[G1] Apple a Day 17 - Exclusive Rights
a/n: I'm in need of some smiles right now, so here, have some Ratchet and Twins fluff and humor. Totally SFW.
Title: Exclusive Rights
Universe: G1, Apple a Day part 17
Characters: RatchetxTwins
Rating: K+
Warning: Fluff and humor
Description: According to the manual, the next step is Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's to make.
The third date comes and goes without sign of a chaperone which Sideswipe would like to say he is grateful for. Ironhide's presence had been disconcerting at the very least and though Sunstreaker had taken it in stride, Sideswipe did not approve.
Sunny, for some odd reason, has been throwing himself into this whole courtship process with everything he has, frame and spark. He likes it, the glitch.
“There are guidelines,” he says when Sideswipe tries to poke him into explaining why. “Makes it easier.”
Sideswipe guesses it's because Sunny just doesn't get mechs sometimes and when there are rules to follow, it's easier. Maybe that's why he obeys Prowl faster than he'll obey Prime. Optimus likes to give leeway. Prowl tells it like it is.
“Plus,” Sunstreaker adds, almost a bit shy, ducking his helm. “It's kind of nice. To be treated like we matter, you know?”
And well, Sideswipe can't fault him for that either.
Anyway, the third date comes and goes. Ratchet takes them off the Ark this time and thank Primus the Decepticons don't interrupt their fun. He takes them, of all places, to a car show and while he lingers on the outskirts, looking as out of place as an ambulance can look, Sideswipe has a grand old time. Sunstreaker admires a few paint jobs and even picks up a tip or two from one of the attendees.
And after Ratchet walks them back to their rooms, they get another one of those chaste but wonderful kisses, and off he goes. It's frustrating as the Pit. Sunny loves it.
Sideswipe's feeling the burn, though. Even if Ratchet had given them each a small energon dagger as a present. Whatever the frag that's supposed to mean.
Their fourth date is interrupted by the Decepticons and they spend the majority of it in the medbay. For once, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are not patients, but they are shorthanded on staff enough that it's all hands on deck.
With First Aid collapsed on a berth of his own - Bruticus had taken great pleasure in stomping Defensor's left arm into the dirt - Ratchet and Hoist struggle to keep everyone online.
Megatron had been particularly vicious. He'd ripped through Optimus' plating as though he intended to hold Optimus' pulsing spark in his two hands. And perhaps he had. Ironhide's timely intervention had kept their Prime alive, but he'd resorted to stasis lock.
Wheeljack, Skyfire, and Perceptor try to pick up the pieces, the serious cases that aren't critical or severe enough to demand Ratchet's attention. And Sideswipe and his brother have taken enough mechs apart to have a passing knowledge of fixing the little stuff. So they do. They apply temporary patches and weld some cracks and slap so much nanite gel around that it cakes in their joints.
For once, Sunstreaker doesn't complain. Sideswipe's pretty proud of him.
Two weeks pass before life returns to anything close to normal. Before Optimus is walking right and Ironhide doesn't look like someone sucker-punched him in the spark and Ratchet loses that pinched expression of worry and the level of cheer in the Ark rises back from its residency in a swampy mire.
And Sunstreaker points out that, technically, in the courting process, they are supposed to approach Ratchet for the fifth date. Because it's make it or break it time and they need to decide if they are going to invest in this courtship or walk away clean. That's not to say they are supposed to get down on one knee and talk spark-bonding. But it does mean that if they do take Ratchet up on his offer, they are not to allow anyone else to court them, or engage in intimate contact beyond the strictures of the contract.
Sideswipe throws his hands into the air. “What the frag does that even mean?” He swears that this stupid Idiot's Guide doesn't even speak Cybertronian sometimes!
Sunstreaker thwaps him upside the helm. “No fragging around, dumb aft. It's an exclusivity clause.”
Sideswipe rubs his helm and glares at his brother. “What?”
Sunstreaker rolls his optics. “No clanging anyone else.”
Well, why didn't they just say that then? Sideswipe points out as much and dodges Sunstreaker's exasperated swipe.
“You are impossible,” Sunstreaker huffs. “No sense of romance.”
“Bro, you look in the mirror lately? Romance is not what we do.”
Sunstreaker turns his back to him and hunches over the guide. “That doesn't mean we can't start,” he says, and there's something in his tone, something aching and unsure, and suddenly, Sideswipe gets it.
“You have a point.” He throws an arm over Sunstreaker's shoulders and leans into his twin, tipping their helms together. “Okay. So. What do we do?”
Sunstreaker is silent for a long moment and Sideswipe can feel the debate that rages in his brother's processor.
“We draft a contract,” Sunstreaker says, at length, and he hands the guide to Sideswipe. “And then we offer it to Ratchet.”
Sideswipe nods and skims the sample contracts given in the guide. Thank Primus they have something to go by. “Seems simple enough. Public or private?”
“Either. It's our discretion.”
Sideswipe grins and taps his forehelm against Sunstreaker's. “Awful big words this guide is teaching us.”
“I noticed.” Sunstreaker taps the datapad, his finger lingering on the edge of it. “You do want to do this, right?”
“You'd know it if I didn't.” Sideswipe squeezes Sunstreaker against his side and then grabs his brother's hand, pulling him toward their couch. “Come on. Let's get this thing drafted and ready to go. Ratchet isn't getting any younger.”
“Hah.” Sunstreaker manages a grin and that edge is gone, which is exactly what Sideswipe intended.
It only takes them ten minutes to hash out the details and then another ten minutes for Sunstreaker to sift through his work, picking a small painting to serve as their acceptance and offering gift for Ratchet. Afterward, it's a quick ping to Teletraan who informs them Ratchet is in his quarters before they are on their way, more nervous than Sideswipe can ever remember feeling.
They arrive at Ratchet's door just in time to see Wheeljack coming out. When he sees them, he winks and gives them two thumbs up, all without saying a word.
“He approves, I guess?” Sideswipe says, watching the engineer stride down the hall.
Sunstreaker snorts and pings Ratchet's door.
They hear a low curse, a scramble, and then the door opens with Ratchet already in the midst of talking, “--forget something already... Oh. It's you.”
Sideswipe raises his orbital ridges. “Is this a bad time?”
Ratchet's pedes shuffles in place as he looks between them. “No. I just...” He pauses, backtracks, and then straightens. “You've been reading the guide?”
“Yes.” Sunstreaker, ever the one to barrel through, thrusts the small painting in Ratchet's direction. “Our gift. To you.”
Ratchet cycles his optics and takes the small frame, handling it with a gentleness that had gained him so much acclaim for his surgical skill. “It's beautiful,” he says. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Sunstreaker nudges Sideswipe with his elbow. “Your turn.”
Fragging bossy-- Sideswipe huffs. “We wanted to bring you this, too,” he says and hands over the datapad with their carefully crafted contract.
It's Ratchet's turn to raise his orbital ridges. “You know what it means, right?”
“I read the book,” Sunstreaker says.
“He studied the book,” Sideswipe corrects.
Sunstreaker glares but Ratchet makes a dull noise in his chassis that stops it from escalating further.
“Well done,” Ratchet says and he wiggles the datapad at them. “You learn quickly. I'm impressed.”
“Not the same as being interested,” Sunstreaker grumbles, folding his arms.
It's Sideswipe's turn to elbow his twin in the side, not that it has much of an effect. It rarely does on Sunstreaker.
“No, it's not the same,” Ratchet concedes, but he pulls out a small cable from his wrist and plugs into the datapad. “But I should have thought my interest to be obvious by now.”
The datapad gives off a charming chime of approval and then Ratchet disconnects, handing it back. Sideswipe accepts it and glances over the document with Sunstreaker peering over his left shoulder.
Ratchet's glyph of approval shines bright and pretty at the bottom. And then there's a bubbly sensation in Sideswipe's spark. He grins.
Sunstreaker takes it from him, examining the pad in more detail, though it's the same thing they'd finalized only a few minutes before.
“What comes next?” Sideswipe asks.
Ratchet tilts his helm and leans against the door frame. “Another date, after which we are free to explore our compatibility.” The way he speaks the last is positively lewd.
“Ratchet has to invite us,” Sunstreaker offers, almost absently. He's still studying the contract as though he's never seen it before.
“That I do.” Ratchet pushes himself off the frame. “And I'll contact you later with the details.”
“Why not now?”
“Because I was about to recharge for once and I still plan on doing so,” Ratchet says and waves a hand at them. “Good night.”
“Just like that?” Sideswipe demands.
Ratchet's engine rumbles at them, like a concealed chuckle. “Just like that.” He turns to go back into his quarters only to pause and waggle a finger at them. “And remember, no interfacing.”
“You really think we've been playing around since this started?” Sideswipe asks, rolling his optics.
Ratchet's smirk, however, widens. “That includes with each other, Sides.”
His jaw drops. “No, it doesn't.... does it?” He hopes not.
Sunstreaker holds the datapad in front of him. “It does now.” He taps the screen.
Sideswipe looks. Oh, that's pure evil. Ratchet had amended the contract, obviously in an attempt to drive them crazy or enact some sort of revenge.
“But!” Sideswipe splutters, gripping the datapad with both hands and staring down the innocent looking line.
Ratchet actually laughs this time, his field ripe with humor and affection. “Be on your best behavior now.” He winks at them, winks!, and then he closes the door, leaving Sideswipe gaping at him.
Sunstreaker shakes his helm. “I think we're in over our helms, Sides.”
He looks at his brother and sighs. “Sunny, I don't think we were ever on solid ground to start with.”
****
a/n: More cuteness and fluff to come!
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/289785.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Exclusive Rights
Universe: G1, Apple a Day part 17
Characters: RatchetxTwins
Rating: K+
Warning: Fluff and humor
Description: According to the manual, the next step is Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's to make.
The third date comes and goes without sign of a chaperone which Sideswipe would like to say he is grateful for. Ironhide's presence had been disconcerting at the very least and though Sunstreaker had taken it in stride, Sideswipe did not approve.
Sunny, for some odd reason, has been throwing himself into this whole courtship process with everything he has, frame and spark. He likes it, the glitch.
“There are guidelines,” he says when Sideswipe tries to poke him into explaining why. “Makes it easier.”
Sideswipe guesses it's because Sunny just doesn't get mechs sometimes and when there are rules to follow, it's easier. Maybe that's why he obeys Prowl faster than he'll obey Prime. Optimus likes to give leeway. Prowl tells it like it is.
“Plus,” Sunstreaker adds, almost a bit shy, ducking his helm. “It's kind of nice. To be treated like we matter, you know?”
And well, Sideswipe can't fault him for that either.
Anyway, the third date comes and goes. Ratchet takes them off the Ark this time and thank Primus the Decepticons don't interrupt their fun. He takes them, of all places, to a car show and while he lingers on the outskirts, looking as out of place as an ambulance can look, Sideswipe has a grand old time. Sunstreaker admires a few paint jobs and even picks up a tip or two from one of the attendees.
And after Ratchet walks them back to their rooms, they get another one of those chaste but wonderful kisses, and off he goes. It's frustrating as the Pit. Sunny loves it.
Sideswipe's feeling the burn, though. Even if Ratchet had given them each a small energon dagger as a present. Whatever the frag that's supposed to mean.
Their fourth date is interrupted by the Decepticons and they spend the majority of it in the medbay. For once, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are not patients, but they are shorthanded on staff enough that it's all hands on deck.
With First Aid collapsed on a berth of his own - Bruticus had taken great pleasure in stomping Defensor's left arm into the dirt - Ratchet and Hoist struggle to keep everyone online.
Megatron had been particularly vicious. He'd ripped through Optimus' plating as though he intended to hold Optimus' pulsing spark in his two hands. And perhaps he had. Ironhide's timely intervention had kept their Prime alive, but he'd resorted to stasis lock.
Wheeljack, Skyfire, and Perceptor try to pick up the pieces, the serious cases that aren't critical or severe enough to demand Ratchet's attention. And Sideswipe and his brother have taken enough mechs apart to have a passing knowledge of fixing the little stuff. So they do. They apply temporary patches and weld some cracks and slap so much nanite gel around that it cakes in their joints.
For once, Sunstreaker doesn't complain. Sideswipe's pretty proud of him.
Two weeks pass before life returns to anything close to normal. Before Optimus is walking right and Ironhide doesn't look like someone sucker-punched him in the spark and Ratchet loses that pinched expression of worry and the level of cheer in the Ark rises back from its residency in a swampy mire.
And Sunstreaker points out that, technically, in the courting process, they are supposed to approach Ratchet for the fifth date. Because it's make it or break it time and they need to decide if they are going to invest in this courtship or walk away clean. That's not to say they are supposed to get down on one knee and talk spark-bonding. But it does mean that if they do take Ratchet up on his offer, they are not to allow anyone else to court them, or engage in intimate contact beyond the strictures of the contract.
Sideswipe throws his hands into the air. “What the frag does that even mean?” He swears that this stupid Idiot's Guide doesn't even speak Cybertronian sometimes!
Sunstreaker thwaps him upside the helm. “No fragging around, dumb aft. It's an exclusivity clause.”
Sideswipe rubs his helm and glares at his brother. “What?”
Sunstreaker rolls his optics. “No clanging anyone else.”
Well, why didn't they just say that then? Sideswipe points out as much and dodges Sunstreaker's exasperated swipe.
“You are impossible,” Sunstreaker huffs. “No sense of romance.”
“Bro, you look in the mirror lately? Romance is not what we do.”
Sunstreaker turns his back to him and hunches over the guide. “That doesn't mean we can't start,” he says, and there's something in his tone, something aching and unsure, and suddenly, Sideswipe gets it.
“You have a point.” He throws an arm over Sunstreaker's shoulders and leans into his twin, tipping their helms together. “Okay. So. What do we do?”
Sunstreaker is silent for a long moment and Sideswipe can feel the debate that rages in his brother's processor.
“We draft a contract,” Sunstreaker says, at length, and he hands the guide to Sideswipe. “And then we offer it to Ratchet.”
Sideswipe nods and skims the sample contracts given in the guide. Thank Primus they have something to go by. “Seems simple enough. Public or private?”
“Either. It's our discretion.”
Sideswipe grins and taps his forehelm against Sunstreaker's. “Awful big words this guide is teaching us.”
“I noticed.” Sunstreaker taps the datapad, his finger lingering on the edge of it. “You do want to do this, right?”
“You'd know it if I didn't.” Sideswipe squeezes Sunstreaker against his side and then grabs his brother's hand, pulling him toward their couch. “Come on. Let's get this thing drafted and ready to go. Ratchet isn't getting any younger.”
“Hah.” Sunstreaker manages a grin and that edge is gone, which is exactly what Sideswipe intended.
It only takes them ten minutes to hash out the details and then another ten minutes for Sunstreaker to sift through his work, picking a small painting to serve as their acceptance and offering gift for Ratchet. Afterward, it's a quick ping to Teletraan who informs them Ratchet is in his quarters before they are on their way, more nervous than Sideswipe can ever remember feeling.
They arrive at Ratchet's door just in time to see Wheeljack coming out. When he sees them, he winks and gives them two thumbs up, all without saying a word.
“He approves, I guess?” Sideswipe says, watching the engineer stride down the hall.
Sunstreaker snorts and pings Ratchet's door.
They hear a low curse, a scramble, and then the door opens with Ratchet already in the midst of talking, “--forget something already... Oh. It's you.”
Sideswipe raises his orbital ridges. “Is this a bad time?”
Ratchet's pedes shuffles in place as he looks between them. “No. I just...” He pauses, backtracks, and then straightens. “You've been reading the guide?”
“Yes.” Sunstreaker, ever the one to barrel through, thrusts the small painting in Ratchet's direction. “Our gift. To you.”
Ratchet cycles his optics and takes the small frame, handling it with a gentleness that had gained him so much acclaim for his surgical skill. “It's beautiful,” he says. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Sunstreaker nudges Sideswipe with his elbow. “Your turn.”
Fragging bossy-- Sideswipe huffs. “We wanted to bring you this, too,” he says and hands over the datapad with their carefully crafted contract.
It's Ratchet's turn to raise his orbital ridges. “You know what it means, right?”
“I read the book,” Sunstreaker says.
“He studied the book,” Sideswipe corrects.
Sunstreaker glares but Ratchet makes a dull noise in his chassis that stops it from escalating further.
“Well done,” Ratchet says and he wiggles the datapad at them. “You learn quickly. I'm impressed.”
“Not the same as being interested,” Sunstreaker grumbles, folding his arms.
It's Sideswipe's turn to elbow his twin in the side, not that it has much of an effect. It rarely does on Sunstreaker.
“No, it's not the same,” Ratchet concedes, but he pulls out a small cable from his wrist and plugs into the datapad. “But I should have thought my interest to be obvious by now.”
The datapad gives off a charming chime of approval and then Ratchet disconnects, handing it back. Sideswipe accepts it and glances over the document with Sunstreaker peering over his left shoulder.
Ratchet's glyph of approval shines bright and pretty at the bottom. And then there's a bubbly sensation in Sideswipe's spark. He grins.
Sunstreaker takes it from him, examining the pad in more detail, though it's the same thing they'd finalized only a few minutes before.
“What comes next?” Sideswipe asks.
Ratchet tilts his helm and leans against the door frame. “Another date, after which we are free to explore our compatibility.” The way he speaks the last is positively lewd.
“Ratchet has to invite us,” Sunstreaker offers, almost absently. He's still studying the contract as though he's never seen it before.
“That I do.” Ratchet pushes himself off the frame. “And I'll contact you later with the details.”
“Why not now?”
“Because I was about to recharge for once and I still plan on doing so,” Ratchet says and waves a hand at them. “Good night.”
“Just like that?” Sideswipe demands.
Ratchet's engine rumbles at them, like a concealed chuckle. “Just like that.” He turns to go back into his quarters only to pause and waggle a finger at them. “And remember, no interfacing.”
“You really think we've been playing around since this started?” Sideswipe asks, rolling his optics.
Ratchet's smirk, however, widens. “That includes with each other, Sides.”
His jaw drops. “No, it doesn't.... does it?” He hopes not.
Sunstreaker holds the datapad in front of him. “It does now.” He taps the screen.
Sideswipe looks. Oh, that's pure evil. Ratchet had amended the contract, obviously in an attempt to drive them crazy or enact some sort of revenge.
“But!” Sideswipe splutters, gripping the datapad with both hands and staring down the innocent looking line.
Ratchet actually laughs this time, his field ripe with humor and affection. “Be on your best behavior now.” He winks at them, winks!, and then he closes the door, leaving Sideswipe gaping at him.
Sunstreaker shakes his helm. “I think we're in over our helms, Sides.”
He looks at his brother and sighs. “Sunny, I don't think we were ever on solid ground to start with.”
****
a/n: More cuteness and fluff to come!
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/289785.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.