It had started as a bet.
Both twins regretted that detail in the end.
They were all overcharged one night on a particularly potent high grade that Sideswipe had managed to acquire when said mech declared that he could seduce any 'Bot in the Ark. He couldn't remember who had challenged that statement, or who had suggested the Hatchet as the target, but he could remember telling Bluestreak to take down the wagers and send them to him in the morning. Sunstreaker protested, of course, but in the end turned a blind optic to it because he couldn't talk Sides into giving it up.
Before the end of the next day the red twin had badgered his grumbling yellow brother into helping, and the game was on. He tried not to lay it on too thick in the beginning—he didn't have any desire to be caught and face the medic's wrath.
He wasn't suicidal, after all.
He started out by memorizing Ratchet's schedule. It allowed him to know where the CMO was going to be and when, and if said mech was suspicious of the suddenly ubiquitous presence of one or both of the Lamborghini twins, he hid it… sort of.
"If I trip over you slagging aft-heads one more time, I'm gonna rebuild you into toasters! Now get out of my medbay!" Sunstreaker winced as his brother failed to dodge a thrown tool and got a sizable scratch in the paint on his shoulder. "Well that went well," the yellow mech muttered under his breath as both brothers made a hurried exit.
"Our technique needs a little work," Sideswipe commented as they made their way to their shared quarters.
"You think?" Sunstreaker asked, a little crossly.
"Well, obviously," his brother replied. "We knew when we started that he was gonna be a tough nut to crack—"
"I can't believe I let you drag me into this," the yellow twin interrupted, and Sides grinned.
"Neither can I," he said cheekily, earning himself a smack.
"I have a feeling that we are so gonna be slagged for this…"
"C'mon, Sunny, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Right where I left it. Besides, adventure plus Ratchet equals our afts welded to the ceiling. And don't call me Sunny," Sunstreaker pointed out, and Sideswipe had to concede.
"There has to be some way to get to him, though…" Sides mused.
"Yeah, ain't no way we're going to lose this bet when everyone else is favoring Ratchet—just think of how our reputation would suffer," Sunny added. "We'll just have to step it up a little. You know just as well as I do that he already cares what happens to us, or he wouldn't get so mad when we come back from battle slagged to the Pit."
Sideswipe nodded. "At least we're not working with a clean slate here—," he paused as a thought occurred to him, then slumped as he rejected it just as quickly. "A 'pity me, my twin is hurt' ploy will more than likely just get things thrown at us…"
"Definitely a last-ditch effort," Sunstreaker agreed, optics narrowing. "I hope you weren't planning on me being the hurt one."
The red Lambo grinned innocently. "Why of course not, Sunny! Would I do something like that to my dear beloved brother?"
"Don't call me Sunny. And yes, yes you would."
Sideswipe ignored him and keyed in the entrance code to their door. "We've got to have a plan… and get a little bolder. This sneaky business is getting us nowhere fast. It's time to bring out the big guns."
The night they spent scheming was wasted, however. The next day, the Decepticons attacked.