Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All unrecognizable ones are the intellectual property of yours truly; their theft is punishable by severe voodoo-induced pain in any and all sensitive organs of the body, followed by eternal damnation.

Because, you know, stealing is wrong.

Title: On The Care And Feeding Of Humans

Summary: Transformers AU. Juxtaposition side story. So you think you're ready for a human all your own, but do you know how to care for one? ... Ratchet and Wheeljack are doing their best to figure it out.

Rating: PG

Warnings: mild cursing

Author Notes: Number five: for a little organic in a big mech world, sometimes it's best to learn some new tricks.

Timeframe: After the attack on Bluestreak, before arrival at Teyonu 8.

On The Care And Feeding Of Humans

Tricks

You live and you learn, or you don't live long.
- Time Enough For Love, Robert Heinlein

Day One:

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Not happening!" She scrabbled for purchase on the sleek red fingers that were so determined to set her down atop the equally sleek (and therefore, highly slippery) white shoulder. "Ratchet, don't you dare. I get woozy watching a Ferris wheel. I have the balance an inebriated giraffe! I can't do this!"

"We can't always carry you in our hands, and sometimes it might not be feasible to set you on the floor. Prowl insists you at least try it."

"I'll fall!" The red hand succeeded in scraping her off onto the medic's shoulder, and she hugged the featureless white metal, arms and fingers stretched wide like those of a gecko. The mech's shoulder was slightly wider and broader than a large recliner chair. It felt very small. "Ratchet..."

"I'm not even moving," said the medic. There was a whirr of mechanical parts shifting, and the head (Oh, that's a big head...) turned, revealing one glowing blue eye. "You won't fall."

"There's nothing to hold on to!" The front edge dropped off in a steep slope. The back edge was a sheer drop. On one side, the medic's arm was attached, a huge cube-shape making up the top of his shoulder. On the other side, there was an opening in the white armor where the wires and tubes of the medic's neck disappeared down into his chest cavity. His white-helmed head loomed over her like the horned visage of some ancient colossus. "Don't I get a training harness or something?"

'You look ridiculous,' chortled the voice.

Shut up!

She made the mistake of looking over the rear edge of the medic's shoulder. The view was not unlike looking out her apartment window, merely with the gleaming metal floor of the medbay instead of a dingy alley and a pristine metal table instead of a neighboring building. Her stomach lurched.

"Ratchet... Ratchet, I'm being very serious. Please, put me down, or you're about to become very familiar with another facet of the human system that you really don't want to know about."

"What?" The mech sounded confused.

"Put me down or I'm going to throw up."

"Throw up..." She could hear a low whirr-hum in his head. "Oh. Please don't. Why don't you try sitting up? Sit on the edge. You can hold on to the collar-ridge in my armor to steady yourself."

Sit up. Sit up. I... Yeah. I can do that. She shifted slowly, inch by inch. She assumed the 'collar-ridge' was the edge of the opening in the medic's armor, not unlike a human collarbone, and she slipped her fingers over the edge and grasped it tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. The material of her jeans slid alarmingly on the low-friction surface of the mech's armor, and she squeaked in alarm.

"I c-can't do this. There's a reason humans live on the ground."

"Simulations show that if you sit up on the forward edge, there is a 99.988 percent chance that, should you fall, you will fall forward, in which case I will catch you."

Evelyn blinked, fear fading momentarily. "Simulations?" she asked incredulously.

"I did mention that this was Prowl's little idea, did I not? You can thank him for the statistics as well. Sit up."

The mech stood as still as any statue as she hesitantly shifted and wriggled around to face forward, dangling her feet over the edge, her heels bumping against the mech's chest. Her grip on the edge of the white armor was tight enough to pain her hand, and her head spun as she looked across the room. For the first time since arriving onboard the ship, she saw everything from a mechs-eye view.

"Ah... wow." She peered around, stomach still squirming uncomfortably. "This is... It looks a lot bigger from up here... somehow... I think."

'Eloquent as always.'

Day Two:

"Slower!"

"Evelyn, if I walk any slower, my shift will end before we reach the other wall."

The voice was incoherent with mirth. Evelyn's muscles felt as though they would never relax as she gripped the collar-ridge of Wheeljack's armor. Unlike Ratchet's rather Spartan body, Wheeljack's had extra projections in several places that made Ratchet's shoulders look positively spacious. She hunched her shoulders, leery of the lighted panel that loomed directly behind her skull.

Oh, yeah. I bet you'll think it's hilarious when I'm brained by his... ear... thing...

The voice choked out something that sounded like 'vocal indicator' between its giggles.

Ratchet watched from where he leaned against the opposite wall of the 'bay, vigilant but amused. "Almost a breem," said the medic. "You're getting better."

"Tell that to my ribs," mumbled Evelyn, pressing her free hand against her abused torso.

'At least he caught you,' pointed out the voice merrily.

Laugh it up, Sideswipe. When we get back to Earth, it's tomatoes and tapioca, all day, every day!

'I'll be back in my own body.'

Evelyn snarled silently. Then I'll shove them up your tailpipe.

Day Three:

"Evy? Are you with me, baby?" A warm hand, calloused and gentle, patted at her cheek. Haloed by golden sunshine, a shadowed face loomed over her. Grass tickled her ears and the backs of her arms, filling the air with the scent of summer. She frowned.

"Ouch," she said.

A bass rumble, a chuckle, set the air trembling, and there was a hint of paleness in the shadow, the quick flash of a smile.

"Took a tumble, hmm? Are you hurt?"

She grinned. "My butt. And my pride."

"Well, that's okay then."

"Did she run off?"

"Yeah, but not far. Do you see why I wanted to do this in the pasture now?"

"Give her room to run."

"Give her room to run. Good girl. Ready for round two?"

Sigh. "... I guess so."

The hand returned, caressing her hair. "Guessing? That doesn't sound like my girl."

"I mean... yeah. Yes, sir. I'm ready."

"All right. Come on, then. We don't really know how much trauma an organic can take."

"Dad?"

Summer warmth was seeping away, and the grass was no longer a pleasant cushion beneath her shoulders. Everything was cold and hard.

"Evelyn?"

The light changed, no longer yellow... but white...

"Evelyn?"

She blinked, squinting up into the medbay lights. "I hate those things," she said grumpily.

Wheeljack and Ratchet loomed over her, heads conveniently on either side of the brilliant light that currently plagued her.

"Are you functioning?" asked Ratchet, voice sharp.

"Fine," she said. What the hell just happened?

'You fell,' said the voice. 'Pretty spectacular, too. They almost didn't catch us 'til we hit.'

She remembered vague impressions of weightlessness and gleaming metal rushing past and an undeniable feeling of 'oh, shit.' Ah. Yes. What number am I on?

'Fall number six,' said the voice.

Joy.

"We'll find some other way," Wheeljack was saying. "A harness of some sort, don't you think? It would be simple enough to design."

"It wouldn't fit all of us, 'Jack. Plus, there's the trouble of swapping it between mechs, and we can't all be bothered to wear a sling all day just in case we might need to carry her."

Evelyn glowered. Clenching her jaw, she sat up (Oh, head rush.) and began tugging at her shoes, dropping them on the table. The sound of the shoes hitting metal attracted the two mechs' attention. Her socks were shortly added to the pile, along with the medical glove. The two mechs watched with curiosity as she set about rolling up the cuffs of her slacks until her legs were bare nearly to her knee.

"What's all of this about?" asked Wheeljack.

"Skin has better traction on metal," she explained. Standing, Evelyn placed her hands on her hips. "Okay. Let's do this."

Day Ten:

"Hey, Blue, you've got some kind of growth on your shoulder!"

Evelyn glared down at the blue and red minibot Gears... and oh, was it not a wonderful feeling to look down on a mech for a change?

"It's harder than it looks," she said, straightening slightly on the mech's shoulder, and Bluestreak continued past the minibot into the rec room.

End Tricks