I love you a lot! Just... not THAT way...
Nine Rings of Vos - Arc Two: Rebellion
A Transformers: G1 Fanfiction
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Things happen for a reason. But if that happened for this reason, Ratchet is going to reformat someone into a decorative abstract piece.
Timeline: More of this fic here.
=/=
(In which someone probably spiked the punch.)
The slender Praxian mech was gleaming emerald and polished ebony, sombre gray banding a badge of mourning that matched the aching sadness in pale red prisms. Few of the party goers were sober enough to notice the dichotomy of bright quicksilver laughter ringing hollow against the flat static of his energy field. Pointed questions, disguised as teasing, slid right past overcharge-compromised defences, and soon he espied his quarry through the ebb and flow of the intoxicated crowd.
Time to get to work.
/…/
He caught a glimpse of himself in a reflective surface as the three of them stumbled away from the party and was curiously unsurprised to realize that he did not recognize himself. His face, his helm, his colours - they all belonged to someone else, though shadows of features he recognized as his own remained. His optics were far too bright, even for a mech as overcharged as he felt. His mate was much the same, rendered nigh unrecognizable with altered features and colours that matched his own.
‘We look like build-twins… or a pair with a fetish and far too much time and credits on their hands…’
The thought was hazy, there and gone as quickly as it came. The nascent worry, prompted by too-bright optics and alterations that should not have been possible without orns of expensive surgery, faded just as quickly. Smothered by what felt like gentle amusement and this-must-be.
The Praxian mech caught between them was in turns a complete stranger and a dear friend. He felt removed from his frame, more like he was watching a vid-recording than actually participating. For all their unusual brilliance, there was nothing of his mate in the bright optics that looked up at him. Their Praxian third’s movement were clinical, professional rather than passionate. He felt his mind get shoved aside as a shimmering outline - there and not-there - overlaid his own.
The atmosphere changed, and suddenly he was watching something sacred, something private. He wanted to shutter his optics, block out the sudden sparkbreaking look of disbelief and agony on the Praxian’s faceplates as sparks were bared and merged, but passion that was not totally his own swept him up and overload snapped him back into his frame and blissful, simple unconsciousness.
/…/
“What in the Pit happened to you two?” Sunstreaker surged up to his pedes as soon as the door opened. “You look like half melted scrap!”
“I am never accepting an invitation from one of my old political contacts ever again.” Ratchet snarled for extra emphasis, gratefully letting Sideswipe take Wheeljack’s dead weight way from him and leaning into Sunstreaker’s solid strength. For once Ratchet was willing to overlook the twin’s habit of breaking into his apartment while he was away. Ratchet shuttered his optics and mumbled in token protest as the worried pair swept them inside. “Don’t you two hooligans have your own place?”
“Ratchet.” Sideswipe exchanged a weighted look with his twin as they helped the older mechs to the couch. “What happened? I’ve never seen you so wrecked.”
“Dunno.” Wheeljack’s fins flashed weakly. “Can’t remember.”
“What?” Sunstreaker growled, his hands deft and gentle despite the rage and badly hidden fear.
“Some genius tampered with the energon.” Ratchet leaned back with a sigh through his vents, finally safe in home territory and able to relax. There was no way for an enemy to find his back with the twins on high alert. (Slag you and your damned paranoid programming, Interceptor.) “Neither of us can really remember much of the last few megacycles, and what we can recall is too corrupted to make much sense.”
Sideswipe frowned, Sunstreaker scowled, and they both shot eloquent looks at each other over their elder’s heads.
“We’re not getting rid of you two for a while, are we?” Wheeljack laughed weakly as the twins shook their heads stubbornly.
“Oh for Primus’ sake.” Ratchet dropped his helm back with a groan. “Overprotective, overgrown sparklings the both of you.”
“You know you love us.” Sideswipe grinned winsomely.
“I’m going to recharge.” Ratchet growled, ignoring the way the promise of company (back up) quieted the security alerts coming from his sub-programming. “Don’t make too much noise.”
Ratchet heaved himself up without waiting for an answer and was promptly scooped up by Sideswipe when he stumbled. Before he could vocalize an appropriate protest, Ratchet found himself deposited on his berth; an indecently amused Wheeljack was plonked down beside him in short order. The twins were out of the room as quickly as they had entered, and Ratchet abandoned the idea of yelling at them. His head hurt far too much for the proper volume required to chastise the hellions.
With a soft growl and a resigned huff, Ratchet smacked Wheeljack until the lunatic stopped giggling and settled down to rest, too exhausted to be uneasy even though he dreaded the memory ghosts his latest experiences might dredge up. Firmly telling himself to stop being ridiculous, Ratchet initiated his recharge cycle…
He did not have a single dream.
(Word Count: 836)
=/=
You remember how everyone kept asking me who Bulkhead's Other Dad was? Yeah. So... how many people guessed right? XD
This happened because: A) Dinobots B) Interceptor's codes C) Dinobots D) c'mon, all of their kids are HUGE and cause massive property damage, plus: E) DINOBOTS. XP
=/=
... I went grocery shopping today, after staying up until nearly dawn reading a Japanese steampunk novel and it's sequel. *blinks slowly* I have done nothing else of note today.
=/=
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!!
♥
♠
♥
♠
♥
♠
♥
♠
♥
♠
♥
♠
♥
♠
♥