moar, moar, MOAR D
Title: Home is Where the Hatchet Is
Chapter 6: Understanding
Author: Velvet_Infinity
Warnings: Sexual Assault
Chapter Rating: M
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A/N!: So, I am craving art. If anyone wants to do art for this I would be eternally grateful! For like... EVER! LOL.
Chapter 6: Understanding
It had been two orns. Two. Fragging. ORNS! Ratchet was seriously getting tired of his personal shadows. He was on edge and he knew it. Oh, the pranking sure as frag didn't stop and that was wearing on his every nerve diode as well. Especially since they were getting far more dangerous. Just yesterday he had walked out of his medbay and he was positive that if he hadn't stopped just in the frame of the door to turn back and address his assistant, Overscore, then the bucket of tools would have landed on his helm. That would have hurt. A lot. Not to mention that they were tools he had been missing for several orns. Sideswipe had been entirely unrepentant, although he took his brig time without hardly any fuss.
And that was another thing. Neither Sunstreaker nor Sideswipe was ever in the brig at the same time anymore. And if they were they really did kick up a fuss. A loud one at that. It just didn't make sense to Ratchet at all. Especially since when one twin was locked in, the other was either shadowing the medic or was at least close by.
As if the two of them weren't bad enough, however, it seemed that Soundscape had made it his personal mission to publicly mock the CMO whenever there was a bot around who would listen. Which were mostly the new recruits, many of the senior staff and those who had been here awhile ignoring his angry tirades completely. Ratchet was almost out of his admittedly short reserve of patience.
"Your optic is twitching." Ratchet didn't even turn to look at the red twin, who was currently sitting on a berth with a busted knee servo. How it had happened was remaining vague, all the frontliner supplying by way as explanation that he had an 'accident'.
Which normally meant he had either gotten into a fight with his brother or had been in a sparring match without bothering to be careful.
"Seriously. Your optic is really twitching out. Did you refuel today?"
Ratchet turned to regard the red hellion. "Yes Sideswipe. I did. No, I will not go get more energon. Why? Because you have most likely put something in the dispenser or rigged it to spray me, or blow up. Nice try. Get out."
"But doo~ooc!" Sideswipe whined. "My knee!"
"Is fine now. You know the rules. You're most likely going to break them anyways. So get out."
Sideswipe looked like he was about to argue, or come up with another excuse to stay when the open comm. went off.
:- Sideswipe, you have exactly two kliks tah get yer sorry red aft up here, or ah'm coming for you mahself!-: Ironhide did not sound happy.
Ratchet gave the prankster a look. Sideswipe ignored it and glanced around the empty medbay, almost looking worried. Probably because he was watching to see if maybe Ironhide was already in the medical bay ready to tear him a new exhaust port. Ratchet growled.
"Go, Sideswipe."
The frontline warrior gave him an irritated look before shrugging and striding to the doors. He reached them just as they cycled open, glancing once more at the empty room, his optics staring at Ratchet hard for a moment. The good doctor was already ignoring him, cleaning his supplies at one of the back sinks. Checking to see if the halls were clear, Sideswipe sent a quiet message to his brother and left.
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It was quiet, for once. No Sideswipe annoying him with his constant tirade of useless fact or his highly immature pranks. No Sunstreaker grumbling to himself as he polished his armor to an even brighter sheen than the polishing he'd given himself only moments before. No optics tracking his every move, glancing at the medbay doors, growling at every patient that walked through them… just quiet. A rarity to be enjoyed.
So why was he feeling so on edge?
Ratchet couldn't stop the shiver that raveled down the length of his spinal strut. He didn't like this. This was really odd because he had just been hoping for a reason that neither twin would be hovering just behind his shoulder. Sunstreaker was on duty and Sideswipe had just been called away, in trouble because of who knew what… The sound of the door cycling open caught his attention and Ratchet turned, customary scowl in place.
He nearly dropped his tools with the surge of fury mixed with slight fear that flowed through his lines.
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"Look! I'm telling you it wasn't me!" Sideswipe huffed, his arms crossed firmly across his chassis. "Not this time!"
Ironhide looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Kid, yah have about five kliks to make me believe this har prank wasn't yahrs."
Sideswipe looked around the absolutely demolished weapons room. If Hatchet was the total picture of a pristine medbay, than Ironhide was his counterpart when it came to the weapons room. The weapons were always categorized by model, size and the punch it packed. The cleaning supplies were never far from the weapons wrack, and there were always the parts that could be spared for maintenance.
Now, however, the entire room was turned upside down. The practice weapons were covered in a bright green paint, locks jammed with the drying goo. Many of the parts for maintenance were scattered all along the floor, while many of the actual weapons were uncategorized or laying willy-nilly on the benches. And Sideswipe was thoroughly insulted that he would have been accused of such a childish prank. Really. He was FAR smoother than this.
Oh, and it was pretty dangerous too. Couldn't forget that. Not even Sideswipe was stupid enough to risk a weapon that may be used in battle.
"Okay, first of all, whoever did this must have bolts for a CPU because this was way too obvious to gain any form of satisfaction from. Seriously? Green paint? It would have looked far better in bright neon pink. I agree this place needs more color, but that's the wrong choice. Second, how the frag could I have done this before this cycle? I was on duty! You know, up in communications with Blaster as punishment for the magnetized berth we put in Hatchet's medbay that he was stuck to for the better part of last orn?"
That gave Ironhide pause and the dark, tear-you-limb-from-limb look faltered.
"Ask Red, if you don't believe me." Sideswipe muttered.
"Ah think ah will…" Ironhide muttered, clicking on his comm. "Hey, Red? I got a question for ya…"
Sideswipe ignored the conversation, still looking around. It was obvious that this prank was meant to get him into trouble. Why though, he couldn't figure out. He was pretty good at fragging mechs off, sure, but he was just as good at getting back into their good graces.
"Alright, kid. Yahr good to go." Ironhide growled, obviously embarrassed at having made the wrong conclusion.
Sideswipe shrugged. He's find out who did it later. For now, he needed to get back to the medical bay. No telling where that noble fragger would strike next. True, he wasn't big on the medic, but he would be the first to admit that he was far more preferred than any noble mech. And the idea of forced affections or just forced anything didn't sit well with his tanks. No matter who was on the receiving end… well… maybe not a Decepticon.
His thoughts were interrupted somewhere halfway between his destination and the weapons room when he felt his brother's angry prod over their bond. :: Get your aft back to the medbay, Sideswipe!NOW!::
The image that accompanied the words was enough to have Sideswipe bolting down the hall.
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Ratchet stood silently, his grip around his wrench tight enough it would have dented metal had he been holding onto someone's servo. He wasn't scared. Maybe a little bit, but this wasn't the first time he'd ever had to deal with his type of mech.
"What the frag do you want, Soundscape?" He growled, thankfully sounding more intimidating than he felt at the moment.
The dark purple noble shrugged nonchalantly, his servos clasped behind his back, his expression feigning bored and haughty all at once. In Ratchet's opinion it made the mech look extremely unattractive. Not that Ratchet was the least bit attracted to him to begin with, but the mech was aesthetically pleasing. And nothing else. Unfortunately, even the least bit of attention registered at interest to the brat. Soundscape seemed perfectly at ease, glancing around the medbay. The extremely empty medbay which had only seemed so pleasing mere kliks ago.
"Do I really need a reason to come and visit you, doctor? Other than I may be injured."
"What do you think after last metacycle (week)?"
"That was…" A lazy wave of the wrist. "An unfortunate time. You see, I wasn't quite in my right frame of mind and I assumed that with all the … rejections… I was receiving was simply you playing hard to get." A coy smile lit his features, further cementing the unattractiveness of it all.
Ratchet snorted. "And I suppose that my telling you outright that I was not interested was 'playing hard to get' as well?" It didn't escape his notice that the Towers mech was making his way closer. Ratchet moved to put a berth between them.
The coy smile faltered, a flash of barely there anger here and gone again in the gold optics. "Yes, well, I merely believed that you were embarrassed. Or in disbelief that I would return your… affections."
"What affections?" Ratchet grumbled, the question completely rhetorical.
Soundscape was now standing on the exact opposite side of the berth, still out of reaching range. Ratchet refused to back up any further. He may be a medic, but he was no coward. The noble mech was staring intently into the shiny surface of the berth, no doubt enjoying his reflection.
"So?" Ratchet began, working on any excuse to get the mech out of the medbay and away from him.
Soundscape looked up curiously. "So?"
"What are you in here for? You don't seem injured."
"Oh, well, it's not much…"
Ratchet frowned. "Get on with it, Soundscape. I don't have all slagging cycle!" He growled, trying to keep things business. "Let me guess. Strained cables? Chipped paint? Bad defrag dump? Achy plating…"
The wicked smile forming across the taller mech's faceplates was disturbing and Ratchet trailed off, staring warily at the noble.
"Oh…" Soundscape purred. "I ache." And lightening quick, he was lurching across the berth, grabbing a startled Ratchet and yanking him roughly to pin him to the berth he had been attempting to use as a barricade between them. "I ache for you…"
"You…!" Ratchet immediately began to struggle, his entire frame twisting even as Soundscape crawled atop him to pin him down with his superior mass. "You triple-defunct, crank-shafted, motherboard, scrap yard REJECT! Get off of me!"
"Pretty impressive vocabulary." Soundscape grunted although he looked far from impressed. "But I don't think you get it. When I want something," Ratchet yelped in slight pain and anger when the noble ground his digits into Ratchet's palms to pin them more firmly. "I get it."
"I don't think you get it." A very familiar, very angry voice said from off to their right, and although Ratchet would never admit to another spark, he felt a surge of relief as the constricting weight was hauled off of him and revealed a furious Sideswipe with a dangling Soundscape in his grip. "When I say hands off!" The last part was practically snarled.
Sideswipe shoved the other mech away, taking immense satisfaction out of the undignified squeak that left the fragger's vocalizer. In the same movement, he reached out at bodily removed the CMO from the berth (also immensely satisfied with the undignified yelp) and placed him behind him. If anybot, anybot, got to antagonize the docbot is was Sunstreaker and him! Sideswipe made to advance, cracking the joints in his servos forebodingly.
Soundscape backed away a little, his faceplates terrified although he seemed to be stubbornly holding onto his pride. "You wouldn't dar-"
"Try. Me."
As it turned out, luck was on the nobles side, if only this once. The alarms blared, drowning out the horrified whine that had escaped Soundscape's mouth.
:- The Decepticons are attacking! All Autobots to their stations IMMEDIATELY! This is not a drill! I repeat - NOT A DRILL!-:
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They had both seen it happen. Even if they didn't give a flying frag one way or another, the fact remained that it had happened.
The Decepticons had decided to stop playing turbofox and had even acquired the ball bearings to attack the Ark while it had been docked in what was left of the ship yards in Iacon for repairs. Nobody quite knew just how so many Decepticons made it through their first defenses on the outer edges of the dockyard, but they had. For whatever reason, first step warning sensors had not been tripped, but they thanked their lucky stars that the second ones had. It had given them just enough time to at least formulate some form of immediate defense.
Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been near the doors of one of the lookout shelters when Sideswipe had felt the pleased vindication from his brother. He remembered turning his helm to look, and he remembered answering Sunstreaker's satisfaction with a wave of his own. Even if Soundscape was already being pulled to safety after taking a direct shot to his spark. It wasn't long after that before the Decepticons were calling a 'strategical retreat'. Meaning they hadn't been prepared for the aft whooping they were handed. Not that the Autobots had come out unscathed either. Currently, the Twins were sitting in a packed and noisy medbay, monitors flatlining or beeping okays, medics and medic aides shouting at each other, wounded soldiers crying out in pain… Sideswipe ahd gotten lucky and had made out with only superficial damage though it was far from comfortable. Sunstreaker was slightly less lucky, his arm having been torn off by an overzealous 'Con. Sideswipe had to admit though that it was comical to see his brother merely rip his arm back and use it as a bludgeon to beat the 'Con's helm in.
Even so, they were both far from happy. Two berths away, Ratchet was frantically trying to keep the dying Soundscape from offlining. He was shouting instructions over the din, using every tool Sideswipe had ever hidden and more.
It didn't even make sense!
The noble glitch had assaulted the medical officer twice. Would have gone father than merely pawing at plating if the Twins hadn't come along and saved his sorry aft.
And he was trying to save him?
Sideswipe was fuming. Sunstreaker was furious. Fine! See if they ever tried to help him again! The stupid half-clocked medic could take care of himself next time. He seemed to like doing that anyway.
"No, no, no, NO!"
The sudden shout was accompanied by the long low beep of a monitor that had flat lined. There were a few frantic moments in which the medics rushed back and forth, doing their best to bring the monitor back to life. It was in vain. After a few moments of trying, of curses and pleas, that area of the medbay fell silent. Or as silent as it could be with the other noises in the medbay. Without another word, Ratchet motioned that the graying frame be lifted from the medberth, making room for the next invalid in need of repairs.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe watched with little interest as the frame was hauled from the berth and carted away. Ratchet passed by them and Sunstreaker was about to retort something nasty, still quite fragged over the entire situation, when he caught sight of the absolutely blank look in the medic's optics. He shut his mouth and turned away, not quite sure why he suddenly felt like he would rather be outside with his arm being torn off again than be in here and face that look. Beside him, Sideswipe couldn't agree more.
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It was late in the cycle. The worst was over, the injured all in quarters or in the medbay respectively. Which was why Sunstreaker was currently dragging his brother through the empty halls and to the washwracks. It was the perfect time to hit the shower and bring his scratched and faded frame back into pristine condition. And he had pretty much dragged Sideswipe with him for the hard to reach places. Not to mention he was tired of his counterpart and his less than abysmal self hygiene.
And with the wracks empty, it was the perfect time.
Sunstreaker halted with a scowl, the sound of water hitting tile reaching his audios. Well, frag. Now he had to share. That was just fan-fragging-tastic. Not. Still, he wasn't about to go another joor without his paint fixed and his armor waxed to a shine. Company or no.
If they were smart they would leave. Sideswipe seemed to hear the water too and he smirked. Maybe he might be able to make something of this crappy orn! Somebot was due a prank.
Or that was what they had been thinking. Up until they actually stepped in, Sideswipe with his normal 'I'm-up-to-something' grin and Sunstreaker with a haughty sneer. The sight of the CMO curled up in the fetal position, planes of his knees digging into his faceplates and arms curled around his shins, sitting under the one running faucet, was enough to give anybot pause.
The Twins exchanged looks of alarm, and stood in the door awkwardly. What did they do in a situation like this? Was it normal for the Chief Medical Officer to be curled up like a sparkling in the washwracks this late in the cycle?
Neither of them was sure what to do. Which was why Sideswipe's voice was not shaking when he asked, "Ratchet?"
The medic started, his helm flying from where it had been buried against his knees, optics cycled wide in alarm and open distress. And Sideswipe couldn't tell with the solvent running over the medic's frame, but he could have sworn that he could see the evidence that Ratchet had been crying!
What the frag?
"The pit's wrong with you?" Sunstreaker snorted, obviously still nonplussed with the aftermath of the battle.
Ratchet flinched, his optics refocusing on his knees, not answering. Sunstreaker frowned, Sideswipe tilted his head in curiosity. That was… not the reaction either had been expecting. Screaming and yelling, sure. Maybe a cleanser bottle or two thrown at their helms. This was slightly... disconcerting.
"Ratch?" Sideswipe reached out, not sure if maybe he should touch or bolt the other way and look for somebot who might know what the slag was going on. "do you want me to get Overscore? Maybe Patch…"
"I couldn't do anything."
Sunstreaker's optic ridges went up. "Excuse me?"
The medic was now staring at his hands, which were being held in air, palms facing their owner. Sideswipe could now see by the solvent that was being shaken off the very tips that the medic was trembling. "I couldn't do anything." He repeated, quieter.
"What are you on about?" Sunstreaker demanded, never quite having mastered basic social awareness.
However Ratchet carried on, as if never having heard him, still staring at his servos numbly. "He was right there. There were so many things going wrong, too many things I should have been able to stop." The trembling in his servos had turned into full body tremors, his vocalizer hitching over every other word. "I tried. I tried, I really did, but…" The wail that erupted from the medic had both frontliners stumbling backwards in alarm.
Yet, even as the panic set in, even as the complete wrongness of the sight of the proud CMO crushing his servos against his face burned itself into their memory banks, a completely alien feeling wrapped itself around the Twins' sparks.
Understanding. Ratchet did try. He tried his pit hardest with everything he had to keep the occupants of the Ark healthy and in repairs. It didn't matter that they wronged him, pranked him, yelled at him, insulted him, feared him… He still didn't stop caring. Even over pit-fragged motherboard glitches like Soundscape. Because that's just who Ratchet was.
Slowly, almost unwilling to believe he was even doing it, Sideswipe knelt in front of the distressed mech, onyx servos closing over cherry ones and gently, but firmly, pulling them away. "There was nothing you could do Ratchet." He said softly.
Sunstreaker, for his part, had sat down beside the mech curled in the corner. When Ratchet tried to yank his servos out of his brother's grip, his own golden ones curled awkwardly around the red-crossed shoulders and pulled the smaller mech against his side. His brother glanced at him in shock, but he refused to look at him, instead focusing on the silent sobs that wracked the smaller frame.
Because if he was honest with himself, he cared. Even if only for the stability he got from having the ornery mech in his life. And he could at least do this much. He ignored the indulgent smile that was spreading across his brother's face as the crimson mech settled himself on Ratchet's other side, pressing the red and white mech between them.
Neither ever spoke of what happened that cycle to anybot. Afterall, it was Ratchet's own piece of the war. One that nobot needed to know about.
I don't know about you guys, but this was by far my favorite chapter! Reviews please? I would love to have your feedback! Maybe even theories on what happens in upcoming chapters. I've had people pm me with amusing ones XD
Chapter 6: Understanding
Author: Velvet_Infinity
Warnings: Sexual Assault
Chapter Rating: M
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A/N!: So, I am craving art. If anyone wants to do art for this I would be eternally grateful! For like... EVER! LOL.
Chapter 6: Understanding
It had been two orns. Two. Fragging. ORNS! Ratchet was seriously getting tired of his personal shadows. He was on edge and he knew it. Oh, the pranking sure as frag didn't stop and that was wearing on his every nerve diode as well. Especially since they were getting far more dangerous. Just yesterday he had walked out of his medbay and he was positive that if he hadn't stopped just in the frame of the door to turn back and address his assistant, Overscore, then the bucket of tools would have landed on his helm. That would have hurt. A lot. Not to mention that they were tools he had been missing for several orns. Sideswipe had been entirely unrepentant, although he took his brig time without hardly any fuss.
And that was another thing. Neither Sunstreaker nor Sideswipe was ever in the brig at the same time anymore. And if they were they really did kick up a fuss. A loud one at that. It just didn't make sense to Ratchet at all. Especially since when one twin was locked in, the other was either shadowing the medic or was at least close by.
As if the two of them weren't bad enough, however, it seemed that Soundscape had made it his personal mission to publicly mock the CMO whenever there was a bot around who would listen. Which were mostly the new recruits, many of the senior staff and those who had been here awhile ignoring his angry tirades completely. Ratchet was almost out of his admittedly short reserve of patience.
"Your optic is twitching." Ratchet didn't even turn to look at the red twin, who was currently sitting on a berth with a busted knee servo. How it had happened was remaining vague, all the frontliner supplying by way as explanation that he had an 'accident'.
Which normally meant he had either gotten into a fight with his brother or had been in a sparring match without bothering to be careful.
"Seriously. Your optic is really twitching out. Did you refuel today?"
Ratchet turned to regard the red hellion. "Yes Sideswipe. I did. No, I will not go get more energon. Why? Because you have most likely put something in the dispenser or rigged it to spray me, or blow up. Nice try. Get out."
"But doo~ooc!" Sideswipe whined. "My knee!"
"Is fine now. You know the rules. You're most likely going to break them anyways. So get out."
Sideswipe looked like he was about to argue, or come up with another excuse to stay when the open comm. went off.
:- Sideswipe, you have exactly two kliks tah get yer sorry red aft up here, or ah'm coming for you mahself!-: Ironhide did not sound happy.
Ratchet gave the prankster a look. Sideswipe ignored it and glanced around the empty medbay, almost looking worried. Probably because he was watching to see if maybe Ironhide was already in the medical bay ready to tear him a new exhaust port. Ratchet growled.
"Go, Sideswipe."
The frontline warrior gave him an irritated look before shrugging and striding to the doors. He reached them just as they cycled open, glancing once more at the empty room, his optics staring at Ratchet hard for a moment. The good doctor was already ignoring him, cleaning his supplies at one of the back sinks. Checking to see if the halls were clear, Sideswipe sent a quiet message to his brother and left.
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It was quiet, for once. No Sideswipe annoying him with his constant tirade of useless fact or his highly immature pranks. No Sunstreaker grumbling to himself as he polished his armor to an even brighter sheen than the polishing he'd given himself only moments before. No optics tracking his every move, glancing at the medbay doors, growling at every patient that walked through them… just quiet. A rarity to be enjoyed.
So why was he feeling so on edge?
Ratchet couldn't stop the shiver that raveled down the length of his spinal strut. He didn't like this. This was really odd because he had just been hoping for a reason that neither twin would be hovering just behind his shoulder. Sunstreaker was on duty and Sideswipe had just been called away, in trouble because of who knew what… The sound of the door cycling open caught his attention and Ratchet turned, customary scowl in place.
He nearly dropped his tools with the surge of fury mixed with slight fear that flowed through his lines.
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"Look! I'm telling you it wasn't me!" Sideswipe huffed, his arms crossed firmly across his chassis. "Not this time!"
Ironhide looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Kid, yah have about five kliks to make me believe this har prank wasn't yahrs."
Sideswipe looked around the absolutely demolished weapons room. If Hatchet was the total picture of a pristine medbay, than Ironhide was his counterpart when it came to the weapons room. The weapons were always categorized by model, size and the punch it packed. The cleaning supplies were never far from the weapons wrack, and there were always the parts that could be spared for maintenance.
Now, however, the entire room was turned upside down. The practice weapons were covered in a bright green paint, locks jammed with the drying goo. Many of the parts for maintenance were scattered all along the floor, while many of the actual weapons were uncategorized or laying willy-nilly on the benches. And Sideswipe was thoroughly insulted that he would have been accused of such a childish prank. Really. He was FAR smoother than this.
Oh, and it was pretty dangerous too. Couldn't forget that. Not even Sideswipe was stupid enough to risk a weapon that may be used in battle.
"Okay, first of all, whoever did this must have bolts for a CPU because this was way too obvious to gain any form of satisfaction from. Seriously? Green paint? It would have looked far better in bright neon pink. I agree this place needs more color, but that's the wrong choice. Second, how the frag could I have done this before this cycle? I was on duty! You know, up in communications with Blaster as punishment for the magnetized berth we put in Hatchet's medbay that he was stuck to for the better part of last orn?"
That gave Ironhide pause and the dark, tear-you-limb-from-limb look faltered.
"Ask Red, if you don't believe me." Sideswipe muttered.
"Ah think ah will…" Ironhide muttered, clicking on his comm. "Hey, Red? I got a question for ya…"
Sideswipe ignored the conversation, still looking around. It was obvious that this prank was meant to get him into trouble. Why though, he couldn't figure out. He was pretty good at fragging mechs off, sure, but he was just as good at getting back into their good graces.
"Alright, kid. Yahr good to go." Ironhide growled, obviously embarrassed at having made the wrong conclusion.
Sideswipe shrugged. He's find out who did it later. For now, he needed to get back to the medical bay. No telling where that noble fragger would strike next. True, he wasn't big on the medic, but he would be the first to admit that he was far more preferred than any noble mech. And the idea of forced affections or just forced anything didn't sit well with his tanks. No matter who was on the receiving end… well… maybe not a Decepticon.
His thoughts were interrupted somewhere halfway between his destination and the weapons room when he felt his brother's angry prod over their bond. :: Get your aft back to the medbay, Sideswipe!NOW!::
The image that accompanied the words was enough to have Sideswipe bolting down the hall.
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Ratchet stood silently, his grip around his wrench tight enough it would have dented metal had he been holding onto someone's servo. He wasn't scared. Maybe a little bit, but this wasn't the first time he'd ever had to deal with his type of mech.
"What the frag do you want, Soundscape?" He growled, thankfully sounding more intimidating than he felt at the moment.
The dark purple noble shrugged nonchalantly, his servos clasped behind his back, his expression feigning bored and haughty all at once. In Ratchet's opinion it made the mech look extremely unattractive. Not that Ratchet was the least bit attracted to him to begin with, but the mech was aesthetically pleasing. And nothing else. Unfortunately, even the least bit of attention registered at interest to the brat. Soundscape seemed perfectly at ease, glancing around the medbay. The extremely empty medbay which had only seemed so pleasing mere kliks ago.
"Do I really need a reason to come and visit you, doctor? Other than I may be injured."
"What do you think after last metacycle (week)?"
"That was…" A lazy wave of the wrist. "An unfortunate time. You see, I wasn't quite in my right frame of mind and I assumed that with all the … rejections… I was receiving was simply you playing hard to get." A coy smile lit his features, further cementing the unattractiveness of it all.
Ratchet snorted. "And I suppose that my telling you outright that I was not interested was 'playing hard to get' as well?" It didn't escape his notice that the Towers mech was making his way closer. Ratchet moved to put a berth between them.
The coy smile faltered, a flash of barely there anger here and gone again in the gold optics. "Yes, well, I merely believed that you were embarrassed. Or in disbelief that I would return your… affections."
"What affections?" Ratchet grumbled, the question completely rhetorical.
Soundscape was now standing on the exact opposite side of the berth, still out of reaching range. Ratchet refused to back up any further. He may be a medic, but he was no coward. The noble mech was staring intently into the shiny surface of the berth, no doubt enjoying his reflection.
"So?" Ratchet began, working on any excuse to get the mech out of the medbay and away from him.
Soundscape looked up curiously. "So?"
"What are you in here for? You don't seem injured."
"Oh, well, it's not much…"
Ratchet frowned. "Get on with it, Soundscape. I don't have all slagging cycle!" He growled, trying to keep things business. "Let me guess. Strained cables? Chipped paint? Bad defrag dump? Achy plating…"
The wicked smile forming across the taller mech's faceplates was disturbing and Ratchet trailed off, staring warily at the noble.
"Oh…" Soundscape purred. "I ache." And lightening quick, he was lurching across the berth, grabbing a startled Ratchet and yanking him roughly to pin him to the berth he had been attempting to use as a barricade between them. "I ache for you…"
"You…!" Ratchet immediately began to struggle, his entire frame twisting even as Soundscape crawled atop him to pin him down with his superior mass. "You triple-defunct, crank-shafted, motherboard, scrap yard REJECT! Get off of me!"
"Pretty impressive vocabulary." Soundscape grunted although he looked far from impressed. "But I don't think you get it. When I want something," Ratchet yelped in slight pain and anger when the noble ground his digits into Ratchet's palms to pin them more firmly. "I get it."
"I don't think you get it." A very familiar, very angry voice said from off to their right, and although Ratchet would never admit to another spark, he felt a surge of relief as the constricting weight was hauled off of him and revealed a furious Sideswipe with a dangling Soundscape in his grip. "When I say hands off!" The last part was practically snarled.
Sideswipe shoved the other mech away, taking immense satisfaction out of the undignified squeak that left the fragger's vocalizer. In the same movement, he reached out at bodily removed the CMO from the berth (also immensely satisfied with the undignified yelp) and placed him behind him. If anybot, anybot, got to antagonize the docbot is was Sunstreaker and him! Sideswipe made to advance, cracking the joints in his servos forebodingly.
Soundscape backed away a little, his faceplates terrified although he seemed to be stubbornly holding onto his pride. "You wouldn't dar-"
"Try. Me."
As it turned out, luck was on the nobles side, if only this once. The alarms blared, drowning out the horrified whine that had escaped Soundscape's mouth.
:- The Decepticons are attacking! All Autobots to their stations IMMEDIATELY! This is not a drill! I repeat - NOT A DRILL!-:
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They had both seen it happen. Even if they didn't give a flying frag one way or another, the fact remained that it had happened.
The Decepticons had decided to stop playing turbofox and had even acquired the ball bearings to attack the Ark while it had been docked in what was left of the ship yards in Iacon for repairs. Nobody quite knew just how so many Decepticons made it through their first defenses on the outer edges of the dockyard, but they had. For whatever reason, first step warning sensors had not been tripped, but they thanked their lucky stars that the second ones had. It had given them just enough time to at least formulate some form of immediate defense.
Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been near the doors of one of the lookout shelters when Sideswipe had felt the pleased vindication from his brother. He remembered turning his helm to look, and he remembered answering Sunstreaker's satisfaction with a wave of his own. Even if Soundscape was already being pulled to safety after taking a direct shot to his spark. It wasn't long after that before the Decepticons were calling a 'strategical retreat'. Meaning they hadn't been prepared for the aft whooping they were handed. Not that the Autobots had come out unscathed either. Currently, the Twins were sitting in a packed and noisy medbay, monitors flatlining or beeping okays, medics and medic aides shouting at each other, wounded soldiers crying out in pain… Sideswipe ahd gotten lucky and had made out with only superficial damage though it was far from comfortable. Sunstreaker was slightly less lucky, his arm having been torn off by an overzealous 'Con. Sideswipe had to admit though that it was comical to see his brother merely rip his arm back and use it as a bludgeon to beat the 'Con's helm in.
Even so, they were both far from happy. Two berths away, Ratchet was frantically trying to keep the dying Soundscape from offlining. He was shouting instructions over the din, using every tool Sideswipe had ever hidden and more.
It didn't even make sense!
The noble glitch had assaulted the medical officer twice. Would have gone father than merely pawing at plating if the Twins hadn't come along and saved his sorry aft.
And he was trying to save him?
Sideswipe was fuming. Sunstreaker was furious. Fine! See if they ever tried to help him again! The stupid half-clocked medic could take care of himself next time. He seemed to like doing that anyway.
"No, no, no, NO!"
The sudden shout was accompanied by the long low beep of a monitor that had flat lined. There were a few frantic moments in which the medics rushed back and forth, doing their best to bring the monitor back to life. It was in vain. After a few moments of trying, of curses and pleas, that area of the medbay fell silent. Or as silent as it could be with the other noises in the medbay. Without another word, Ratchet motioned that the graying frame be lifted from the medberth, making room for the next invalid in need of repairs.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe watched with little interest as the frame was hauled from the berth and carted away. Ratchet passed by them and Sunstreaker was about to retort something nasty, still quite fragged over the entire situation, when he caught sight of the absolutely blank look in the medic's optics. He shut his mouth and turned away, not quite sure why he suddenly felt like he would rather be outside with his arm being torn off again than be in here and face that look. Beside him, Sideswipe couldn't agree more.
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It was late in the cycle. The worst was over, the injured all in quarters or in the medbay respectively. Which was why Sunstreaker was currently dragging his brother through the empty halls and to the washwracks. It was the perfect time to hit the shower and bring his scratched and faded frame back into pristine condition. And he had pretty much dragged Sideswipe with him for the hard to reach places. Not to mention he was tired of his counterpart and his less than abysmal self hygiene.
And with the wracks empty, it was the perfect time.
Sunstreaker halted with a scowl, the sound of water hitting tile reaching his audios. Well, frag. Now he had to share. That was just fan-fragging-tastic. Not. Still, he wasn't about to go another joor without his paint fixed and his armor waxed to a shine. Company or no.
If they were smart they would leave. Sideswipe seemed to hear the water too and he smirked. Maybe he might be able to make something of this crappy orn! Somebot was due a prank.
Or that was what they had been thinking. Up until they actually stepped in, Sideswipe with his normal 'I'm-up-to-something' grin and Sunstreaker with a haughty sneer. The sight of the CMO curled up in the fetal position, planes of his knees digging into his faceplates and arms curled around his shins, sitting under the one running faucet, was enough to give anybot pause.
The Twins exchanged looks of alarm, and stood in the door awkwardly. What did they do in a situation like this? Was it normal for the Chief Medical Officer to be curled up like a sparkling in the washwracks this late in the cycle?
Neither of them was sure what to do. Which was why Sideswipe's voice was not shaking when he asked, "Ratchet?"
The medic started, his helm flying from where it had been buried against his knees, optics cycled wide in alarm and open distress. And Sideswipe couldn't tell with the solvent running over the medic's frame, but he could have sworn that he could see the evidence that Ratchet had been crying!
What the frag?
"The pit's wrong with you?" Sunstreaker snorted, obviously still nonplussed with the aftermath of the battle.
Ratchet flinched, his optics refocusing on his knees, not answering. Sunstreaker frowned, Sideswipe tilted his head in curiosity. That was… not the reaction either had been expecting. Screaming and yelling, sure. Maybe a cleanser bottle or two thrown at their helms. This was slightly... disconcerting.
"Ratch?" Sideswipe reached out, not sure if maybe he should touch or bolt the other way and look for somebot who might know what the slag was going on. "do you want me to get Overscore? Maybe Patch…"
"I couldn't do anything."
Sunstreaker's optic ridges went up. "Excuse me?"
The medic was now staring at his hands, which were being held in air, palms facing their owner. Sideswipe could now see by the solvent that was being shaken off the very tips that the medic was trembling. "I couldn't do anything." He repeated, quieter.
"What are you on about?" Sunstreaker demanded, never quite having mastered basic social awareness.
However Ratchet carried on, as if never having heard him, still staring at his servos numbly. "He was right there. There were so many things going wrong, too many things I should have been able to stop." The trembling in his servos had turned into full body tremors, his vocalizer hitching over every other word. "I tried. I tried, I really did, but…" The wail that erupted from the medic had both frontliners stumbling backwards in alarm.
Yet, even as the panic set in, even as the complete wrongness of the sight of the proud CMO crushing his servos against his face burned itself into their memory banks, a completely alien feeling wrapped itself around the Twins' sparks.
Understanding. Ratchet did try. He tried his pit hardest with everything he had to keep the occupants of the Ark healthy and in repairs. It didn't matter that they wronged him, pranked him, yelled at him, insulted him, feared him… He still didn't stop caring. Even over pit-fragged motherboard glitches like Soundscape. Because that's just who Ratchet was.
Slowly, almost unwilling to believe he was even doing it, Sideswipe knelt in front of the distressed mech, onyx servos closing over cherry ones and gently, but firmly, pulling them away. "There was nothing you could do Ratchet." He said softly.
Sunstreaker, for his part, had sat down beside the mech curled in the corner. When Ratchet tried to yank his servos out of his brother's grip, his own golden ones curled awkwardly around the red-crossed shoulders and pulled the smaller mech against his side. His brother glanced at him in shock, but he refused to look at him, instead focusing on the silent sobs that wracked the smaller frame.
Because if he was honest with himself, he cared. Even if only for the stability he got from having the ornery mech in his life. And he could at least do this much. He ignored the indulgent smile that was spreading across his brother's face as the crimson mech settled himself on Ratchet's other side, pressing the red and white mech between them.
Neither ever spoke of what happened that cycle to anybot. Afterall, it was Ratchet's own piece of the war. One that nobot needed to know about.
I don't know about you guys, but this was by far my favorite chapter! Reviews please? I would love to have your feedback! Maybe even theories on what happens in upcoming chapters. I've had people pm me with amusing ones XD