Working Title: Warm Berths
Rating: K+
Pairing: It would've been 'Various'
Summary: Arcee always fought her social programing, but when Ratchet refuses to fix her berth she might finally have to resort to some bonding time with her warm-engined teammates the way Cybertronian nature intended.
Notes: I'd set out to write one chapter per mech in which she discovers how her company is helping them as much as it is herself. I hadn't intended to have any sex/interfacing in it – except for maybe Ratchet, who she saved for last out of spite, and who turned out to be right. But, it has the potential to mutate into a hot smutty mess.
Jasper was a blur of traffic and pedestrians. The blue motorcycle navigated her way toward the school at what felt like a crawl. Out of nowhere, it began to rain.
Annoyed, cold, and feeling the itchy tingle of oxidation, she finally made it to the high school.
"Aren't you forgetting someone, Arcee?"
She looked around and was surprised to see that she'd brought June Darby instead of Jack.
"Oh scrap." She felt her tanks churn when she realized the first bell had already rang. "I'm sorry."
"Well, don't just sit here. Take me to work!" June snapped.
Arcee tried to back out, but got boxed in by two cars vying for a parking spot.
"Arcee!"
She sat up on her berth. For half an instant she didn't know where she was, but her optics adjusted to the darkness of her berthroom. The femme vented a sigh and lay back down.
"…so, propane plus oxygen and … water plus carbon dioxide …"
She reached past her notes on the vid screen to write out the molecules with a fingertip.
"Three carbon atoms, eight hydrogen, and two oxygen on the left side … one carbon, two hydrogen, and …"
She felt something hit her winglet and heard snickering behind her. Primus, she needed a vacation. But, when she turned to reprimand her pupils, she was dumbfounded to find she was on the bridge of the Nemesis with Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp sitting at ridiculously undersized desks.
"I'm sorry, Miss Arcee," Starscream leered. "Please start over for my companions' sake."
"Yeah," Skywarp chortled. "Kinda hard to focus when you forgot to put your plating on this morning."
She shook herself back awake and rolled over again with a growl.
"NO! Please! Please don't!" Tailgate begged, fully aware of the razor talon slashing into his chest.
"Tailgate!" she screamed.
His body spasmed a final time, and energon dripped onto the floor.
"No!" She thrashed wildly until her back struts felt on fire.
"You could've saved him, Arcee," Airachnid purred in her audio receptor. "All I wanted to know was … the capital of Nevada."
Her optics unshuttered again, too tired to sit up this time. She felt queasy, achy, and cold. Nothing felt comfortable. But, the femme didn't remember powering down sick.
Primus, she just wanted to recharge.
Klaxons were blaring and she had the immediate sensation of her tanks dropping down into her peds. She looked around at the Jackhammer's monitors and window and saw the flashing glyph for FAILURE.
"Wheeljack!"
The mech beside her blinked dumbly. She pointed to the warning light.
"Do something!"
"Oh!"
He bent over and felt around under the main instrument bank then smiled triumphantly when he came back up.
"There. This just fell off," he announced, putting a worn out looking piece of black electrical tape over the flashing light. "Nothing to worry about."
Arcee groaned and tried to shake her helm clear.
She stretched out on her front and looked at the chronometer then froze. Someone was standing in the door to her room watching her recharge. Her pump sped up and she felt her coolant almost freeze in the lines when she recognized Soundwave's slender silhouette as he moved around her room silently.
He still thought she was recharging. She had the drop on him at least. Maybe she could summon her blaster and shoot him before he could turn around.
But, when she whipped her arm up as the weapon unfolded, she fell out of her berth backwards onto the floor. Disoriented and frantic, she whipped around to fire at him as the motion sensors kicked on and the lights brightened.
Nothing.
"Frag," she swore.
She shivered, folding up her winglets tightly. Her joints ached like she'd been fighting Unicron all night, and her processor felt fuzzy.
Again? Stupid berth.
Turning around on her knees, she tapped at the heater coil, then banged on it. Nothing. Scrap.
Her chronometer informed her it was five in the morning. There was no sense trying to fight more nightmares for shreds of recharge, so she just got up. Jack wouldn't need a ride to school for another two and a half hours, but it would give her time to get out and get her energon warmed up.
The light in the main part of the hangar was on as usual. Ratchet could function on half as much energon and a third of the recharge as any of the rest of them thanks to his medical officer modifications, but Optimus insisted someone always stay up with him.
Smokescreen looked up from a hologram of an 8x8x8 space chess cube arching a brow but offering a friendly smile.
"Morning. You're up early."
Ratchet looked up from the welder he was working on and frowned. Arcee glared at him before making her way toward the door.
"Didn't recharge worth slag."
The medic smirked but quickly turned his attention to the game. He moved his purple mini-con down a level diagonally, capturing one of Smokescreen's red guardians.
"Check," he announced with a smile.
Smokescreen blinked, surprised.
"I'll be back after I drop off Jack."
She'd 'check' his aft, Arcee thought sourly. They lived in a desert. She'd take the night shift and recharge on the hot, black parking lot at Walmart before she admitted defeat.
"Hey," Smokescreen called after her. "Magnus and Optimus'll be taking over here in a little while. I wouldn't mind a drive. If … you don't mind some company, that is."
She did mind.
"Come find me," she said, shifting to her alt mode and turning on Sadie. "You need to work on your tracking skills anyway."
"Oh." His face fell. He knew that meant no one was going to find the scout. "Okay, sure."
She sped away from the base, forcing her engine to warm up then opened a comm.
"Wheeljack? You up?"
There was a long pause. Then a growling grumble. "Am now," the mech finally answered blearily. "What's wrong?"
"I need a favor."
"Oh yeah? Favors don't come cheap halfway through my recharge cycle."
"I need help fixing something when Ratchet goes off duty here in an hour or so."
"No can do," he replied with the strain of a yawn. She could hear the smile in his voice too. "I've received direct orders – and threats – to not lay a servo on your berth."
She growled with frustration but realized she'd left the comm open. Wheeljack chuckled.
"I've still got … four hours. I'm sure Bulk could pick up Jack if you wanted to …"
She disconnected it.
Ugh … mechs. Every one of them.
But, even as she was thinking it, her wheels were taking her to the most insufferable, annoying, arrogant … tender, protective … and warmest mech she'd ever shared a berth with.