I meant to post this back in April, but I never got to finishing it in time. Whoops! I haven't seen much of our favorite medic in fics as of late. Ratchet needs some love.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!
The first insight I had gotten of trouble on this day was the apprehensive steps in young Jolt's stride when he entered the Med Bay. It was an idiosyncrasy that I knew immediately meant that my medical apprentice had been burdened with something that he was regretting to drag in here with the rest of him.
In a sense, I could have predicted this. One way or another, Jolt was almost always the one out of the two of us who received the short end of the metaphorical stick on this wretched base when it came to acquiring dreadful information. Normally, it came as a hesitant passing of a datapad featuring the latest antics of the Twins –one or both sets, predictably. Or, perhaps, an exchange of quiet words informing me that Wheeljack had exploded something again, or Crosshairs had shot someone 'accidentally'.
By technicality, I wasn't even qualified to deal with any of the slag that goes on in Diego Garcia that didn't involve medical expertise. And yet, here I was, having thrown more wrenches and spewed more curses on this planet than I had in my entire lifetime I'd lived on Cybertron. I somehow formulated a mindset that human influence was what caused it all. I'd said it once and I'll say it again –humans were a primitive, troublesome race whose flaws and tomfoolery tendencies were only ever rubbing off on us –which, unfortunately, was the majority of Cybertronians on base.
The only responses I'd gotten from voicing that thought, however, was a dismissive wave from Ironhide, a very uncharacteristic chuckle from Optimus, and an agonizing lecture of why that prediction was invalid and illogical from Prowl.
"I am afraid that your evaluation of human and Cybertronian integration is soundly illogical, Ratchet," Prowl had said, "Considering that we possess Autobots whom have retained such 'tomfoolery tendencies' since even before we have stationed on Earth."
"Really?" I had said, "Was Drift always traumatized of octopuses even before our Japanese soldiers had so-explicitly explained to him what hentai was?"
"That-"
"And did Mirage always abuse his ability to cloak and scare soldiers even before his espionage unit encouraged him and told him it was okay?"
"Well-"
"How about when Blurr almost succeeded in illegally boarding an aircraft to the United States because some soldiers had convinced him that he could win the next Indy 500?"
By then, Ironhide had snorted loudly and Optimus had covered his mouth with a servo while trying to make it look like he was scratching. Ridiculous, considering that Cybertronians didn't even itch. The fact that he had picked that action up from Lennox only further proved the point to me. But Prowl and his logistics were a force to be reckoned with. He possessed such an unfathomable wall of a never-ending computing processor that I was sure even blunt force head trauma from Megatron couldn't knock some common sense into him.
"Those are merely examples of instances in which our human soldiers chose to abuse the naivety of some of our… more impressionable Autobots. Singular incidents –not entirely a sign of long-lasting negative influence."
"My point still stands. Those are three of our Autobots who are generally well behaved and wouldn't have done those things outside of Earth."
"I never recalled you attempting to melt a hole into Sunstreaker's head before such a despicable punishment was forwarded to you by your medical team either –Ratchet. Ratchet!"
Needless to say, that was a meeting I'd walked out of before it had even started. Morshower wasn't happy. I didn't care.
Jolt was looking at me like he was about to reveal to me that he'd found Optimus dead in his office. In short, if he was showing such an expression, it was something bad. Or, something so extensively ridiculous that he was fearing that informing me would cause him to become my personal target practice for my wrenches. That was, reprehensibly, an existing incident, where I'd gotten so furious when he'd told me Sideswipe had glued my tools to the ceiling that the datapad he'd handed me that day was very quickly shattered onto his own helm.
He still had the dent, and I still felt utterly dreadful for having caused it. But Jolt, with his mercifully forgiving and tranquil personality, had firmly stated that he was aware that taking up an internship with me would more than likely have resulted in him receiving the brunt end of my infamous rage on multiple occasions. But after that incident, I was at least 80% sure my N.E.S.T. profile had been updated with some extra notes that probably had me labeled with a shiny new record of assault and battery on other Autobots, cantankerous, and dangerously bipolar.
I never had the time or energy to even attempt to revoke any of that. If anything, it lowered the chances of soldiers –human or otherwise– from getting any more ideas about messing with me. But as I watched Jolt fiddle with this datapad and shift his weight uneasily, I legitimately began to worry.
"What is it, Jolt?" I was almost afraid to hear the answer.
"I received a… requisition form from Prime, sir."
"A requisition?" I stopped fiddling with a now insignificant medical utensil and averted my attention directly to him, "From Prime? Meaning, he's requesting I allow him use of something in here?"
"From you, sir."
"Something from me?"
"Yes, sir."
"That does not make sense. He's my superior. He doesn't need permission."
"I am only the messenger, sir." It was almost as if he was reiterating that to me in poor attempt to spare himself from whatever type of enraged damage I was about to do to him. When Jolt said 'sir' this many times to me, that was a big enough hint that he was fully expecting it to happen anyways.
"If it's just a requisition, then why are you so nervous?"
Jolt didn't answer. Instead, he handed me the datapad. Now, it was exactly 11:30 at night on this side of the Earth and I hadn't had a proper recharge in the last month. I liked to pride myself in having a sharp CPU, so I blamed my lack of properly understanding this information on that. It took me at least two minutes and thirty-six seconds before I was able to fully register this Primus-forsaken requisition into my already-aching processor.
I looked at Jolt pointedly. As the human saying went, if looks could kill, my poor little apprentice would have been nothing but a puddle of blue and silver alloy at my pedes right then and there.
"I knew nothing of this report, sir," Jolt blurted out. I almost believed him, but that peculiar glint in his optics betrayed him.
"Please tell me this is a joke."
"Afraid not, sir."
"You are telling me that Optimus is requesting, from me, to host a Sexual Education session for the Autobots, with –and I quote from here– 'recommended utilization of provided human sex tapes' to help them understand human anatomy and reproduction?"
Jolt wasn't even trying to hide his smile this time. Little fragger –he was willing to sacrifice any chance he had of walking out of here unharmed in exchange to watch the downfall of my dignity that was resulting from this requisition. "That would be correct. Sir."
I scrolled through the datapad for a moment. I stared at the names of those who approved of this vile demand and physically felt my core temperature rising at the sheer number of them. I looked at Jolt, "You claimed you knew nothing about this?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hmph. I wonder why your name is put down as an advocate, then."
A pause. "Okay, I wasn't aware of the majority of this."
"Of course."
"Truly, sir. I only signed because I was told it was something completely different."
There it was again. That glint. I went over and gripped my apprentice's shoulder, "You have always been good about telling the truth, Jolt. You know what that makes you?"
"Honest, sir?"
I squeezed, "A terrible liar."
Jolt's optics were about ready to short out, they were so wide. He was expecting something attune to me ripping his shoulder plate clean off, but I only loosened my grip and patted him once on the back. His spinal struts were shaking under my touch.
I shoved the datapad back into his servos, "Tell Optimus his request is denied. I am not about to be humiliated simply because some of our idiotic Autobots can't figure out what goes where and why."
Jolt fumbled, "But, sir-"
"The answer is no."
"I understand, sir, but…"
"But what?"
"A-as you could see, this requisition form was signed and approved by more than enough advocates that Optimus could, technically speaking, veto your decline."
I paused, "I didn't bother to count the names. How many?"
Jolt looked incredibly reluctant to answer that question, but he did, "Twenty-three Autobots signed, sir. Fifty-six humans as well, including Major Lennox and entire squadrons who's Autobots assigned to them started asking them inappropriate questions."
My right optic twitched, "Twenty. Three. Autobots."
"Y-yes, sir."
"That-" I looked to the side and then whirled on Jolt, "That is EVERY OTHER AUTOBOT on this planet except for me!"
Jolt was only half my height. In fact, he was the smallest Autobot on record at the moment, even more so than Bumblebee. Angry as I was, I had to secretly commend him for being able to handle me towering over him threateningly and not flinching once. I had once heard some soldiers say that his 'indestructible balls of Cybertronian steel' for being capable of dealing with me easily compensated for his small size. I didn't generally pay mind to human gossip on base, but I could agree with that, to some extent. Jolt stored more bravery in his little frame than most mechs twice his size. He could put the Wreckers to shame.
"I am aware of that, sir!" Jolt protested before I could continue the tirade I was dangerously close to letting loose, "W-which is precisely why I am telling you that forgoing this requisition may as well be useless."
"Like frag it is. Doesn't this slag count as some sort of violation of consent?"
"Not really, sir. It's an order, and you're expected to follow it."
We stood in silence for a few terse minutes until I snatched the datapad from Jolt and shoved past him, "I'm taking this to Optimus."
"Ratchet, wai-!" Jolt's voice was cut short by the whirring of my Med Bay's door. He never bothered to follow me. It didn't register to me that he'd burst out laughing behind that door, either.
I only passed two Autobots and some very nervous human soldiers on my way there. Smokescreen and Bluestreak both looked at me like I had a plague and steadily dodged my path with a wide berth. A wise choice, considering they and every other Autobot on this base were now officially on, what the humans had so graciously termed, my shit list.
Optimus didn't even look remotely surprised when I'd hacked through his codepad and came bursting into his office. That was enough of an inference to me that Prime –the big fragger– was already fully expecting my furious arrival. Jazz and Prowl jumped with a war-borne instinct to reach for their weapons up until their optics set sight on me. Their expressions laxed into one that practically screamed at me that they, too, knew what this was about.
Oh, right. They signed. Of course they did.
"Leave."
And like a pair of terrified sparklings evading a beating, they did. Somewhere within me, I wanted to feel triumphant for being the sole creature on this planet capable of scaring Prowl. Prime laced his digits neatly together and rested them upon his desk. He wasn't afraid of me. Part of me wished he was –it would have made me feel better if he'd shown at least some ounce of regret to this revolting proposition he was going to put me through.
"Greetings, old friend." Optimus threw me a slag-eating smile that I thought I'd only ever see on Megatron, "What seems to trouble you at this hour?"
I slammed the datapad on his desk –hard. The screen cracked.
"You know that I respect you, Optimus," I decided that starting this off with steam simmering from my seams wasn't the way to go with Prime. It never worked out for me before. He was immune to my temper –even more so than Jolt. "I would go to the ends of this cruel universe for you. Do anything you asked of me –but THIS. If this is your attempt at a sick joke, Prime, I am not laughing."
"You believe this to be a joke?"
"You couldn't have possibly approved this requisition with a straight face."
Optimus rubbed at his upper lip plate, copying Lennox yet again. I knew what that meant and so did Optimus, so he put his servo back down and spilled the truth, "Perhaps not. Whether or not I had, however, is irrelevant to the fact that this is still a necessary demand."
"Necessary!" I scoffed, "Since when was this even becoming a problem?"
"For some time, old friend."
"I have not noticed."
"I doubt you have. You hardly step a pede outside of the Med Bay to see it."
Fraggit –he was attempting to corner me. And he was succeeding, because he brought up a fair point. Seeing me outside of the confines of my Med Bay was about as rare as seeing a live raphus cucullatus on this planet.
"Optimus, please."
"I am sorry, old friend. But the Major and I have been receiving far too many recent complaints of this matter for it to be overlooked."
Optimus was still smiling, but the scariest part about this whole conversation was that I could no longer tell if he was telling the truth or not. Unlike Jolt, the Prime was sinfully skilled at stating one thing and being able to conceal something else beneath it. It was of the few traits of young Orion that had never left him. An eons-long silence stretched out between us.
"Do I even want to know which fragger even started this?"
"Drift."
I was surprised. I was expecting an answer like the terror twins, one or both pairs. Bumblebee and Sam. Frag, maybe even Ironhide trying to be funny, or Jazz playing lewd rap, or Perceptor's bio-science-babble reaching confused audios. "No."
"No?"
"Drift is too sophisticated."
"A soldier threw raw calamari at him. Someone had to explain his reaction, and it went from there."
"… You're serious?"
"Yes, old friend."
"Primus help us."
"Indeed."
"I have to teach a fragging class on the sociology and anatomy of human sexuality, simply because Drift spontaneously developed a sparking's fear of some human delicacy?!"
I hoped and prayed to our high and mighty Creators that we didn't have an audience behind Optimus's door. Anyone listening to this exchange would have a grand time spreading the latest gossip of the Autobot Commander and CMO having a spout over sexual education and fried squid. I wouldn't leave the Med Bay for another century.
"No entirely spontaneous," Optimus reasoned, "I am sure you recall his… incident some time ago."
"That should not have traumatized him this much."
"I wouldn't rule it out. Have you been exposed to hentai?"
"No. Have you?"
Optimus fidgeted. My intake dropped open, "Optimus, please tell me-"
"It was not an intentional experience," he said quickly.
"I sincerely hope not."
"The older twins had gotten into my office."
I almost laughed out loud. That was just about the only thing that came out of Prime's mouth during this entire talk that I could completely believe. I could almost perfectly envision Sideswipe and Sunstreaker committing such a sick prank on him. The thought struck me with a bitter realization that irked me to the core –the worst punishment I could see Optimus giving for that is a strict lecture, and he most likely wouldn't be bothered for the next year. I found it profoundly unfair that, out of the two of us, the one who might actually kill one or both of those twins was the one who gets pranked by them the most.
"There is no one else on this Primus-forsaken base who can take care of this?"
When all else failed, I had to at least try to weasel my way out of this repulsive predicament. Optimus's disgustingly deceiving smile returned to his faceplate, "None with as such refinement as you, old friend."
I had never been any closer to punching a Prime.
"The soldier who pranked Drift better have received an adequate punishment."
"A short relieve of duty. As Major Lennox had stated, there is no harm done in a lighthearted joke."
My temper flared right back up and I poked a digit onto the datapad almost hard enough to splinter the screen, "Like FRAG there is! That soldier is the reason why my dignity will end up plummeting to nonexistence!"
"If you wish to file for something more severe to the Major for Yueming, be my guest."
"Yueming." I paused, "It was Aiko."
Optimus nodded.
That was a complete no-go. Drift would sever someone's head before he'd let her be separated from him.
"Frag." I said, "I just can't win on this."
Optimus let loose a light chuckle, "I can request that Jolt also is required to teach the session with you."
The idea of someone sharing my pain was admittedly tempting. In the end, however, Jolt signed the form along with everyone else. He would gladly help me because it wasn't at his expense. Jolt would only succeed in making it worse. I scowled and shook my head, "No. I'll do it myself."
"You will?"
"Do I have a choice?""
"I suppose not." Optimus grinned and handed me the cracked datapad. I was very tempted to take it and crush it. "I have the session scheduled for next week at 08:00 that morning. I do hope that offers you plenty of time to prepare?"
"Whatever."
I turned away without another word. That conversation was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the klik and I was more than ready to escape this insufferable prison that was Optimus's office. I came close to regretting even trying to talk –or yell, more accurately– my way out of it. I had come in knowing full well that it was a no-win situation for me when it came to verbally facing off with Optimus Prime.
"And Ratchet." Prime spoke, just when I had stepped out into the corridor.
I turned around. Optimus looked like he'd downed ten cubes of high-grade, his grin was so wide and loopy.
"What?"
"April Fools, old friend." He said through a snicker, and then all I was staring at was his office door. I looked down.
12:03 AM. Sunday, April 1.
Even through my enraged swearing and the explosion of pieces as the datapad met his door, I could hear Optimus's voice blend in with the rest of the base's roaring, overwhelming laughter.
1. Optimus Prime
2. Bumblebee
3. Drift
4. Crosshairs
5. Hound
6. Ironhide
7. Jolt
8. Sideswipe
9. Sunstreaker
10. Smokescreen
11. Mirage
12. Prowl
13. Skids
14. Mudflap
15. Wheeljack
16. Perceptor
17. Leadfoot
18. Topspin
19. Roadbuster
20. Blurr
21. Bluestreak
22. Arcee
23. Jazz
If this gets enough support, I might continue it with twenty-three chapters of Ratchet going ham on every Autobot who did him wrong. This story isn't my priority, though, so unless I get some good prank ideas for ol' Ratch, any updates on this will be super slow.
In any case, I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)