A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this out--it's finals week at dear ol' MSU, and the Christmas spirit has struck Wal-Mart at long last, so I don't have a lot of time left to write. Here's an extra-long chapter to hold you over 'til I can get past exams. And the evilness of the Wal-Mart electronics department at Christmas-time.
As always, special thanks to my beta,VAWitch, without whom I would never have the confidence to post this.
(And I just know my twin is gonna kill me for not letting her read this before I posted it --cringes--)
Jazz was not surprised when Sideswipe took his revenge on the medic less than a week later—what surprised (and amused) him to no end was the manner in which he took it.
The saboteur had limped into the medbay after wrenching his knee during a friendly basketball game with Blaster, and was sitting on a repair table as Ratchet grumbled and poked at him when it happened. Everything had been business as usual until two things happened: one, the steady stream of verbal abuse toward Jazz came to an abrupt stop, and two, Ratchet dropped the tool he was using, squeaked out "Excuse me," and bolted for his office. The Porsche stared after him in bewilderment for a moment before awkwardly following him.
"Hey Ratch, man, y'ok?" he called through the door of the office, concerned. He almost didn't recognize the high-pitched, breathy voice that answered him—it was nearly an octave higher than it should have been.
"Go away!"
"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Jazz replied, determined not to leave without answers.
"Nothing's wrong! I'm fine!" The medic's vocalizer shorted with a squeal on the last word.
The Porsche tried the door; in his haste to escape, Ratchet had neglected to lock it. "I'm comin' in," he warned, and walked in just in time to see the Chief Medical Officer—sprawled in his office chair—throw back his head and cry out as he overloaded.
For a moment, Jazz couldn't do anything but stare in disbelief. Then he power-cycled his visor—but when it blinked back on, Ratchet was still there, lying limp in the chair as his systems reset.
"Wow," the saboteur said intelligently.
"Shut up," Ratchet muttered thickly, still muzzy from the release. He glared at Jazz in complete mortification.
After a moment, Wheeljack and Swoop stuck their heads in the door—they had been in the supply room, checking for discrepancies in the inventory, and they had apparently heard the noise.
"You Ratchet ok?" Swoop asked hesitantly.
The medic just groaned and flung an arm over his optics; the Dinobot took this to mean that he was not ok. He started toward his mentor, but Wheeljack grabbed his arm to hold him back just as Ratchet snapped, "Don't touch me!"
"Sideswipe?" Jazz guessed, earning confused looks from the engineer and the Dinobot. Ratchet raised his arm just enough to glower at the saboteur with one optic.
Finally he muttered, "Yes," and let his arm fall back.
Understanding finally dawned in Wheeljack's optics and, hiding his amusement, he ushered a confused and protesting Swoop out of the office.
"But me Swoop not get it—" he was complaining as the door cycled shut.
Finally, Ratchet mumbled, "I'm gonna kill that slagging Lambo."
Jazz couldn't help it. He snickered.
Ratchet sat up and glowered at him so fiercely that the saboteur nearly swallowed his own vocalizer in an attempt to contain his mirth.
I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not laugh ran through his processors like a mantra, though the sight of the CMO looking equal parts mortified and ready to throw something was not helping him.
"Not one word, Jazz," Ratchet growled, optics narrowing threateningly. He heaved himself up out of the chair, swaying a little on unsteady legs for a moment before regaining his balance.
Jazz ignored the warning. "Man, am I glad Prowl's too straight-laced to do slag like that to me," he commented, still trying to hold back his laughter. "You got your hands full with that one for a bondmate."
The medic growled. "Don't remind me." He looked like he was contemplating exactly what object to throw at the saboteur, and Jazz prepared himself to duck whatever he selected.
"Hey, you knew what you were getting into when you got yerself involved with those two," the Porsche pointed out, snickering.
"Jazz…" Again the warning growl.
"Just sayin'…"
"Well, don't." Ratchet shoved his way past him into the medbay proper and resolutely ignored the curious look from Swoop and the gleeful one from Wheeljack. He stalked over to the door and turned to look at them just before he exited.
"If any one of you three says one word about this, I will hunt you down," he snarled—and he nearly blew his top when Wheeljack couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
"Shut up!" the medic gritted, and tossed the closest thing he could get his hands on—a wrench—at his friend, who ducked, being well-used to this kind of behavior from Ratchet. The CMO, frustrated that the wrench hadn't connected with Wheeljack's head, made an inarticulate sound of rage, and swept out of the room.
Jazz called out in amusement, "But Doc, what about my knee?" His only answer was the sound of Ratchet's foot impacting the door.
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When Ratchet stormed into their shared quarters, Sideswipe was sprawled out on the berth looking thoroughly pleased with himself, and Sunstreaker was nowhere to be found.
"Hey, Ratch," the red warrior purred languorously, propping himself up on one elbow as the medic stomped over to him.
"What the frag did you think you were doing?" Ratchet ground out, fists clenched at his sides.
Sideswipe shrugged. "I got tired of waiting for you to come back," he said innocently.
Ratchet's left optic twitched involuntarily. "So you thought you'd throw our link wide open and get yourself off?" he asked coolly, staring down his nose at the Lamborghini.
Sideswipe thought about that for a moment. "Hmmm… what was it you said, Ratch? Payback's a bitch? 'Cause, you know, it is," and he grinned unrepentantly. "Besides," he added, "you liked it, anyway."
"Not while everyone is watching!" the medic hissed, and leaped at Sideswipe.
The Lamborghini braced himself just as Ratchet struck with a full-body tackle, and grunted when momentum carried them both into the wall. They grappled in silence for a few moments, neither able to gain the advantage in such close quarters—and Sideswipe discovered that Ratchet was no slouch at hand-to-hand combat despite having been primarily designed as a medi-bot.
Of course, that didn't mean that he was a match for Sideswipe.
The fell to the floor with a resounding crash; Ratchet made an involuntary noise of pain as Sideswipe landed on top of him. The bond was still new enough that the Lamborghini was instantly remorseful—he hadn't meant to actually hurt the medic.
"I'm all right," Ratchet grumbled, batting at his now frantically worried lover's hands in annoyance.
"But I hurt you," Sideswipe whined, still inspecting him for the least sign of damage.
Ratchet gripped the black head in his hands, forcing the red twin to look him in the optics. "I'm fine," he reiterated patiently. "You didn't hurt me, I promise." He snorted. "I'm beginning to think that you're worse than I ever thought about being. Were you always this overprotective of Sunny?"
Sideswipe winced. "Sunny would have hit me if I acted like this with him," he muttered. "Besides, I've been bonded to him my entire life, and we've both learned to ignore the urge to smother each other with concern—which is why I can't figure out why I feel like the Earth has dropped out from underneath me every time I think you might be hurt."
"Slagger," Ratchet murmured. "How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you say things like that?" and he gave the Lamborghini's head a little shake.
"It's all part of the master plan," Sideswipe quipped, happy again.
"What 'master plan'?" Ratchet asked warily, and the red 'Bot's grin turned suddenly sensuous.
"Why, to make you fall even more in love with me," he purred, and kissed his white bondmate thoroughly. "Let's do this proper-like, shall we?" he murmured after pulling away, and slipped his fingers under the now-unresisting medic's armor.
He smiled against the white lips in satisfaction at the low moan that poured out of his lover's vocalizer as he stroked circuits still hyper-sensitive from his earlier mental assault, then gasped when Ratchet's clever fingers found his most sensitive areas in return.Damn, he thought, but the 'Bot is good. He only realized that their mental link had deepened enough for Ratchet to have 'heard' him when a sense of smug pride flowed from the medic's side of the bond.
::Proud of yourself, are you?:: the Lamborghini sent, not trusting himself to speak with Ratchet's mouth on his neck like that.
::Why wouldn't I be?:: the ambulance sent back, amused. ::One of the most sought-after mechs in the Ark is putty in my hands.::
Beneath the satisfaction that Ratchet was radiating, however, Sideswipe could still sense the self-doubt, the amazement that someone as beautiful, as desirable as the twins would want a cranky old mech like him. Sideswipe was almost impossible not to like unless you were the victim of one of his pranks—and even then he usually managed to charm you into forgiving him—and Sunstreaker, despite his aggressive tendencies, was undoubtedly one of the best-looking 'Bots on the base.
Sideswipe pulled back with a sigh, prompting a whimper of loss from his bondmate. After blinking in confusion for a moment, the medic gave Sideswipe a questioning look as the heat of his passion cooled a little.
"Sides?" Ratchet asked uncertainly.
Sideswipe just watched him with an unreadable look for a few seconds, drinking in the sight of the white cheeks flushed pink on his infrared display from the overheated energon flowing through the medic's systems and the slightly parted lips that nearly begged to be kissed.
Finally, once he was satisfied that he had the image burned into his data storage units, he sent it to Ratchet—and at the same time showed him exactly how badly he was affected by it.
Sideswipe saw the medic's optics widen and felt his systems kick into overdrive as the depth of the red twin's desire flooded him. "I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone in my entire life," he whispered in Ratchet's audio. "And I have never loved anyone but Sunny until you. How's that for a confidence boost?" He gently stroked one of the ambulance's access ports and smiled at the shudder that the caress provoked—and then plugged himself into it.
The medic cried out and arched under him, fumbling at one of Sideswipe's own ports to complete the loop. The red mech carefully took the cable from Ratchet's shaking fingers and did it for him, and couldn't stifle a gasp as his bondmate filled the link with his love. Briefly, Sunstreaker's mind also touched on theirs, letting them know that he had also received the image and relaying his appreciation of it before he blocked them out—apparently he'd just set out on a patrol and couldn't afford to let his concentration lapse.
After that, their world narrowed down to just the two of them as they lost themselves in each other.
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Ratchet was just finishing up with Jazz's knee and trying to ignore the saboteur's stupid grin when Sunstreaker contacted him. His voice filled the medic's mind until Ratchet could hear nothing else—and something had him uncharacteristically worried.
::Tell Prime we need everyone out here right now,:: the yellow Lamborghini sent in a tightly controlled tone. Jazz looked at Ratchet questioningly.
"It's Sunstreaker," the CMO explained in a grim voice. "He's not injured, but something is wrong—who was sent out with him on patrol?"
"Bumblebee," Jazz replied quietly. "He's one of the few mechs he gets along with these days."
Ratchet nodded, distracted. ::Sunstreaker, what's going on?::
::Old Megs is up to something—not sure what,:: came the reply. ::But 'Bee's hurt, and there's a helluva lot of Decepticons down there. Comms are jammed—they know we're here, but not exactly where.::
::Thank Primus we don't need the comms to reach one another,:: the medic sent back faintly, and only realized he spoken aloud when Jazz agreed with him as he eased off of the repair table to inform Prime—the brief, faraway look on his face said that he'd already gotten to Prowl. The saboteur nodded to Sideswipe as the red mech slipped past him into the medbay, heading for his bondmate.
The Lamborghini was wrapping his arms around Ratchet just as Wheeljack and Swoop were coming back out of the supply room.
"Hey, what's going on?" the inventor asked, familiar enough with his friend to see the tension coiling in his frame.
Sideswipe hesitated, then said, "From what I can tell—Sunny and 'Bee literally stumbled over Megatron's latest scheme and are hemmed in by the enemy. Bumblebee's wounded, but Sunny hasn't said how bad—"
"And now he's requesting backup," Ratchet interrupted grimly, and Wheeljack whistled.
"Must be bad, if him Sunstreaker want backup," Swoop commented, surprising them with his insight.
Sideswipe watched the Dinobot thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, if my brother's asking for help, then he's unable to even escape, let alone fight them. And Primus knows he thinks he's a match for any three Decepticons."
::What is taking so long? They are chipping my paint.:: Sunstreaker's imperious mental 'voice' interrupted them, and both Ratchet and Sideswipe jumped.
::Hush, my lovely golden Daffodil of Doom. We're working on it,:: Sideswipe sent back cheekily, and Ratchet nearly choked on his laughter while Sunstreaker sputtered.
Wheeljack arched an optic ridge in curiosity. "Do I even want to know?" he asked dryly while his friend tried to not swallow his own vocalizer in his mirth.
By the time that Prime, followed closely by Prowl and Jazz, arrived in the medbay demanding details, they had forgotten their amusement at the twins' antics in the face of the desperate situation Sunstreaker and Bumblebee found themselves in.
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It turned out that the gathered Decepticons had been working on Megatron's Latest Superweapon™, which was really nothing different than any of the other superweapons he'd had designed over the years. It was a given that he had to be stopped, but it was always amusing to see just how this latest device would fail, and how quickly Megatron would blame Starscream for it.
Of course, the battle leading up to that point was anything but amusing—on arriving at the scene, they had had to fight their way to Sunstreaker's position, and the sight of little 'Bee lying there clutching his wounded side with one hand and his gun with the other made Ratchet seethe with white-hot fury.
Never mind the fact that Bumblebee was quite capable despite his small size, else he would never have been sent out with the volatile Sunstreaker.
As soon as the area was secured, the medic subspaced his weapons and pulled out his field kit, hurrying to Bumblebee's side as Sunstreaker brushed past him to join his brother on the battlefield. Ratchet felt a moment's panic as the thought that they were deliberately putting themselves in danger hit him, but the twins, sensing his distress, invaded his mind and forced him to calm down before blocking him out so that all of them could concentrate. He was too grateful for the effect to worry about their method; he decided to ream them later for taking advantage of their bond like that and turned his focus to 'Bee.
The injury was actually not all that bad, just painful, and it wasn't long before he had the Volkswagen's pain receptors offline and the worst of the damage patched—and of course, Bumblebee immediately insisted on joining the battle to help his friends. Ratchet almost didn't let him out of sheer vindictive stubbornness, but the simple truth was that they needed every warm body they could get out on the field, and the medic let him go with a dire warning should 'Bee break open the patch weld he'd put on the wound.
Reluctantly, Ratchet pulled out his own sidearms and leaped into the fray just in time to see his bondmates tag-teaming a very angry-looking Soundwave. The telepath's cassettes darted in and around the bigger mechs' feet, taking potshots where they could. Ratchet took aim and fired, clipping Rumble on the shoulder as the cassette drew a bead on Sideswipe. This attracted the attention of Rumble's twin Frenzy, and suddenly the medic had cassettes swarming him.
Ratchet plucked Rumble off of his back—where he'd climbed up to harass the medic—and flung him, taking a swipe at Frenzy to keep him from pulling the same trick. Both cassette twins rolled to their feet and fired in one smooth motion, and Ratchet winced when the shots stung his arm as he dodged too slowly. He was preparing himself for another attack when Sideswipe, seeing his bondmate in danger, roared in fury and pounced on the Decepticon twins. He swept the pair's heads together and dropped them at Soundwave's feet, snarling for the blue mech to "keep your mini-mes on a leash!" before going back to helping his brother harass the communications officer.
This, of course, infuriated Soundwave, who retaliated by doing the unexpected—he fired at Ratchet.
Both Lamborghini twins cried out when the shot pierced their bondmate's upper chest near the shoulder through and through, and the medic dropped with a grunt of pain.
By unspoken agreement, Sideswipe dashed for the downed medic while Sunstreaker bellowed and threw himself at Soundwave, stunning the blue Decepticon and his cassettes with the ferocity of his attack.
Far above their heads, Starscream took note of the exchange and, sensing a golden opportunity to be rid of the twin thorns in his side, executed a snap-roll to bring himself in line for a strafing run. Shrieking vindictively, he rained fire down on the heads of the struggling mechs below, not really caring if Soundwave and his cassettes got caught up in it so long as he scored a hit on those thrice-damned Autobot twins.
Pass completed, he looped around to view its effects, and cackled with glee at what he saw.
The red one lay still atop the now frantically-struggling medic; the yellow one knelt next to them trying to pull his brother off of the white mech. Soundwave and his cassettes were nowhere to be found—Starscream only realized where they'd gone when he heard Megatron sound the retreat. The red and white F-15 sniffed disdainfully as he turned his attention to finding his wingmates; Megatron must've gotten his aft handed to him by Prime again. The already abysmal level of respect he had for his leader sank even further, but he followed the order because he had no desire to tangle with the Autobot gestalt teams on his own—and, oh frag, Superion was looking his way. He turned tail and fled with the rest of his faction.
Down on the ground, Ratchet nearly panicked again amid the flash and bang of weapons fire when Sideswipe cried out and fell on top of him heavily; pain flared through the bond even though the medic could feel his bondmate's attempt to block it out.
"Sorry," Sideswipe gasped, little droplets of energon falling from his lips to spatter across Ratchet's face—the shot must have pierced an intake. The medic managed, with help from Sunstreaker, to roll Sideswipe off of him, and he flinched when the red Lamborghini arched up off of the ground with a strangled cry as he landed on the wound. Ignoring the burning pain in his own shoulder, Ratchet once again rolled Sideswipe over, this time so that he was lying facedown, and took a look at the damage done to his lover's back.
They were vaguely aware of others coming up beside them, but they were too absorbed in one another to pay much attention to them—until someone tried to take Sideswipe away. Both medic and warrior snarled protectively; but Ratchet, at least, backed down when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and Optimus Prime's deep, warm, world-weary voice saying, "Easy, old friend. We're just helping."
As Prime helped him to his feet, he finally took a look around, and grimaced at what he saw. The battle had been won, but it had taken its toll on their ragged little army. Nearly every mech had taken at least minor damage, and some were standing only by sheer force of will. Almost absently, he let his consciousness twine with the still-agitated Sunstreaker's, anchoring both of them in the solidity of their bond before the yellow mech became jumpy enough to lash out. Sideswipe nosed in from the edges of their joined minds, and they welcomed him with open arms despite the pain that flooded them all as a result.
Ever since he had woken to find himself bonded to the twins, Ratchet had been dreading a day like today—except, instead of falling apart from worry, he found himself becoming more focused. Of course, he would not be able to bring himself to work on anyone else until he had Sideswipe stabilized, but his two young students, along with Wheeljack, should be able to keep everyone else online until he could get to them, and Sunstreaker's injuries were minor enough that he thought he could force them to the back of his mind until the badly wounded were dealt with.
As for his own injuries—he damped down his pain receptors in the area, self-repair was already sealing off the leaks, and he still had full use of the arm. It probably looked worse than it was, he thought to himself, glancing at the energon and coolant trickling down his chest.
The drive back to base was mostly a blur. He stuck to Sunstreaker like a limpet, since Sideswipe had been forced to let Prime carry him back. He himself was hauling Bumblebee home; the yellow Beetle had broken open the temporary repairs Ratchet had made despite all of the medic's admonitions to be careful, and Ratchet fully intended to give the minibot the rough side of his tongue when they got back.
(After Sideswipe was fully repaired, of course. That took precedence over everything, and to the Pit with what anyone else might think.)
When they finally got everyone sorted out in the medbay, no one tried to stop him from going to Sideswipe's side, even though there were mechs with worse wounds waiting—Prime had to have realized that Ratchet would be of no use to them unless his bondmate was out of danger. Wheeljack watched his friend work on Sideswipe with an unreadable look before motioning to First Aid and Swoop to help him with Brawn, who had sustained the most damage of everyone involved in the battle.
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Late in the night, Ratchet sank into his office chair—the last 'Bot had been repaired and sent on his way, and all that was left was the cleaning up, which the medic had told both of his exhausted apprentices could wait until morning. Both of them had gratefully slunk off to find their respective brothers, eager to catch up on some much-needed rest. It had not been as bad as it could have been, he supposed—Brawn had been the only one he had had to keep in the medbay overnight, and the twins were curled up on their berth in the quarters they shared with him, deep in recharge.
Ratchet looked up as the door cycled open; he caught a quick glimpse of Brawn recharging peacefully on one of the repair tables behind the mech who entered. His tired mind struggled to make sense of why Prime might come to see him so late.
"Optimus—" he said, starting to rise from his chair, but Prime waved him back down.
"Are you alright?" the big red and blue mech asked in a blunt voice, scrutinizing the smaller mech closely.
Ratchet blinked. "I… well, yes…" he said, staring up at Prime in surprise when his CO frowned down at him. Optimus reached down and, as though to prove a point, ran a finger across the medic's shattered windshield and displayed the energon-coated digit to him.
"Are you sure?" he pressed, concern filling his voice and optics.
The medic watched the bigger mech uneasily. "It looks worse than it is—"
"You should still let someone take care of it," Prime admonished, casting around for something to wipe the fluid off of his finger. Ratchet wordlessly handed him a clean cloth.
The ambulance nearly leaped out of his armor when Swoop—whom he had thought was safely tucked in with his brothers—stuck his head in and squawked in agreement. "Him Prime right. You Ratchet let me Swoop fix you," the Dinobot said firmly, brooking no argument. "Me Swoop can do it," he added, thinking that his mentor's hesitation was due to his reluctance to let Swoop work on him.
Ratchet stared at them both, wide-opticed, before turning to Optimus and saying accusingly, "You planned this!"
He was met with a level glare. "You neglect yourself far too much, my friend," Prime replied grimly. "Come along, now, and get yourself repaired before those two hellions wake up and come looking for you. I'm surprised they haven't already." He reached down and gripped the medic by the elbow, all but dragging him out of the office and onto a repair table that Swoop was in the process of setting up. Unsurprisingly, Wheeljack and First Aid were helping him; apparently it was a conspiracy.
About halfway through, with his chest plating still off and Swoop still busily digging through his shoulder for leaks and damaged circuits, the Lamborghini twins did indeed come looking for him, stumbling sleepily into the medbay and setting up camp against the wall where they could watch the whole procedure.
"You hid the fact that you were still hurt from us," Sideswipe mumbled reproachfully, leaning up against his twin with a sigh and glaring at Ratchet.
"Sorry," the medic muttered, twitching a little as Swoop found a damaged sensor node and removed it.
"Fragger. No you're not," Sunstreaker replied. "Apparently we're gonna have to watch you every minute to make sure you take care of yourself." He scowled and crossed his arms, sparking a protest from his brother as he was dislodged from Sunstreaker's shoulder.
"Not a half-bad idea," Wheeljack muttered from where he was observing Swoop's progress and making corrections as needed—the Dinobot was still learning, after all. First Aid made a noise of agreement as he sorted through the parts they needed, occasionally handing one to Swoop when his fellow student requested it.
"You're all in on it, aren't you?" Ratchet grumbled. "I don't need a babysitter, slaggit."
"If you're going to forego necessary repair like this, then I wonder if you don't," Prime said dryly. "You're not really all that expendable, Ratchet. We can't afford to lose you, or have you break down from stress or injury. Not to mention the fact that you have some dear friends who would be very upset to see anything happen to you." The medic suddenly couldn't meet Prime's optics.
Optimus sighed and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I did not intend to make you feel guilty," he said quietly. "I merely worry for you—out of all of the Autobots here, you are the one under the most stress; your responsibilities weigh the heaviest—"
"It's not your damned fault!" Sideswipe burst in, the effect of his glare lessened by his trembling lips. If he'd been human, Prime would have thought him on the verge of weeping. "It's never your fault, you fragger, and don't you dare think that it is! It was my choice to protect you, not yours!" Everyone stared at the red twin as he drew a shaky breath. "I love you," he whispered, refusing to look at anything but the floor. "I love you, and all I keep seeing is Soundwave taking aim…"He shuddered. "Don't think for one moment that I wouldn't die for you, and be glad to do it." His voice broke on the last word, and he fell silent, shaking and leaning against his brother, who let him do so without comment.
"Don't say that," Ratchet replied harshly. "Don't you ever say that again. My life is not worth yours."
"You can't stop me," Sideswipe said grimly.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Prime interjected, smoothly averting the forthcoming argument.
"Next time I see that fragging 'Con I'm gonna rip him to shreds," Sunstreaker said in a low voice, optics glittering with anger.
Swoop and First Aid finally got his outer plating replaced, and Ratchet slid off of the repair table and went to the twins, who automatically wrapped him up in their arms as he crouched down next to them. "Pursuing Soundwave will only get you killed," he said, letting them press him between them, needing the closeness just as badly as they did. He jumped a little when he felt a hand that was not theirs brush against him; he looked up to see Wheeljack watching him with concern in his optics.
"Give me a yell if you need anything, alright?" the inventor said softly, and Ratchet nodded. Wheeljack left, with First Aid and Swoop following him. The medic stood, pulling Sunstreaker and Sideswipe up with him.
"Let's get some rest," he said quietly, and started toward his quarters with them in tow when Prime stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"This will only take a moment, and I promise you may have him back," Optimus rumbled, looking almost amused at the fiercely protective way the Lamborghinis glared at the big red and blue mech.
"Oh, for Primus' sake, he's not going to dismantle me," Ratchet said irritably, pushing at the pair when they still didn't move. Finally, they reluctantly slinked off to their quarters.
Ratchet fidgeted as the silence stretched between them. After a few minutes, he burst out, "Alright, so what did you want, Optimus?" He winced a little at how harsh that sounded to his own audios, and nearly apologized when Prime arched an optic ridge in surprise.
Optimus hesitated, then, "As I said earlier, I am concerned… I ask you—as a friend, not your commanding officer—are you really happy with them? Is a day like today really worth it, when you, of all mechs, know that they've come back from battle in far, far worse shape?" He sighed. "I guess that what I'm really afraid of is that the three of you have become stuck in this bond without having thought about it beforehand—I'm afraid that maybe someday they'll come to regret tying themselves to you. I'm sure you're just as aware of their 'love them and leave them' reputation as I am—"
"Optimus…" Ratchet interrupted gently. "There are no regrets between us," he told the bigger 'Bot earnestly. "It's not just some fling; and we may get on each others' nerves at times, but—well…" He paused, struggling with how to phrase it so that he could put his friend's mind at ease. "I… well, we didn't really think about it beforehand at all, that much is true, but deep down I think we all wanted it or it would never have happened. And as for today—I think I'm finally getting the hang of keeping my cool when they're hurt. I'll still be able to do my job without too much difficulty, I think." He chuckled softly. "In fact," he added, "I think they were fritzing more over me than I was over them."
"Hmm," Prime mused. "We'll probably have to keep you off of the battlefield as much as possible, then—they'll run less risk of serious injury if they're not distracted with keeping you safe."
Ratchet nodded. "I'll do whatever you think is necessary… I know that we put you in a bad spot with our thoughtlessness," he murmured.
"You needn't worry about it," Prime remonstrated. "I am not blind; I've seen that you're more relaxed since you've been with them. Love is a grand thing, is it not?"
The medic 'hmmed' in agreement. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "I'd forgotten what it was like. It's… addictive. They're addictive."
"So I've heard," Optimus said dryly. "You realize that there are some who are jealous of you, and that some mechs are wondering what it is that you have that they don't, to make the Twins stay with you, and not with them? I understand they were highly sought after until they became involved with you, but everyone's too afraid of the whole lot of you to say anything to your faces."
Ratchet snorted. "Frag if I know the answer to that question. I'm bonded to them, and I'm grateful for that, but I don't pretend to understand why they're willing to be stuck with me for the rest of their lives. I try not to ask too many questions; I know that they love me for some unfathomable reason known only to Lamborghini twins, and that's enough for me. I'm well aware that we're a bit of an odd match—I get a headache if I think about it too hard." He cocked his head to the side, as though listening to something Optimus couldn't hear, and chuckled.
"I'd best be getting back—they're getting restless," he explained, optics twinkling with amusement. "Sideswipe claims he can't offline without me there, and that he'll die of lack of rest if I don't hurry my aft up. Except he said it with a lot more theatrics, the manipulative little sneak."
Optimus laughed in response. "You shouldn't keep the poor deprived thing waiting then, should you?" he asked, still chuckling. Together, they headed for the door of the medbay and walked across the hall to Ratchet's quarters.
"One more thing, Optimus," Ratchet said abruptly, hand hovering over the keypad of the doorlock.
"What's that?"
"I thought you didn't listen to the rumor mill around here?"
Prime laughed again. "Oh, I have ways of keeping informed, when they don't get stubborn and clam up on me," he replied, optics crinkling at the corners with his mirth.
"You mean Jazz," Ratchet guessed, lips quirking in a small smile.
"Jazz is a primary source," the big mech confirmed. "You'd better get in there before they come looking for you again," he added, giving the CMO a little push toward his door, then patting him on the shoulder and heading off for his own recharge berth.
Ratchet shook his head and entered his room for some much-needed rest in his bondmates' arms.