[G1] Apple a Day - Double Date
a/n: Dear Primus it's an update. I can hardly believe it myself. :) This has been a long time coming and I'm sorry it took so long. I got distracted by other projects. I am easily led astray. This is self-betaed. Please enjoy!
Title: Double Date
Universe: Apple a Day, G1
Characters: RatchetxTwins, OptimusxIronhide
Rating: T
Warnings: a kiss
Description: The courtship continues and Sideswipe didn't read the book. Luckily, Sunstreaker did.
Lounging on the berth with one of his novel datapads, Sideswipe listlessly pages through the short story selection. He's read them all before, twice even, and he liked them, but he wants something new and exciting.
He's bored.
At their shared desk, fingers tap-tapping on Teletraan's console, Sunstreaker looks equally unenthused. Then again, Sunstreaker rarely looks enthused so it can be hard to tell.
“What do you want to do today?” Sunstreaker asks. They really ought to take advantage of this shared off-shift.
Sideswipe grins, flopping over onto his back. “The same thing we do every day, Sunny.”
A slow, suspicious turn of his helm and Sunstreaker gives Sideswipe a long look. “Which is?”
“Try to take over the world!” Sideswipe gives his brother a thumbs up.
Shaking his helm, Sunstreaker sighs and returns to the console. “Idiot.”
“And yet you love me anyway!”
“That's because love is blind,” Sunstreaker says, and his lips curl up into a smirk. “And apparently stupid.”
Sideswipe jerks upright, pinning his twin with a glare. “Hey!”
“If the paint job fits...” Sunstreaker trails off, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as his figure on screen mercilessly pummels his opponent.
Someone chimes their door. Sideswipe cycles his optics, looking toward it. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“Am I ever expecting anyone?” Sunstreaker retorts.
Sideswipe hops off the berth, fully expecting to see Smokescreen or Bluestreak or Bumblebee or... “Ratchet,” he says as the door opens, revealing the white medic. “And Ironhide.” Does he sound confused? Because he is.
“Prime's here, too,” the red warrior drawls, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.
Sideswipe gapes for a long moment as their great and glorious leader offers a genial wave. “Um, not to sound rude or anything, but why?” Because when three members of command show up on your doorstep, Sideswipe's immediate instinct is to run. Whatever it is, he didn't do it. Seriously. He's been far too busy for mischief as of late.
“You didn't read the manual?” Ironhide asks, shouldering his way into their quarters without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Sort of,” Sideswipe hedges as Prime and Ratchet come trailing in after their red van crowd-pusher. “Am I missing something?”
“The next date,” Ratchet says, trying and failing to hold to his dignity. “Unless you're not interested in which case, let me get back to my medbay where I have work to do.”
Sideswipe snags his arm before Ratchet can storm back out the open doorway. “You could give us a chance to answer,” he says.
Sunstreaker pushes to his pedes, optics skittering around the triad of command staff. “The next date is still chaperoned,” he says and of course Sunstreaker had read the whole manual. “Does that mean...?”
“Yeah.” Ironhide folds his arms over his chestplate. “I gotta be there. But this time, I'm sharin' my misery.”
“By forcing Optimus Prime to come?” Sideswipe demands, throwing his arms into the air. No, he's not intimidated. He's merely... well, he's something. Not outraged or indignant or uneasy. Maybe perplexed?
Optimus chuckles. “No, Sideswipe, I volunteered. It would be rude to expect my partner to suffer alone.”
“Oh, well that makes all kinds of sense!” Sideswipe says with a roll of his optics, only to pause. “Wait. Partner?”
Ratchet snickers. “Best kept secret on the Ark.”
Sunstreaker's jaw drops. Sideswipe echoes him. He looks between Optimus and Ironhide and his first instinct is to say “ew.” Except he doesn't. He swallows it down and searches for other words, but there are none to be found.
“And a secret that we ask you keep,” Optimus says, his rumbling vocals pleasant to the audials but holding an undercurrent of threat.
Sideswipe claps a hand to his chestplate. “We can keep a secret.” He nudges his twin with an elbow. “Right, Sunny?”
Sunstreaker makes a strangled noise as though he, too, is resisting the urge to scrunch up his nose and comment on the grossness of imagining Optimus and Ironhide clanging.
They shudder in unison.
“Right,” Sunstreaker manages with a choked ventilation.
“Good.” Ironhide claps a hand on each of their shoulders, fingers gripping with enough force to threaten the metal. “So long as we all understand.”
Optimus' menace was still scarier.
Sideswipe winces and casts hopeful optics in Ratchet's direction. “Date?”
“I arranged private time in the theater,” Ratchet says. “That is, if you're amenable.”
“A movie.” Sideswipe's optics brighten with glee. Even better that it would be in private!
He won't have to listen to Gears gripe about the night's selection or Huffer mutter that it's too loud while Powerglide complains that it's too quiet. And then Inferno chews his rust sticks with his mouth open and Smokescreen keeps trying to make bets in the corner. While Red Alert constantly asks “what happens next” instead of waiting and worse still, Bumblebee answers him and spoils it for everyone.
“Which one?” Sunstreaker asks.
Optimus gives Ironhide a look, which prompts the old warrior to finally release the twins. “It's a surprise.”
Sideswipe winces and exchanges a glance with Sunstreaker, or tries to anyway. His twin is glaring at his shoulder as though it offends him, frowning over an invisible scuff.
Well, Sideswipe supposes it can't be any more boring than the nothing they were doing before.
“Then let's go,” Sideswipe says, and shoos the three members of the command staff toward the door. “Time's wasting.”
“So romantic,” Ironhide drawls with a smirk. One that only increases in size when Ratchet growls and slaps him upside the helm.
“Please refrain from damaging my partner,” Optimus says. “I will have a use for him later.”
Sideswipe shudders. Sunstreaker echoes him.
“This is either going to be really awkward or really painful,” Sunstreaker mutters.
“Or both,” Sideswipe agrees.
Fortunately, once in the hall, Optimus and Ironhide drop back behind the courting trio. Sideswipe's back plating itches as though he's being stared at and he has to resist the urge to look over his shoulder.
“What about snacks?” Sideswipe asks if only to try and ignore the embarrassing fact they have chaperones. “We can't watch a movie without snacks.”
Sunstreaker sighs. “Sides--”
But Ratchet holds up a hand, cutting Sunstreaker off. “I'm well-aware, Sideswipe.” The humor in his tone matches his half-smile. “And you'll have to see when we get there.”
He's never been good at being patient. But Sideswipe sighs an aggrieved sigh and lets Ratchet lead them to the room they'd repurposed into a theater. With Prime's approval, of course. Bad enough they're trapped in a never-ending war and lost four million years. Optimus tends to get indulgent because of both.
Given the lack of room in the Ark, the theater is still large enough to accommodate a large group of Autobots. The massive screen takes up one wall, courtesy of Wheeljack, and Sparkplug had been given the honor of setting up the VCR for them. A task, the human had claimed, could be quite difficult.
Smokescreen had scoffed, saying that if humans could do it, so could Cybertronians. Three broken VCRs later, they'd all bowed to the master that was Sparkplug.
Optimus and Ironhide sit in the second row, leaving room for Ratchet and his dates to occupy the front row.
Yeah. That's not going to be awkward at all. But, he supposes beggars can't be choosers.
Sunstreaker sits, too, and the empty seat left between them is most obviously for Ratchet. Sideswipe can hear Optimus and Ironhide murmuring behind them, but he's afraid if he turns around the two of them will be cuddling or something equally horrifying.
Luckily, Ratchet provides a distraction in the form of carefully slotting a tape into the VCR and handing a Cybertronian-sized remote to Sideswipe. He then produces a box from beneath his seat before carefully lowering himself down between the twins.
Sideswipe takes a peek and his tank grumbles with interest. Snacks. His mouth fills with oral fluid.
“Do we have to share?” he asks, pointedly not looking at the two mechs behind him, one of whom could easily decimate everything in the box.
“We brought our own,” Optimus Prime assures him.
Ironhide's laughter doesn't make the awkwardness any easier.
Sideswipe lowers his vocals. “How much longer do we have to be chaperoned?” he asks, barely above a whisper.
“You should have read the manual,” Ratchet retorts and shoves a box of rust sticks into his hand.
Sideswipe's reply is drowned out by the resounding boom of the surround sound. At some internal cue, the lights in the room dim.
He waits for the seats to stop shaking before he pokes Ratchet in the side. “But what if--”
“Shh,” Ironhide says with a not so subtle kick to the back of Sideswipe's chair. “Movie's on.”
Uggggghhhhh.
Sideswipe crams a handful of rust sticks into his mouth and crunches them noisily. He ignores the look Sunstreaker gives him.
The movie better be good.
Spoiler alert: it is. But only in comparison to the tension of Optimus flippin' Prime sitting right behind his right shoulder and Ironhide looming over his left. Or that Ratchet is sitting next to him, optics locked on the screen and not paying either twin any attention.
Now, Sideswipe likes Ratchet. Which sort of came as a shock to him, but it's the truth. He and Sunstreaker both like Ratchet.
What they don't like is this whole courting nonsense. They've already done the deed. Why bother taking a step back to this chaste nonsense?
Because when the movie ends, instead of sticking around, maybe trying to ditch their chaperones, Ratchet escorts them back to their quarters with their hands clasped ever so daringly in the most celibate behavior Sideswipe has ever engaged in.
Worse that Sunstreaker actually seems to be enjoying the courting process. He read that stupid Idiot's Guide front and back and he hasn't protested once.
It isn't until they are outside the quarters Sideswipe shares with his twin that their chaperones give them space. Granted they are still in sight, watching with gimlet optics, but they aren't breathing down their collective backstruts either.
“Please tell me they aren't always going to be here,” Sideswipe says, leaning against the door.
Sunstreaker rolls his optics. “Should've read the book. This is the last chaperoned date should we decide to continue the courtship.”
“At least one of you has some sense,” Ratchet says, but his gruff tone belies that awkward shift of his weight.
“Thank Primus.” Sideswipe sags in relief.
“Though that does bring up the question,” Ratchet continues, stepping nearer so that he might lower his voice. “Are you interested?”
“I would've been interested without all this.” Sideswipe makes a vague wave, intending to encompass all, well, this.
Sunstreaker elbows him in the side. “Yes, Ratchet,” he says and presses his other hand to his chestplate. “We would be honored.”
Ratchet's optics brighten. “You even remembered the formal phrasing. I'm impressed. Do you know what comes next?”
“I do,” Sunstreaker says and this time it's a purr. He steps closer to Ratchet and reaches up, curling a hand around the medic's helm.
Ratchet leans down and Sideswipe gapes as the two kiss, though it is barely a brush of their lips together and certainly no glossa is involved. Nevertheless, Sideswipe's cooling fans click on with a quiet purr.
They part a mere second later, Ratchet with a smile and Sunstreaker with the smallest of grins. And then Ratchet turns toward Sideswipe with intent in his optics and Sideswipe almost trips over himself to take advantage of those lips, a little sound working its way through his vocalizer.
It's over far too quickly and Sideswipe absolutely doesn't chase after those retreating lips.
Ratchet coughs into his hand, a hint of heat in his faceplates. “And these are for you.” He roots around in his subspace and produces two tiny squares of lacy cloths. He hands one each to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.
“My gifts,” Ratchet says with an exaggerated bow.
“Thank you,” Sunstreaker replies with another press of his palm to his chestplate. “We are most grateful.”
Sideswipe arches an orbital ridge.
Ratchet grins. “You are very welcome. Now you two have a good night.” He turns on a heel.
“Wha... that's it?” Sideswipe asks, aghast. “A scrap of lace and a kiss and there you go?”
Ratchet tosses a smirk over his shoulder. “Yes. Ask your brother for the details.”
He leaves them, joining Optimus and Ironhide still lingering down the hall. Sideswipe would be embarrassed if he weren't so slagging confused.
Sunstreaker grabs his arm, tugging him into their quarters. “Come on. I'll explain.”
Sideswipe certainly hopes so. Because, right now, he's lost.
***
a/n: I've got at least four more updates for this on my "to edit and then post" list so the next update won't be nearly as long as the... two years? this one has taken. Hopefully, I can get my groove back and keep on going.
Commentary is very welcome and appreciated. Thanks to everyone who didn't give up on this fic!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/277017.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Double Date
Universe: Apple a Day, G1
Characters: RatchetxTwins, OptimusxIronhide
Rating: T
Warnings: a kiss
Description: The courtship continues and Sideswipe didn't read the book. Luckily, Sunstreaker did.
Lounging on the berth with one of his novel datapads, Sideswipe listlessly pages through the short story selection. He's read them all before, twice even, and he liked them, but he wants something new and exciting.
He's bored.
At their shared desk, fingers tap-tapping on Teletraan's console, Sunstreaker looks equally unenthused. Then again, Sunstreaker rarely looks enthused so it can be hard to tell.
“What do you want to do today?” Sunstreaker asks. They really ought to take advantage of this shared off-shift.
Sideswipe grins, flopping over onto his back. “The same thing we do every day, Sunny.”
A slow, suspicious turn of his helm and Sunstreaker gives Sideswipe a long look. “Which is?”
“Try to take over the world!” Sideswipe gives his brother a thumbs up.
Shaking his helm, Sunstreaker sighs and returns to the console. “Idiot.”
“And yet you love me anyway!”
“That's because love is blind,” Sunstreaker says, and his lips curl up into a smirk. “And apparently stupid.”
Sideswipe jerks upright, pinning his twin with a glare. “Hey!”
“If the paint job fits...” Sunstreaker trails off, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as his figure on screen mercilessly pummels his opponent.
Someone chimes their door. Sideswipe cycles his optics, looking toward it. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“Am I ever expecting anyone?” Sunstreaker retorts.
Sideswipe hops off the berth, fully expecting to see Smokescreen or Bluestreak or Bumblebee or... “Ratchet,” he says as the door opens, revealing the white medic. “And Ironhide.” Does he sound confused? Because he is.
“Prime's here, too,” the red warrior drawls, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.
Sideswipe gapes for a long moment as their great and glorious leader offers a genial wave. “Um, not to sound rude or anything, but why?” Because when three members of command show up on your doorstep, Sideswipe's immediate instinct is to run. Whatever it is, he didn't do it. Seriously. He's been far too busy for mischief as of late.
“You didn't read the manual?” Ironhide asks, shouldering his way into their quarters without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Sort of,” Sideswipe hedges as Prime and Ratchet come trailing in after their red van crowd-pusher. “Am I missing something?”
“The next date,” Ratchet says, trying and failing to hold to his dignity. “Unless you're not interested in which case, let me get back to my medbay where I have work to do.”
Sideswipe snags his arm before Ratchet can storm back out the open doorway. “You could give us a chance to answer,” he says.
Sunstreaker pushes to his pedes, optics skittering around the triad of command staff. “The next date is still chaperoned,” he says and of course Sunstreaker had read the whole manual. “Does that mean...?”
“Yeah.” Ironhide folds his arms over his chestplate. “I gotta be there. But this time, I'm sharin' my misery.”
“By forcing Optimus Prime to come?” Sideswipe demands, throwing his arms into the air. No, he's not intimidated. He's merely... well, he's something. Not outraged or indignant or uneasy. Maybe perplexed?
Optimus chuckles. “No, Sideswipe, I volunteered. It would be rude to expect my partner to suffer alone.”
“Oh, well that makes all kinds of sense!” Sideswipe says with a roll of his optics, only to pause. “Wait. Partner?”
Ratchet snickers. “Best kept secret on the Ark.”
Sunstreaker's jaw drops. Sideswipe echoes him. He looks between Optimus and Ironhide and his first instinct is to say “ew.” Except he doesn't. He swallows it down and searches for other words, but there are none to be found.
“And a secret that we ask you keep,” Optimus says, his rumbling vocals pleasant to the audials but holding an undercurrent of threat.
Sideswipe claps a hand to his chestplate. “We can keep a secret.” He nudges his twin with an elbow. “Right, Sunny?”
Sunstreaker makes a strangled noise as though he, too, is resisting the urge to scrunch up his nose and comment on the grossness of imagining Optimus and Ironhide clanging.
They shudder in unison.
“Right,” Sunstreaker manages with a choked ventilation.
“Good.” Ironhide claps a hand on each of their shoulders, fingers gripping with enough force to threaten the metal. “So long as we all understand.”
Optimus' menace was still scarier.
Sideswipe winces and casts hopeful optics in Ratchet's direction. “Date?”
“I arranged private time in the theater,” Ratchet says. “That is, if you're amenable.”
“A movie.” Sideswipe's optics brighten with glee. Even better that it would be in private!
He won't have to listen to Gears gripe about the night's selection or Huffer mutter that it's too loud while Powerglide complains that it's too quiet. And then Inferno chews his rust sticks with his mouth open and Smokescreen keeps trying to make bets in the corner. While Red Alert constantly asks “what happens next” instead of waiting and worse still, Bumblebee answers him and spoils it for everyone.
“Which one?” Sunstreaker asks.
Optimus gives Ironhide a look, which prompts the old warrior to finally release the twins. “It's a surprise.”
Sideswipe winces and exchanges a glance with Sunstreaker, or tries to anyway. His twin is glaring at his shoulder as though it offends him, frowning over an invisible scuff.
Well, Sideswipe supposes it can't be any more boring than the nothing they were doing before.
“Then let's go,” Sideswipe says, and shoos the three members of the command staff toward the door. “Time's wasting.”
“So romantic,” Ironhide drawls with a smirk. One that only increases in size when Ratchet growls and slaps him upside the helm.
“Please refrain from damaging my partner,” Optimus says. “I will have a use for him later.”
Sideswipe shudders. Sunstreaker echoes him.
“This is either going to be really awkward or really painful,” Sunstreaker mutters.
“Or both,” Sideswipe agrees.
Fortunately, once in the hall, Optimus and Ironhide drop back behind the courting trio. Sideswipe's back plating itches as though he's being stared at and he has to resist the urge to look over his shoulder.
“What about snacks?” Sideswipe asks if only to try and ignore the embarrassing fact they have chaperones. “We can't watch a movie without snacks.”
Sunstreaker sighs. “Sides--”
But Ratchet holds up a hand, cutting Sunstreaker off. “I'm well-aware, Sideswipe.” The humor in his tone matches his half-smile. “And you'll have to see when we get there.”
He's never been good at being patient. But Sideswipe sighs an aggrieved sigh and lets Ratchet lead them to the room they'd repurposed into a theater. With Prime's approval, of course. Bad enough they're trapped in a never-ending war and lost four million years. Optimus tends to get indulgent because of both.
Given the lack of room in the Ark, the theater is still large enough to accommodate a large group of Autobots. The massive screen takes up one wall, courtesy of Wheeljack, and Sparkplug had been given the honor of setting up the VCR for them. A task, the human had claimed, could be quite difficult.
Smokescreen had scoffed, saying that if humans could do it, so could Cybertronians. Three broken VCRs later, they'd all bowed to the master that was Sparkplug.
Optimus and Ironhide sit in the second row, leaving room for Ratchet and his dates to occupy the front row.
Yeah. That's not going to be awkward at all. But, he supposes beggars can't be choosers.
Sunstreaker sits, too, and the empty seat left between them is most obviously for Ratchet. Sideswipe can hear Optimus and Ironhide murmuring behind them, but he's afraid if he turns around the two of them will be cuddling or something equally horrifying.
Luckily, Ratchet provides a distraction in the form of carefully slotting a tape into the VCR and handing a Cybertronian-sized remote to Sideswipe. He then produces a box from beneath his seat before carefully lowering himself down between the twins.
Sideswipe takes a peek and his tank grumbles with interest. Snacks. His mouth fills with oral fluid.
“Do we have to share?” he asks, pointedly not looking at the two mechs behind him, one of whom could easily decimate everything in the box.
“We brought our own,” Optimus Prime assures him.
Ironhide's laughter doesn't make the awkwardness any easier.
Sideswipe lowers his vocals. “How much longer do we have to be chaperoned?” he asks, barely above a whisper.
“You should have read the manual,” Ratchet retorts and shoves a box of rust sticks into his hand.
Sideswipe's reply is drowned out by the resounding boom of the surround sound. At some internal cue, the lights in the room dim.
He waits for the seats to stop shaking before he pokes Ratchet in the side. “But what if--”
“Shh,” Ironhide says with a not so subtle kick to the back of Sideswipe's chair. “Movie's on.”
Uggggghhhhh.
Sideswipe crams a handful of rust sticks into his mouth and crunches them noisily. He ignores the look Sunstreaker gives him.
The movie better be good.
Spoiler alert: it is. But only in comparison to the tension of Optimus flippin' Prime sitting right behind his right shoulder and Ironhide looming over his left. Or that Ratchet is sitting next to him, optics locked on the screen and not paying either twin any attention.
Now, Sideswipe likes Ratchet. Which sort of came as a shock to him, but it's the truth. He and Sunstreaker both like Ratchet.
What they don't like is this whole courting nonsense. They've already done the deed. Why bother taking a step back to this chaste nonsense?
Because when the movie ends, instead of sticking around, maybe trying to ditch their chaperones, Ratchet escorts them back to their quarters with their hands clasped ever so daringly in the most celibate behavior Sideswipe has ever engaged in.
Worse that Sunstreaker actually seems to be enjoying the courting process. He read that stupid Idiot's Guide front and back and he hasn't protested once.
It isn't until they are outside the quarters Sideswipe shares with his twin that their chaperones give them space. Granted they are still in sight, watching with gimlet optics, but they aren't breathing down their collective backstruts either.
“Please tell me they aren't always going to be here,” Sideswipe says, leaning against the door.
Sunstreaker rolls his optics. “Should've read the book. This is the last chaperoned date should we decide to continue the courtship.”
“At least one of you has some sense,” Ratchet says, but his gruff tone belies that awkward shift of his weight.
“Thank Primus.” Sideswipe sags in relief.
“Though that does bring up the question,” Ratchet continues, stepping nearer so that he might lower his voice. “Are you interested?”
“I would've been interested without all this.” Sideswipe makes a vague wave, intending to encompass all, well, this.
Sunstreaker elbows him in the side. “Yes, Ratchet,” he says and presses his other hand to his chestplate. “We would be honored.”
Ratchet's optics brighten. “You even remembered the formal phrasing. I'm impressed. Do you know what comes next?”
“I do,” Sunstreaker says and this time it's a purr. He steps closer to Ratchet and reaches up, curling a hand around the medic's helm.
Ratchet leans down and Sideswipe gapes as the two kiss, though it is barely a brush of their lips together and certainly no glossa is involved. Nevertheless, Sideswipe's cooling fans click on with a quiet purr.
They part a mere second later, Ratchet with a smile and Sunstreaker with the smallest of grins. And then Ratchet turns toward Sideswipe with intent in his optics and Sideswipe almost trips over himself to take advantage of those lips, a little sound working its way through his vocalizer.
It's over far too quickly and Sideswipe absolutely doesn't chase after those retreating lips.
Ratchet coughs into his hand, a hint of heat in his faceplates. “And these are for you.” He roots around in his subspace and produces two tiny squares of lacy cloths. He hands one each to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.
“My gifts,” Ratchet says with an exaggerated bow.
“Thank you,” Sunstreaker replies with another press of his palm to his chestplate. “We are most grateful.”
Sideswipe arches an orbital ridge.
Ratchet grins. “You are very welcome. Now you two have a good night.” He turns on a heel.
“Wha... that's it?” Sideswipe asks, aghast. “A scrap of lace and a kiss and there you go?”
Ratchet tosses a smirk over his shoulder. “Yes. Ask your brother for the details.”
He leaves them, joining Optimus and Ironhide still lingering down the hall. Sideswipe would be embarrassed if he weren't so slagging confused.
Sunstreaker grabs his arm, tugging him into their quarters. “Come on. I'll explain.”
Sideswipe certainly hopes so. Because, right now, he's lost.
***
a/n: I've got at least four more updates for this on my "to edit and then post" list so the next update won't be nearly as long as the... two years? this one has taken. Hopefully, I can get my groove back and keep on going.
Commentary is very welcome and appreciated. Thanks to everyone who didn't give up on this fic!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/277017.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.