[Oneshot] "Break Time" rated T, cuddling
Title: Break Time
Fandom: G1
Author: d_lueth
Pairing/Characters: Sideswipe/Ratchet/Sunstreaker, mentions of First Aid, Hoist, and Bluestreak
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 674
Summary: Ratchet overworks and the twins enlist help to get him to take a break.
Warnings: Cuddling, Ratchet's mouth, un-betaed
Disclaimer: Not mine :(
Something exploded in a shower of bright pink confetti and green paint, splattering over mechs and medical equipment alike and painting the walls in bright florid colors. All activity ceased.
Ratchet was left blinking, hunched over a half repaired leg strut. “What the FRAG!”
The medic turned slowly to survey the room, taking in the sudden destruction of his once ordered and pristine medbay. Silently, he examined a dripping green First Aid and Hoist, the pink Bluestreak, and the slurry of paint and confetti that coated the floor and walls of his domain. Silently, he started to shake, anger leaking from his EM field.
“TWINS!”
The Hatchet was pissed, and staff and patients alike were scrambling to get out of the way. Seemingly unaffected by the sudden scramble of activity brought about by his outburst, Ratchet stormed over to a supply cabinet.
Ratchet slammed his tools down and picked up the heaviest, biggest wrench he had on hand. Hefting it, he stalked out of the room, ignoring the pink and green trail he left down the halls in this wake.
“Sideswipe,” Ratchet raged, “Sunstreaker, where are you?!” A system ping informed him that where the two hooligans were and the medic burst into their shared quarters with all the furry of an oncoming storm.
“Ratchet!” Sideswipe yelped as the medic appeared.
“You!” Ratchet raised his wrench threateningly. “Paint and glitter?”
Sideswipe smirked sheepishly and scratched his helm, “About that…”
The door swished closed behind Ratchet, a telltale click advertising it’s locked status. Strong arms came around Ratchet’s chassis as the wrench was taken from his grasp.
“We decided that intervention was in order,” Sunstreaker’s voice purred behind his audio.
Sunstreaker lifted his hand to his comm. “Good work, ‘Aid. We’ll take it from here.”
What? Anger drained from Ratchet, being replaced by confusion. First Aid set off the paint?
“You’ve been working for a solid orn, Ratchet.” Sunstreaker murmured, drawing his medic closer to his chassis as his brother slipped in front of them to enclose the medic from both sides. “You need a break.”
“That’s no concern of yours! I had patients!” Ratchet blustered, thrown off balance by the sudden turn of events. “I have- Hey! Stop it! Leggo-“
Ignoring his protests, the twins silently maneuvered him through their quarters to their berth, dropping the squirming medic into the thermal blankets and piling on him so he couldn’t get up again. Ratchet struggled, but couldn’t budge the two frontliners once they had wrapped him in limbs between them. Finally he gave up, lying between them in a huff of vented atmosphere, fans working to cool his riled frame. He resolutely ignored the comfort and contented feelings that seeped into his EM field on either side from the twins.
“Slaggers,” He muttered.
Sunstreaker chuckled behind him.
Sideswipe nuzzled his helm, squeezing his chassis breifly before relaxing his arms. “We love you too, Ratch’. We just worry when you try to do everything and ignore your health. Let ‘Aid handle the medbay for a few joors.”
Ratchet sighed, wiggling to get comfortable. The twins had him in their grasp, and experience told him that he wouldn’t be getting away until they were good and ready.
“Fine,” He grumped. “But you have to clean the medbay!”
The twins just smiled, letting Ratchet readjust before they drew their medic even closer between them. Ratchet finally let the twins’ fields envelope him. Their calming fields seeped into him as the rumble of their high performance engines worked its way into his chassis.
“Night, Ratchet.”
Ratchet murmured slightly in reply, systems too far gone now that he had given them a chance to cycle down. A klick later he was in recharge. Sunstreaker slowly stroked Ratchet’s side, content to bask in the presence of their medic.
“We should get some recharge too.” Sideswipe said. “Patrol in the morning.”
Sunstreaker grunted his assent, leaning over the medic’s helm to receive a kiss from his twin. “Night, Sideswipe.”
“Night, Sunny.”
Soon, only the sound of three recharging systems filled the room.
Fandom: G1
Author: d_lueth
Pairing/Characters: Sideswipe/Ratchet/Sunstreaker, mentions of First Aid, Hoist, and Bluestreak
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 674
Summary: Ratchet overworks and the twins enlist help to get him to take a break.
Warnings: Cuddling, Ratchet's mouth, un-betaed
Disclaimer: Not mine :(
Something exploded in a shower of bright pink confetti and green paint, splattering over mechs and medical equipment alike and painting the walls in bright florid colors. All activity ceased.
Ratchet was left blinking, hunched over a half repaired leg strut. “What the FRAG!”
The medic turned slowly to survey the room, taking in the sudden destruction of his once ordered and pristine medbay. Silently, he examined a dripping green First Aid and Hoist, the pink Bluestreak, and the slurry of paint and confetti that coated the floor and walls of his domain. Silently, he started to shake, anger leaking from his EM field.
“TWINS!”
The Hatchet was pissed, and staff and patients alike were scrambling to get out of the way. Seemingly unaffected by the sudden scramble of activity brought about by his outburst, Ratchet stormed over to a supply cabinet.
Ratchet slammed his tools down and picked up the heaviest, biggest wrench he had on hand. Hefting it, he stalked out of the room, ignoring the pink and green trail he left down the halls in this wake.
“Sideswipe,” Ratchet raged, “Sunstreaker, where are you?!” A system ping informed him that where the two hooligans were and the medic burst into their shared quarters with all the furry of an oncoming storm.
“Ratchet!” Sideswipe yelped as the medic appeared.
“You!” Ratchet raised his wrench threateningly. “Paint and glitter?”
Sideswipe smirked sheepishly and scratched his helm, “About that…”
The door swished closed behind Ratchet, a telltale click advertising it’s locked status. Strong arms came around Ratchet’s chassis as the wrench was taken from his grasp.
“We decided that intervention was in order,” Sunstreaker’s voice purred behind his audio.
Sunstreaker lifted his hand to his comm. “Good work, ‘Aid. We’ll take it from here.”
What? Anger drained from Ratchet, being replaced by confusion. First Aid set off the paint?
“You’ve been working for a solid orn, Ratchet.” Sunstreaker murmured, drawing his medic closer to his chassis as his brother slipped in front of them to enclose the medic from both sides. “You need a break.”
“That’s no concern of yours! I had patients!” Ratchet blustered, thrown off balance by the sudden turn of events. “I have- Hey! Stop it! Leggo-“
Ignoring his protests, the twins silently maneuvered him through their quarters to their berth, dropping the squirming medic into the thermal blankets and piling on him so he couldn’t get up again. Ratchet struggled, but couldn’t budge the two frontliners once they had wrapped him in limbs between them. Finally he gave up, lying between them in a huff of vented atmosphere, fans working to cool his riled frame. He resolutely ignored the comfort and contented feelings that seeped into his EM field on either side from the twins.
“Slaggers,” He muttered.
Sunstreaker chuckled behind him.
Sideswipe nuzzled his helm, squeezing his chassis breifly before relaxing his arms. “We love you too, Ratch’. We just worry when you try to do everything and ignore your health. Let ‘Aid handle the medbay for a few joors.”
Ratchet sighed, wiggling to get comfortable. The twins had him in their grasp, and experience told him that he wouldn’t be getting away until they were good and ready.
“Fine,” He grumped. “But you have to clean the medbay!”
The twins just smiled, letting Ratchet readjust before they drew their medic even closer between them. Ratchet finally let the twins’ fields envelope him. Their calming fields seeped into him as the rumble of their high performance engines worked its way into his chassis.
“Night, Ratchet.”
Ratchet murmured slightly in reply, systems too far gone now that he had given them a chance to cycle down. A klick later he was in recharge. Sunstreaker slowly stroked Ratchet’s side, content to bask in the presence of their medic.
“We should get some recharge too.” Sideswipe said. “Patrol in the morning.”
Sunstreaker grunted his assent, leaning over the medic’s helm to receive a kiss from his twin. “Night, Sideswipe.”
“Night, Sunny.”
Soon, only the sound of three recharging systems filled the room.