Author's notes: Ratchet is known for two things, he can fix anything and he will let you know about it with a dry wit as legendary as his temper and aim with throwing wrenches. Moonracer is the best sharpshooter femme in the universe, meaning she can offline anything. Bubbly, friendly, and naively optimistic. What will it take to get these two together? A Prime, one revenge prank and a run on the obstacle course. What happens next will take them beyond all imagination.
This fic is for all the Ratchet Moonracer fans out there, even though Optimus and Elita are first up for action. There as to be a reason the normally calm, patient Optimus would get even after all. This is rated "M" for mature with interfacing and spark merges. Reviews are love or areas to fix. Movie verse with G1 mix with Ark at Mt St Hillary. Chapter revised and expanded 01/11/2011.
Internal comm shown by:: talking:: with the name of the bot always on the end to identify and only heard between specific bots.
Cybertronian time is Breem is 8.3 minutes, Joor is 6.5 hours, Orn is 13 days and Vorn is 83 years.
Chapter One - Ice Moon
Why Optimus wanted revenge
Optimus, last known Autobot Prime and commander of the Autobot earth forces looked skyward and vented softly. The night sky above was clear and sparkling with a thousand pinpoints of starlight surrounding the full moon. "Elita, I miss you," he murmured, feeling an ache in his spark. Thousands of years old, weary of the never-ending civil war, the commander cherished every moment with his spark mate and the current mission had sounded easy enough in the beginning.
"I need you to accompany the resource team off world to the asteroid field. Lead, scout the area and return with the metals needed. Three months human time," he had requested of her. She had accepted and left with Wheeljack and the others. He and the remaining earth based Autobots continued their alliance with the human military NEST command, chasing down and eliminating their Decepticon foes. The new Autobot base at Mt St Hillary took the remaining time, occupying his processors but not his spark. The long dormant volcano and surrounding land preserves, devoid of human inhabitants gave them the perfect area to build and shift from a military secret to protectors of earth.
"By this time tomorrow she and the others will be back. I never thought a short time would seem so long," he rubbed his nose plates, feeling his lack of recharge and waning energy. "Meetings, meetings and conferences. As much as these humans talk, I am surprised they have time to make war on each other. Or continue to demand our technology. Enough harm has been done with it."
The whine of an engine not built in any earth factory reached his audio sensors, defensive systems engaging. The night sounds of a hooting owl and rustling bushes instantly faded. "Ratchet," he identified the chief medical officer immediately by his distinctive power signature, standing down automatic weapons locks. The familiar yellow green hummer vehicle rolled into view, clear in the moonlight.
"Missing Elita?" He greeted, rolling out on to the grassy meadow before transforming upward into his bi-pedal mode.
"I don't intend to miss anything on her," Optimus teased, at ease with one of his oldest and most trusted team members. Deer ambled down to the nearby stream, its running water a soothing sound in the night.
The medic pretended to vent, scaring the deer away before folding his hands over his chest plates. "Ahh, the proud Prime brought down to his knee plates by a rose colored femme."
"The femme commander you refer to is capable of blowing out your knee caps for a comment like that. We are equals on the battlefield and off," he reminded, his blue optics staring down at the shorter mech.
"You can't resist sparking with her for Cybertron's sake! Even now when you should be recharging you're pinning like a spark struck youngling. Admit it, you are captive to her will when she is around," Ratchet snorted, not intimidated.
"We are spark mated and I can resist her, but no reason to," he teased back, moving his lower chassis suggestively.
Ratchet started to comment until the perfect prank formed in his core processor. "You win," he said. "But I want you in med bay in the next breem for a check-up. Been awhile and I want no, how shall we say, misfires in your engines?"
Optimus tapped one footpad, watching his CMO warily before agreeing. He was notorious for avoiding med bay even when injured and did want all systems functional for his mate. He willingly followed the other mech to med bay, slipping into recharge under the medical scans. At the main console, Ratchet completed the last lines of code, transferring the program to his wrist computer. A quick scan verified Optimus deep in recharge and his system guards down for adjustments. A single silver data cable slid out of the medic's wrist and into Optimus neck port, transferring the data then retracting silently.
Returning to the console, Ratchet accessed the medical relay into the other mech's systems and waited. The virus and firewall scanned the program, confirming its authentication and identity before allowing access. Ratchet snickered, watching the program upload itself and transition into Optimus' interface coding. "Ratchet - 1, Optimus - 0. Elita - not my problem," he stated quietly.
"Hey, Prime! Get your lazy aft up," he ordered, thumping a fist on the upper body of the larger mech. 'if you can get anything up that is,' he completed mentally. Optimus optics snapped open, automatically calling his rifle out of subspace and shifting to attack. Seeing med bay and no threat, he grunted, unclenching his fist still trying to wrap around empty air instead of his ion rifle.
"Weapons and subspace pullers are disabled the astro second you roll through those doors remember?" the medic reminded. "Your safety and mine. There are too many holes in the ceiling now."
"Any problems?"
"None, other than your virus protection coding was out of date. I believe you mentioned irresponsibility in not keeping it up to date in a memo last orn. Addressed it to both humans and our troops if I remember correctly. However, I will let it slide this time. Otherwise, firewall and systems integrity normal, all systems functional and on standby." He pointed to the readings on the assembled monitors, knowing the medical codes would not be read or downloaded.
"Good," Optimus gestured then slid off the med bay berth, intent on escaping out the doors. They closed behind him and locked, barely in time for Ratchet to lose it laughing.
In his personal quarters the next morning, Optimus pulled out of recharge, running a quick internal systems review. Satisfied, he digitally accessed the base mainframe, retrieving reports from the night before. Stretching, he sat on the side of his recharge bunk thinking of Elita's rose chassis, the feel of her angular metal shapes.
Error message 458 - Interface system unable to comply. Appliance offline.
"Offline? What is offline?" Closing his optics, he accessed his self-repair module and the latest code updates. Furious, he lunged to his feet pads, metal hands clenching in anger. "How dare that medic encode my system. And that system of any! I will reduce him to scrap." His battle systems charged, sliding the energon sword into his waiting hand before he stopped, controlling the anger. Venting deeply, he wrestled for self-control.
"I am a Prime, not a youngling. A prank is a prank. I will simply erase the coding. Elita will never know." Deliberately, he retracted the sword into its subspace housing and disengaged the battle systems.
::Morning Prime. How are we feeling?:: Ratchet opened their internal comm line.
::We? I am functional. And you?:: Optimus asked, keeping his mental tone neutral.
::Busy. The space team returns today and I have a multitude of check-ups scheduled. Very busy except for extreme emergencies like reattaching arms, legs or entire mainframe cores. Anything else will have to wait until tomorrow:: Ratchet
Optimus ground his jaw gears at the smug tone and unspoken implication the coding would remain until he figured out how to remove it.
::I will leave you to your work then: Optimus sent, closing the comm line. Ten breems later, the bunk bore the imprint of his metal fist in two places. The coding not erasable, changeable or alterable to his commands.
"Pit spawned slagger! I can open the crotch plate manually but no activation of the interface rod at all. Fine, interfacing is offline. I know exactly what she likes and where. I will pleasure her into overloading then we will spark merge." He rubbed his armored hands together, a predator's gleam to his optics.
Error message 213 Chest Slide component disabled. Programming controls offline.
Optimus grunted, pulling on his chest plates with his massive fingers, arm cables straining. The manual center lock undid, but the panels themselves refused to budge. "I can remove the armor the hard way, strip down to the protoform. Have Elita meet me in our quarters? Ton of work to get this military grade armor off but possible. No, wait an astro second." His optics closed and he focused on the spark spire cover.
Error message 398 Spark cover engaged. Programming controls offline. Unable to retract.
The recharge bunk received a third fist imprint. "The spark cover cannot be removed. Ratchet thought of everything!" he snarled. His chronometer beeped, reminding him to meet the approaching ship on the landing pad. Transforming, he rolled out his quarters, nearly running Sideswipe over at the main entrance. The red mech leaped out of the way, staring at the angry sounding Peterbilt truck racing away.
The Cybertronian ship descended, dropping out of the clouds to settle with the barest tap onto the concrete. The ramp lowered and Optimus winced, his desire building even as his physical systems refused to respond. The mechs were walking down the ramp but his optics saw only Elita in the doorway.
Her rose-colored legs connecting to her rounded hip plates and up across her smooth white abdomen and cabling up to her exquisite rose upper body and slender arms. Her neck cables had him venting harder as they flexed with her turning this way and that trying to see over the taller mechs. Then Wheeljack stepped aside and she saw him. His spark nearly burst with the joy that sang between their connected sparks.
Elita jogged down the ramp and up to him, the limp on her right side obvious as he frowned. 'Since when does she limp?' Then forgot everything else as his arms wrapped around her chassis and her frame rested against his.
"Are you functional?" He asked quietly, leaning down to touch her helm with his lip plates.
"I'm tired and missed you," Elita admitted quietly. "What, no heated welcome?" she teased, resting one hand on his crotch plate, her chassis hiding the movement from the other Autobots.
He chuckled, using the sound to hide his frustration as he grabbed her hand."I can wait. And this is public even for us."
"Really, you are waiting?" Elita laughed, pulling back and looking up at him. "No heaving chest, no hot covers, and no quivering lock controls to keep from extending and showing exactly how excited you are to see me?"
"For you, I would wait a thousand orns for a simple caress of my spark's desire," he murmured, his regal baritone soft and husky. Inside, he was practically melting from the accumulated heat without a hope of release. She leaned against him, keeping her weight off her right footpad. Making a decision, he reached down and swung her up into his arms.
"Med bay later, you are mine! All mine!" He leered, turning and carrying her towards their quarters. The other mechs teased them in Cybertronian, long used to their disappearing for privacy.
::I can walk:: Elita reminded even as she relaxed in his arms.
::Not when I am through with you:: Optimus winked an optic.
::Ohhhh, is that a promise?:: Elita
::Yes but tomorrow. You will recharge and heal tonight. What happened?:: Optimus sent, tapping the silver scar welds without shifting his hands enough to jostle her.
"Rock fall. Bad one. Self-repair activated but couldn't replace crushed metal. First Aid did what he could but we lacked replacement parts. Ratchet will ream me for this one," she vented softly then tensed as the arms carrying her tightened. His optics blazed above her, a feeling almost like hate skipping across their spark link before disappearing under a wash of concern and desire.
The doors to their private quarters slid open, Optimus turning to step through sideways. Elita started to push off, expecting to be sat down then vented with excitement as he continued into their private room to lay her on their recharge berth. He stepped back, handing her an energon cube from the shelf.
"Need my energy after all?" she asked, raising her eyebrow plates.
"To heal," he stated firmly, taking the empty cube and placing it back in its holder. Sliding next to her on the recharge bunk, he pulled her against his side then touched her lip plates with his before settling back to rest. His core system was screaming heat warnings as his energon lines filled but his transfluid pump remained offline. Two desperate attempts to break the coding locks failed.
"Optimus," she began, restlessly shifting next to him. "Not even a little interfacing?"
"Nothing is little with me," he teased back, stroking her faceplates with his fingers. Four more override attempts on the coding failed, his interface rod offlined and his chest plates locked.
"Please? I've missed your touch."
Optimus almost broke down and told her about the terrible prank and the locked out parts but did not. His pride held stubborn by the barest coding but held. "You are tired and injured. I will not add to it. However," he grinned mischievously, sliding his hand across her back plates. "A little magnetic pulsing," he tingled her center spine neural cabling. She vented hard, writhing in sensuality as the energy pulse hit her core systems. Her femme port slid open with an audible click and he smirked. The same hand magnetically pulsed her again as the other slipped down towards the port. She gasped as his wide fingers trailed around her outer edge, pressing inward. Moistening, she arched as another magnetic pulse hit.
Optimus waited until her movement slowed, pushing two fingers into her port, coating them in lubricant. "More," she gasped, grabbing his chest plates.
"Hmm, my femme wants more?" He teased, pulling out then pushing three fingers in further, moving them around before withdrawing.
"Quit teasing and interface already!" She commanded, more lubricant seeping from her port. He flexed his hand, reading a strong magnetic pulse. He caressed her lips with his then moved down her neck plating to her cables, biting softly. Releasing his jaw gears from her neck, his fingers thrust rapidly in and out her port.
'Now!' He processed, slamming her neuron cabling with his strongest magnetic pulse. Screaming, she arched, the flexible port closing tight around his fingers in overload. His optics narrowed in pain as his systems surged, unable to release as his spark beat on its casing.
"Ahh, that was… wow," Elita moaned, sagging against his broad chest plates as his fingers massaged her port edge then withdrew. "But you didn't."
"Your pleasure is mine," he ground out, processors thrumming. "Rest, that's an order. Or I will force you into recharge."
"Force? Sounds like more pleasure," her voice drifted off as her optics slid close.
He wiped his sticky hand on the bunk covering, crushing the metal edge in frustration. "Beautiful femme by me all night and nothing. Slagging medic. Probably hasn't been with a femme in so long he's forgotten he even has an interface rod." Then he laughed, a nasty edge to it. In that moment, he sounded more like his brother Megatron as the plan formed. "Ratchet needs to remember what desire feels like. And I have the perfect coding program to achieve that." Optimus stretched out on their bunk, shifting Elita to the crook of his arm.
The next morning he woke her, feeling frustrated and resisting her attempts at seducing him. "Your footpad is still slanted and you need medical care. No arguments, I am Prime and your mate. Tonight I promise to interface your plating off," he said.
Ratchet knocked on the outer room door, interrupting their conversation by sliding it open and smirking. "Enjoy your evening?"
Elita smirked, winking an optic. "Very enjoyable though lug nut here is over protective. Have a program upgrade to tone that down?" She blinked in confusion as Ratchet snickered and Optimus growled.
To be continued…