Cybernetics + Drabble
Hello all! I'm getting over a nasty illness that has me literally speechless and it's had me in bed all day and thinking about poor vocalizer-less Bumblebee all week ^_^; As a result, I'm wide awake with nothing to do so I bring you an update and a Ratchet/Ironhide flashback drabble (I'm sorry to say yesterdaze_news that it's from their pre-academy days, but Ratchet is all cute and little so that should make up for it right? ^_~)
Title: Cybernetics (chapter 37)
Rating: R
Pairing: Barricade/OC, vague Ratchet/OC
Summary: Just a little chapter to further the plot
Warnings: Some mild adult content (groping) and referrences to Jazz being naughty
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't make money. Don't like lawsuits.
Chapter 37: Sentiments
A/N: Okay, I’m going to be honest with you. Springfield, Michigan is a real city (all my homies up in the hizzle holla!) but I have no idea where in Michigan it is. So, for the sake of plot, let’s assume that it’s in Northern Michigan and then imagine U.S. Federal Government lets people cross the border over Lake Michigan. Okay? Okay.
“Fleshling.” Barricade murmured softly. She did not respond, deep in sleep with her head on his shoulder. “Wake up, half-breed.” He nudged her lightly and she muttered something mostly incoherent about Jazz being a pervert. In her sleep she’d wrapped her arms around his torso and now used her grip on him to snuggle closer. “Natalie.” He tried again. Finally she responded.
Lifting her head slightly she whispered against his neck, “Ratchet, what’s with the siren?”
Barricade opened his mouth to correct her, but her lips were working against his synthesized skin and it was making his relays sing. He struggled to get sound out, but her hands were ghosting over his body and her teeth had found his ear lobe. She was obviously still half-asleep and considerably horny.
“Op-p-pen your eyes squishy.” Frenzy shattered the moment by tapping on the Plexiglas separating them. Natalie went stiff against him, unsure of what to do. Her hands were each respectively up his shirt and groping him through his pants, and everyone in the car was aware of the pheromones that were rolling off her in waves.
He could feel her mixed embarrassment and anger through the bond. In all honesty, it terrified him to realize how strongly her emotions were coming through to him. He’d felt her without even seeking her out. Perhaps the bond was getting stronger or they were more open when feeling strong emotions. Either way, the look that she was giving him and the sudden burst of hatefeardisgustarousal from her made it clear she’d felt exactly how large an effect her ministrations had had on him.
There was only one thing that could keep her from mauling him now: make a snarky remark before she gathered her wits enough to chew him out. But what to say?
“Fleshling...” He began, pausing as if to build tension but really only doing so to buy himself time. “...kindly remove yourself from my personal space.”
Barricade winced internally. As the humans said, that was weak.
But, weak or not, it had the desired effect. She scrambled to get back in the passenger seat and muttered, “Sorry. I was dreaming about Ratchet.”
“I noticed.” He tried to ignore the way she shifted against his seats and focus on the road ahead. “Speaking of whom, I need you to contact him.”
“Why?” Natalie frowned.
“To tell him we’re nearly there and find out the status of the battle.”
“Oh.”
***
“One thing’s for sure.” Wheeljack told him, wincing as he was lifted onto the repair berth.
“What’s that?” Ratchet asked distractedly, a little too busy for small talk.
“We won’t have to do much sneaking around after all this.” He chuckled good naturedly.
It was probably true. With all the witnesses, property damage, civilian death and reporters, their cover was beyond blown.
“This is going to hurt.” Ratchet replied, firing up his welding torch.
Wheeljack nodded and braced himself. Ratchet was quick to go to work, repairing the holes in the armor that had been created from what must have been shrapnel. Considering how thick the Chief Engineer’s armor was, the explosion that caused his injury must have been substantial...or he’d been right on top of it. More than likely, it was the latter.
It took less than five minutes to weld the temp armor patches on, and then he was ushering his old friend back out into the fray, making room for the next patient.
::Ratchet? Come in, Ratchet.::
He was surprised by the message, but it was a welcome distraction as he began patching severed energon lines on a minibot. ::I’m here, Natalie. Where are you?::
::Barricade says we’re about to cross the border via ferry.::
::So you really did run away with him. Why are you planning on crossing the border?::
::I have to rescue my friends, and Barricade thought you might need help. Plus we were getting tired of sitting around waiting for someone to tell us what was happening.::
Ratchet could relate. It was hard for a medic to gage how well a battle was going on account of not actually being in it. All he ever knew was the stories he was told by the often delusional (from system crashes) and sometimes shell-shocked wounded that came his way. He never dared try to contact Ironhide during a battle, because he never knew if he’d get a response, and if he didn’t...
::There have been a lot of injured all last night and all day today. That’s about as much as I can tell you. From the amount of gunfire and explosions I can hear, I’d say it’s pretty serious out there.::
He sent the newly repaired minibot back the way it came and started on his next patient.
::I’ll be there soon.::
::I’ll be waiting.::
::I love you.:: Natalie cursed herself from saying it. Things were weird enough between the four of them without her blurting such sentiments out randomly.
::Return to me safely, and I’ll take my time showing you how much I love you.:: He purred back. ::Now let me get back to work.::
Natalie shut off the comm link and leaned back in her seat.
“Well?” Barricade asked.
“What? Oh, uh, it sounds like there’s no end in sight.” She sighed.
“That could be very fortunate or a serious problem, depending on whether or not Frenzy will tell us what he knows...”
There was an interesting edge to Barricade’s voice that Natalie couldn’t quite interpret. Frenzy stared hard at the dashboard and she thought they might be having a conversation over a private comm link. Eventually he relaxed a little (for Frenzy, anyways) and turned his attention to her.
“Fine. Pay attn-ten-tention fleshy.”
Title: Medical
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: kinda sorta Ironhide/Ratchet
Summary: There comes a time in every bot's life when they must decide what their future will hold.
Warnings: Absurdly cute youngling!Ratchet, referrences to interfacing, mentions of a strip club
Disclaimer: Still don't own. Still don't make money. Still don't like lawsuits.
MEDICAL
A/N: For those who have forgotten, my version of Ratchet had a speech impediment when he was younger. I translated it into the form of a slur or lisp. Take it as you will.
Ratchet curled into Ironhide's side and shivered against the cool breeze that drifted across their frames where they lay on an out-cropping overlooking Iacon. The sun was setting making the sky glow a deep scarlet and the moons glint a pale orange. The immense steel structures of the metropolis below glinted beautifully in the light and, in the middle of it all, the sprawling grounds of the academy shown like a beacon.
"I can't wait until I'm there." Ironhide mused.
Ratchet didn't have to ask where "there" was. He knew already. No matter how long from now it was to be, Ironhide had set his eye on the academy long ago. It was the only place for him. His programming sang at the very sight of it shining amongst all of Iacon's glory, "There is where you will fulfill your prime directive."
"What do you want to shtudy?" Ratchet inquired, pressing closer to his friend's warmth against the soft wind.
"Combat." He grunted.
Ratchet rolled off his side and onto his front, resting his chin on Ironhide's chest so he could look him in the optics. "Everyone at the academy ish required to shtudy combat."
"I want to specialize in combat and weapons operation, but I knew you'd question whatever I replied with and all that would be too hard for you to say." He smirked.
"Go shlag yourself." Ratchet offlined his optics and enjoyed the warm sun against his plating. "Fine, so why do you want to sht..." He paused for a moment and then continued on slowly, "study combat and weapons operation?"
He powered his optics back up in time to see his older friend looking down on him with pride.
"Your speaking is getting so much better."
Ratchet beamed, then shivered again against another breeze. Ironhide gathered him close and they clung to each other. "I want to study combat so that I can protect you." He whispered, suddenly very tired.
"You already do that."
"I want to do it better."
"You don't need to." Ratchet murmured softly, feeling very much like he could slip into recharge there and then. He almost did too when they lapsed into silence. Ironhide's spark hummed soothingly below his chest plates and Ratchet had the odd urge to place his hands over it. He marveled at the warmth that coursed through him when he did, a sort of warm fuzzy feeling that made him feel totally at peace with the world. It was deeply fascinating and he suddenly wished he knew more about sparks, how they worked, what they were for, what it would look like or feel like and how did the Allspark know who to make you when it produced a spark?
"What do you want to study?" Ironhide asked. interrupting Ratchet's thoughts.
He sat up. "I don't need to shtudy anything! I just need a fasht alt mode and some durable treads!"
"Oh not this again. You don't seriously believe you could be a racer, do you?"
Ratchet jumped up, excited. "Of course I do! I'll be the fashtest bot on all of Cybertron!"
"Calm down! Your slurring gets so bad when you're excited!" Ironhide was on his feet too now.
"Make me, old-timer!"
"I'm only a vorn older than you!"
"That's enough!" Ratchet leered, then took off down the slope leading into the city. "You can't catch me!"
"We'll see about that!" Ironhide sped off after the younger mech, sliding down steep patches here and there to catch up.
It was dangerous to run down this hill, Ratchet's guardian had told him that, but she also said Ironhide was a good-for-nothing scrap heap and he'd never amount to anything if he spent all his time with the black mech. That's why Ratchet stopped listening to her. In fact, he thought Ironhide was the best thing that ever happened to him and so anything else his guardian said was bad for him he figured would actually do him good. So, running down this slope had to be good for something right? Maybe it was like training. His training to get faster than anyone else. He certainly was going pretty fast now. Ironhide was having trouble keeping up. In fact, he wasn't sure he could stop if he wanted to, he had so much momentum.
Oh slag.
He couldn't stop!
Well, they weren't that far from the bottom now, what could go wrong? He'd just wait until the slope leveled out and wait for 'Hide to catch up. They only problem was, Ironhide was much larger than Ratchet and was having trouble staying upright at such an angle. No sooner had the thought passed through his processor than he was tumbling downwards into Ratchet and they were rolling down together, scuffing and denting their protoforms painfully all along the way. It seemed to take forever to slow down and stop at the bottom, but when they did Ironhide found himself lying below Ratchet on the cold ground.
"Are you okay?!" He asked worriedly, checking the bot underneath him for injuries.
"Who cares about me? Are you okay?" Ironhide asked, wincing at the pain that shot through his frame when he sat up.
"I'm fine, but you're bleeding." Ratchet gestured to the energon leaking from his arms and wrists.
"It's nothing." He shrugged.
Ratchet frowned. "At least let me help you pound your dents out." He didn't wait for a reply before he went to work smoothing out the dings. It didn't take too long, and once he finished Ironhide praised him for his handiwork.
"Maybe you should be a medic instead of a racer." He laughed, sitting up.
"Maybe you should offline your vocalizer." Ratchet shot back. That little suggestion started an all-out brawl between the two, laughing and rolling around in the dirt, denting components further...
"Hey, kid?"
He snapped out of his thoughts as the mech before him waved a hand in front of his face. "Huh?"
"You gonna register or what? You're holding up the line."
Ratchet looked down at the datapad he was holding, all boxes checked except for the one specifying his area of specialized study. After a moment of hesitation he checked the appropriate box and handed the datapad over.
"A medic?" The mech academy's registration center asked, eyeing his flashy alt mode components skeptically. "You know we mean serious business here right? After graduation you'll probably be recruited and sent out into battle. You sure you can handle that?"
Ratchet nodded. "I am."
"Alright then. You're all done."
The now medical student retreated outside and gazed up at the out-cropping that had so recently occupied his thoughts.
"Hey." Ironhide came up from behind. "What are you doing here?"
"Registering." Ratchet replied, turning to face him.
"What? Why? I thought you had other plans." Ironhide frowned. "You know we'll still be friends even if you don't come to school with me."
"Yeah, I know." Ratchet shook his head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him down the street to the nearest bar.
"So what did you register for?"
"Medical."
"A medic?!" Ironhide stopped dead in his tracks. Ratchet had always been a caretaker for everyone around him, and often expressed interest in anatomy and physiology, but never had Ironhide expected this. "Why?!?"
"So I can protect you." Ratchet chuckled. "In the mean time, let's go find a party to crash, you look like you could use a drink...or several."
That snapped Ironhide out of his stupor. "You know, I heard about this new place in the red light district..."
"You mean the one where the mechs actually overload each other on stage?"
"You want to go?"
"Do you like big guns?"
"That's an affirmative."
Title: Cybernetics (chapter 37)
Rating: R
Pairing: Barricade/OC, vague Ratchet/OC
Summary: Just a little chapter to further the plot
Warnings: Some mild adult content (groping) and referrences to Jazz being naughty
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't make money. Don't like lawsuits.
Chapter 37: Sentiments
A/N: Okay, I’m going to be honest with you. Springfield, Michigan is a real city (all my homies up in the hizzle holla!) but I have no idea where in Michigan it is. So, for the sake of plot, let’s assume that it’s in Northern Michigan and then imagine U.S. Federal Government lets people cross the border over Lake Michigan. Okay? Okay.
“Fleshling.” Barricade murmured softly. She did not respond, deep in sleep with her head on his shoulder. “Wake up, half-breed.” He nudged her lightly and she muttered something mostly incoherent about Jazz being a pervert. In her sleep she’d wrapped her arms around his torso and now used her grip on him to snuggle closer. “Natalie.” He tried again. Finally she responded.
Lifting her head slightly she whispered against his neck, “Ratchet, what’s with the siren?”
Barricade opened his mouth to correct her, but her lips were working against his synthesized skin and it was making his relays sing. He struggled to get sound out, but her hands were ghosting over his body and her teeth had found his ear lobe. She was obviously still half-asleep and considerably horny.
“Op-p-pen your eyes squishy.” Frenzy shattered the moment by tapping on the Plexiglas separating them. Natalie went stiff against him, unsure of what to do. Her hands were each respectively up his shirt and groping him through his pants, and everyone in the car was aware of the pheromones that were rolling off her in waves.
He could feel her mixed embarrassment and anger through the bond. In all honesty, it terrified him to realize how strongly her emotions were coming through to him. He’d felt her without even seeking her out. Perhaps the bond was getting stronger or they were more open when feeling strong emotions. Either way, the look that she was giving him and the sudden burst of hatefeardisgustarousal from her made it clear she’d felt exactly how large an effect her ministrations had had on him.
There was only one thing that could keep her from mauling him now: make a snarky remark before she gathered her wits enough to chew him out. But what to say?
“Fleshling...” He began, pausing as if to build tension but really only doing so to buy himself time. “...kindly remove yourself from my personal space.”
Barricade winced internally. As the humans said, that was weak.
But, weak or not, it had the desired effect. She scrambled to get back in the passenger seat and muttered, “Sorry. I was dreaming about Ratchet.”
“I noticed.” He tried to ignore the way she shifted against his seats and focus on the road ahead. “Speaking of whom, I need you to contact him.”
“Why?” Natalie frowned.
“To tell him we’re nearly there and find out the status of the battle.”
“Oh.”
***
“One thing’s for sure.” Wheeljack told him, wincing as he was lifted onto the repair berth.
“What’s that?” Ratchet asked distractedly, a little too busy for small talk.
“We won’t have to do much sneaking around after all this.” He chuckled good naturedly.
It was probably true. With all the witnesses, property damage, civilian death and reporters, their cover was beyond blown.
“This is going to hurt.” Ratchet replied, firing up his welding torch.
Wheeljack nodded and braced himself. Ratchet was quick to go to work, repairing the holes in the armor that had been created from what must have been shrapnel. Considering how thick the Chief Engineer’s armor was, the explosion that caused his injury must have been substantial...or he’d been right on top of it. More than likely, it was the latter.
It took less than five minutes to weld the temp armor patches on, and then he was ushering his old friend back out into the fray, making room for the next patient.
::Ratchet? Come in, Ratchet.::
He was surprised by the message, but it was a welcome distraction as he began patching severed energon lines on a minibot. ::I’m here, Natalie. Where are you?::
::Barricade says we’re about to cross the border via ferry.::
::So you really did run away with him. Why are you planning on crossing the border?::
::I have to rescue my friends, and Barricade thought you might need help. Plus we were getting tired of sitting around waiting for someone to tell us what was happening.::
Ratchet could relate. It was hard for a medic to gage how well a battle was going on account of not actually being in it. All he ever knew was the stories he was told by the often delusional (from system crashes) and sometimes shell-shocked wounded that came his way. He never dared try to contact Ironhide during a battle, because he never knew if he’d get a response, and if he didn’t...
::There have been a lot of injured all last night and all day today. That’s about as much as I can tell you. From the amount of gunfire and explosions I can hear, I’d say it’s pretty serious out there.::
He sent the newly repaired minibot back the way it came and started on his next patient.
::I’ll be there soon.::
::I’ll be waiting.::
::I love you.:: Natalie cursed herself from saying it. Things were weird enough between the four of them without her blurting such sentiments out randomly.
::Return to me safely, and I’ll take my time showing you how much I love you.:: He purred back. ::Now let me get back to work.::
Natalie shut off the comm link and leaned back in her seat.
“Well?” Barricade asked.
“What? Oh, uh, it sounds like there’s no end in sight.” She sighed.
“That could be very fortunate or a serious problem, depending on whether or not Frenzy will tell us what he knows...”
There was an interesting edge to Barricade’s voice that Natalie couldn’t quite interpret. Frenzy stared hard at the dashboard and she thought they might be having a conversation over a private comm link. Eventually he relaxed a little (for Frenzy, anyways) and turned his attention to her.
“Fine. Pay attn-ten-tention fleshy.”
Title: Medical
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: kinda sorta Ironhide/Ratchet
Summary: There comes a time in every bot's life when they must decide what their future will hold.
Warnings: Absurdly cute youngling!Ratchet, referrences to interfacing, mentions of a strip club
Disclaimer: Still don't own. Still don't make money. Still don't like lawsuits.
MEDICAL
A/N: For those who have forgotten, my version of Ratchet had a speech impediment when he was younger. I translated it into the form of a slur or lisp. Take it as you will.
Ratchet curled into Ironhide's side and shivered against the cool breeze that drifted across their frames where they lay on an out-cropping overlooking Iacon. The sun was setting making the sky glow a deep scarlet and the moons glint a pale orange. The immense steel structures of the metropolis below glinted beautifully in the light and, in the middle of it all, the sprawling grounds of the academy shown like a beacon.
"I can't wait until I'm there." Ironhide mused.
Ratchet didn't have to ask where "there" was. He knew already. No matter how long from now it was to be, Ironhide had set his eye on the academy long ago. It was the only place for him. His programming sang at the very sight of it shining amongst all of Iacon's glory, "There is where you will fulfill your prime directive."
"What do you want to shtudy?" Ratchet inquired, pressing closer to his friend's warmth against the soft wind.
"Combat." He grunted.
Ratchet rolled off his side and onto his front, resting his chin on Ironhide's chest so he could look him in the optics. "Everyone at the academy ish required to shtudy combat."
"I want to specialize in combat and weapons operation, but I knew you'd question whatever I replied with and all that would be too hard for you to say." He smirked.
"Go shlag yourself." Ratchet offlined his optics and enjoyed the warm sun against his plating. "Fine, so why do you want to sht..." He paused for a moment and then continued on slowly, "study combat and weapons operation?"
He powered his optics back up in time to see his older friend looking down on him with pride.
"Your speaking is getting so much better."
Ratchet beamed, then shivered again against another breeze. Ironhide gathered him close and they clung to each other. "I want to study combat so that I can protect you." He whispered, suddenly very tired.
"You already do that."
"I want to do it better."
"You don't need to." Ratchet murmured softly, feeling very much like he could slip into recharge there and then. He almost did too when they lapsed into silence. Ironhide's spark hummed soothingly below his chest plates and Ratchet had the odd urge to place his hands over it. He marveled at the warmth that coursed through him when he did, a sort of warm fuzzy feeling that made him feel totally at peace with the world. It was deeply fascinating and he suddenly wished he knew more about sparks, how they worked, what they were for, what it would look like or feel like and how did the Allspark know who to make you when it produced a spark?
"What do you want to study?" Ironhide asked. interrupting Ratchet's thoughts.
He sat up. "I don't need to shtudy anything! I just need a fasht alt mode and some durable treads!"
"Oh not this again. You don't seriously believe you could be a racer, do you?"
Ratchet jumped up, excited. "Of course I do! I'll be the fashtest bot on all of Cybertron!"
"Calm down! Your slurring gets so bad when you're excited!" Ironhide was on his feet too now.
"Make me, old-timer!"
"I'm only a vorn older than you!"
"That's enough!" Ratchet leered, then took off down the slope leading into the city. "You can't catch me!"
"We'll see about that!" Ironhide sped off after the younger mech, sliding down steep patches here and there to catch up.
It was dangerous to run down this hill, Ratchet's guardian had told him that, but she also said Ironhide was a good-for-nothing scrap heap and he'd never amount to anything if he spent all his time with the black mech. That's why Ratchet stopped listening to her. In fact, he thought Ironhide was the best thing that ever happened to him and so anything else his guardian said was bad for him he figured would actually do him good. So, running down this slope had to be good for something right? Maybe it was like training. His training to get faster than anyone else. He certainly was going pretty fast now. Ironhide was having trouble keeping up. In fact, he wasn't sure he could stop if he wanted to, he had so much momentum.
Oh slag.
He couldn't stop!
Well, they weren't that far from the bottom now, what could go wrong? He'd just wait until the slope leveled out and wait for 'Hide to catch up. They only problem was, Ironhide was much larger than Ratchet and was having trouble staying upright at such an angle. No sooner had the thought passed through his processor than he was tumbling downwards into Ratchet and they were rolling down together, scuffing and denting their protoforms painfully all along the way. It seemed to take forever to slow down and stop at the bottom, but when they did Ironhide found himself lying below Ratchet on the cold ground.
"Are you okay?!" He asked worriedly, checking the bot underneath him for injuries.
"Who cares about me? Are you okay?" Ironhide asked, wincing at the pain that shot through his frame when he sat up.
"I'm fine, but you're bleeding." Ratchet gestured to the energon leaking from his arms and wrists.
"It's nothing." He shrugged.
Ratchet frowned. "At least let me help you pound your dents out." He didn't wait for a reply before he went to work smoothing out the dings. It didn't take too long, and once he finished Ironhide praised him for his handiwork.
"Maybe you should be a medic instead of a racer." He laughed, sitting up.
"Maybe you should offline your vocalizer." Ratchet shot back. That little suggestion started an all-out brawl between the two, laughing and rolling around in the dirt, denting components further...
"Hey, kid?"
He snapped out of his thoughts as the mech before him waved a hand in front of his face. "Huh?"
"You gonna register or what? You're holding up the line."
Ratchet looked down at the datapad he was holding, all boxes checked except for the one specifying his area of specialized study. After a moment of hesitation he checked the appropriate box and handed the datapad over.
"A medic?" The mech academy's registration center asked, eyeing his flashy alt mode components skeptically. "You know we mean serious business here right? After graduation you'll probably be recruited and sent out into battle. You sure you can handle that?"
Ratchet nodded. "I am."
"Alright then. You're all done."
The now medical student retreated outside and gazed up at the out-cropping that had so recently occupied his thoughts.
"Hey." Ironhide came up from behind. "What are you doing here?"
"Registering." Ratchet replied, turning to face him.
"What? Why? I thought you had other plans." Ironhide frowned. "You know we'll still be friends even if you don't come to school with me."
"Yeah, I know." Ratchet shook his head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him down the street to the nearest bar.
"So what did you register for?"
"Medical."
"A medic?!" Ironhide stopped dead in his tracks. Ratchet had always been a caretaker for everyone around him, and often expressed interest in anatomy and physiology, but never had Ironhide expected this. "Why?!?"
"So I can protect you." Ratchet chuckled. "In the mean time, let's go find a party to crash, you look like you could use a drink...or several."
That snapped Ironhide out of his stupor. "You know, I heard about this new place in the red light district..."
"You mean the one where the mechs actually overload each other on stage?"
"You want to go?"
"Do you like big guns?"
"That's an affirmative."