Title: Midnight Breakdowns
Fandom: Transformers
Author: Feathered Fiend
Characters: Sideswipe, Ratchet, Sunstreaker
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: M
Status: One Shot, Complete
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. If I did, there would be so much slash, it would disturb younger viewers.
Warning: Characters maybe out of character, and there are slashy themes. Enjoy.
"Breakdowns and Loss come hand in hand."
Movement awoke the slumbering Autobot, his optic sensors onlined and scanned the pitch-blackness of the room. His faceplates twisted into a frown when he noticed bright blue orbs glowing by the door—because he didn't need the other being to speak to know whom it was. He sat up from his spot and stared, not even bothering to command the other being over to him—because he didn't have to. The younger 'bot was already on his way over—because he knew the look in the medic's optics, because it didn't matter anymore—and soon he stood beside the now sitting mech.
The elder didn't speak at first—because the tug on his spark let him know what was going on, because he wasn't stupid—and merely placed his hand on the standing mech's lower back. He gave a gentle tug and the younger was practically sitting on top of him. They shifted around for a few moments—because they certainly were not going to get comfortable like they were—and soon the younger was curled on the berth along side the elder. A servo brushed lightly against the youth's back—for comfort—and his head turned, bumping gently against the medic's chassis.
"What happened, Sideswipe," the elder murmured—because he knew the moment the twin came in, that something happened. "Did someone say something?"
"No," he muttered icily and moved closer to the other being's form—because the mech brought comfort to the frightened front-liner. He shifted and nuzzled the elder—because his spark ached, because he could make it go away—then shuttered his glowing azure optics. "I couldn't recharge."
"I see," he replied. He kept caressing the younger, moving to his helm—because it was time to speak to him about his current worries, because he couldn't lose this one too. "Sideswipe, we need to talk."
The now-silver mech tensed—because he knew what was going on. "Mhm."
"You've been acting far too reckless in battle. I see you in the medbay far too much, more then I'd ever seen you on Cybertron. I'm not stupid, I know what you're doing and I want you to stop it. I'm getting too old to baby-sit you anymore," the medic murmured. The younger shuttered his optics in annoyance as he sat up. He opened his mouth to speak—because his lover was not old, because he wanted to tell him just that—but the other mech sent him a glare that shut him up. "Don't try to tell me any different about my age, Sideswipe. As I said, I'm not stupid."
"I never said you weren't," the younger spoke—sounding a bit bitter, because he was. He despised having these talks—because it made it sound like his lover was dying, because he didn't want to think about losing another. He scowled as he was pulled back down—surprised that the slight Medic could do such a thing. "Not to mention, Ratch, I'm not trying anything. I'm just doing my job."
"Then you're doing it poorly," the medic responded—because he wasn't stupid, because he knew what his young lover desired to do. However, when it came down to it, he couldn't say what was truly on his mind—because it would break everything he was trying to do—and he went with what they thought. "We have no proof that he's even offline, you know, and would you really rather be offline then him return? It would kill him."
"I'm not going to offline," he growled—because he was annoyed now, but then again, he was annoyed before he even arrived. He then smirked and began to brush his servos against the elder's chassis, "and it's not like you'd ever let me. You're the best medic, you don't lose soldiers like me."
"I'm getting old, I'm not as good as I used to be."
Sideswipe cringed and glared—because he had had enough of this, because his Ratchet wasn't old. "Shut up about that. You're not scrap, yet."
"Don't be naïve," Ratchet responded—because he was tired, because his young companion did not want to believe the truth. "You and I both know the truth. Even if you didn't, the fact I've taken Jolt under my wing should be a big, flashing sign." The silence that followed unnerved Ratchet, he could see the outline of a scowl under the dimmed optics of his lover. A silence Sideswipe was never a good sign. "Sideswipe?"
Nothing—because Sideswipe was pissed. He grabbed the wrist joints of the medic—who had been reaching for him—and pinned them above the elder's head. Within earth seconds he was on top of the hummer, straddling his form and his faceplates inches away from the others'. A surprised gasp echoed through the stillness, Sideswipe ignored it as he dropped his helm—which just rested against the medic's—and engine rumbled in his annoyance.
"Sideswipe…!"
"Shut up," he growled, his vocals breaking up—because Sideswipe was pissed and broken. "They think I'm insane, out there on the battlefield. I can feel their stares, Ratchet, I know what they're thinking when they're watching me. I know what they say behind my back. They don't understand like you do, you know I'm not reckless because I want to join him. I'm doing this for him, to give him the revenge that he desires!"
"There is no proof that Sun—"
"There's no proof that he's alive either," he howled and tightened his grip—because he was scared, so many emotions finally showing their face. The medic flinched—because it was beginning to hurt—as the joint cracked lightly. Sideswipe didn't notice—because he was hurting—and Ratchet didn't stop him—because he knew the younger was in agony. "I can't lose you, Ratchet. You are mine and I cannot bear to lose another mech, one that I love."
"Side—"
"You said you're old now, right? I'm older now too, Ratchet, and I'm not the young, inexperienced frontliner you first met in your medbay! Don't treat me like that, not after everything we've been through," he spoke harshly—because now he was getting everything out in the open. "You don't need to baby-sit me. You just need to love me, like before Sunny died or disappeared, or whatever! Stop treating me like a sparkling, stop pushing me away! I need you. You need me. Please, Ratchet…"
The medic stared, watching liquid fall from his partner's optic sensors—because it was a rare day in the pit that Sideswipe cried. He was surprised when the younger Autobot continued—because when Sideswipe got going, he couldn't stop it seemed. "Promise me, Ratchet, promise me you won't leave before him. I couldn't handle it if you did. I'm not going to let anyone, you hear me, anyone put their servos on me besides you. They won't understand, not like you. You were the only one, only one, who ever gave a frag about Sunny and I! And… slag, you afthead."
Ratchet appeared surprised—because he was—and questioned, "What?"
"You made me all emotional," he grumbled, nearly smiling—because for some reason, he just felt better. His grip slowly releasing from the elder's wrists and body straightening to sit up—because he was a bit embarrassed. "If they didn't think I was insane before, I'm sure they would now."
"If they saw," the medic nearly smiled—because he could sense his lover was feeling a bit lighter.
"They probably heard," he almost pouted before a concerned look took over. His optics trained on the sparks lightly sparking from his partner's wrists—he'd caused them. "Ratch, I'm—"
"Shut up," the medic spoke lightly—despite himself—and leaned upward, capturing the frontliner's lips. "Just shut up and recharge. I'll fix it up in the morning."
"…alright," he nodded and removed himself from his position, taking the space beside his lover. "What are you going to tell the others?"
"We interfaced," he replied simply and wrapped his arms around the younger. He rested his helm against Sideswipe's, trying to ignore the smirk on his faceplates. "And yes, that does mean that you owe me such in the morning."
"I suppose I can make time from Decepticon aft kicking," Sideswipe teased before nuzzling his mate—his spark feeling lighter. His medic muttered something—which sounded like bratty kid—but he didn't reply. He sensed his lover fall back into recharge, and just as he was about to join him, he felt something. He could have sworn that Sunstreaker was behind—like before—and cuddling up to the two of them. A smirk tugged at his faceplates before his optics offlined and the world faded—everything was going to be all right.
.Author's Note.
This was tamed down because the themes were too dark for my liking. I wanted to write something less dark and more cheerful. Sadly, I couldn't and the original to this was very... depressing. I know its not my best work but it's proof that I'm still alive. Reviews are nice, flames will be used to roast hotdogs.