A/N: For those of you who wanted a longer chapter, here's a little treat:

The sun was beginning to set.

"We're gonna hafta go back soon, Ratchet," Ironhide said quietly. "It ain't gonna do us or them no good if we miss 'em in the dark."

Ratchet nodded wearily; between the lot of them they had covered nearly all of the territory that they had meant to search anyway, and they were all exhausted. From the sound of things, the others were becoming just as dispirited as Ratchet and Ironhide were—Prowl had sounded positively worn out during his last communication.

Ratchet scrambled up the next slope, more dirt layering itself over his white chassis, carefully scanning the new area as he listened to his companion huffing and puffing his way up after him.

"Ah'm gettin' too old fer this," the weapons specialist groaned, "and there's grass in all o' mah joints." As if to demonstrate, he plucked a bit of greenery—with roots still attached—out of one elbow.

"I suspect you'll live," the medic replied dryly, not really paying all that much attention to the grumbling red mech. He swept the area again with his sensors, and sent a rock flying with an angry kick—nothing, again. When he got hold of those two idiots, they would pay dearly for worrying him like this.

He tried not to think that he might not get the opportunity to do so.

"—mblebee to Ratchet!" 'Bee's panicked transmission startled him out of his frustrated thoughts.

"Ratchet here," he sent back, suddenly both hopeful and terrified.

"You need to get to our position, now! We… we found them… Please hurry!"

With no memory of having actually started moving, Ratchet found himself half-sliding back down the slope, Ironhide cursing and clanking along behind him. The next few minutes were a blur as they ran as best they could across the rough landscape—and there, there were the others, clustered around two still forms lying on the grass in front of a little cave.

The medic noted that Prowl had had the presence of mind to patch Sunstreaker into his own fuel lines for an energon transfer; Jazz was in the process of doing the same with Sideswipe. He unsubspaced his field kit and knelt between the two Lamborghinis, doing a quick scan to determine who was the most badly wounded, and cursed furiously at what he saw.

Sideswipe was beginning to stabilize; the worst of his wounds was the left leg missing just below the knee. He had lost a great deal of energon because of it, but his internal repair system had sealed off all fuel lines leading to the area, and the energon being fed into his systems by Jazz were keeping him out of immediate danger.

Sunstreaker, however… Sunny was still 'bleeding' sluggishly from several primary energon lines, and his coolant level was dangerously low, allowing his systems to overheat far too quickly. Ratchet made his decision; Sunstreaker had to have those leaks repaired or he wouldn't make it back to base. The medic had just settled himself down to work when he felt a light touch on his arm.

When Ratchet glanced down, Sideswipe's optics were unshuttered and flickering fitfully. "Ratch…?" the red twin wheezed, clutching at the CMO's arm.

"I'm here, Sides," he replied gruffly, but the Lamborghini had already passed out again. The medic bent back over the yellow twin, patch-welding severed energon lines with hands that he kept from shaking by sheer force of will.

"—radioed Skyfire—"

"Primus—"

"—must've been a Pit of a fight—"

Ratchet tuned out the sounds of the others talking around him, letting his world narrow down to the damaged mech in front of him. He paused in his work just long enough to let them load him and his patients into Skyfire's cargo bay. He only allowed himself to think one thing:

Live, damn you.

The all-too-familiar sight of the medbay ceiling was the first thing to greet Sideswipe's optics when he came back online. He blinked up at it serenely, content to just lie there since the pain from his injuries had not yet caught up with him. A soft little sigh next to his audios made him turn his head—and there, right in front of his face, was Ratchet, sitting in a chair with his head draped over Sideswipe's repair table, deep in recharge. Sides could feel his brother stirring beside him on his own table; someone had apparently pushed them together once they had gotten stabilized. He glanced over at his twin, and was inordinately pleased to see that Sunstreaker was recharging comfortably.

When he looked back at the medic, he barely bit back an oath—two bright blue optics stared into his own from inches away.

They watched each other for a moment, then, gathering his nerve, Sideswipe purred cheekily, "Hey, baby, come here often?" and nearly chortled with glee as Ratchet's face contorted in incredulous fury.

"You—you—" the ambulance stammered, apparently reduced to incoherency by his anger.

"I know, I know—bad Sideswipe." He giggled, then hissed when the motion caused the pain to flare up. Ratchet scowled at him as he stood up and ran a scanner over his injuries.

"You two are lucky to be alive," he told the red twin grimly. "If it had taken us any longer to find you, you wouldn't have been. It's gonna take me forever to put your sorry aft back together." He slapped Sideswipe on the head hard enough to set the red mech's audios to ringing. "What were you thinking? Oh, wait, never mind—you weren't."

"I'm sorry, Ratchet," Sideswipe replied honestly, sitting up, reaching out to grasp the medic's arm, and trying to get him to understand that he wasn't just apologizing for getting himself slagged yet again. "We never meant to hurt you—it's just… well, I guess I don't think about things as much as I ought to," he admitted, lowering his gaze. He was startled when gentle fingers trailed down his cheek to cup his chin and bring his optics back up to meet Ratchet's.

"If you ever, ever do something like this again, your new alt-mode will be a Cavalier," the medic growled, and kissed him. Sideswipe made an involuntary little noise of joy and wrapped both arms around his lover's neck, kissing him back fiercely.

They were dimly aware of Sunstreaker wrapping himself around both of them as best he could, then Ratchet pulled away from Sideswipe to kiss the yellow twin. Sides leaned his head against the white chest, absently tracing the red cross emblazoned on the medic's shoulder with his fingers.

"Does this mean that you're not mad at us anymore?" Sideswipe asked once they had broken the kiss.

Ratchet shook his head. "Oh, I'm still plenty mad at you," he replied softly. "But you scared the slag out of me. I almost lost the both of you." He paused for a moment, as though gathering his nerve, and added, "I… I love you too much to let that happen."

"Really?" Sideswipe breathed hopefully, and kissed the medic again hard when he nodded.

"What Sides is trying to say," Sunstreaker interrupted, sounding as though he were holding back laughter, "is that we love you too. And don't you dare tell anyone I said that."

Ratchet 'hmphed' in amusement, pulling out of his lovers' embrace to eye them critically. "It's not anyone's business but ours," he told Sunstreaker firmly, then made himself switch gears back to 'medic' mode again. "You realize that it's going to take a while for me to reconstruct your leg, right, Sides?" he asked grimly.

"Uh..." the red warrior replied intelligently.

"I'll take that as a no," Ratchet said dryly.

"But you can fix anything!" Sideswipe protested, optics wide with horror at the thought of being unable to move around on his own for the foreseeable future.

"I can't fix anything without the proper supplies," he replied.

"You fixed Sunstreaker!"

"Your entire leg is gone below the knee, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker may have been in worse shape when he was brought in but at least he didn't have pieces missing. Oh, it won't be that long, you big sparkling," Ratchet added irritably on seeing the pleading look on the red twin's face. "I've got a shipment coming in about two days. Once that arrives, it should take around two or three more days to rebuild your leg from the knee down."

"This is gonna bite, big-time," Sideswipe sulked.

"Actually," Sunstreaker said solemnly, "I think I feel more sorry for Ratchet than you, bro. He's the one that's gonna have to put up with your sorry aft."

Ratchet laughed as the red Lamborghini gave his brother a betrayed look and said under his breath, "That's not very nice, Sunny."

"Nobody ever said I was nice, bit-brain," the yellow twin retorted, thoroughly amused. He slid off of the repair table, doing a full-body stretch once his feet hit the floor.

"Show-off," Sides muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping back onto the table petulantly—then wincing as the movement jarred his knee. "Ow, ow, ow," he hissed, kneading his thigh as though that would sooth his damaged joint.

Ratchet bent down and patted him on the head. "You know, it wouldn't hurt as much if you didn't flop around like a landed fish," he said patiently, as though explaining something to a particularly dimwitted sparkling, and Sideswipe swatted at his hand in annoyance.

The medic sighed and straightened, serious once again. "Look, you're both still low on fuel. Sunstreaker, since you're up and about you should go on down to the common room and get yourself some energon, then go on back to your quarters and rest. I'll make sure your brother gets the same." For a moment, Ratchet thought the yellow Lamborghini would refuse to leave. However, after giving the CMO a hard stare, he stepped up, wrapped both arms around him, and kissed him senseless.

"Just making sure you're still all right with us," Sunny murmured, pulling away just as abruptly as he had advanced. Ratchet nodded a little too quickly as Sunstreaker trailed gentle fingers down his cheek and murmured that he would be back shortly.

"This is going to take some getting used to," the ambulance said faintly, leaning up against Sideswipe's repair table as Sunstreaker walked out the door.

"Yeah," the red Lamborghini sighed, sitting up and scooting over so that he could wrap his lover up in a hug of his own. "I could definitely get used to it, though." He paused as something occurred to him. "You know, I should probably warn you that Sunny can get pretty possessive at times," he added quietly. "Not to mention that he's a little bit of a loose screw."

The medic snorted. "And you're an unmitigated prankster. So tell me something I don't know." At Sideswipe's hurt look, he softened his tone and said, "I knew from the outset that loving you two wasn't going to be easy. Besides, are you really so sure you want this cranky old medic?"

"Primus, yes!" Sides said enthusiastically before sobering. "Back in that cave I think I would have given just about anything to hear you yell at me. I was afraid that you wouldn't come for us. I know that I hurt you with the whole bet business." He gently stroked along the seams of the medic's armor, causing his lover to shiver at the sensation. He pulled him down for a tender kiss, fingers slipping under plating to caress sensitive circuitry and wringing a little noise of pleasure from the white mech. He whimpered a little when Ratchet pushed him away with shaking arms, but the medic was insistent.

"You're not up for this yet," he breathed, voice thick with desire. "You're seriously low on energon, and you're still wounded," he added softly, caressing the red mech's cheek gently. "Here, I'll be right back," and he turned and walked into his office, where Sides knew he kept an energon dispenser for this sort of situation—where his patient was unable to make it to the common room on his own.

He found out that he was hungry, after all—he quickly downed the energon that Ratchet brought him, and gave a satisfied sigh as he felt his systems returning to full functionality. Pain still thrummed through his body, radiating from his amputated knee, but if he damped down his pain receptors—there—it faded to a background hum that was easier to ignore.

"You know," Sideswipe said thoughtfully, taking the time to actuallylook at the medic for the first time since waking, "a trip to the washracks wouldn't hurt you. What did you do, roll on the ground?" His lover's arms were scrubbed clean from the elbow down, and the red hands were immaculate as always, but the rest of the medic's chassis was streaked with dirt and grass stains.

Ratchet glared at him. "I drag myself all over the mountains looking for your sorry aft, then spend the better part of two days putting you back together, and this is the thanks I get?"

Sideswipe's optics widened at that, and he opened his mouth to reply, but he was beaten to the punch.

"He's right, you know," Wheeljack cut in smoothly from where he stood in the door. "You look like slag."

"Don't you start, 'Jack," Ratchet said sourly.

"Well, if you would take care of yourself, I wouldn't have to, would I?" the inventor asked sweetly. "By the way, I'm here to chase you out of the medbay. Prime's orders. Don't worry, I'll keep an optic on your troublemaker, here." He clapped the medic on the back, then steered him toward the door. "Go on, get yourself clean then get in a proper recharge cycle. Sideswipe will still be here when you get back, won't you, Sides?"

The red twin nodded vigorously. "You didn't tell me that you were neglecting yourself for our sakes," he said reproachfully.

"I was not—" Ratchet began to protest, but Wheeljack interrupted.

"Yes, you were," he said firmly, shoving his friend out the door and cycling it shut in his face.

"You realize that he's gonna be pissed at you, right?" Sideswipe asked in solemn amusement.

"You realize that I don't give a damn, right?" Wheeljack retorted. "Besides, someone's gotta make sure he takes care of himself, and Prime and I are about the only ones he listens to. He'll get over it."

"Yeah," Sides muttered, feeling a sudden spike of irrational jealousy that someone else stood so high in his lover's regard. He knew Very Damned Well that Ratchet would have either ignored him or tried to take his head off if he had attempted the little maneuver that the inventor had just pulled.

"Hey now, don't go gettin' all jealous on me," Wheeljack said suddenly, noticing the look on Sideswipe's face and rapping his knuckles on the top of the Lamborghini's head. "Ratchet and I have never had a romantic thought about each other in our lives. We've been friends—just friends—since before the war. He's only known you since we all boarded the Ark and took off for Earth. So yeah, he's gonna listen to me more than he would to you. He's real particular about who he lets bully him."

Optics downcast, Sideswipe nodded. "Think I'm gonna recharge now," he said quietly, lying back down on the repair table. The engineer laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Don't look so glum," he said. "Trust me, he's so head-over-heels for you and your brother, it's not even funny. Why else do you think he was mad enough to ignore you for a whole month?"

"Really?" Sideswipe asked, and when Wheeljack nodded reassuringly, he smiled in relief and let himself slip into recharge.

Sunstreaker was waiting on him when he got back to his quarters.

Ratchet had to admit, he looked a great deal better now that he actually had some energon in him. He certainly appeared to be feeling better, for the first thing he did was sweep the medic up in his arms and capture his lips in a bruising kiss.

This was getting to be a habit.

It didn't take the medic long to work out that this was the way that Sunstreaker, uncomfortable with voicing his feelings, reassured himself that Ratchet was still there, still loved him.

So, instead of laying into the yellow mech for not already being in recharge, he relaxed and let him do what he would. Letting Sunstreaker interface with him right now wouldn't cause them any permanent damage, after all—just leave them very drained—and it would probably go a long way toward soothing the Lamborghini's obviously ruffled nerves.

Not to mention the fact that Ratchet had forgotten just how addictive interfacing was.

He hissed with a pleasure bordering on pain as Sunstreaker dug golden fingers into his sides and trailed kisses down his neck almost desperately, and smiled a little when his own fingers pulled a breathy little cry from his lover's vocalizer.

He was vaguely aware of being shoved back onto his berth with Sunstreaker's weight pressing down on top of him—and he nearly bucked the Lamborghini off when he felt the connection slam into place between them.

It was hard and fast and almost brutal without Sideswipe there to buffer his brother's full effect, but underneath it all Ratchet could sense Sunstreaker's desperate need, and the medic flooded the link with his own love and need so that the big warrior above him shuddered and moaned.

It did not take either of them very long to overload, holding onto one another very tightly as they shook and cried out. Sunstreaker was still trembling when he had regained his senses enough to roll off of Ratchet and gather him up in his arms.

Ratchet couldn't help but smile when, on the edge of slipping into recharge, Sunstreaker muttered, "Love you." The medic sighed in contentment and curled up a little closer to his lover before he, too, fell offline.