It started as a bet. Both twins regretted that detail in the end.
The Ark's crew never needed much of an excuse to throw a party, not since they landed on Earth and found themselves with a relative abundance of resources and free time. And, as was customary at such parties, most everyone got wasted on one of Sideswipe's singular blends of high grade, which was guaranteed to knock any mech flat on his aft after a cube or two.
Sideswipe's memory of that night was fuzzy, at best. He didn't remember how the subject came up, but he could recall boasting outrageously about his ability to seduce any mech he chose. Then someone demanded that he prove it, and someone else suggested Ratchet, of all mechs, and suddenly there were wagers being shouted all around. Sideswipe wasn't about to back down from a challenge, so he convinced Bluestreak to take them all down and make sure Sides got them in the morning, despite the gunner's protests.
Sunstreaker had also been less than pleased with the entire idea, once he recovered from his hangover enough to understand just what was going on. "You're insane," he said flatly, but he went along with it, mostly because he couldn't talk Sideswipe into giving it up.
So, despite Sunstreaker's grumbling, they schemed. It was sparkling's play to get a copy of the roster and memorize Ratchet's duty schedule, and after that it was easy enough to simply be present whenever and wherever Ratchet was, as often as their own schedule allowed. At first, Ratchet seemed to take the suddenly ubiquitous presence of one or both of the brothers in stride, but it very quickly became apparent that all they were managing to do was wear on his patience.
"Out! Out! Get out of my fragging medbay!" Ratchet snapped finally, after they'd been underfoot for most of a day.
"But Ratchet…" Sideswipe pleaded, not in the least above groveling, but Ratchet shook his head.
"No. Out, Sideswipe. Find somewhere else to lollygag," the medic said flatly, brooking no arguments. "I'm fucking tired of tripping over you two slagging aftheads." The pair knew when they were beaten; they retreated.
The next time, instead of just hanging around, they offered to help. (Rather, Sideswipe offered to help while Sunstreaker scowled and looked as though he'd prefer to be anywhere else.) With a surprised and slightly suspicious look on his face, Ratchet gave them odd jobs to do around the medbay. As the day wore on, however, his expression slowly changed to one of puzzlement, for neither of them shirked anything he asked of them, and he never heard them complain.
Another time, Sideswipe waited until Ratchet had been in medical all day without a break, and then brought him a cube of energon. The frontliner found him in his office, apparently composing a request for supplies. Looking a little frazzled, he had gazed up at Sideswipe with open astonishment, tinged with equal amounts of confusion and gratitude as the red mech slid the cube across his desk to him.
"Thought you might need it," Sideswipe said quietly, then left, leaving Ratchet to stare after him.
With such small victories, wars are won.
Sideswipe was quite capable of being charming without being cloying, with being solicitous without hovering, and he put those skills to full use, privately exulting every time Ratchet's expression toward him softened, even if it were just with confusion. He felt his seduction was going very well; the medic hadn't yelled at either twin or chased them away in days. He had even, on a couple of occasions, looked pleased to see them. All he needed now, Sideswipe believed, was the perfect opportunity, a moment when the white mech was feeling vulnerable or maybe a little off-balance—then, with the right kind of push, he should fall right into Sideswipe's arms.
Thus making Sideswipe the winner of the bet. He almost felt as though he ought to be rubbing his hands together and cackling maniacally.
"This is going to end badly," Sunstreaker commented. They were just leaving the medbay after what Sideswipe believed had been a particularly successful encounter, and the red mech had a bounce in his step and a gleam in his optic as they made their way back to their quarters.
"How do you figure?" he asked, giving his yellow brother a dubious look. "I think it's nicely in hand."
Sunstreaker shook his head and leveled a Look at his brother. "Yes, but what are you gonna do with him afterward?"
Sideswipe shrugged. "Pit if I know. Isn't that his problem, anyway?" he asked reasonably. He couldn't figure out what Sunstreaker's malfunction with this was. He'd never expressed interest in the well-being of any of his previous flings, after all. Why was it suddenly so important?
Sunstreaker just shook his head again, this time in disgust at his brother's obtuseness, and didn't bother to reply, setting himself to ignoring Sideswipe for the rest of the evening. At first the yellow mech's stubborn refusal to speak to him grated, but he finally decided to just ignore Sunny right back—that'd show him.
At last, after what felt like an eternity of Sunstreaker's calm silence, an increasingly sulky Sideswipe realized that he didn't feel like sulking anymore and broke the quiet between them.
"What do you think would be the best way to get him to give it up?" he mused. "Maybe…" he trailed off for a moment, then grinned brightly and continued in a simpering tone. "'Oh, poor little me, my brother's hurt and in the medbay and I'm allllll aloooone, whatever shall I do?'" He heaved a great dramatic sigh, flopping back on his berth with an arm over his optics, lifting it up just enough to peek out at his brother.
Sunstreaker snorted. "No," he said flatly.
"Aw, c'mon bro, be a good sport," the red mech implored.
"I am being a good sport. I didn't tell him what you were up to, did I?"
"Suuuuunnnyyyyyy!"
The yellow mech gave Sideswipe a disgusted look. "I am not letting myself get hurt so you can score a quick lay," he snapped, in a tone that even Sideswipe knew meant it was not up for discussion. The red twin harrumphed in irritation, but otherwise let it lie.
"Still, I definitely think I'll have to catch him off-balance," Sideswipe continued in a murmur, almost as though to himself. "Think he'd bite if I poured on more of that romance slag?"
"Fragged if I know. I'm not Ratchet. I don't know what the mech likes," Sunstreaker muttered, clearly irritated with Sideswipe's persistent pursuance of the current subject. "Why are you so slagging fixated on this anyway? He's gonna slag both of us if this backfires, and it's not like he's all that good-looking—he's so outdated. I think it's more trouble than it's worth." There was something off in Sunstreaker's casually dismissive tone, something that should have told Sideswipe there was more to it than what his brother was projecting on the surface, but the red mech ignored it as just another Sunstreaker oddity that he didn't want to examine too closely.
Instead, Sideswipe gave his brother an 'are you stupid?' look. "His looks have nothing to do with it. Just think of the hit we'd take to our rep if we fail, bro."
"'Our' rep, Sideswipe?" The yellow mech's lip curled in a disdainful sneer. "If I recall correctly, you were the one with the bet."
"Whatever," Sideswipe waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not gonna back down just because it gets a little difficult."
Sunstreaker shook his head. "Yeah, well, just don't come running to me when it comes around to bite you in the aft," he said coolly.
"C'mon, Sunstreaker, gimme a bit of a hand, here," Sideswipe pleaded, and the yellow mech heaved an annoyed sigh.
"You're just not going to give this up, are you?"
"…not very likely, no." The red mech looked amused and pleased—he knew he had his brother's full cooperation, now.
"I can't believe I let you drag me into this," Sunstreaker growled, dropping down onto his berth and deliberately turning away from his twin.
"Neither can I," came the cheeky response, which earned Sideswipe a game controller thrown at his head that he promptly ducked.
"We are so gonna be slagged for this…"
"Ah, c'mon, Sunny, where's your sense of adventure?" Sideswipe was grinning now, flush with triumph.
"Right where I left it," the yellow mech grumbled. "Besides, adventure plus Ratchet equals our afts welded to the ceiling," he pointed out—which Sideswipe, reluctantly, had to concede. The red mech started to reply, but his brother cut him off curtly, rolling over a little to frown at him. "Slagging recharge, Sideswipe. He'll still be there in the morning, and I'm sick of talking about it right now."
"Fine," Sideswipe sulked, settling himself more comfortably on his berth, but there was no more answer from Sunstreaker—the yellow mech was already cycling into recharge. Huffing a little to himself at being deprived of further argument, though undeniably pleased with the way things were shaping up, Sideswipe did the same.
