Crack in the Pavement
Chapter 9
I have no idea how long this fic is going to be. Long. It doesn't seem to want to end.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.
Summary: Megatron uses Ironhide to get his revenge on Prime. Multiple minor side pairings, see list in fic.
Warning: Graphic rape. Torture. M/M robot slash consensual as well as NON-CON
Pairings: Non-con Megatron/ Ironhide, Con Optimus/ Ironhide. Established Jazz/ Prowl, Twins/ Ratchet, Mirage/ Cliffjumper
"I think he's avoiding us," Sideswipe said.
"No doubt," Sunstreaker replied. The brothers were hunched over a table in the common room, the aura of intense displeasure radiated from them, keeping their fellow Autobots from coming near.
"Did we do something?" Sideswipe asked. He knew Sunny had no deeper insights than he, but he felt better voicing his question aloud. "Do you think he's mad at us for not staying with him?"
"Don't think so," Sunstreaker said. "That berth is really too small for him, let alone the three of us and he wouldn't have wanted us to skip out on recharging."
"You two look surprisingly grim," Prowl said from behind the brothers.
"Ratchet's mad at us," Sideswipe said. Sunstreaker only scowled.
"Really?" Prowl replied surprised. "When I saw him last he seemed tired, not surprising, but he wasn't cursing you under his breath, which he usually does when you two have done something stupid."
"Well he won't even talk to us," Sideswipe said. "So we did something."
"Did you talk about bonding with him?" Prowl asked.
"How did you know about that?" Sunstreaker asked, rearing up. Prowl didn't step back or respond to the aggressive gesture. He was after all their superior officer, not even Sunstreaker was brazen enough to pick a fight with him for fear of a long stay in the brig.
"Jazz," Sideswipe said, standing up quickly. He turned away from Prowl, and grabbed Sunstreaker's arm. "Jazz must have said something and spooked Ratchet."
"Slagger," Sunstreaker swore. The Twins left their rations on the table and ran from the common room. Prowl stood very still for a few seconds before raising his hand and rubbing the back of his helm.
"Sorry Jazz," Prowl said sheepishly, under his breath. "I seem to have sicked the hounds on you."
Jazz stood over the War Room table. The layout of Megatron's mountain fortress was laid out before him in 3D; Teletraan 2 had done good work. Though the layout couldn't tell Jazz what room was reserved for what purpose, he had some guesses. From Teletraan 2's newest, in depth scans Jazz could gleam which rooms consumed more or less power, and where the power generator was located. Energy read out's also told him that the Decepticons seemed to be focused on repairs on the innermost room, located immediately next to the power generator, versus the exterior damage the Autobots had caused.
It was interesting. The Autobots had gotten the drop on the Decepticons. Jazz had seen the surveillance cameras hidden on the outside of the mountain, concealed in trees and rocks. He was certain that some Autobot had to have been picked up by one of those cameras. Most of the Autobots had gone to attack the base. And yet, one of the Conehead's had spotted them, seemingly entirely on accident, and called for back up. It didn't look like the the security systems had worked. Perhaps that was why the Constructicons had been going in and out of the base? Had someone already attacked the base, and perhaps rescued Ironhide before the Autobots had even known the location of the base. The idea was preposterous since no one on Earth, save for the Autobots could even hope to cause any damage to a Decepticon base.
Prowl might have some suggestions when he returned to the War Room. Ratchet, of course had no idea that Prowl was working with Jazz on this surveillance and information gather op, but what the medic didn't know, couldn't hurt them.
"Jazz!" Sunstreaker yelled as the Twins burst into the War Room. Reflexively, Jazz slipped around the table, keeping it between himself and the Twins.
"What did you say to Ratchet," Sunstreaker demanded.
Oh. Jazz looked guilty and a little embarrassed. He tapped his digits on the table.
"About that," he said. "I might have let it slip to Ratchet that you wanted to bond with him."
"Slagger, why?" Sideswipe demanded. He and Sunstreaker circled the table, Jazz did as well, staying exactly across the table from them at all times.
"He kinda annoyed me," Jazz said. "Teased me about Prowl. I told him he'd understand soon."
"Pit, what'd he say?" Sunstreaker asked, pausing from his attempt to get his servos on Jazz.
"He didn't really say anything," Jazz recalled. "Just stuttered and looked like I'd run him over with a train."
"Oh slag," Sideswipe swore. He felt panicked. Ratchet didn't want to bond. That was it, wasn't it? Sorrow mixed with panic and anger over the Twins' relay.
"Oh don't panic," Jazz scolded them. "He was just surprised. You need to talk to him."
"We've tried, he's avoiding us," Sideswipe said; his voice was strained.
"So corner him," Jazz suggested. "Since this is sort of my fault, I'll help you out. I'll tell Ratchet to meet me in my office. Instead of me being there, it'll be you two."
Sunstreaker gave Jazz a cagey look. The Twins communed over the relay in silence. Finally, they nodded their agreement to the plan.
"He'd better not get away," Sunstreaker said.
"I'll sneak up and lock the door from the outside," Jazz said. "Once you three are talking, I'll unlock it and get back here to my work."
"Fine," Sunstreaker said; his voice oozed with impatience. "Call him."
What could be going on with Prowl that Jazz couldn't talk to him in the medbay? Ratchet's engine rumbled with irritation. Slagging idiots had better not have damaged Prowl's freshly repaired doorwing or Ratchet would be banging heads until their processors rang. It would be out of character for the couple to dismiss medical orders though. Prowl was especially careful to let himself or Jazz heal before resuming their normal relationship. In all honesty Ratchet had no idea how active their sex lives were anyway. Most mechs weren't like the Twins, wanting to interface nearly every night. Frankly, Ratchet didn't want to know. Still, Ratchet was both irritated and concerned. He'd rather see a patient in his medbay over anywhere else.
He didn't knock when he arrived at Jazz's office; rather, Ratchet walked right in. It took him a second to realize that the mechs in the office weren't Jazz or Prowl, but Sunny and Sides. The door shut with a hiss behind him. The lock engaged with a click. Slagging Primus had a lousy sense of humour.
"Ratch," Sideswipe said his name tentatively. The tone took Ratchet aback. Sideswipe was never unsettled around him. The red Lamborghini took two small steps towards him and reached out his servo while Sunstreaker held back. "Please stop running away from us."
"Oh slag," Ratchet said, he rubbed the plating between his optics. They looked hurt. Primus, his faceplates heated and Ratchet felt his systems run hot with guilt. "Make me feel like an aft why don't you."
Ratchet closed the distance between himself of Sideswipe and grasped his hand. He reached out his free hand to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker, the brother who didn't trust easily. Ratchet swallowed, his engine rumbled nervously, fearing he'd lost Sunstreaker's trust.
He worried for nothing. Sunstreaker took his hand and stepped in close to Ratchet, coming to cuddle Ratchet from behind, leaning his helm against the side of Ratchet's. Sideswipe spooned Ratchet from his front, chassis to chassis, and rested his helm against Ratchet's neck, opposite from his brother.
"I'm sorry," Ratchet whispered. "I don't know what to do with you two."
"We love you," Sunstreaker blurted out and tighten his arm around Ratchet's waist reflexively.
"I know," Ratchet replied. "I... I... Slag... I'm no good at this... I love you slaggers too."
"Thank Primus," Sideswipe said, venting against Ratchet throat.
"I don't know about bonding," Ratchet said slowly. "I don't know if I'm cut out for it. But maybe we should start with living together. Properly... In my quarters."
"We'd like that," Sideswipe said. He tilted his head so he could see Ratchet's faceplates, he could feel the heat coming from them. There was nothing better than Ratchet when he was embarrassed.
"I need to check on Ironhide before anything else but..." Ratchet said, awkwardly. "But if you want, I'll spend the night with you."
The Twins took that to mean spend the night in their berth. Recharge was not on their minds. Neither brother had realized until this moment how terrified they had been that they had lost the one mech they loved as much as each other, and they wanted to celebrate their possession of him, with him all night long.
Ratchet returned to his medbay alone. The Twins would be waiting for him in their quarters. He refused to admit it, but he was painfully nervous. It wasn't like he hadn't 'faced with them at least a few dozen times already. But he had felt their pent up desire and couldn't help but think he was in for one Pit of a night.
'I hope I can handle them,' Ratchet thought. The Twins made him feel young and old at the same time. Sometimes he felt exhausted just thinking about them. Still, a small smile made its way onto his faceplates.
"You spoke to them?" Optimus asked, having caught the smile.
"Yes," Ratchet said, he felt his faceplates heat up again. "I owe them some... Time. I want to examine Ironhide and then I'm going to join them for a while."
"Good," Optimus said. He stepped away from Ironhide, giving Ratchet the space he needed to examine his patient. Ratchet nodded with satisfaction.
"Anymore memory fluxes?" Ratchet asked when he finished his exam.
"Nothing as dramatic," Optimus said. "He's fidgeted a few times but seems to relax when I speak to him."
"Okay," Ratchet said. It gave him hope that Ironhide was still with them. He seemed to know and take comfort in Optimus's voice. "You can stay here tonight. But you'd better take the time to recharge on one of the berths or Primus help you I will tie you to a berth for the next week."
"Go, enjoy yourself," Optimus said.
Oh Primus. Oh slagging Primus. Ratchet quivered, arched and moaned desperately. Every circuit in his body burned. The Twins' lust and love coursed through their cables and into ports in his chassis interface panel. He was caught between them, his back arched against Sideswipe chassis. One of them held his hips, the other his thighs as they rocked him back and forth, impaling him deeper and deeper on their taunt cables. Sunstreaker swallowed his gasps in a demanding kiss.
Ratchet quaked. Oh Primus.
He should have been recharging, but instead Optimus sat in a chair he had dragged over to Ironhide's berth. Exhaustion was creeping up on him but all Optimus did to mollify his body was rest his helm next to Ironhide's on the berth. Optimus's voice was barely more than a whisper now and it threatened to become hoarse. But he couldn't stop talking. Whenever he stopped talking, after a few minutes, Ironhide would tense up in his recharge and Optimus knew he was suffering from memory fluxes. Optimus didn't want him to suffer from anything, whether this desire was realistic or not.
"This place doesn't feel the same without you," Optimus said. "I can't explain how, but it feels wrong. Unsettling."
Ironhide tossed his head. Optimus sat up, one hand holding Ironhide's shoulder gently. He watched Ironhide's faceplates, and saw Ironhide's jaw clench and relax. Then the shutters pulled back from his optics. They were dim. Optimus stared at them, fixated, and pleading quietly that they would just light up.
They did. Ironhide stared back at him. At first, there was no readable expression in his optics. Optimus couldn't speak. His spark pulsed violently within its casing and for a second Optimus was certain he was going to crash. Ironhide dimmed and then brightened his optics, shuttered and then opened them. He stared at Optimus for what seemed like hours.
"Optimus," he croaked. His voice was almost unrecognizable.
"'Hide," Optimus said; he could hardly believe his audios. "'Hide, did you want some energon?"
Ironhide nodded slowly. Optimus stood up slowly, and fetched a cube. All of his movements were slow, careful for fear of perhaps startling Ironhide. Ever so gently, Optimus lifted Ironhide's shoulders and supported his friend's back with one arm while holding the cube against Ironhide's mouth with his free servo. Ironhide raised his servos in a stilted motion and touched his digits to the bottom of the cube.
Optimus manoeuvred himself to sit behind Ironhide and allow the other mech to lean back against him. Ironhide seemed to sag back against Optimus. He drank slowly. When the cube was empty, Ironhide sucked a long breath of air through his intakes and tilted his head to look up at Optimus's faceplates. A tired smile crossed Ironhide's faceplates and he shuttered his optics. Slowly, in a movement that took far too much energy, Ironhide turned himself into Optimus, resting the side of his helm against Optimus's chassis and slipped back into recharge. Optimus let his servo fall over Ironhide's side and allowed himself to drift off into a light recharge as well.
End Chapter 9