Author's Note: This probably would have been up sooner, except that Ratchet is a bitch to write (serious thanks go to my friend who not only takes the time to edit & give feedback on my craziness but also helped me completely rework the Ratchet scene). I have a new-found respect for anybody who can just sit down and write the Hatchet, cause damn.
Warning: some slight plot starts showing up in this chapter. I know, I know, you came for the smut, but there's still plenty here, so don't worry. I should have chapter three up fairly quickly since Ratchet doesn't really make an appearance.
I want to thank you guys for the favorites and the review, it's extraordinarily encouraging. 3
As always, Lockdown is a little shit, Prowl is a repressed sexually frustrated Autobot ninja, and Ratchet is cranky. Have fun.
Lockdown had not been expecting a second visit from the lean Autobot ninja. "Well well well, if it isn't the kid," he said, leaning back casually in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. Prowl's reaction was exactly what he'd been hoping for: Prowl's optics went straight to his interface panel before glancing away, embarrassed. Lockdown permitted himself a soft chuckle before asking "What can I do for you today, Autobot? Got any...pressing mod needs I could fill? Or do you just have a gear to grind with me? Don't be shy, Prowl: I want to get to the thrust of the issue."
Prowl drew himself up a little taller, as though he were steeling himself against Lockdown's teasing. "I wish to speak with you about...our previous encounter."
Lockdown stretched luxuriously, intentionally showing off the full length of his frame. "It was fun, huh kid? Is that why you tracked me down: You wanted another go at me 'n my mods?"
Prowl just stood in his doorway, looking slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable. It was absolutely adorable. It was also the only confirmation Lockdown needed.
"You do, don't you?" Lockdown asked, a devious grin spreading across his face. He got up from his chair and crossed the floor to Prowl. Easily, he put his one good servo on the small of Prowl's back and began to guide him over to his mod wall. Prowl's back stiffed at Lockdown's touch, and he dug his heels into the floor just enough to make Lockdown amused.
"Lockdown, wait -"
"Pick your poison, kid," Lockdown said, gesturing grandly at his collection of mods. "Anything you like, you let me know. Remember, though, they aaaall got a price. Some'r higher than others, but none are quite as much as that pretty little piece of armor you took off my servos -"
"Lockdown!" Prowl interrupted sharply. "I did not come here for modifications!"
Lockdown's servo fell from Prowl's back, and he took a step back, his playful air gone. "Then what do you want?" he demanded harshly. He knew Prowl didn't have the same mod obsession that he did, but it wouldn't kill the mech to pretend to have an interest. And if Prowl wasn't intending to "buy" any mods off of him, Lockdown didn't see much point in the other mech's being there.
Prowl looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet his optics. "The...other day, when we...when we interfaced…"
"Yeah? What about it?" It had been a purely business transaction. If the motorcycle didn't want mods, what point was there in even discussing this?
"Well...it seemed remarkably one sided," Prowl observed. "After all, you were the one calling most of the shots."
"Well no shit," Lockdown scoffed. "You want my merch, you do what I say. That's how it works, kid. You want something, you gotta be willing to pay for it."
"Yes, but suppose I wanted to...call...some...shots…" Prowl had started out that sentence sounding like normal Prowl. But at the end, his voice had lost its power, its innate confidence, and had faded out into something like a whisper.
Lockdown crossed his arms and raised an optic ridge. "Well then, you'd have to be willing to give me something I wanted."
Prowl vented in frustration. The frustration seemed to give him the momentum he needed, because he sounded far more confident as he blurted "That is not what I was suggesting, Lockdown."
"I didn't realize you were suggesting anything, kid."
"Well I am," he said hotly. He shook his head, turning to leave. "This was a mistake." But before he'd even taken a few steps, Lockdown's arm was blocking his path.
"Now you've got me curious," Lockdown said. Prowl looked up at him, jaw set, mulish and stubborn. Primus, but that mech was a looker. "What exactly were you suggesting, Prowl?"
Prowl fidgeted, but didn't break optic-contact with Lockdown this time. "I was proposing, if you must know, a sort of...mutualistic arrangement in a manner similar to our last encounter."
Lockdown couldn't help but smirk. "You mean you just want to frag?"
And now Prowl looked absolutely, deliciously mortified. "You don't have to put it so bluntly," Prowl protested, but his vents were cycling a little quicker than they had been previously.
"And you don't have to put it so elegantly," Lockdown countered. He advanced on Prowl, forcing the shorter, slighter mech up against the wall. He rested both of his arms against the wall, blocking Prowl's escape on either side, his face inches away from Prowl's own. "I'm just some lowdown Decepticon scum, remember? You gotta use simple words to get that pretty little point of yours across."
Prowl was venting hard now, but his voice was deceptively even. "You didn't seem to have any trouble understanding me," he countered.
Lockdown had to smile at that. "So what did you have in mind," he asked, taking a hand off the wall to aimlessly trace a servo down Prowl's slender frame. "A little foreplay, or should we jump right to the toys?" His grin was wicked, his forehead nearly touching Prowl's.
"We are not using that blender thing again," Prowl suddenly said, putting a hand against Lockdown's chest and pushing him back slightly. Slag was he hot when he wanted to get serious.
"It's not a blender," Lockdown corrected, his tone showing a disapproval of Prowl's ignorance. But even as he said it, he pressed his body closer to Prowl's and started tracing designs across the other mech's arm. "It is a repurposed micromaster rotor. And I think you know exactly what it was repurposed for," he added, nuzzling against Prowl's neck cables.
Prowl let out a small grunt at Lockdown's attention. "...Yes, well, we're not using it again."
"I didn't hear you complaining the last time I stuck it between your-"
"Yes, well," Prowl said, coughing uncomfortably. Lockdown chuckled. It was just too fun making Prowl squirm. "It leaves very distinctive scuff marks. Ratchet was asking questions."
"Mmm. What did you tell that has-been of a quack?"
"I would prefer not to have to tell him anything, to be perfectly honest."
Lockdown stopped nuzzling Prowl's neck and looked him in the optic. "Are you saying I can't leave any marks on you? At all?"
Prowl licked his dental plates. "It would be...preferable."
A slow smile spread across Lockdown's lip plates. He slammed his hand and claw against the wall hard, making Prowl jump, but Lockdown saw arousal in Prowl's optics nonetheless. "Well then, Autobot," he purred, pressing close against the motorcycle once more and rotating his hips suggestively against Prowl's own. "You don't want me to give you any scratches? Any dents?" He leaned in and murmured in Prowl's audio receptors. "Then you're just going to have to try to stop me, aren't you? If you think you're up to the challenge."
Prowl really was venting hard now, and Lockdown reached down with his hand to hit the catch on Prowl's interface panel. He gripped Prowl's spike and began moving his hand roughly across it. Prowl gasped, his optics dimming instinctively. Soon, Lockdown had Prowl groaning under his attentions. Lockdown continued murmuring in Prowl's audio receptor, not missing a beat. "I thought you liked it rough, Autobot. You like that I'm reckless and unpredictable. You like that I don't care if I'm denting you, 'cause I'm too busy fragging you into oblivion. And you like denting me, you disgusting Autobot. You like seeing your handiwork all over my frame. You're no better than I am - you'd be better suited as a Decepticon. You're wasted as an Autobot."
"Stop," Prowl gasped, one hand grabbing Lockdown's fast-pumping wrist and attempting to hold it still.
"Why should I?" Lockdown purred, continuing his ministrations. "Give me one good reason, Autobot."
Prowl's hand tightened around his wrist, so that the grip was almost painful. His optics flashed on, and bored into Lockdown's own. "Because," Prowl hissed, having successfully stopped the motion of Lockdown's hand. "Because I am not overloading until my spike is buried so deep into your port that we'll need surgical equipment to get it out." He pried Lockdown's hand from his spike. "Now let go of me, and get on your back, Decepticon," he growled, desire making his vocal processor drop several octaves.
"Why don't you make me, Prowl," Lockdown countered, the Autobot's name coming out as a guttural growl.
Prowl responded by attempting to sweep Lockdown's leg again, as he'd done the first time he and Lockdown had actually established a hard connection. But Lockdown wasn't going to let Prowl use that trick on him twice, not even for that lovely threat Prowl had issued him. "Uh uh uh," Lockdown said, waggling a servo at him. "I'm disappointed in you Prowl. I expected a little more creativity from you, being so expertly trained in combat."
"'Creative' this," Prowl snarled and slammed a fist into one of Lockdown's audio receptors.
Well that was...unexpected.
And suddenly, Lockdown felt himself falling. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened until Prowl was climbing on top of him and was pressing the catch on his interface panel, hissing insults at him. "Fragging Decepticon. Apparently the word 'mutual' doesn't mean anything to Decepticons. If I wanted to get jacked off, I would have just stayed in my hab suite and done it myself, you slagger. I came here to get a solid frag, not to be insulted by a bounty hunter."
Lockdown realized that after dazing him with a blow to his audio receptor, Prowl had swept Lockdown's leg to send him crashing to the floor.
With a groan, Lockdown rubbed his ringing audio receptor. "Damn, Prowl. Didn't think you had it in you." He curled his hand and his hook tightly on Prowl's hips. "You might not have come here to be insulted by a bounty hunter, but admit it: It turned you on."
Prowl's only response was to growl and line his equipment up with Lockdown's.
Lockdown watched as Prowl carefully used a rag to wipe the lubricant off of his interface panel, wincing somewhat as he brushed against the overstimulated sensors in that area. Lockdown was sprawled casually across his floor, his own interface panel open - he had no Autobot base to return to, and couldn't be bothered to clean himself up so soon after their fun.
"Mmm...shame you gotta cover up that pretty little piece you got so soon, kid," he mused, reaching out to run a servo across the now-closed panel.
Prowl shivered and murmured "Don't-"
"Don't what? Call you 'kid'? What should I call you then? 'Sweetspark', maybe? 'Darling Deception to be'?" He couldn't help laughing at the ridiculousness of calling Prowl pet names, and as he did he traced designs on Prowl's cover.
"Don't do that," Prowl clarified, pushing Lockdown's hand away from him.
Lockdown managed to look vaguely offended. "What, we faced and now all of a sudden you don't want anything to do with me? That's cold, Prowl, even for an Autobot."
It was astonishingly adorable how Prowl's little looks of disapproval were. "Lockdown, I am exhausted. I couldn't put out an electrical charge if I wanted to. I am going to go home and collapse onto my berth and recharge for as long as physically possible before my shift tomorrow morning."
"Oooh, working mech," Lockdown purred, moving across the floor to wrap his arms around Prowl and nuzzle his neck before speaking into his audio receptors: "Have I ever told you how hot it gets me, you being all responsible?"
Prowl gave a long-suffering sigh that only made Lockdown hug him tighter. "No, you have not informed me of this," Prowl said, and Lockdown saw the beginnings of a smile playing across his lip plates. "Perhaps you will have to discuss it with me next time. In depth."
"Mmmm, I like the sound of that," Lockdown murmured as Prowl stood up and he was forced to release his newfound Autobot playmate.
Lockdown stood too, and his expression suddenly turned serious. "Hang on kid," he said, and Prowl stopped on his way out Lockdown's door.
"What is it?" Prowl asked scowling, not liking Lockdown's look.
Lockdown propped his claw on his hip and took in Prowl's frame, his optics lingering on the Autobot sigil on the ninja's abdomen. "Look kid, I know this ain't exactly a serious thing," he said, not quite hesitant. "But you sure there should be a next time? I mean...you're an Autobot, I'm a Decepticon. That spells trouble no matter which way you slice it."
Prowl made a face at him. "Lockdown, I am not proposing that we fall in love with one another," he said a bit condescendingly. Lockdown had to chuckle at that. "I merely wish for this to be a...mutual exercise in which we relieve the extraordinary stresses our positions place on us. Nothing more."
Lockdown shrugged. "Well, if you think you can handle my Decepticon wiles, you're welcome in my ship anytime." Lockdown's grin turned devious. "But be warned: Many have found me to be completely and totally irresistible."
The look Prowl gave him was dubious at best, and his gaze swept down to Lockdown's pelvis, then back up to his optics. "I might find that somewhat easier to swallow," he said dryly, "if it wasn't coming from a mech whose interfacing equipment is hanging out for all the universe to see."
Lockdown shrugged again, helplessly. "Hey, when you got it, why not flaunt it?"
Prowl shook his head and left. Lockdown, feeling immensely satisfied with himself, stretched and went to grab some energon before heading back to his monitors to keep tabs on his projects.
"Oh for Primus' sake"
"Ratchet, I know you don't approve, but-"
"DAMN RIGHT I DON'T APPROVE. I don't particularly approve of anything that leaves one of my mechs looking like he came out on the bad end of a fight with a sex-starved weed-whacker."
Lockdown chuckled at that over his cube of warmed energon. It had been easy to slip a bug between Prowl's armor plates when they'd first made a mess of his ship. He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to listen in on what the Autobots were doing. And even if he didn't learn anything particularly useful, Prowl's little discussions with Ratchet were quite amusing. Part of him wished he'd thought to add visuals, because Ratchet's face was sure to be priceless. Logistically, though, he knew he wouldn't have been able to swing that without Prowl's active consent. And Prowl would not have consented to it.
"If you think I'm going to patch you up WITHOUT a proper explanation for why you're dented half to the pit, missing half of your paint on your lower regions, and so low on power you need to be jump-started with a car-battery, then you've got another thing coming, Prowl," Ratchet continued.
"Ratchet, please – it's bad enough that I look like a disaster victim. Can we not add interrogation to the mix? Please?"
Ratchet's voice became much gentler, but there was still a hard edge to it, as well as something else Lockdown couldn't discern. "Prowl . . . be honest with me. Are you being . . . hacked by anyone?"
Ah. Concern. Lockdown toyed with his energon cube, mildly amused. Trust Ratchet to jump to the worst possible conclusion. What a sap.
"What? Ratchet, what kind of question is that?"
Oh yeah, definitely concern. "This is the second time you've come into my medbay with clear signs of violent interface. You also refuse to talk to me about it, which might be a sign of shame. But put those two together, and, well, there's only one conclusion I can really draw, Prowl." Ratchet's voice now had a tinge of apprehension, as if he were afraid of what might Prowl might say, might confirm. Lockdown idly wondered how much Ratchet cared about his patients, if it was just a responsibility to him. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. "As your medic, I have an obligation to the mental and physical well-being of my patients, and if someone is abusing you, I need to know so that I can help. I'm bound by my oath, Prowl. Everything you tell me stays between us. Not even Prime gets to know. Talk to me, Prowl – I can't help you otherwise."
There was a long silence, and Lockdown could picture Prowl's processor whirring as he weighed all his options. He frowned at his cup. Something was bothering him about Ratchet's tone, but he couldn't place a finger on it.
"No one's hacking me, Ratchet," Prowl finally said. There was a brief pause, and it became clear that he didn't intend to say anything more.
"Good," Ratchet's voice had regained all of its acerbity. "I take it you won't mind if I don't do anything to patch you up then!"
"What? Ratchet!" Prowl's voice had shot up an octave, and Lockdown could hear sounds of movement. "You can't just leave me looking like this! Doesn't that go against some sort of code you took as a medic?:
"We're in an official warzone, kiddo," Ratchet shot back, sounding gruffer than ever. "I have to prioritize injuries, consolidate resources. Your little scratches aren't a direct result of battle, nor are they impeding your ability to function. I don't have to do anything, apart from getting you fueled back up."
"Ratchet-!"
"That's triage for you! Unless you want to tell me what's really going on." Concern had crept back."Prowl?"
There was another long pause.
Prowl's voice broke the silence, hesitant. "There's this . . . mech . . ."
The little snitch.All it took was a little pressure from Ratchet and Prowl was ready to spill all his secrets. Typical weak-willed Autobot.
"You don't say." Absolute deadpan from Ratchet. "Anything more obvious you want to tell me? 'The sky is blue,' perhaps? 'Water is wet'? 'Asphalt is hard'?"
"We're interfacing, okay? Just . . . just 'facing. It's a mutual thing."(Prowl really did have a boner for that word, didn't he?) "We're both consenting. It's . . we just . . . it's just some stupid fling, okay?" It seemed Ratchet had learned, just as Lockdown had, that the fastest way to get Prowl to open up and say what he meant was to make him angry. And it was remarkable how sexy Prowl was when he was angry.
There was another long pause as Ratchet processed that information. "You care to tell me who?"
"I don't see how that information is relevant to patching me up, doctor."
"It's not." The very distinctive sound of dents being pounded out came over the speakers, and Lockdown assumed that Ratchet had begun repairs. "I just want to be prepared for when you start bringing whoever this is back to base."
Silence between the two. "That . . . that will not be happening, Ratchet."
There was more silence, punctuated by the metallic sound of a dent puller vacuuming out the dings in Prowl's armor. Then Ratchet vented out a long sigh. "Prowl, I want you to be extremely careful about how you proceed."
" . . What do you mean, Ratchet?"
"Don't play innocent with me, you glitch." There was a loud clang as Prowl earned himself a new dent. Lockdown shifted, feeling vaguely annoyed with the medic for laying a servo on his plaything. It was terribly unprofessional. "You are a terrible liar. You're embarrassed. You're embarrassed to tell me who this mech is, so embarrassed that you tried to get away with not telling me you were interfacing. As if I wouldn't know, please." There was a brushing sound, and a burst of static. "And while we're on the subject," More static. Ratchet was reapplying paint, Lockdown realized. Idly, he wondered if he would have to replace the bug. "You're getting a complete medical scan from me before you leave this base again. The last thing we need is some virus shutting you down."
"Ratchet-"
"Shut up, I'm not done. From what I've gathered, you have zero intention of bringing this mystery mech back to base. So not only are you ashamed to admit you're banging somebody (oh grow up, Prowl, with the dents you're getting, it's considered officially 'banging') but you also have no intention of letting the rest of the team meet said mech. Which means that you're either 'facing a neutral - and let's be honest, there wouldn't be neutrals on this backwater planet - or you're facing a Con."
There was an enormous pause. "Well? Am I wrong?"
" . . . no sir."
"Damn straight." Brushing, clanging, more static. Finally, Ratchet spoke. His voice had regained a touch of gentleness. "Prowl . . . be careful. I trust you. I trust your professionalism, and I trust that you won't get so caught up in - in whatever this is - that you'll spill all our secrets. But I've seen too many mechs scarred from a relationship across the battlefield gone wrong. Someone always gets hurt."
"Primus, you sound just like . . ."
" . . . like who, Prowl?" Irritation had returned. Lockdown grinned.
"It . . it doesn't matter. Thank you for your assistance, Ratchet."
"Hold up there, kiddo. Didn't I say you weren't leaving 'till I gave you a complete medical scan? No, close that door."
"But Ratchet, I have a shift-"
"Yeah? You should've thought of that before you went out and banged a Con! Back on the berth!"
What followed was a mix of indignant sputtering on Prowl's part, and frustrated sputtering on Ratchet's. Lockdown chuckled once more and turned down his monitor's speakers, setting his now empty cube aside. Medical scans were long, boring, and usually involved the patient being asleep, so he doubted he'd glean any Autobot secrets from the next few hours. He recorded everything anyways, and he needed to get some recharge in. With a stretch, he left his chair and walked lazily to his cramped recharge chamber, confident in letting the monitors handle everything for the time being.
