wishseeker | Entries tagged with ratchet

Prompts from a Friend

"Using the current RP mechs, write the most cractastic pairing you can possibly think of. The catch is that it has to seem like it could actually happen and it's dirty, something no mech would ever admit to doing"
Rating T (words 313)

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Blast Off moaned and held the black painted mech close. His frame was so hot and the mech knew just where to touch.

He was a banished shuttle, no seeker would touch him, but he still had needs.

Ratchet moaned as well and cursed his coding, his grand-creator was a seeker and the desires skipped a generation. He could never let anyone know about this, just like they couldn’t know about his sky hunger.

Blast Off scratched down the medic’s back, encouraging him to thrust harder, to give him more! He wished the mech had wings, this was so wrong. Shuttles did not allow grounders to do this. Not even grounders with seeker code.

They overloaded together and Blast Off stroked his face when the medic passed out from exhaustion. If the mech had the right frame this wouldn’t happen but the blocky medic frame wasn’t made for this. He transformed around the mech and took of back towards the base.

---

Ratchet onlined midway through the flight. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go and his coding knew that but what else could they do? Ratchet teased seams open and played with Blast Off’s spark as he flew, making his flight crooked and dangerous.

He felt the mech’s overload crackle up his arm and he withdrew as Blast Off made an emergency landing. They had to go back together and he had to get the black paint off before he made his appearance.

---

Blast Off watched the not seeker go. He couldn’t tell anyone about what they did. Shuttles simply didn’t allow anyone but seekers to take control.

Even if the medic felt awfully like a seeker to his coding. He stalked off towards the base, he needed to fight something to get his spark to lose charge. He wasn’t getting sparked up, at least not anytime soon.

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(this is why Ratchets must be ignored. They pull slag like this. This is also the last prompt you gave me, they gave me such a hard time...now though I think I will work on my own prompts)

Current Mood: artistic

004. Medic -- Ratchet, Jazz -- Rating PG

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He was their medic, infallible, untouchable, their source of comfort. It shook the entire crew to the spark to see him lain out in his own medbay attached to a spark monitor.

They should have protected him better. They should have kept him back, not allowing him to rush to the front lines. But their medic had just smiled and told them it was his job.

They should have insisted he was better armed. They should have pressed the blaster back into his servos. They shouldn’t have listened when he smiled and said he wouldn’t know what to do with a blaster. When he said he trusted them to have his back.

They should have kept an optic on the seekers, should have know it was a false retreat.

They had left their medic open to attack, his servos deep in another’s systems. The blast had been millimeters from his spark chamber.

He was supposed to be their medic--infallible, untouchable--and it shook them to the spark to realize he was as mortal as they were. Their medic was just another mech, a mech they should have appreciated more.

---

When Ratchet onlined he frowned lightly at the mechs crowding his medbay. He thought about yelling, telling them they were just making it harder for First Aid, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. His friends had just been reminded he too could be taken from them--he himself had been reminded of his own mortality.

He lay back down and allowed himself to be comforted by the sound of the spark monitor and the feeling of the other’s EM fields.

As he slipped into recharge he felt Jazz squeeze his servo lightly, “You’re our medic. We aren’t going to risk you again.”

But he was their medic, it was his job to put himself in danger to safe them, and so they would. And they all knew it.

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Current Mood: blah
Current Location: Library

003. Dark -- First Aid, Protectobots, Ratchet -- Rating PG

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First Aid whimpered, curling in on himself tightly. There was a storm outside, and a lightning strike to the Ark had overloaded circuitry necessary for illumination. That was how Perceptor had put it. All he knew was he was alone, in the dark.

It was ridiculous, he knew he was safe! He had been the only one in the supply closet when the lights were on, taking inventory for Ratchet, he was the only one there now that the lights were off.

The door was opened and he dropped to his knees with a terrified keen, trembling in fear. Four arms wrapped around him, two on either side.

“Oh Aid,” It was Hot Spot’s voice and he turned burring his face in his brother’s neck.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like the dark.” He trembled, now that his brothers were there he could feel them clearly through the bond. Hot Spot and Groove were with him and he could feel that Blades and Streetwise were on their way.

“It is ok Aid, we’ll be your light.”

----- -----

Ratchet went by to check the supply closet once the lights were turned back on. He knew First Aid was afraid of the dark and he hoped the mechling was ok. He opened the door and smiled at the sight of a Protectobot cuddle pile.

“Could you turn the light back off?” First Aid looked up and met his optics.

Ratchet frowned a little confused, “I thought you were afraid of the dark Aid?”

He spoke quietly to keep from waking his brothers, “The dark isn’t as scary with brothers, Ratchet Sir.” He shifted a bit, squeezing Groove’s servo, “And I don’t want to wake them.”

“I’d imagine it isn’t Aid. I’d Imagine it isn’t.” He smiled and flipped the lights off, “Good night.”

“Goodnight Ratchet,” chorused five very tired mechlings and Ratchet smiled wider. Hopefully First Aid’s brothers would teach him not to be afraid of the dark any more.

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{My insipration for the protectobots comes almost entierly from playswithworms on FF.net. Her work is some of the cutest, and sweetest--and sometimes a little sad--I have ever read. It is on par with Bookworm Gal's Black Crayons Series)

Current Mood: devious

A couple of images I put together on Teletraan_One, my new laptop. I was using clip art mostly and a one image that my friend sent me, finding something for Barricade was almost impossible...

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Image for Cade's Medic...I got the false police embalm emailed to me by my friend, where she found it from I do not know so credit to whoever out there put it together, and decided after much trial and error that a medic's wrench was the best accompaniment for it. I still feel it is missing something to represent the fic as a whole, but It is getting there.

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This one I think I like a bit more, but the "mirror" looks like a window. It is for Beauty and I really wish I could figure out how to make a clear background on Gimp. I am learning, but it is slow going.

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Current Mood: blah

Cade's Medic

Rating: T

Genera: Movieverse
Characters: Barricade/Ratchet, Lennox, Ironhide, Twins

A/N: Take this with a grain of salt. The entirety of this story practically wrote itself. It has many plot holes that may or may not be explained in the future. Please read at your own risk.Thank you.

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The N.E.S.T base of operations was in the middle of the desert. With no life for thousands of miles around, save for a few desert cacti and reptiles, it was the perfect place to keep the Autobot base a secret. No one in their right mind traveled that far out, and those that did and reported back strange findings were written off as having a touch of sun madness.

Five miles out from the base, the sand erupted, and a scorpion mech appeared on the horizon. The symbiote chirped sadly, it was badly damaged in both body and processor but it wasn’t damaged enough not to realize the danger.

Alone was bad. Decepticons that stayed alone too long were forgotten. His damaged radar and radio had picked up signals from this area. Decepticon Barricade was here, allied with humans? Humans were not a target then--couldn’t have a target without orders. No more boss, no more orders. He chirped sadly but perked up as he saw a group of humans running. Most of his battle programming was glitching as he searched for a course of action, Play?

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He wasn’t an Autobot. He would work with them since he had no other choice, but he did not like them, and he wouldn’t go out of his way for them. Not even after being on base for the past three months; sure they had not been hostile--mostly--towards him but, that wasn’t enough to make him change his entire ideology.

He still believed in the original Decepticon cause, the reason the war had began. Megatron however, had fallen into insanity after the Fallen’s offlining, and lost sight of that original goal. Pit, maybe the entire army had lost sight of that vorns ago. Regardless, his arrangement with the Autobots was one of survival and convenience.

He tracked the medic’s movement across the room with his optics. Yes; survival, convenience, and maybe a little lust. He doubted many would blame him if they knew what medics and their servos could do as well as he did. Still, he wasn’t trusted, and he wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in harm’s way by making any deeper connections with mechs—who could betray him in a moment—than he already had.

Rowdy laugher filled the rec room, and he watched warily as Sunstreaker entered with his twin. Keeping his face emotionless as they shot him a glare was hard, but this was not the time or place to start something. Maybe some deeper connections would be good after all, for protection. Not that he needed protecting, but allies were always good on the battle field. Was that his life now? A battlefield?

He finished his ration and stood; time to do what he was good at.

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He’d noticed a few days ago—the mech was actually incredibly obvious. The thing that made it strange was he wouldn’t have noticed if Barricade hadn’t wanted him to notice. “Hey, Cade, what is wrong with you? Do you have a crush on the medic or something?”

Humans were delightfully predictable. “I don’t know what you are talking about, fleshling” he replied quickly.

Lennox frowned, “Whatever, man. You’ve just been watching him like a love sick puppy for the past few days--weeks really, and I thought I would ask.”

Barricade didn’t reply, he just sent his gaze back at the medic who was currently speaking quite animatedly with Ironhide. ‘Come on, fleshing, give me a nibble,’ he thought furtively. He didn’t like the fleshlings, but he knew that he would never get close to the medic without allies.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

He allowed his face to “fall” slightly, an exaggerated reaction copied from the human’s own media. “I don’t know what you are talking about. And even if I did, I am a Decepticon and I always will be. A nice bot like him deserves another bot.” He stood and left quickly, leaving half his ration behind in his “rush.”

Once back in his own quarters he smirked; now to see if the fleshlings took the bait.

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Not that he believed it for a moment, but Barricade’s actions deserved some looking into. He certainly didn’t believe the fake “he deserves better” crap, but he did believe that Barricade actually liked the medic, and was looking for help. He was drawn out of his thoughts when Optimus entered the rec room, and Jolt jumped to his peds with an excited clatter.

He watched a few moments more as Jolt made a few strange gestures, speaking in what he guessed was Cybertronian. “Hey, Hide, what is Jolt doing?”

Ironhide grunted and looked up, following Lennox’s gaze. He hummed and said a few words in Cybertronian before returning to cleaning his weapons.

“What?” He liked Ironhide--he really did--but at times the old mech was frustrating.

Ironhide shifted; great, another “explanations” talk. Why couldn’t humans just use data bursts? Still, he tried not to begrudge his partner too much for being organic--at least not most of the time. “It doesn’t translate well. The closest I can get is ‘courting’ in your language.”

Lennox perked up slightly, “So Jolt and Prime are dating?” It was a little scandalous to tell the truth, but the Autobot military system—and society for that matter—were different from their own. He had learned that the hard way.

Ironhide made another deep humming sound; a sound that Lennox had come to understand meant the bot was thinking over his answer, and probably trying to translate it into terms he could understand. It seemed a sound reserved solely for interacting with humans, as they often spoke quickly and in broken sentences with each other. Something about data bursts and internal comm lines.

“They aren’t dating in your terms; Jolt is trying to prove to Prime that he cares for him, and that his intentions are good. It is different because since our species doesn’t mate to reproduce—a mech may be courted by several mechs at once with no social stigma attached, and there are different types of courting. The specific gestures and type of courting speak to the mech’s intentions, background, and desires.”

Lennox pondered that for a moment, watching as Jolt offered Optimus a sip from his ration—which Optimus accepted hesitantly. Maybe he could use this information to help out Barricade, for a price. “So they are dating.”

His shoulder’s sagged, “Sure, you can call it that.” It was probably as close as he was going to get with the humans, which was annoying, “But you could say Prime and Prowl are also dating, if that is the case, and that Prime and I are dating. I would also be dating Ratchet, and at times the twins. Courting is more than that. It can be as big as a desire to join sparks, a desire to share intimacy, to an appeal for friendship. Courting, or displaying, is bigger than simple dating.”

“Ok, Hide, relax; I get it. So what does that mean? Jolt sharing his energon?” Ironhide got testy when he thought his culture was being disrespected or ignored. He could be amusing to tease, but Lennox knew not to let it go too far.

Ironhide grunted into his energon, glad he had made his point, “Jolt wants to exchange electrons with him.”

Exchange electrons—where had he heard that term? Oh yes, with the twins, “That is like a kiss, right?”

“Yeah, kind of.” He was too old for this. He finished cleaning his weapons and stood, offering his hand so his human partner wouldn’t have to walk.

Lennox climbed on and allowed Ironhide to place him on his shoulder. Very interesting; he was already planning how he could use this. “So, Hide, have you talked to Optimus about the problems my teams have been having out in the desert? Past deciding they were no threat.”

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Barricade wasn’t sure if he should be happy the fleshling had taken the bait, or annoyed he had broken into his quarters. “I suppose there is a good reason you are here, and that I shouldn’t step on you.”

Lennox waved a hand, “Look, it is clear to us you like Ratchet—a lot. So I want to help you.”

He moved quickly so that his face was suddenly very close to the soldier’s own. “And why would you want to help me, fleshling. I have killed many of your kind.” A bluff, one most humans accepted as true. With his position after arriving on Earth, he couldn’t afford to blow his cover by killing any of the fleshlings, though he had been sourly tempted a time or two.

Lennox held his ground, “Because no matter how many times you say that, we can’t connect a single human death to you. Because you are working with the Autobots now, and because you stopped that mech from hurting my family.” Lennox cut the distance between them in half, and grinned.

After a long moment, he pulled back slowly and moved to sit on his berth. Smart fleshling. “Pure chance.” He sighed, “And how do you propose to help me, fleshling?”

Lennox smiled, “You just need to do what Jolt is doing.”

He frowned, what the whip master was doing? Primus, maybe he had overestimated the fleshlings, and their ability to help him. “You mean make an idiot out of myself in public?”

“No, you should try courting the medic.” Really, how dense was Barricade exactly?

He scoffed, then laughed soundly. “I sincerely doubt Ratchet would enjoy me bringing him a mech’s head on a platter.” He let himself relax, at least the fleshlings were amusing, if useless. “Current Autobot courting is different from Decepticon courting, and I am not an Autobot.”

Lennox gave a teasing smile, “And here I thought you were bragging about being adaptable.”

Barricade frowned, he suddenly wanted to squish him again. “Is that a challenge?”

Lennox smirked, “It just might be. My men and I’ll do the recon work for you—you just have to pull it off.”

He would be angrier, if he hadn’t planned something like this all along. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit manipulated—and as a manipulator, that wasn’t a good thing. “Very well, fleshling.”

“That is another thing; I don’t call you ‘metalloid’, so drop the ‘fleshling’ thing. And don’t think for a second that I am doing this without expecting something in return.”

He bared his dentia, all four optics cycling down in frustration, “Very well, human. And what is it you will expect in return?”

“It is a start, and we will worry about that later; I promise it will be an equal trade. You just have to trust me.”

Maybe allying himself with the fleshies hadn’t been such a good idea.

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The soldiers tried not to look scared as they prepared for their morning run. Lennox’s face was hard though, and they knew they weren’t going to get out of it.

Halfway through the run, it appeared—eliciting a scream from the back of the line. They picked up their pace as the scorpion mech chased them, stealing packs whenever it managed to catch one of them.

They knew shooting at it would do no good—the thing treated it like a game, burying under the sand and appearing in a different location. However, since it hadn’t been really aggressive, or shown itself to any of the Autobots, they were stuck with it for now.
Lennox grimaced; Ironhide seemed to feel it was a good training exercise, and had gotten Optimus to agree to allow the drone to continue its “harmless antics.”

When the run was over and the scorpion finally relented, the soldiers collapsed from exhaustion.

Lenox lay panting and frowned, mentally going over the lost gear. While it was a good exercise, the lost gear was getting to be too expensive for this to continue. He needed a way to get rid of the symbiote.

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Ratchet first started to suspect that something was going on the third time it happened. This time it took the form of another group of dead, organic plants, carried in by one of the NEST soldiers—who, when questioned, would smile and say they were from an admirer.

He was going to kill whoever this admirer was—the dead organic life was not something he wanted cluttering up his medbay, corny organic significance or not.

He was an old fashioned mech, who liked an old fashioned courting, and he made sure to say as much to the next messenger who came bearing dead organics.

Lennox nodded, “I’ll tell your admirer then—but I am supposed to ask you how old.”

Ratchet scoffed, “Ancient, compared to you humans. And I don’t appreciate anyone intruding on my personal life.” He was a highly personal mech when it came to such things, and he knew how much the soldiers gossiped. They were as bad as Ironhide—not that the old warrior would admit it.

Lennox grinned, “So, old as possible; got it, Ratchet.” He gave a half wave and left quickly, not giving Ratchet time to think about what he had just set himself up for.

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Barricade stared blankly. He hated flesh--humans, “I told you, no dead organics, human. Any idiot would know that the medic wouldn’t appreciate something like that.”

“And I told you the flowers were just a ploy to get him to tell us what he wants. He wants an ancient courting, whatever that means.”

Barricade froze, “He said what?”

“The oldest system of courting there is. I guess that predates factions, correct?” Barricade’s face had taken on a peculiar expression. It wasn’t something he recognized as human—though from his time with Ironhide, he guessed it was a form of surprise.

His processor was spinning; the medic wanted him to, and, well, who was he to refuse such a chance? “The medic has no idea what he is in for. Thank you, human.”

“Welcome, Con. Now we can talk payment.” He had a problem that Ironhide thought was way too amusing to take care of.

Maybe he had more in common with the humans than he thought.

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He entered the medbay with as smirk, "Greetings Ratchet." He placed the three high-grade cubes on the counter, kneeling beside them; energon, to represent wealth. "I've come to seeking you out."

Ratchet looked up from his patient, confused. He was about to ask what the frag was going on when he was pressed up against the far wall with surprising strength.

Barricade smirked again; second step, to show he was the stronger of the pair. Everything was going well with his courting request so far—now for the third part, and his declaration of intent. He opened his mouth to speak, and froze as he heard the sound of a blaster powering up behind him.

Ironhide glared, “Put him down, Con and back away slowly.”

Barricade offlined his optics. Stupid; why hadn’t he taken the time to wait until Ratchet was alone? “Frag you, asshat, you are interrupting my courting here.”

He onlined his optics, and met Ratchet’s own before reciting the memorized lines of ancient Cybertronian, ignoring the sputtering behind him.

Ratchet waited for Barricade to finish before breaking free and, withdrawing his wrench, smacked him over the head. “Out of my medbay. Courting accepted, but if I see one more group of dead, organic flowers, I will reformat you into a scooter.”

Barricade left, tossing Ironhide a smirk. He was dented, but the medic had accepted.

Another wrench clanged into his helm, “Don’t look so smug about it. Out!”

He loved that medic.

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He stared down at the symbiote and backed away slowly. “No.”

Lennox grinned, “I am tired of it following us around when we run patrols.”

Scorponok ducked down—a bit like a puppy—and reared back playfully, scurrying closer to Barricade. Soon, it was going to have a new master and it was sooooooooo happy.

Barricade stepped back again. “Anything but this, human. I’ve had a drone before, I don’t want another.” They were a lot of work,

Lennox frowned, “Hey, you owe me! I don’t want this thing freaking out any more of my soldiers! So you are going to take it with you and do whatever you do with a drone to make it behave.”

Scorponok drew small circles in the sand, drawing itself up small; its new master didn’t like him. It bristled up—it was DECEPTICON! It was a Decepticon, and it would fight for what it wanted!

“Look human no means--gah!” Scorponok launched himself at Barricade, clinging to his chest and cycling his energy signature to match Barricade’s. There was a ping, and Scorponok cooed as the energy signatures synced.

Lennox laughed, “I will take it that this means he is your problem now.” He walked off happily to tell their suppliers that they wouldn’t have any more missing packs.

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Ratchet tried not to laugh as he scanned the symbiote. “I think it is cute.”

Barricade--who wasn’t pouting--frowned deeper. “You try taking care of a symbiote, then tell me how cute it is.” Still, he could use this to his advantage. He slid closer to Ratchet, looking over his shoulder. “Is it functioning properly?”

Ratchet nodded, offering the scorpion drone a piece of energon crystal. “Yes; he is low on energy, but otherwise fine. I’ve disabled its weapons for now—most of them were damaged anyway, this will give them a chance to self-repair offline. It appears that Ironhide was right about the drone’s battle programming being damaged; if you want him to fight again, you will have to retrain him.”

Barricade purred and leaned forward more, resting his chin on the medic’s shoulder. “I guess I should thank you then.” Retraining a drone wasn’t a fun experience, but it meant that he would get to spend more time in the medbay.

Ratchet froze for a moment, then relaxed a bit. Barricade was officially courting him, and since he had accepted, the mech was well within his rights. “There is no need for that; I thought you didn’t like your new symbiote.”

Barricade placed his servos on Ratchet’s hips and chuckled deeply, trying to match the frequency to Ratchet’s natural frequencies, reveling in the medic’s shiver. Seekers, it seemed, had good techniques after all.

Ratchet leaned back into Barricade. Moving his servo to the side of Barricade’s face, he twisted, moving to kiss the former Decepticon warrior.

Yes, Barricade chuckled. If the medic kissed him it meant his courting was free to advance to the next level. He offlined his optics and leaned in.

The medbay doors opened.

Simmons stood gaping while Lennox simply laughed

Ratchet jerked away, “This isn’t what it looks like!” He didn’t want the humans talking any more than they were generally apt to do.

Barricade smirked back at the humans, nodding to Lennox, “This is exactly what it looks like.”

Ratchet hit him, and he and Scorponok soon found themselves out in the hallway while the two humans stood gaping.

“I think I hate you again, human.” Barricade growled, disappointed in the fact he had been so close.

“You’ll get over it, Con, you’ll get over it.” Lennox grabbed Simmons’ arm and pulled him away from the medbay.

“You interrupted us.” Barricade hissed, following them down the hall, Scorponok on his heels.

“And you ran over my daughter’s bike. Consider us even.”

Vindictive; oh yes he had a lot in common with this human.

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Ratchet tried to ignore Ironhide’s looks, but eventually enough was enough. “Spit it out, you grumpy old slagger. What has your processor in a glitch?”

Ironhide sighed, and glanced around to make sure they were alone before shoving Ratchet into the nearest supply closet.

Ratchet gasped as he felt Ironhide’s mouth on his neck, and his knee between his legs. He gave a soft moan before pushing Ironhide back a bit. “Hide, not that I don’t like it, but this isn’t the explanation I wanted.”

Ironhide growled, “You are going to let that filthy Con touch you.” He leaned in and nipped at Ratchet’s neck again. “You are going to let him compete for your spark.”

Ratchet leaned into Ironhide and moaned, “Why should I not? You’ve been doing this for vorns, revving my engine then putting me on the back burner. Maybe he will be a mech that will put me first.”

Ironhide pulled back suddenly, optics dim. “Do you really think you don’t mean anything to me?”

Ratchet sighed, leaning his head onto Ironhide’s shoulder. “No, Hide. I don’t think that, but I think you don’t know what you want from me. I think you have a warrior’s spark, and because of that, I don’t think you will ever be happy with just one mech.”

Ironhide growled, “I could be happy with you.” He clutched Ratchet tight to his chest, unwilling to let the medic go.

He shook his head, and after a moment, pulled away. “No, Hide. I don’t think you can anymore.” He opened the door to the supply closet, and looked back over his shoulder, “I will always love you, Hide, but I need more than what you can give me. I don’t know if Barricade can give me what I am looking for, but I know this isn’t enough.”

Ironhide watched as Ratchet walked away from him, and his spark broke a bit in his chest. Ratchet was right though; he wasn’t sure he could ever give the medic more.

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Barricade frowned as he found himself cornered by the weapon specialist. Looking for an escape route he found none, though he did notice Ironhide had backed him into a corner where they were both clearly visible on the security cameras.

Good. If Ironhide attacked him, then he could defend himself--and for that reason he knew it wasn’t Ironhide’s plan to attack. “Do you have a problem, Autobot?”

“Not one that can’t be taken care of by taking you out, Con.” Ironhide growled. He needed to scare the Decepticon a bit, make sure the mech was truly serious.

Barricade hesitated, maybe he had miscalculated. “I doubt my leaving will do anything to fix that ugly face of yours, Autobot.” If he was going to go down, he was going to go down bravely. He shifted a bit; not bringing out his weaponry, but preparing himself for attack.

Ironhide scoffed and stalked forward. “YOU are courting Ratchet—why? If it is because you think he is some easy frag, or you are planning on hurting him, I will offline you where you stand.”

Oh—Barricade thought back on Ratchet’s interactions with the weapon specialist. He really needed to download a packet on Autobot courting; he had almost missed it. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

Ironhide moved surprisingly quickly for an old mech. “Listen to me, and listen well; Ratchet and I have shared something that is beyond words for vorns, but I can’t give him what he truly desires. I’m too much of a warrior for that. So, if you are just toying with him, or using him…” he powered up his cannon, and fired at the wall to their left, blasting a Barricade-sized hole in it. “Do you understand me?”

Barricade growled, offended by the implication. “Look, you fragger, I don’t know about you Autobots, but real Decepticons don’t court unless they are sincere in their intent. I like Ratchet, I like him enough to want to get to know him, to be willing to sync energy signatures with him if he is willing. So frag off.”

Ironhide jerked, a bit surprised; to sync energy signatures with a mech meant you were willing to be exclusive with them, even if they weren’t willing to be exclusive with you. It was an old gesture, and one that couldn’t be seen as anything but honest. He tried to cut it with the fact that who else would be willing to frag the Con, but he knew that wasn’t the point. It was showing a type of devotion that most mechs were unwilling to show these days. He stepped back and nodded. “Good luck then.” He had a brig to report to because of the damage.

Barricade watched him go, and then turned to the damaged wall. Fragging cannon-crazy Autobots. He was glad the medic had such loyal friends, though; He had often wished for such friends himself.

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Ratchet frowned as he entered the medbay, and was met with sudden silence. He glanced around and his optics widened in surprise.

Barricade smiled over at the medic—he had managed to find out the medic’s favorite energon grade and treats by speaking with Wheeljack—a feat he was not willing to attempt again any time soon. He thought Hook would get “involved” in his projects, but the mech had nothing on Wheeljack. Some begging with Red Alert, and agreeing to allow the mech to place a personal tracker on him--creepy--had gotten him the extra rations he needed to make all the treats.

He stepped forward and offered his servo to Ratchet, “Will you do me the honor?”

Ratchet laughed a bit, he felt like a young spark being treated to something like this. He ignored the curious optics following them, and allowed Barricade to seat him and offer him a bright pink cube. “Wheeljack told me what grades you like; I hope this is ok. I did the filtering myself.” Primus, he was nervous. He was never nervous! If courting was going to throw him off his game this much, he didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea in the first place.

Ratchet smiled and sipped the cube slowly, “It is good. You didn’t have to do all of this.” Not that he was going to complain, “Are those oil cakes?”

Barricade grinned sheepishly, “Yes, they are.” He passed one to Ratchet, his optics down, “And actually, since this is an older version of courting and I offended you before, yes I did. I would have done it anyway though, I thought it was a little...” He wasn’t sure what to call it—silly, maybe?

Ratchet smiled, “Romantic? A little, also a little corny as the humans say, but I appreciate the gesture.” He took a bite of the oil cake, and almost moaned as it melted on his glossia. “Primus if you can mix like this I might just lock you in my quarters and have you mix for me every night until my lines get clogged.”

Barricade grinned, flirting a little with the medic, “You might not have to lock me in.” He leaned forward, enjoying watching the medic consume what he had created. “You learn to mix your own energon really fast in the Decepticon ranks. It lowers your risk of poisoning.”

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, “But you still say the Decepticons are in the right?” That was what confused him about Barricade—well, one of the things that confused him.

Barricade grunted, suddenly very aware of all the optics on them. “It wasn’t like that in the beginning. You are old enough to know we started out peacefully. We started out wanting equal rights for the factions. Megatron—however insane he is now, however much you can berate his tactics during this war—the intentions of our cause were good in the beginning.” He kept his optics on the floor, “We weren’t always the motley, insane, disheveled faction you know now. The name ‘Decepticon’ had honor once.” Maybe it never would again, but he couldn’t give up on it.

Ratchet reached over the table and took Barricade’s servo in his own. He didn’t know what to say to Barricade. He hadn’t known how much pride the mech still held within his spark until now, and it was… it was a revaluation into the mech’s inner workings that no medical exam could ever give him.

He was suddenly self conscious. “I didn’t do this to talk about me, though. I wanted to ask you something.” Don’t lose it now--he had shown too much of his hand, and he could feel himself losing control. “I wanted to know if you would allow me to sync energy signatures with you.”

Ratchet had been expecting many things, but not that. It took him a klick to focus enough to be able to respond. “Are you teasing me?”

Barricade shook his head, “No, my offer is genuine.” When he didn’t receive a response he pulled back, “I am sorry; I shouldn’t have asked.”

Suddenly the medic was right in front of him, and their lip components were locked in a kiss. Never one to give up an opportunity like this, he kissed him back for all he was worth, practically pulling the medic into his lap.

When they broke apart, he grinned, enjoying the shocked looks they were receiving. “So was that a yes?”

Ratchet laughed again and purred, shifting his energy field for the sync, “If you didn’t understand the first time, do you need me to repeat my answer?” Primus, he was like a youngling again; his spark felt light, pulsing hard against its casing.

Barricade smirked, clutching Ratchet tightly, “Well they say with repetition, you learn. I certainly would like to learn as much as I can.” This mech was so beautiful, a part of him was awed that he got to hold him like this. It made him puff up a bit in pride. Take that, all you others; you can look, but his attention is all on me.

Ratchet grinned, “Well I will make sure to teach you all you need to know then.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was disgusting. His twin reflected his opinion across their bond. It was disgusting that Ratchet would allow the Con to touch him. That he would initiate the contact. They had been trying for vorns to get the medic’s permission for them to court him, and then that Decepticon waltzes in and steals away their medic without even trying. It wasn’t done. They wouldn’t allow it if it was the last thing they did.

Ironhide kept a watchful optic on the twins. He didn’t like Barricade, but he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Ratchet by hurting the Con. Especially not the twins, after all the slag they had put Ratchet through over the years.

He sent Lennox a text message; his partner was already on the Con’s side, he could help him keep an optic on the developments.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(End for now...)

Current Mood: cheerful

-----------------------------------------------

Summery: Wheeljack hated his scars...
Rating; T (further chapters may go up in rating)
Warnings; kissing between male pronounced robots

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But the curse would not be held at bay for long...

He sat down slowly and waited for Ironhide in his quarters, his mask in his servos. He hadn’t told Ironhide he would be there, wasn’t even sure he was ready for this but he was giving it a try. He shook as he heard the door opening.

Ironhide was tired. He’d been out all night on a long patrol and all he wanted to do was recharge. He opened the door and as his optics fell on Wheeljack he jumped back and yelled.

--
Wheeljack felt his spark freeze. Scars, scars weren’t something to, but Ironhide had said, but he had, nothing made any sense. He slammed his mask back on and tears filled his optics as he ran out past Ironhide.

It was over, he was disgusting and Ironhide would never want to see him again. It was all over for real now. He was alone, and now that he had had Ironhide for so long he didn’t think he could live alone.

--
Ironhide cursed himself but Wheeljack was already out of sight. He’d been shocked, he hadn’t expected it but now he had ruined everything. In the dark he hadn't even realized the mech was his Jack until it was too late. He ran after Wheeljack but had no idea where he had gone. He tried to contact him over the comms but Wheeljack had obviously blocked him. Damn everything to the Pit, he fell to his knees. He couldn't cry, he had to get up and find Jack, find Jack and beg for forgiveness.

--
Wheeljack locked his lab door and fell to his knees. He was done crying, but now it felt like his spark was being crushed into a thousand tiny pieces. Why did he think he had a chance? Why did he let Ironhide convince him that he had nothing to fear?

Ironhide had scars, he had shown them to him and some of them where horrible. His scars though were worse. He was hideous, a freak, and now he was going to be alone forever. A small part of him whispered it was better to be offline than alone but he tried to ignore it. The Autobots needed him. If nothing else, if he wasn’t wanted, he was needed.

--
Ironhide wasn’t sure how long he sat outside Wheeljack’s lab before Ratchet had come by and grudgingly told him to go recharge. Wheeljack would come out when he was ready. He didn't stop waiting for him though. Day after day he spent all his spare time waiting for Wheeljack to come out.

He didn’t know what to do, he was terrified that Wheeljack would exit at a time when he couldn't be there to talk to him so he started leaving things, leaving notes, gifts, and the like outside the engineer’s door. Everyday he returned to wait and hope something would be moved, that there would be some sign Wheeljack was coming out. Everyday he was disappointed.

--
It was six weeks before Wheeljack was forced out to attend a meeting. When he left he paused briefly at the notes and gifts but ignored them. Nothing could make up for what happened.

--
Ironhide was left desolate when he found out he had not only missed Wheeljack leaving the lab, but that the scientist had only cast a passing glance to the gifts and notes he left for him. He hunkered down outside the lab a thermal blanket pulled around him. Less because of cold and more for comfort. How many times had he sat with Wheeljack a thermal blanket wrapped around them both so they could share heat. He was going to wait. He wouldn’t miss his chance again. He’d spend every moment he wasn’t fighting or on duty right there.

--
Prowl hesitated, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Jazz gave him a slap on the back and smiled, “It is for a good cause Prowler. Trust me they need a chance to work this out. You saw them on the monitors they were good together. Don't you think Ironhide deserves a chance to apologize?”

Not really, but there was no arguing with Jazz, anyway both the weapon specialist and the engineer had been happier and more productive when they were together. Prowl nodded and handed Jazz the data chip. “That has the access codes you will need.”

Jazz grinned and gave Prowl a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks Prowler ya won’t regret this.”

Prowl sighed and rubbed at his cheek annoyed casting a glance to themonitor, Ironhide was moping outside Wheeljack’s lab again. He hoped Jazz knew what he was doing, and hoped cursed himself for allowing himself to get involved.

And so the fates schemed to aid the mech and the warrior on their quest for happiness...

Current Mood: apathetic

-----------------------------------------------

Summery: Wheeljack hated his scars...
Rating; T (further chapters may go up in rating)
Pairing: Wheeljack/Ironhide
Warnings; kissing between male pronounced robots

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The warrior was about to give up hope, when he recieved the advice from the medicine man...

Ratchet frowned and pulled Ironhide aside, “are you giving up on him?”

Ironhide grunted, “I’m not giving up on him. He is the one who is avoiding me.”

Ratchet shook his head, “He is paranoid. Jack hasn’t had a relationship since the accident back at the academy.” He crossed his arms over his chest nervously. “He probably thought you were going to leave him either way and he chose the way that would save face.”

Ironhide grunted and turned away, or Wheeljack just didn’t care for him.

Ratchet grabbed Ironhide’s arm. “He loves you. He hasn’t done anything in his lab since you two split up. He is listless and when he isn’t listless he is faking.” Ratchet bit his lip, “It isn’t pretty Ironhide. He isn’t completely illogical about it, it would scare a lot of mechs away.”

Ironhide pulled away and kept walking. Yeah but Wheeljack hadn’t even given him a chance.

--
Wheeljack smiled with his eyes and nodded to Perceptor as he left the recroom. It was so easy to fake being happy. To pretend that Ironhide seeing someone else didn’t bother him. He had pushed Ironhide away, he would have to live with that. Even if it felt like his spark was being torn in two with every fake eye smile. He moved past a supply closet and gave a yelp as he was pulled inside.

--
Ironhide pulled Wheeljack inside and pressed up against him stroking every inch of his frame he could reach and placing kisses all across his neck and face. “You think you can just avoid me?” He rumbled. He nipped at Wheeljack’s neck harshly grinding up against him. “If you want me to leave you will have to tell me so.”

Wheeljack keened and bucked his processor running a mile a minute. “Ironhide, please…don’t…stop.”

Ironhide smirked holding Wheeljack upright against him, “Don’t or Don’t stop?” He pulled back slightly and looked into Wheeljack’s optics. “I’m an old mech. I’ve let a lot of things slip through my servos over the vorns. I’m not losing this if there is a chance. I won’t ever ask you to do anything you find uncomfortable, but I want to be with you.”

He had to remind his systems to cycle and looked away. “I can’t, I can’t ever kiss you. I’m so ugly Ironhide. My scars.” He reached up and touched his mask tracing over lines of scars he knew where just beneath his mask. Waiting to ruin everything.

Ironhide scoffed, “You must think me incredibly shallow if you think I’d leave because of something like that.” He grabbed Wheeljack’s servo and pulled him out of the closet and down the hall to his own quarters.

Wheeljack had no time to protest as he soon found himself lying back on Ironhide’s berth while the weapon specialist sat across from him he wasnt' sure what to think and was torn between locking his legs together and spreading them wide. He was shocked when Ironhide simply helped him sit up and sat a respectful distance away.

Ironhide pulled back a metal plate to show many crisscrossed weld marks on his arm. “Decepticons took my arm off, medics managed to reattach it but without the extra plating it is hideous.”

Wheeljack frowned and shook his head leaning forward to trace the scars. “But a con did that. That scar was something you got fighting for our cause. My scar, my scar is because my lab partner wasn’t paying attention.”

Ironhide smiled and showed Wheeljack another scar on his neck, “I wasn’t paying attention during training and damn near offlined myself.” Then sitting back he opened his chest plates revealing a deep disfigured scar on his spark chamber. "And I got this one from a green mech on the battlefield."

Wheeljack’s optic’s widened and he looked away. That, that was so personal. He, Ironhide shouldn’t have shown him that. “That, I.”

He closed his chest plates and moved to sit beside Wheeljack. “Every mech has scars. They tell the story of our lives, the highs and lows. I showed you my scars to show you even the most intimate, ugly scar isn’t something to be ashamed of. “ He placed a chaste kiss to Wheeljack’s mask and pulled him down to the berth to cuddle. “I don’t care what you look like under that mask Jack. What I care is what an amazing mech you are. You are smart, kind, and you put up with a grumpy old mech like me.”

Wheeljack listened in silence cuddling up against Ironhide. Maybe, maybe it would all work out.
--
Wheeljack laughed as Ironhide picked him up from behind and spun him around in the rec room. “Hide put me down!” Sure the recroom was empty but that didn’t mean it was ok! He smiled and pressed against Ironhide’s chest nuzzling him gently. He was happy. So very happy and nothing could ruin that. Sure he hadn’t shown Ironhide, but for now that was ok.

Ironhide smiled and nuzzled Wheeljack back. Wheeljack would show him when he was ready. And when he did Ironhide would be there to show him that everything was ok.

And for a while all was good and the mech and the warrior were happy...

Current Mood: calm

( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )

Current Mood: busy
Current Music: Hello Seattle, by Owl City

Prowl's Stalker

Summary: Prowl has a stalker, Jolt offers advice, Wheeljack helps him to feel better.
(A gift for my friend's birthday, based off our RP)
Characters: Prowl, Sideswipe, Bluestreak, Jolt, Wheeljack, Ratchet
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Implied Slash
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prowl frowned as he stood in the doorway to his quarters and slowly backed out processor aching as his logic center attempted to crash. 'Bluestreak, can you please come and place Sideswipe in the brig; I need to go to the medbay.'

After a moment he heard Bluestreak reply, ‘Sure thing Prowl what did he do this time? You aren’t hurt are you, because you said you are going to the medbay and I don’t want to see you hurt? Where is he?’

‘In my quarters, you don’t need to worry about bringing your own handcuffs,’ he replied turning off his comm. pressing a servo to the side of his helm he tried to relieve the processor ache that was building. He just hoped Ratchet or Jolt could do something for the pain.

Jolt looked up as Prowl entered, “Hello Prowl,” he noticed how the SIC was gripping his head. “Is your processor acting up again? Ratchet warned you about over working.”

Prowl shook his head and winced taking a seat on one of the repair berths. “I haven’t been able to work much at all thanks to Sideswipe, he just won’t leave me alone.”

Jolt moved to grab a scanner, “Here let me see what I can do. Ratchet won’t be back for a while and I’m sure you don’t want to wait.” He began his scan, “So Sideswipe has moved on to harassing you now?”

“Yes, and I don’t understand it. I have told his attention seeking behavior has to stop and now he has moved on from pranking the entire base to,” Prowl stopped flustered. “Just this afternoon I spent an hour explaining to him that his actions were improper and unwanted.”

Jolt cocked an optic ridge as he ran the scan, “Let me get this straight, Sideswipe is lonely and seeking attention and since you are the only mech on base that gives him any attention on a regular basis he has turned his focus to you. Instead of ignoring him and waiting for him to move on you spend an hour giving him your complete attention?” Finishing the scan he made a few adjustments and stepped back.

Realization dawned on Prowl and his doorwings drooped, “I’ve fragged up this haven’t I?”

Jolt bit his lip; maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. “Just a bit, I’m sure you will be able to figure it out.”

Prowl sagged further his arms crossing across his chest, “I think I’m losing my touch.” This would have never happened had he been on top of his game.

Jolt hesitated unsure what he should do, he hadn’t meant to make the SIC feel bad. His processor was scrambling for a way to make him feel better when the door to the medbay opened. Wheeljack stepped in and looked over, tilting his head in question when he spotted Prowl. Jolt opened a comm. line and rushed to explain. ‘Sideswipe has been harassing him again and he’s depressed and I think I made it worse’. He wrung his hands but was surprised when Wheeljack just walked up to the SIC and slung him over his shoulder.

Prowl protested loudly but Wheeljack just hefted him more securely and made his way to the lab, ‘I’ve got it Jolt.’ Jolt was never happier that the lab was sound proof.

When Ratchet came back he couldn’t help but wonder why Jolt kept glancing nervously towards the lab. Sometime later Prowl stalked out of the lab doorwings high obviously pleased with himself. Wheeljack shuffled out sheepishly after him and discreetly requested some paint. Ratchet ignored the paint that was missing from the scientist’s wrists as he handed the other the paint. He didn’t want to know.

Current Mood: optimistic

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004. Medic -- Ratchet, Jazz -- Rating PG
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A Priori, A Posteriori

From What Comes Before, From What Comes After.

Entries tagged with ratchet

Prompt From A Friend

004. Medic -- Ratchet, Jazz -- Rating PG

003. Dark -- First Aid, Protectobots, Ratchet -- Rating PG

Artwork "Attempts"

Cade's Medic One

Beauty: Chapter Three

Beauty; Chapter Two

Photo Fun- "Ratchet Yum"

Prowl's Stalker

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