not injured, there was no sign of soreness from repairs so what had happened?
The hand on his own squeezed gently and Sideswipe couldn't help a flinch, slowly pushing through the syrupy-thickness of his own confusion. That couldn't possibly be Ratchet and he was the only medic on the base right now so who--
--Relax. It’s just me-
The touch of his brother's thoughts made him flinch harder, withdrawing physically and mentally, firewalls snapping hard into place. Sunstreaker let him go, his fingers barely lingering before he pulled back.
"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," Sunstreaker said, aloud, waiting just until Sideswipe could hear him. His voice mod was weary, something that Sideswipe was not used to hearing from his brother. His optics flicked online, blurred vision until he focused and when Sideswipe turned his head he found his brother sitting next to him where he was laying on an exam table. The infirmary, he realized, still trying to clear the static in his processors. He hadn't been injured…had he?
"What happened?" Sideswipe slurred out in Cybertronian, still beyond his English language module.
Sunstreaker propped his chin up on one hand, studying him with half-shuttered optics. "You know, I think I like you like this. You look...charmingly befuddled. It's rather attractive."
The long stroke of a single finger down his arm made him blink but he managed not to flinch this time, only stared at his brother with the same befuddlement that Sunstreaker was enjoying still coiling his processors. Why was Sunstreaker touching him? What was...ah. He hissed air into his vents as his short-term memory finally came online and he remembered…Sam, the Decepticons, Sunstreaker...
"I'm sorry," Sideswipe gasped out, abruptly snatching up Sunstreaker's hand to hold him there as his brother's optics widened in surprise. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, Sunny-"
"Oh, please, do stop," Sunstreaker snapped out but he didn't pull away, let Sideswipe manhandle him closer so that he could cling to his brother. It felt so good to touch him, the growing anxiety and pain that his distance had caused easing. Fearfully, Sideswipe opened a private channel, extending it to Sunstreaker even as he cringed, expecting it to be harshly rebuffed.
Instead, Sunstreaker sighed irritably, a gust of air over Sideswipe's chassis and he accepted it, embracing him very lightly through their mental link. His firewalls were firmly in place and all Sideswipe could feel were surface emotions, but Sunstreaker was there, right where he should be, his mental touch equal parts sweet and roiling dark, and his thoughts were irritated and exhausted and...Ratchet?
"Only you could be here for me and still be admiring Ratchet's framework," Sideswipe muttered, still too tired to do more than feel mildly exasperated.
"Have to be blind not to see it," Sunstreaker smirked at him. "And my optics are excellent, thank you." He shifted a little closer, stroking a hand idly down Sideswipe's chest armor, the black paint of his fingers a sharp contrast to Sideswipe's own red finish. "And I'm sure you're just as thrilled to feel me thinking about someone else right now as I was then."
Sharp guilt sliced through Sideswipe and it didn't matter to him just now that Sunstreaker had done far worse in the past. He didn't do things like that. "I'm sor-"
"Just stop," Sunstreaker interrupted impatiently. "I was pissed about that, don't you dare think I wasn't..."
"I wasn't really thinking about her, I swear, it was about you." And he kept both memories locked firmly away right now. If Sunstreaker was in a forgiving mood it would be very foolish indeed to ruin it.
"You have a very odd way of showing it," Sunstreaker looked away, moodily, and when he tried to pull away, Sideswipe let him, bewildered. "But that wasn't why I cut you off."
Sideswipe still felt a little fuzzy in the processors but he was aware enough to recognize that was completely unlike Sunstreaker. His brother did things or he didn't, occasionally cruel things and even rarer, brilliant, brave things, but unpleasant or otherwise, he didn't explain why he did things. Sunstreaker spoke a great deal but he didn't really say much, to anyone.
"Then why?" Sideswipe asked, hesitantly, his optics on his brother's scowling face.
There was a hiss of hydraulics as Sunstreaker stood and Sideswipe could only stare as his brother withdrew. There was no other way to describe it; his odd, hunched posture, his internal firewalls seamlessly tight, bristling with tension. They were still connected but the trickle of emotion that Sideswipe felt was so tiny as to be nonexistent. The world wide web offered more of a connection than his brother was right now.
Sunstreaker shifted restlessly, his optics shuttered to pinpoints of light. "You know that I'm fucked up," he said finally, his voice modulator raw with emotions that Sideswipe couldn't feel. "Everyone does. I'm surprised Optimus doesn't have a handbook to give everyone. I'd have my own chapter, Sunstreaker is fucked up, please don't mess with him."
"I'll be sure to recommend it if we start a handbook," Sideswipe said automatically, hesitant teasing. Once, he wouldn't have hesitated, he would have said what he liked and took his lumps for it but Sunstreaker didn't even seem to notice.
He only stood there, his frame stiff with tension and his vents streaming air, a sharp indicator of his stress, before he finally said with his usual cold bluntness, "What no one seems to realize is that I know that I am fucked up. I know it."
"I realize it," Sideswipe said, softly, already reaching for his...no. Sunstreaker had accused him of wanting the word brother to be true and he had been right. How much easier would it be if Sunstreaker was only his brother, as humans conceived of the word. His twin, his physical mirror image. But he wasn't and simplicity would never be theirs. Sunstreaker was the other half of his spark and he supposed that soulmate would really be a better description.
Suddenly, that seemed so much easier to accept than it had only days ago, weeks, a century. It sucked, it was equal parts agony and pleasure, but for whatever it was worth, Sunstreaker was his and he couldn't help but love him.
That revelation hadn't made its way past Sunstreaker's viciously tight firewalls. He made a staticky hissing sound, flinching away from Sideswipe's offered hand. "I know. That's why I cut you off. Ever since-"
"Ever since?"
"Ever since that human touched me, I've felt strange," Sunstreaker confessed, his optics flickering around the infirmary a little wildly, focusing anywhere but on Sideswipe.
"The virus?" Sideswipe sat up with a wince, alarmed.
Finally, Sunstreaker looked at him and that scorn was much more like what he would expect. "No, idiot," he snorted. "When the boy kissed me. I have the same...the same impulses, but I can control them better, a little. It's easier when we have our bond open, though." He tipped his head up, shuttering his optics closed. "I shouldn't have cut you off the way I did, it wasn't much more pleasant for me. I'm sorry."
Sideswipe decided he'd worry about the shock of his brother actually apologizing to him later. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
Sunstreaker gave him another scathing look. "Because I know you, too, idiot! You'd get your hopes up that this is going to make me better...you never want me for who I am. I may be fucked up but that doesn't mean I'm broken or that I want to change," he gestured at himself, gleaming yellow armor encasing his spark, his memory, everything that was his brother. "This is what I am, Sideswipe. I can't change that. Not even for you."
"All right."
Sunstreaker blinked, his hands sagging down to his sides. "All right?"
"All right," Sideswipe agreed calmly. "But that means you don't get to be angry when I get upset over certain things. Like when you fuck around with any organic that takes your fancy."
A smirk. "No promises."
Before Sideswipe could come up with a properly offended response to that, Sunstreaker startled him by stepping past his reaching hands and into his arms, climbing up on the table. It gave a faint groan from their combined weight as Sunstreaker straddled him easily, too carefully to scratch either of their paint jobs.
"Interface with me," Sunstreaker murmured, a low growl of sound that made heat rise in the connection between them.
"Wha...here?" Sideswipe squeaked out.
"Yeah. Right here," Sunstreaker dropped a couple of firewalls, reaching to deepen their link and Sideswipe leaned into that slick electric touch, groaning aloud, it had been so long...
A dry cough made him startled, sitting up fast enough to scrape against his brother though he ignored Sunstreaker's loud complaint about his paint. "You two had better not be planning what I think you are," Ratchet said dryly, standing just inside the door. "Sam and Bumblebee were bad enough. The smell lingers for hours, you know."
"Get an air filter," Sunstreaker shot over his shoulder, obviously not inclined to move and Ratchet didn't look like he was about to leave, glowering at them as he crossed his arms over his chest. Pleasure was starting to pulse softly through their link and it was getting difficult to hold still even though he was reluctant to put his firewalls back up. Sideswipe wasn't a prude but this was asking a bit much...
"Please?" Sideswipe begged, a little desperately, and Ratchet blew out a long breath and stormed out, snapping out over his shoulder. "I am trying to run an infirmary not some kind of brothel!"
"Then why does Optimus visit so often," Sunstreaker muttered, but Sideswipe noticed he waited until the doors swung shut.
"Pissing off Ratchet is a fool's bet," Sideswipe managed to gasp aloud, his vocals disintegrating into static.
"Don't I know it."
Then vocalizing was entirely too difficult, all his systems focused with laser precision on the link between them, on the warm pulse of growing pleasure that was tinted with Sunstreaker, Primus, yes. Sunstreaker may have been fucked up, as he put it, but he didn't feel it now, his presence was as cool as a caress, a deep indigo that merged perfectly with Sideswipe's very spark.
love/pleasure/love/mine/pleasure/mine/mine/MINE
The hot blend of their emotions sparked through them sharply and Sideswipe was dimly surprised to realize that fiercely possessive urge was his, fed through the link between them and echoing back. He tried to deny it, no, he wasn't like that, he wasn't-
Yes, you are. Darkly amused and Sideswipe arched up as Sunstreaker brought their consciousness's together with a hard, mental crash, sharing their emotions, the chaotic rush of their desire. Dimly, he felt the creak of metal under his fingers as they dug into his brother hard enough to leave dents, and he keened aloud at the backlash of knowledge mixed with ecstasy. You are, of course you are. You're my other half.
It was too late for protest, excess current was building between them and his temperature sensors were screaming into the red, it had been so long since they had merged like this, so long, and Sideswipe's vocalizers cut out in the middle of their shared pleasure, woven as tight between them as a hardline and Sunstreaker was trembling against him, physically shaken even as his mental touch shuddered against Sideswipe's, tangled together in one instant of perfect alignment.
There was no sound to mark it, their frames freezing for the briefest of moments in a perfect tableau of shattering ecstasy and then Sideswipe was sagging back against the exam table, his fingers loosening automatically and his arms falling aside uselessly. Sunstreaker collapsed down on him, for once oblivious to any damage to his paint as he sprawled out over Sideswipe.
It wasn't in the least bit comfortable; for one, Sunstreaker weighed just as much as he did and his sensors were already protesting the heavy weight pinning him down. Sideswipe pushed the warnings aside, managed to raise one hand in a feeble caress down his brother's arm.
"Hnnn," Sunstreaker murmured, the link between them still sizzling with a hot charge but it was open enough that Sideswipe could tell it was a sound of contentment and not a random vocalization.
"That was nice," Sideswipe offered, chuckling weakly. He fully expected Sunstreaker to shove him away and probably add a loud, profane assessment of Sideswipe's most irritating character traits. That he didn't was actually a little worrisome and that he eased away from their mental link before he sat up was downright frightening.
"Sunstreaker?" he asked, softly.
His brother's optics were oddly somber, wide open and shimmering the same deep blue favored by most Autobots, a symbolic allegiance to their Prime. "That boy has more going on in him than just a few simple receptors."
"If that's true, why hasn't Ratchet discovered it?" Sideswipe asked, but not out of doubt. He had to agree, receptors on an organic being was unusual, but there was nothing about it that should be affecting Sunstreaker even in the slightest. A niggling fear deep in his own spark had him reaching out automatically for his brother, his sensors still braced for rejection but Sunny caught the mental touch easily, sending back a wave of gentle soothing.
"Ratchet is just a medic," Sunstreaker said impatiently, his tone belying his inner emotions, and he groaned a little as he slipped off the table and onto his feet. "He's an excellent medic, but he's no scientist or even a religious leader. How many of us have even seen the Allspark, much less have any of its specifications? He has nothing to compare the little human to, much less any idea of how to help him assimilate."
"But Prime-"
"-trusts Ratchet, probably more than he should."
Maybe so. "Are you going to tell them?"
"Of course not," Sunstreaker said with familiar sardonic amusement. "What difference would it make if they knew? Ratchet is a meddling busybody but he is brilliant at what he does. He'll figure it out, eventually. Probably after he scans me tomorrow. He'll be able to tell something is different because I can tell."
"But-"
The door slamming open cut him off and Ratchet strode in, as though their speaking his name had summoned him like a snarling demon from the Pit. "All right, you're done. Get out."
Sideswipe groaned aloud, "Come on, Ratchet, I can barely feel my hydraulics-"
He didn't see what Ratchet threw at him but enough of his scanners were online for Sideswipe to dodge away from it. The spanner embedded itself firmly into the wall next to him and Sideswipe could only stare at it in disbelief as it quivered to a halt. That could have taken out one of his optics, shit, Ratchet had to be three steps past furious if he was ready to cause actual damage--
His next shout only confirmed it. "I said get out! I swear by all the holy relics, if you aren't out of here in the next minute, I'm putting you on work detail for the next month, after I finish putting you back together!"
Sideswipe scrambled to his feet, ignoring the protests his legs gave him as he grabbed Sunstreaker by the arm and his spark sank as his brother chose that moment to prove he hadn't changed all that much, purring out, "And here we were just about to invite you for a threesome."
Yeah, they were dead. It was too late to do anything but watch with dread as Ratchet nearly swelled with fury, his optics glinting into the infrared spectrum, but Sideswipe was bemused to find that he wasn't really upset. His brother's presence was darkly amused, as splintered and cold as always but it was there and that was enough. For now.
~~*~~
"Is it me or does it smell weird in here?" Sam asked, wrinkling his nose. A bizarre combination of burnt rubber and hot electronics all mixed around with transmission fluid, like the world's most disgusting milkshake.
"Please don't remind me, I'm trying to ignore it," Ratchet said curtly from his position on the floor. Sam had been a little surprised to walk in this morning and find Ratchet scrubbing spatters of...something...off the floor but he'd decided against asking and just started picking up the tools that were scattered everywhere. It had only taken one day of working for Ratchet to figure out sometimes it was better not to know.
Today he was determined to make it through the full work day and to hell with being tired. His mom had stopped by with her usual morning fare of humiliation and breakfast, so his blood sugar was fine and Bumblebee had topped off his other, er, energy levels in the wee hours, so he was ready.
Ratchet, on the other hand, seemed to be equal parts testy and silently sullen, which was weird to say the least. He'd barely grunted a greeting when Sam had come in and had yet to even give him a list of tasks for the day. Morbid curiosity made Sam wonder what would happen to the first patient of the day. With the mood Ratchet was in, there was a chance it might be him.
Still, it was sort of, well, creepy to be in here with it so quiet. Ratchet didn't seem to be partial to the radio, unless he was listening to it on his own frequencies, and the only sounds were the quiet hum of the equipment and Ratchet himself moving around. With the floor done, Ratchet took the time to yank a wrench from where it was embedded firmly into the wall and Sam couldn't help a wince when he saw how bent the thing was.
What the hell had Ratchet been doing in here, making explosives?
The quiet was getting to the point of being unnerving and it was weird besides. Certainly Ratchet hadn't had any trouble making conversation yesterday. A little hesitantly, Sam finally spoke up, his voice meek in the nearly silent room.
"I was thinking," Sam said, testing the waters of conversation.
"An excellent use of your brain, I am sure," Ratchet said without turning around. He'd been trying to bend the wrench back into some semblance of useful but it seemed like he was giving it up as a bad job because he tossed it into a waste bin with a disgusted snort. It wasn't the friendliest response but he didn't seemed actively pissed off. Besides, Sam did have a legitimate question. He just needed someone to ask about it and Bumblebee had been gone when he'd woken up that morning, off to plug himself back in or whatever he was doing. Not that he told Sam. Not that Sam was bitter or anything.
Determinedly, Sam plunged on, "I was thinking about maybe signing up for some online classes, only, I wasn't sure if I could. I mean, I know that I'm kind of in hiding but I'd like to at least get my GED, maybe take some college courses, do you think--"
"I think that's an excellent idea, Sam," Ratchet didn't look at him but for once he didn't sound sarcastic or irritated. "Education is as important to our people as it is to yours and that would be a better use of your time than a few other pursuits I could name."
Sam broke in hurriedly before Ratchet could, and probably would, start naming them, "Not that I'm going to be able to sign up at a real college anytime soon. I figured it couldn't hurt to take some basic classes, though, figure out what I want to do."
"You'd make a decent medical assistant," Ratchet offered, dryly. "I don't pay well but I'm sure the experience would be invaluable."
"Thanks but no thanks," Sam shivered at the very thought of it. If watching a very basic surgery on Bumblebee made him throw up, he couldn't imagine standing there handing out tools for something really invasive. Besides, he couldn't help but wonder if that was more along the lines of mechanic than medical assistant, and if so, it was more Mikaela's skill than his. "I'm not sure how I'd be able to list it on my resume. Before I came here, I was actually thinking about pre-law."
"Then be grateful we arrived and spared you from that well of unending boredom."
"Don't care for legal side of things, eh?" Sam grinned. This was a little better. Ratchet might not really have a sense of humor but he was certainly funny enough without it.
"I spent enough time with the lawmakers on Cybertron when I was a politician to know I never want to do it again."
"You were a politician?" And okay, maybe the doubt in his voice was a little insulting. He'd always thought politicians needed to be at least sort of tactful.
Ratchet didn't take offense, only huffed out a laugh. "Yes, I was, for a time. I wasn't always a medic, just as Bumblebee wasn't always an espionage expert and Optimus wasn't always our leader. Ironhide, on the other hand, has always been a soldier in one capacity or another. I'm fairly sure it's hardwired into his spark."
"I guess I never really thought about it," Sam said thoughtfully. "But you guys live a really long time. I guess it would be boring to do the same thing forever."
"I didn't become a medic because I was bored, Sam," Sharply and Sam blinked.
"I know that," Sam said, a little hesitantly. This sounded like the beginning of a lecture, maybe there was still time to head it off...
Too late now, Ratchet was already prattling on, "I became a medic because I couldn't help anymore as a liaison and I had the inclination for it. Someone had to be there to put our people back together instead of just sitting there on a committee, debating back and forth what should be done while mechs were dying all around us in droves."
Whatever else he was going to say, Ratchet cut himself off, his voice briefly squawking static as he sat down at his work table, snatching up one of the far too many fuel capacitors stacked there roughly and slapping it down in front of him. It sparked brightly, spitting smoke and Sam ducked down behind a stack of boxes, peering out warily as Ratchet cursed.
Ratchet had a temper, they all knew that. He was brash and impatient but today he seemed to be all but vibrating with tension. While Sam watched he shoved away the smoking component and picked up another with more care, then stopped, resting his head in his hand. If he were a human, Sam would say he looked exhausted and maybe that wasn't too far off, anyway. As far as he'd seen, Ratchet hadn't stopped working in days.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, finally. He stepped out from behind the boxes warily, slipping closer, not that he was actually expecting an answer. To his surprise, Ratchet went still. He covered his face with one hand and Sam could hear the hiss of air in his vents, the Autobot version of letting out a long breath.
"No, I don't believe I am," Ratchet said with rare, quiet honesty. He flicked at the still smoking fuel capacitor moodily. "I am exhausted with little reprieve in sight. Until another qualified medic arrives, I am the only option. We need these fuel capacitors now, before the need for energy becomes urgent." He sighed again, turning his head enough that Sam could see the blue glow of his optics. "We're also trying to cement relations with your people in at least allowing us to remain here, as well as trying to track down the other Decepticons who are on this planet. We know that they are here but locating them is no small task. And I seem to have developed a few personal issues that are rivaling your own."
Personal issues? "Do you want to talk about it?" Sam offered, a little uncomfortably. Had he really just offered a buddy chat to Ratchet? But, well, after the past couple of days Ratchet felt more like a buddy and it sure seemed like he could use one. Sam couldn’t exactly help with Decepticon tracking or fuel capacitors or political wrangling but he did have ears. He could listen.
"Not particularly. I didn't want to discuss it then, I certainly don't want to talk about it now."
So much for that idea then. Ratchet turned away from him and scowled out the windows at the dusty desert surrounding them. "I wonder if it would be worth the punishment to sneak off base and go somewhere that it rains," Ratchet said, pensively. "It's been a long time since I've been on a planet with rain or at least a form of rain that isn't corrosive."
"Can I come with you?" Sam joked. Rain sounded kind of nice right now. A cool, gentle rain or hell, even a thunderstorm would be a nice change of pace from dust, dust, and hot.
Ratchet snorted. "Now that wouldn't be worth the punishment, as I'm sure all of you can attest, but after spending the morning watching Sunstreaker's attempts to flirt with me and his brother, simultaneously, I really feel the need to scrub out my auditory sensors."
Ugh, yeah. No wonder Ratchet was pissy. "Can I ask you something?"
"I haven't been able to stop you yet."
"Funny," Sam grinned, wracking his brain for a subject. Something that would be less...depressing, would be good. Well, there was one question he'd been meaning to ask Bee-- "So, Ratchet, are you considered hot by Cybertronian standards?"
He'd managed to startled Ratchet, he realized, or at least Ratchet had turned around to blink at him. "I...beg your pardon?"
"Hot. Attractive. Sexy." Sam prodded. "You just said Sunstreaker was flirting with you." Now Ratchet was outright staring at him and with a jolt, Sam wondered if Ratchet thought he was flirting. Ewwwww. "Not that I'm interested or anything, I just wondered."
That got him moving again. Ratchet shook his head and snorted, "We are robotic, physical appearance is not-"
Oh, Sam was so calling bullshit on that. "Whoa, stop right there. If that was true, which it so isn't, this place wouldn't look like a car show every time you guys transform. This place would be full of Buicks not Porsches, so spill. Who is hot to you guys?"
"Prowl, certainly. I suppose Sideswipe and Sunstreaker could be considered physically appealing, if you didn't know them personally," Ratchet said sourly. He seemed to be actually considering the question. "Bumblebee is very young but he is attractive enough. I can't say he's my type but you certainly seem to find him appealing."
Ratchet smirked at that and Sam shrugged. It was true enough. "And you?"
"I believe I am what is termed as dependable. " Very dry. "I do have a steady job."
"And Optimus? Is he hot stuff?" Sam said teasingly, but something about Ratchet's expression made his smile slip and the concern came back full force.
"Yes. He is." Softly, tersely, maybe that explained Ratchet's mood, he and Optimus must've had a fight. That had to be about eight levels of awkward hell. It was probably why humans had rules about dating the boss but it wasn't like there were so many Autobots around that they could afford to be choosy.
Sam was still trying to figure out how to get back into safer territory when the door banged open and Ironhide strode in, his heavy steps almost deafening in the confines of the room. Quickly, Sam scrambled out of the way so that Ratchet could get to him, and how the hell had Ironhide gotten hurt, he was better armored than a tank-
Only, he didn't seem hurt, he seemed pissed off and the first thing he did when Ratchet stood up was shove the medic, hard enough that he stumbled back a step. Sharp, too-quick Cybertronian exploded into the air from both of them and Sam cringed back even as Ratchet gestured at him angrily. Ironhide gave Sam a dismissive glance and went on with his rant, barely letting Ratchet get in a word edgewise.
Whatever he was saying didn't seem to placate Ironhide and Sam determinedly didn't let his receptors translate this one, kept way back because Ironhide was radiating fury. He wasn't scared of Ironhide, not really, but anyone who didn't have a healthy respect for those cannons deserved what they got.
Not that Ratchet seemed to be respecting them and the staticy sound of Cybertronian was rising in volume to a high-pitched whine, reminiscent of an old dial-up modem. Whatever Ironhide was saying, Ratchet didn't seem to want to hear it. He tried to turn away and couldn't, Ironhide pushed him up against a wall and held him there and Sam just stared, too shocked to even think about giving them any privacy. What the hell was going on?
Just when he was on the verge of running out and finding someone who was of a more appropriate size to break up this fight, Ratchet suddenly sagged in Ironhide's grip, almost falling. The bigger mech had a good hold on him though, steadied him for a moment until Ratchet caught his balance.
Ironhide said something else, and Sam caught one word, Optimus's name, and then he turned away and left Ratchet standing as he stormed back out as abruptly as he'd arrived. As Sam watched, Ratchet swayed a little on his feet before he slumped back into his enormous Autobot-size chair, resting his head in both his hands.
Shit. He might not have understood the conversation but Sam had a pretty good guess as to what that was all about and suddenly, he was furious with Ironhide. What the hell was it his business what Ratchet and Optimus did, anyway? He'd had enough people poking around his relationship with Bumblebee to know that it pissed him off royally, and Ratchet had enough going on without other people yelling at him. Didn't anyone else see how tired he was, for crying out loud?
For a second, he was tempted to leave and go find Optimus, or, no, maybe Prowl, but Ratchet probably wouldn't appreciate having anyone else interfering in his personal problem, as he called it. Instead, Sam crept closer, reaching out to rest a hesitant hand on the struts that made up Ratchet's calf. Ratchet didn't quite flinch but Sam felt his sudden tension.
"Do you want me to stay or go?" Sam asked quietly. It was an honest question and he'd come to learn that Autobots appreciated blunt honesty.
"You can stay," Ratchet said softly, and that wasn't really an answer but Sam stayed anyway. Somehow or another, Ratchet had gone from scary Autobot medic to friend and Sam wasn't inclined to leave any of his friends alone when they were like this. He stood there for a moment, offering whatever pathetic support he could, then he went back to straightening up the infirmary. He still couldn't weld fuel capacitors and Ratchet didn't seem to want a friendly ear to listen, but he could be here, if Ratchet wanted.
To hell with work detail, Sam was staying to help his friend.
-finis-
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