Author's Note: HI GUYS! *insert frantic wave here* It's been a few years since I've updated A Medic Affair; they've been full of new jobs, cross-country moves, orthopedic surgery and rehabilitation…so busy, to say the least. But now that I'm in my permanent home and all recovered, with life back to normal, I think it's about time to pick up where we left off. :)

I'm a bit rusty (and not quite sure where I want the plot to go), so I thought I'd warm up with a quick one-shot taking place within A Medic Affair. Hope you enjoy!

An Unspoken Invitation

"See ya, guys." Kayla waved as she walked outside, toting her bulging military rucksack over her shoulder as she headed out the door.

Her eyes caught Ratchet's briefly – he saw a mixture of emotion flicker across them before she turned away and stepped outside. Something wasn't right... She claimed her rotations at the hospital had shifted, but when Ratchet had accessed the hospital employee database, he discovered the truth. Her shift hadn't changed: she was lying. It was like a sharp stab in the spark.

As the months passed, they had become increasingly more intimate: staying up until all hours working and talking; sharing long-buried secrets and hidden desires by the dim lights of the computer console, drinking whiskey and high-grade long after the others had drifted off to sleep; utilizing his holoform almost constantly to steal brief soft kisses in the deep corridors of the Autobot base where they were sure nobody was watching. Ratchet felt his guard lowering day by day as the conversations became deeper, the gazes became longer, and the trust became stronger. It frightened him to be so emotionally vulnerable in such a chaotic time in his life.

"Why would she lie about something like this?" Ratchet found himself asking repeatedly. "It's very unlike her." The more he tried to push the thought from his mind, the hotter his curiosity burned. How big of a secret was she keeping that she felt compelled to lie to him about something so trivial? Before he could stop himself, Ratchet transformed and tore out of the base, tires squealing as he hit the pavement.

"Ratchet!" Arcee yelled, trying to flag him down. It was fruitless – she knew once he had his mind set, there was no stopping him.

Optimus had watched the entire exchanged, and summoned Arcee back into the main area of the silo. "Let him go, Arcee," Optimus murmured, concern burning bright in his optics. "This is a private, personal matter."

Ratchet had followed Kayla for more than twenty miles before the turnoff for the hospital came. His spark sank as she drove the opposite way, toward the seedy side of Jasper; he'd hoped against hope that maybe the employee database at the hospital had been wrong, but his suspicions were confirmed as they drove deeper and deeper into the city, crawling their way through the Saturday night traffic of downtown, that this lie was indeed concealing a secret. It was only when she finally pulled into the parking lot of a rather dirty looking establishment that his fuel tank began to turn. Above the parking lot, a flashing neon sign advertised "GODFATHERS GENTLEMEN'S CLUB".

A quick internet search in his processor yielded disturbing results. "Oh no," he thought, his spark twisting in devastation. "No no no no no."

Ratchet parked behind the back of the club and projected his holoform; he felt sick to his stomach as he made his way up to the rear entrance, yanking open the door and marching inside with determination. The club was dark with the exception of more flashing neon lights, air thick with the smell of sweat, human arousal, and cheap perfume. Groups of men were gathered around various stages with long poles projecting from the platforms as scantily clad women danced provocatively in front of them to pounding music. Ratchet immediately attempted to avert his eyes out of instinct, but found no matter where he looked, he couldn't escape the brazen sexuality.

"Sweet Primus," he muttered, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "What could she possibly be-"

"First time?" a male voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts.

Ratchet turned to face the man, a bit younger than he, but not by much. "Mhmm, yes," he responded with as much dignity as he could muster, straightening at the stranger's presence. "This isn't something I would normally do", he explained, obviously flustered.

The stranger laughed, clapping him solidly on the back. "Gotcha." He guided Ratchet over to a set of stools against one of the larger stages, and motioned for him to sit. "Well, then this should be a real treat. The new girl is here tonight, and she's definitely something."

Ratchet sat on the stool before him as the lights dimmed for the DJ's introduction, his mind filling with apprehension. "Alright gents, let's give Sapphire a nice Godfather's welcome to the stage tonight!"

The crowd began to whistle and yell as the lights began to flash and a female figure walked up the steps of the stage. She was lithe and lean, dressed only in lacy undergarments and sky-high heels as she sauntered across the stage to the vertical pole in front of him. Ratchet nearly had an aneurysm as his eyes landed on alabaster skin blanketed in tattoos – skin whose aroma he'd inhaled during long embraces, tattoos he had traced with his finger in high-grade fueled buzzes.

Kayla didn't seem to notice him in the crowd as the music started. She looked out at the crowd with what could easily be confused with a lustful gaze by those who didn't know her as she began to writhe on the pole, gyrating her hips to the beat of the music. But Ratchet saw the emptiness behind them as the club began to fill with whistles and catcalls; she was on autopilot, staring at fixed points on walls, not patrons surrounding her. The stage began to fill with money as she performed a couple of particularly interesting spins, and the reality of it all started to sink in for the medic.

Ratchet's energon began to boil as he heard the obscenities screamed at her, promises to defile her and perform unholy acts upon the body he felt privileged to see in secret. As the music began to peak in a crescendo, the crowd's yelling swelled. To his utter horror, Ratchet watched as she reached behind her back, unclasped her top undergarment, and removed it in front of all these vile humans. He instinctively looked away to preserve her modesty as the crowd howled in approval.

The stranger next to him noticed, and turned his head back," You gotta look, man. It's why we're here!"

There before him, and a few hundred other people, was Kayla: semi-nude, and still dancing without an apparent care in the world. Despite his best efforts to look away, he watched as her breasts bounced under the flashing lights, creating a tantalizing display. Her gaze hollowed as the patrons' vile words were hurled at her, progressing through her routine with robotic precision. For the first time in eons, Ratchet felt himself fill with a mixture of rage and jealousy; not even he had seen her nude form, and these men, who he felt were privileged to see it, were objectifying her like trash. He shoved back his stool in disgust, rising to leave, when Kayla at last caught his eyes.

The emptiness had vanished from her gaze, replaced with utter humiliation as she attempted to conceal herself from him. Tears filled her eyes as she took the exit closest to her, the men around her roaring in approval over what they thought was feigned shyness. Club employees collected her bills from the stage behind her as she rushed into Ratchet's arms, burying her face in his shirt as he instinctively wrapped his arms around her form.

Ratchet couldn't take it anymore. "You're all disgusting!" he yelled at the men around them, removing his holoform's coat and placing it on Kayla's partially naked body. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" None of the men seemed phased as Ratchet followed a security guard motioning to them, guiding the pair backstage and away from the crowd.

Finally, the two were alone. The brick walls of the dressing room were grimy, dimly lit by a halfway burned out vanity mirror covered in makeup and perfume; the floor was littered with the bags of various dancers – Ratchet could pick out Kayla's rucksack among them. He turned to her, his mind clouded with sadness and confusion, and held her as she began to cry.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, squeezing him tightly as her body shuddered with sobs. "I'm so, so sorry I lied, Ratchet."

He could feel her tears dampening his shirt as he squeezed her tightly. The pair stood there for several minutes, each saying nothing. As her crying slowly subsided, Ratchet pulled her back to look at her face. Tear streaks stained her perfectly made up face, leaving oily black mascara tracks in their wake; her eyes were red and puffy as her nose sniffled. This was far from the strong, confident woman he thought he knew.

At long last, Ratchet touched her cheek, and quietly asked, "Why?"

Kayla couldn't look him in the eye, utterly ashamed. "All the supplies for the synthetic energon…" she trailed off, wiping her eyes on her forearm. She sniffed again, her voice dampened by the hyponasality caused by crying,"…they all cost money. A lot of money." She turned away, and began to collect her street clothes from her rucksack. "I couldn't go back to the bar after the Decepticons got ahold of all my personal information. And we needed the money…"

Ratchet felt his stomach drop, his throat tightening with emotion. "So you resort yourself to…" he gestured around them, "this?"

She turned around to meet his gaze, dropping her clothing and stepping forward to meet him. "You don't understand, Ratchet." Her hand cupped his cheek as her eyes locked onto his; they shone with emotion as she leaned closer to him. "I would do anything for you…for our friends." Ratchet sighed deeply and embraced her, relishing her familiar scent.

She pecked him on the lips before turning back to her clothing. Ratchet watched as she slowly dressed, transforming back into the woman he knew once again. She used a small cloth to wipe off the coats of makeup on her face as another woman joined them, and then left a wad of cash on the vanity table. "You tip everyone out for me?" Kayla called to her as she left. Ratchet couldn't make out the response, but assumed it was the desired one as Kayla made no further move to speak to her. Dressed and packed up, the pair left together out the employee exit.

Ratchet's thoughts raced as they drove back to the Autobot base. It was late, and everyone would be asleep as they arrived back; he knew a long discussion was eminent, and began to prepare a list of questions to ask. Lost in his thoughts, he fell back and meandered his way down the dark highway.

"She subjected herself to unspeakable degradation and humiliation…all to fund the synth en." He shuddered at the thought of seeing her partially nude body up on the stage. Part of him was also saddened; the first time he saw her nude should have been after a long, cozy evening culminating in intimate contact, not within the walls of that repulsive establishment. Heading into the base, he sighed heavily.

Ratchet could hear the shower in Kayla's quarters, and knew she must be bathing. He attempted to distract himself with some reorganization in his lab, but without much success. Sighing in frustration, he sat down just as the water shut off, and immediately made his way into her quarters. Once situated, he projected his holoform and called out to her as she dressed in the bathroom.

"H-how?" he finally managed to get out, his eyes landing on the fat wad of money on her bedside table.

A saddened sigh came from the bathroom. "You get used to it…"

Several moments of silence passed between the two of them before Ratchet spoke again. "Are you going to quit?"

"Probably," she responded. The life seemed to be returning to her voice as she vigorously towel-dried her hair. "After seeing you in there, there's no way I could go back."

Ratchet harrumphed in satisfaction. At least there wouldn't be any more of that nonsense…Yes, they'd miss the funding, but the medic was confident they'd find a way to make it work. Fowler probably had government connections, and if they ordered in bulk, it might be feasible to-

"Ratchet?" Kayla called. He sat up straight as she walked out of her bathroom.

She wore only a fluffy red bath towel around her body, her long red hair hanging in damp waves around her elbows. His holoform stiffened, and very real feelings of both arousal and mild terror coursed through his veins as he watched her stride over to him. The fragrance from her shampoo wafted across his olfactory sensors as she drew nearer, and for the first time that night, a faint smile danced its way across her face.

"I'm not going back to that place," she informed him matter-of-factly. "But when you saw me there…I felt robbed. That wasn't how I wanted you to see me…" Kayla stepped sideways, closer to her bed. "This is."

A look of genuine shyness overcame her as she slowly lowered her towel, not meeting his gaze as she let it fall completely to the floor. Again Ratchet was aghast. He was shocked at her level of bravery; exposing one's naked self in Earth culture was considered one of the more ultimate acts of vulnerability, and she seemed to perform it without reservation. But he was absolutely enthralled by her nude form; toned legs led to a flat stomach and firm breasts, the curve of her clavicle and neck arced gracefully to meet her defined jaw. Her eyes burned into his, beckoning him closer.

Ratchet rose to meet her, and hesitantly touched her arms. Kayla nodded, silently giving permission, and his hands began roving over the soft, exposed flesh of her body. He wanted to study every inch of her, memorize every curve, crevasse, and scar. His fingers danced along her tattoos as they had for many previous nights; nights which ended in chaste kisses and woeful partings when the sun seemed to rise too soon. But he could feel that tonight was different, that the normally inevitable parting would not occur. Shivering slightly from the cold, she slipped under the covers and glanced down at the spot beside her: an unspoken invitation.

It had been ages since Ratchet had engaged in physical intimacy with another. A flurry of thoughts entered his mind: Was he ready for such a big step? Would he remember what to do? Would intimacy in this form be pleasurable? Would he be enough for a being with whom he cherished time more than any other? After a moment of silent deliberation, Ratchet rose to his feet and walked toward the exit.

"I'm sorry…" Kayla trailed off, pulling the blankets up to her neck. "It's been a crazy night," she sighed deeply and continued, "I shouldn't have after everything that happened…"

Ratchet stopped at the door and paused, taking a deep breath before locking it. He turned around to face her, surprise evident from the expression on her face. "I'm not going anywhere."

He slowly made his way back toward her bed, phasing the clothing off his holoform as he pulled back the covers to join her. They both smiled, and she ran her hands over his firm chest, trailing her fingers through the light dustings of hair before coming to rest on the back of his neck. Ratchet wrapped an arm around her slim waist; their legs tangled together as he drew her closer, leaning in for a deep kiss.

The following morning, nobody could quite put their finger on Ratchet's particularly good mood. He whistled his way through his mundane morning routine, and seemed to move with a peculiar pep in his step. Even his engine seemed to hum louder than usual.

For some of the younger Autobots, it didn't quite seem to add up. But when Bulkhead and Wheeljack witnessed the brief, hushed conversation between the pair, and the subtle touching that lasted just a moment too long before they parted ways…they knew.

"Well…", chuckled Wheeljack, his hand swiping his mouth in amusement. "Whaddya know?"

Note: A bit shorter than I anticipated, but it was definitely fun to write. Hope you enjoyed!