Title: Check-up
Verse: Bayverse
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Optimus, Ratchet Optimus/Ratchet
Word Count: 560
Warnings: -
Summary: If Ratchet decides to throw a "check-up party" aka earth-team medical checkup, each mech is bound to spend earth hours being thoroughly poked, prodded, connected, reset and whatever else Ratchet decides to do to them.
Notes: This is response for the prompt : "Optimus Prime/Ratchet – wandering hands on tf_rare_pairing" Betaed by wonderfull ultharkitty. I love you girl, you are awesome and don't ever forget it. :*
Optimus relaxed on the medical berth. He knew that if Ratchet decided to throw a "check-up party" aka earth-team medical checkup, each mech was bound to spend earth hours being thoroughly poked, prodded, connected, reset and whatever else Ratchet decided to do to them. But Optimus wasn't the one to complain about it, no, complaining was Ironhide's cube of Energon. Optimus used the time to either recharge, or play simple logical games online; unless Ratchet decided to check their frequency mods. Then Optimus was free to lie down and ponder the beauty of their new home... and enjoy the things he wasn't suppose to.
Ratchet started with his pedes, checking every plate, every strut; gliding fingers between armor plates, checking cables and fluid lines. Optimus' calves were checked just as extensively; The front guards were removed, Ratchet resetting every sensor underneath them with his touch. It took Optimus quite a lot of willpower to stay concentrated on his game of Go.
But then Ratchet dug his fingers under his knees, into the hinges, and Optimus barely stifled a groan. He really didn't understand why Ironhide complained this much. Hands going up along his thighs and pelvic plating Optimus welcomed with slight shiftwhich, in turn, earned him a scowl from yellow-green medic. Optimus was proud of the most innocent, Bumblebee expression he pulled just then.
But he couldn't contain a deep moan when Ratchet opened covers to his hip ports and, transforming his fingers into plugs, jacked in, testing transfer rates, and clarity of connection. Then the medic spun his wheels... maddeningly slowly, checking pressure, treads and the give in the sim-rubber.
After that Ratchet made sure to check the transformation mechanism in Prime's waist. Optimus reset his vocalizer with a burst of static.
Hands wandered further, over his abdominal plating, the sensitive grill, and under his lights. Chest check-up included another connection, and Optimus wanted to reach along it if only to see Ratchet's reaction. Ratchet tested the give and moveability of his chest, and then Optimus felt his spark chamber opening. A thrill ran through his chassis unbidden, but Ratchet didn't seem to notice.
And then he switched to hands, almost caressing, but Optimus knew better than to imagine it. Every joint and tactile sensor checked, switched on and off turning Optimus into a positively happy mesh. Forearms and arms were next with another detailed check of armor plates, joints and hinges, cables and weapon sockets. The leader of the Autobots couldn't help feeling that he shouldn't have been enjoying this even half that much as he was, but after being dead, one couldn't care about such trivialities. When Ratchet reached his shoulders and, oh Primus, neck, Optimus switched off his optics... knowing that watching Ratchet's faceplates from that close might end in... Prime balmed the moan that emerged from his vocalizer next, on Ratchet diging his fingers into his vocal processor, checking it's workability.
He offlined it after that, knowing what would happen if he didn'. Ratchet explored his faceplates, connected to the head-port, checked his audio and stroked his communication fins. And then the hands were, disappointedly, gone.
Prime sighed in both relief and regret; he knew that the medic could have just used his scanners, but as Ratchet told them all, there was nothing like a hands on approach. Very wandering hands approach, Optimus added silently.
