TF: Heat
Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Pairings: Wheeljack/Ratchet/Hound
Summary: There’s a unusual smell around the Ark. Everyone’s noticed except Ratchet.
Warnings: Allusions to intimacy.
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: For the tf_speedwriting Saturday 26th February prompt - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfeVEAZkJqM&NR=1
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Prompt: 3
Time: 45 minutes
The first time he caught a whiff of the scent, he thought he was going mad. A well-known fact that receptive Cybertronians released a chemical pheromone to announce their cycle, there hadn’t been a receptive Cybertronian for years. The war had seen to that; most cycles were either disrupted or medically suppressed as there was no need to advertise the receptive cycle.
But with the time spent on Earth, and the slow down of attacks, evidently some mech’s cycle had started.
And Hound was determined to find out who’s before it drove him mad.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ratchet went about his daily duties, checking inventory and filing reports as normal. He didn’t register anything different. Fine, there might have been a few more non-serious injuries through than normal, but he didn’t pay it much attention. With the lull in fighting, he expected mechs to start rough-housing and get the sort of injuries they had been trotting into his medbay with.
“Ratch’…” Wheeljack sounded nervous, something completely unlike him. Ratchet put down his datapad and looked up.
“What?”
“Have you ever wanted to do something, but have never been sure about the response?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking…” Wheeljack moved closer. “… about the fact that you’re on cycle. And I want you.”
“What!?” Alarmed, Ratchet stepped back, away from Wheeljack, running a quick systems check. It was true, he was receptive, and his creator-caretaker protocols had come online.
“Oh frag…” He mumbled, covering his optics with his hands. Suddenly, the increase in mechs in the medbay throughout the day made sense.
“Yeah…” Wheeljack made his way closer, taking advantage of the fact that Ratchet couldn’t see. He tugged gently on Ratchet’s arms, forcing the medic to look at him. “Is it really that bad?”
“No…” Ratchet said after a moments thought. “It’s just that I didn’t have any idea, and I didn’t think and…” Wheeljack stopped the nervous rambling with a kiss.
Before he knew what was happening, Wheeljack had him on a berth, straddling him and cutting off any complaints with more kisses. He slowly relaxed under Wheeljack’s sure fingers, arching as they dug under his plating to tease at the wires and sensors beneath.
“You have no idea how good you smell, Ratch’.” Wheeljack murmured, peppering Ratchet’s frame with kisses.
“And you have no idea how good you look.” Hound’s voice interrupted them and Ratchet pushed ineffectually at Wheeljack.
“Mine.” Wheeljack turned and practically growled at Hound.
“Only because you found him first.” Hound pointed out.
“Which is why he’s mine.”
“I’m not anybody’s.” Ratchet tried to point out, only to dissolve into a moan when Wheeljack tweaked a wire in his hip.
“So you have him first.” Hound shrugged, turning to lock the medbay doors.
“You are not sharing me!” Ratchet protested, pushing at Wheeljack again, succeeding in shoving the engineer away from him.
“Oh?” Hound crossed the medbay, coming to stand at the head of the berth. Ratchet was trapped between the two of them. Wheeljack looked at Hound. Hound looked at Wheeljack. Ratchet stared at both of them.
“You’re not seriously going to do this…?”
“Relax, Ratchet. I promise you’ll enjoy every minute of it.” Wheeljack shimmied forward on the berth, forcing Ratchet backwards.
“We promise…” Hound amended, wrapping his arms around Ratchet and nuzzling against his neck. Any complaint Ratchet might have made was lost as his interface systems all fired online at once.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Oh come on. Open the doors already!” Sunstreaker growled, pounding against the medbay doors. Wheeljack stirred enough to look at the doors and shrug before he settled back down against Ratchet.
“We know you’re in there, Ratchet. And we know you’re on cycle.” Sideswipe called out, ever the master of subtlety.
“Frag off.” Ratchet onlined long enough to shout at both of them, before his overtaxed systems took him straight back offline. Hound looked at Wheeljack. Wheeljack looked at Hound. And they both grinned at one another.