Kick in the Head - Cherrybombs
Title: Kick in the Head - Cherrybombs
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: Mentioned Ironhide/Ratchet/Wheeljack
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Engineers and warriors. It's not when they hate each other that you have a problem - it's when they start working together, that it's time to duck and cover.
Warnings: Big Boom
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) I consider the entire Kick in the Head series to be in the same 'verse as Glances into a Spark.
Table of Contents
o o o
Ratchet had eventually gotten used to the rivalry between his two lovers. It annoyed him, some orns, when it seemed they were just using him to one-up each other, but most of the time they kept it to snide comments about each other's intelligence and interfacing ability, and they never asked him to choose sides. About all he could ask for, really.
Which is why it worried him when they started to get along.
It had been almost overnight - one orn they were snarking at each other as usual, the next they were talking, talking, like civilized beings when Ratchet came down to the common room. They shut up immediately when he approached, but Ratchet had witnesses, even if none of them could say what the conversation had been about. It had escalated from there - fewer cheap verbal shots, more low-toned discussions that ended when someone came too close, and when they started spending time together without Ratchet in attendance, the medic started to truly wonder. He was questioned on it by others - Wheeljack and Ironhide's verbal battles were a great source of entertainment around the base - but he had no answers, and any lines of direct questioning led to either a dead end or a blatant (and admittedly effective) distraction.
He was on shift when the word came that weaponry testing was going on at the gun range, and that all hands were to stay clear. Very few mechs actually had the superiority necessary to commandeer the entire range for testing, Wheeljack or Ironhide fore on the list, and everyone wanted to know what was going on between the two, so it wasn't a lot of work for Ratchet to call in someone to cover his shift and head down to the range. His intent was on catching which ever one of them was there, cornering him alone, and wrangling out an explanation, one way or another.
When he was close enough to the range for anyone in attendance to show up on his scanners, he stopped short. Both of them were there, the only ones in attendance. Cautiously, the medic continued on, and since very few lock codes had the authorization to lock out a medic, he slipped into the great walled-off area without effort.
They were standing close, Ironhide with his arm outstretched and Wheeljack with his hands buried up to the wrist in-
In-
Ratchet didn't know what it was. Ironhide had always carried an impressive amount of weaponry, but the two things currently attached to the Weapon Specialists arms were massive, larger than some minibots Ratchet knew, far too big to ever be hidden beneath forearm plating like most. Wheeljack was making adjustments to one, optics and vocal indicators both brilliant with excitation and sparks flew from the tools his hands had become. Ironhide was speaking as Wheeljack worked, low and fast, and while Ratchet couldn't make out the words, he could certainly hear the tone; as excited and eager as Wheeljack, and Ratchet debated warning Medical, because with the both of them so excited over monstrously sized weaponry, chances were that someone was going to end up hurt.
Ratchet ducked back around a corner, contacting Optimus Prime. /Did you recently approve a request from Wheeljack to do weapon development? And one from Ironhide to do testing?/
/Yes, why? Is there a problem?/
/I want you to check those requests, and tell me who Ironhide has as his Engineer, and who Wheeljack has as his Specialist-on-Call./
There was a long pause from the Prime. /...Oh dear Primus./
/That's what I thought. What were you thinking?/
Optimus ignored the question. /Is the range still in one piece?/
Rapid-fire explosions rocked the area, counterpointed by an admiring whoop from Wheeljack. Ratchet poked his head back around the corner to see Ironhide utterly demolishing the scattered target drones, his huge frame rocking back with every blast, and they were still discussing something about stabilizers and recoil over the thunder of the two cannons. /Mostly./
/...I'd wondered what the two of them have been up to for the last few groons./
/You and everyone else, myself included./ Ratchet huffed air through his vents. /I'm going back to Medical before something explodes that isn't supposed to./
/Noted./ A slight pause. /It must be nice to see the two of them actually getting along./
Ratchet stole another look at the two just as an explosion louder than anything yet rattled his frame. Apparently, one of the two cannons came with a rocket launcher. /Something like that./
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: Mentioned Ironhide/Ratchet/Wheeljack
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Engineers and warriors. It's not when they hate each other that you have a problem - it's when they start working together, that it's time to duck and cover.
Warnings: Big Boom
Notes: Old writing, in it's mostly original format (very minor corrections may have been made) I consider the entire Kick in the Head series to be in the same 'verse as Glances into a Spark.
Table of Contents
o o o
Ratchet had eventually gotten used to the rivalry between his two lovers. It annoyed him, some orns, when it seemed they were just using him to one-up each other, but most of the time they kept it to snide comments about each other's intelligence and interfacing ability, and they never asked him to choose sides. About all he could ask for, really.
Which is why it worried him when they started to get along.
It had been almost overnight - one orn they were snarking at each other as usual, the next they were talking, talking, like civilized beings when Ratchet came down to the common room. They shut up immediately when he approached, but Ratchet had witnesses, even if none of them could say what the conversation had been about. It had escalated from there - fewer cheap verbal shots, more low-toned discussions that ended when someone came too close, and when they started spending time together without Ratchet in attendance, the medic started to truly wonder. He was questioned on it by others - Wheeljack and Ironhide's verbal battles were a great source of entertainment around the base - but he had no answers, and any lines of direct questioning led to either a dead end or a blatant (and admittedly effective) distraction.
He was on shift when the word came that weaponry testing was going on at the gun range, and that all hands were to stay clear. Very few mechs actually had the superiority necessary to commandeer the entire range for testing, Wheeljack or Ironhide fore on the list, and everyone wanted to know what was going on between the two, so it wasn't a lot of work for Ratchet to call in someone to cover his shift and head down to the range. His intent was on catching which ever one of them was there, cornering him alone, and wrangling out an explanation, one way or another.
When he was close enough to the range for anyone in attendance to show up on his scanners, he stopped short. Both of them were there, the only ones in attendance. Cautiously, the medic continued on, and since very few lock codes had the authorization to lock out a medic, he slipped into the great walled-off area without effort.
They were standing close, Ironhide with his arm outstretched and Wheeljack with his hands buried up to the wrist in-
In-
Ratchet didn't know what it was. Ironhide had always carried an impressive amount of weaponry, but the two things currently attached to the Weapon Specialists arms were massive, larger than some minibots Ratchet knew, far too big to ever be hidden beneath forearm plating like most. Wheeljack was making adjustments to one, optics and vocal indicators both brilliant with excitation and sparks flew from the tools his hands had become. Ironhide was speaking as Wheeljack worked, low and fast, and while Ratchet couldn't make out the words, he could certainly hear the tone; as excited and eager as Wheeljack, and Ratchet debated warning Medical, because with the both of them so excited over monstrously sized weaponry, chances were that someone was going to end up hurt.
Ratchet ducked back around a corner, contacting Optimus Prime. /Did you recently approve a request from Wheeljack to do weapon development? And one from Ironhide to do testing?/
/Yes, why? Is there a problem?/
/I want you to check those requests, and tell me who Ironhide has as his Engineer, and who Wheeljack has as his Specialist-on-Call./
There was a long pause from the Prime. /...Oh dear Primus./
/That's what I thought. What were you thinking?/
Optimus ignored the question. /Is the range still in one piece?/
Rapid-fire explosions rocked the area, counterpointed by an admiring whoop from Wheeljack. Ratchet poked his head back around the corner to see Ironhide utterly demolishing the scattered target drones, his huge frame rocking back with every blast, and they were still discussing something about stabilizers and recoil over the thunder of the two cannons. /Mostly./
/...I'd wondered what the two of them have been up to for the last few groons./
/You and everyone else, myself included./ Ratchet huffed air through his vents. /I'm going back to Medical before something explodes that isn't supposed to./
/Noted./ A slight pause. /It must be nice to see the two of them actually getting along./
Ratchet stole another look at the two just as an explosion louder than anything yet rattled his frame. Apparently, one of the two cannons came with a rocket launcher. /Something like that./