Rhythm & Hues: Interlude I

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Author's Notes: This fic(like many others) is a chance to explore Cybertronian culture. As the characters are mechanical, and, in this universe, they don't reproduce through any sexual means (that I'm aware of at this point in time) I imagine 'Family' would have a different meaning to them. Some taboos that are set amongst a human society might not apply to a Cybertronian one. With this in mind...

WARNING! Incest and Esprit sandwich

Rhythm worked alongside First Aid, optics attentively watching him point out each item and what its use was. The junior medic was well aware of the fact the twin's attention was not really on him. Her attention was on the small area closed off with a curtain. Her doorwings twitched like the antennae of an earth insect, as though that would give her the capability of sensing the CMO's movements. Sensor sweeps pinged off First Aid's systems, revealing just how much her attention was not on him.

Normally Ratchet would dismiss one twin while he scanned the other. Today, however, was a special day. This would complete the final scan for the twins. Ratchet analyzed their lines of code as he went, which was why it had taken so long.

Sparkplug walked in, carrying a white McDonald's bag and an insulated cup. He sat down at one of the tables; set up special for the humans. Rhythm grinned at the human, calling a greeting in her singsong voice. Sparkplug replied gruffly. The two transformers tittered softly over their comm at the similarity between Sparkplug before his coffee and Ratchet before his energon.

The human took a few sips form his coffee cup, his breakfast biscuit already gulped down. He pulled out the small bag of hash rounds, munching on them one at a time. He was silent a few moments a few moments, his head turned toward them.

"Aren't you usually in the shooting range in the mornings?"

Rhythm glanced at Sparkplug, and her doorwings dipped in embarrassment. "I'd much rather be here doing inventory than out there shooting someone's foot off again."

First Aid crackled with laughter, earning a glare from the femme.

"And Ratchet had Prowl rearranged our schedules a little so he could talk to us."

The curtain scraped to the side, drawing three sets of eyes to the other femme that bounced out. She grinned at the two Autobots, her smile fading slightly when her optics turned to Sparkplug. She was quick to perk back up, though her steps took on a hesitant mince as she skipped past the small table and over to a gurney and sat down.

First Aid toned down his sensors a few degrees as their communication buzzed over through his systems.

"Someone's in a good mood this morning," Sparkplug commented, his mouth curved in a broad grin. He seemed to take some odd kind of joy in Hues' discomfort around him. He compared it to human femmes and small rodents.

"I've found that Rhythm is much grumpier than her sister," First Aid's mask lifted and his optics brightened in a faceless grin.

Rhythm's optics hummed brighter as she directed a glare at the junior medic, her doorwings rising. "Grump? I think you have me confused with-Hi Ratchet!"

The white mech paused to slide a suspicious glare at his newest helper. He held a datapad in his hand and his optics slid back down to study it. He nodded at the human still seated at the table. "Rhythm, you'd be welcome to go on permanent as a patrol unit."

The dancer squeaked and busied herself in fiddling in the cupboard.

The CMO smirked. "Well, you two have been waiting for this, I'm sure," he instantly had two attentive, purple optics on him. "Now, I still have to pass it through Prime," frowns met that statement, "but you're clean."

The twins waggled their doorwings, hydraulics humming happily. "Not that there was any doubt," Hues announced.

Ratchet shook his head, grumble rumbling from his chest.

Rhythm tilted her head, hands tucked behind her back, clinking against her rear windshield. "How long do you think it'll take before Prime gives the go ahead?"

The medic slid a glower at his nurse-in-training. "I'm sure you'll have it before nightfall."

First Aid chuckled. "You sound like you already have someone lined up."

Sparkplug seemed to twitch where he was sitting.

Hues jumped to her feet. "Well, Jazz has that new body. We need to get to know him again."

A choking sound came from the human mechanic.

Rhythm ignored the human's reaction and sashayed up to Ratchet, hands clasped behind her back. She brushed a doorwing against the CMO's shoulder, a vibrating purr humming from her engine. "Unless, of course, you'd like some proper thanks for all your effort."

Ratchet's frown deepened. "No."

First Aid wasn't really that surprised by that answer, even though he could tell Rhythm was by the hiccup of her engine.

"Maybe some other time?" she tried again.

"Not likely," he retorted. He turned and marched into his office, the door sliding shut with a pneumatic hiss.

The sound of Sparkplug's spluttering drew the three remaining sets of sensors to the human.

"Jazz?"

First Aid tilted his head, running a scan over the human, wondering if something was the matter with him. "Jazz?" he repeated.

"Jazz?" Muscles relaxed in what First Aid recognized as a gaping stare, eyes directed at Hues.

"Yes?" Hues ventured.

"Isn't he your dad- your creator?"

The three transformers exchanged a confused look.

"Yes?" Rhythm replied uncertainly.

"But you… you want to do- do- that with…"

"Humans are so weird," Hues sent over a tight line.

First Aid strangled a chuckle. Somehow he didn't think the human would appreciate it.

"Yes," Hues said aloud, impatience coloring her voice. With the scans done, both twins needed to report to other assignments. Tomorrow Ratchet would start upgrading them with armor and weapons (and targeting systems that they needed so badly).

"But he's your father!" Sparkplug finally spat out after more sputtering.

First Aid finally made the connection. He quickly communicated with the twins so they would understand. "Humans don't interact with their creations in that manner."

Twin optics blinked down at the human. "You mean humans don't-"

Sparkplug covered his ears. "Gah! Don't even talk like that!"

The twins frowned and Rhythm spoke up. "But how can you make sure Spike's functioning properly? You never said you had that much wealth that you could always take him to a medic."

Blood rushed to Sparkplug's cheeks. "Not like that! No! I don't want to know anymore." He stood. "I'm going to see what Wheeljack's working on!" He turned and left three very amused Autobots.

"Humansare so weird," Rhythm said, echoing her sister's earlier sentiment.

"Babydolls, what brings you here this time of night, not that it ain't nice to see ya." Jazz drew both femmes to his chestplate.

"We commed you, Jazz," Rhythm said caustically. "Don't act so surprised."

"What'd I say 'bout humorin' an old mech?" He stepped to the side to let the twins in. "I was actually expectin' ya t' be entertainin'."

They settled on the couch, a dancer on each side of Jazz. The twins slid close to their creator, doorwings drawing back as they leaned against his shoulders.

"Well, there's always the next cycle for them." Hues hummed, rubbing her cheek against Jazz's shoulder tire.

"We've missed you," Rhythm purred, her fingers dipping into the crevice that separated his chestplate from his roof. She drew sparking lines down his chest plate, sending surge through his system.

Jazz moaned, words failing him as he drew the femme near to bury his face in her neck. He ran his hands over her body, remembering the shape of her frame from before they had left. Hues tugged him away from the blue dancer, rubbing against his arm. The vibrations of her engine traveled along his frame, jittering his dental plates with a soft clicking sound. He turned to her, pulling her onto his lap so that their engines could vibrate together in a soothing, rapturous sensation.

He leaned back, allowing them access to his body. Deft hands explored his armor plating, drawing hisses from his ventilator or moans from his vocalizer. Dental plates nipped at his bumper, vibrating pleasantly in tandem with his systems. Rhythm pressed against his roof, stroking circles along his windshield.

"Ain't tryin' t' ign-ah-"

Rhythm grinned mischievously, gripping one of his seats. "You aren't ignoring me," she assured him in a soft voice.

Hues nuzzled against his cheek, drawing his attention back to her. Her fingers plaintively stroked down an access panel. He obligingly slid it to the side, finding her own open and waiting. With both twins pressed against him, one to his front, the other to his back, he plugged into Hues, groaning as she plugged into him.

Her optics widened, surprised.

He felt the connection between them, and then their systems shrieked. Internal alarms wailed and redlined.

"AID!"

The junior medic jumped in surprise. He checked to make sure he didn't sever any important wires on Bluestreak. He identified the source of the alarmed cry as Rhythm.

"Is something wrong?" Which was really a dumb question. Why else would she be calling in such a panic?

"It's Hues! And Jazz! Something happened. Oh, I don't know what to do. It just happened, I don't know how." Panic raised her vocalizer's pitch to near shrieking.

First Aid forced himself to close up Bluestreak before answering. "Calm down, Rhythm." He gave her a few astroseconds to calm herself, all the while trying to count the numerous things that could have happened with the fairly accident-prone femmes. "Now, tell me, what happened."

"I can't! I can't!" Sobs broke her words and First Aid hurried in collecting his tools.

"RHYTHM!Tell me what happened." He hated being so forceful, but she was leaving him no choice. He dashed out of the med bay, still weighing whether he should call Ratchet or not.

He preferred not to, unless it was a real emergency.

If only that slagging femme would calm down.

"Everything was going fine," she finally managed, "and then they plugged in and-and… Oh First Aid, it looks like they crashed." Hysterical pleas cut off abruptly, spurring him on at a faster rate.

Autobots stepped to the side, worry on their faces at the sight of one of the medical staff rushing toward the crew quarters.

"Are they still plugged in?" First Aid accessed all his knowledge on interface problems, but couldn't find any reason for a simultaneous crash.

"Yes."

"Unplug them." He switched channels. "First Aid to Ratchet or Wheeljack."

"Ratchet here," the CMO's voice growled still half asleep. "'Jack's in his lab. Someone slagging well better be near termination."

"Jazz and Hues appear to have crashed."

Silence for a few seconds and then swearing exploded over the comm.. "I'm on my way."

Jazz's door slid open, revealing Rhythm's fluid-streaked face. First Aid gently touched her shoulder before pushing her to the side. He took in the scene, noting the hum from Jazz's optical area, a sign he was about to come back online.

He pulled Hues off the saboteur scanning for any signs of consciousness.

The unconscious femme whirred weakly, as if she was stuck in the middle of a reset.

Rhythm hovered over his shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other noisily.

"Rhythm if you don't cut that out, I'll slagging throw you out. Tell me what happened," Ratchet covered the distance between the door and the couch in a few big steps.

The anxious dancer haltingly recounted a much more detailed version of the story she told First Aid. Ratchet glared at the twin suspiciously, his thoughts nearly audibly processing.

First Aid's mask dropped down in a frown, he hated it when he was treated as less than his mentor. Granted there was still much for him to learn, but how could he without being given a chance?

Ratchet pulled a scanner out of subspace and hooked it into Jazz's systems.

One of the saboteur's black hands reached out to Ratchet's own red one. A groan rumbled from Jazz's system. "Ratch? Wha-?"

Ratchet turned his hand to clasp the saboteur's for a brief moment. "Your systems crashed, Jazz. How are you feeling?"

"Crashed?" It was unusual to hear the jovial mech so disoriented. Even after battles he usually wasn't this out of sync. His visor flashed and he tried to sit up, but Ratchet forcefully shoved him back down. "Hues? Is she a'righ'?"

The CMO glanced at First Aid expectantly and the junior medic belatedly realized he should still be doing something. He pulled his own scanner out of his toolbag and plugged it into Hues. He heard Rhythm wince at the chirrup that emitted from the small scanner.

Jazz tried to sit up again, only to have Ratchet force him down. The saboteur frowned in alarm and concern.

"Stay there or I will knock you back off line with my wrench, Jazz."

Jazz didn't relax, but he did settle a little more. Ratchet stepped over to his apprentice, looking over First Aid's shoulder. "Well?"

First Aid was still compiling the data he received from the chirruping scanner. "Was Jazz's antivirus programming actively running?"

"Yes."

Jazz stiffened, sitting up. "I thought y-"

Rhythm added her own protest. "Your scan said-"

Ratchet raised a hand for silence.

"It actually looks like something attacked Hues' systems." First Aid turned to the saboteur. "What did your systems log at the time?"

There was a slight, tense pause as Jazz crossed his arms and checked his diagnostics. "I did this?" he murmured, his vocalizer crackling. "My systems registered the connection, but they recognized it as malevolent software. Safety protocols knocked me offline. Is Hues alrigh'?"

First Aid glanced toward Ratchet. "it's their programming, isn't it?" Ratchet's azure optics didn't flicker. "It's because it's so old?" The junior medic continued. "There was a compatibility conflict?

Ratchet smiled grimly, nodding. "Jazz has had a slagging lot of upgrades since they disappeared. I think even Kup would have that happen."

Jazz tilted his head. "Why didn't you think of this before Ratch?"

The CMO scowled. "My scans took the difference into account."

"An' you forgot?" A grin spread across the saboteur's face.

"Shut the slag up and get to med bay since you're feeling so spunky," Ratchet disconnected the scanner from Hues and gathered her into his arms.

First Aid went over to the quiet dancer and placed an arm over her doorwings. "Looks like you're getting that upgrade sooner than expected. Ratchet was going to fit you first." He pulled her closer as she shuddered. "Hues will be okay, Rhythm. She'll be online before the day cycle starts."

"That wasn't supposed to happen. Pirmus, I was so slagging frightened that they'd both terminated."

The Protectobot wrapped the blue dancer up in a caring embrace. "But it didn't happen Rhythm."

"They're all I have left now."

First Aid had no answer for that.

AN II: Yes, I realize that McDonald's bag might very well be out of date. I'm honestly not even sure if they served breakfast back in the er... late 80s.