Note: This one nagged me a lot. I actually wrote the the whole last part first, and then was stuck on the first part. I couldn't decide which angle to take on it. But i simply finally decided to go simple, we can always delve into the smutty part later. For once i like keeping it a bit chaste and just have the desires and tensions between them play around.
By the way: Not really any warnings.
"You aren't just ancient, but one of The First." Starscream states in awe the moment he senses the blue seeker rouse from recharge, his head canting slightly to catch the sight of blue optics onlining. He has been awake for a long while, thinking and digesting what he learned through the merge last night.
"Does it surprise you so much?" Thundercracker asks curious. Everyone knows he had been there during the Quintesson War, how surprising could it be to realize that he didn't just pop up in the middle of it from out of nowhere?
"It's just…surreal to believe that you are that old. We all know that the Quintesson War lasted for almost half a million vorns. I never imagined that you were there from the very beginning, before it even was a war, and you are still functioning now, a few million vorns later, no worse for wear." Starscream answers hesitantly, still affected by the revelations during their merge and the fact that the wing he currently is relaxing his head against is… Well, he doesn't know if it is the sword or the shield, but it is unnerving no matter which.
He is going to be edgy for a while around the blue seeker, and hesitate to touch. Even now he fights the urge to move, to lay his head in the crook between Thundercracker's shoulder and neck even if that position is going to be unpleasant.
"I'm not that easily subdued, as you have realized by now." The blue seeker explains with a wry smile, canting his head to look at the other seeker.
Starscream just remains silent before he answers with a little smile of his own as their optics locks. Then the wing beneath his head begins to move, folding down along the blue seeker's frame and he gasps in surprise at the uncommon flexibility. He just stares with wide optics as Thundercracker rearranges himself to lay on the side, full attention on Starscream, a single finger traveling the sleek curves of the his frame, gingerly beginning at the juncture of his neck and venturing down to his hips, circling the transformation seam there before subtly dipping into it and follow the seam until the finger is unable to move further, but then Thundercracker is touching the rim of his pelvic plating, and Starscream is venting shallowly, his mouth dry and cooling fans on the verge of activating in response to the sudden heat in his frame.
Then the touch is gone, but it leaves behind a scorching hot trail all over his frame and the plea for more is about to leave his vocalizer, his lips wanting to speak the words.
But when Thundercracker abruptly rises from the berth, leaving him behind in his desperate needy state, anything he wanted to say is forgotten. Instead he reaches for the blue seeker in a pathetic display, silently begging for Thundercracker to return, to feel that field with the seductive promises mingle with his again.
There is a moment of silence, while Thundercracker stands still in the middle of the berth room, his wing unfolding, then the blue seeker turns, and Starscream knows that their happy little moment is gone, and that there will be no further playing around, at least for now.
"I'm sorry Starscream. Ratchet is summoning me." Thundercracker explains apologetically, but even if he is apologizing, he is actually relieved for Ratchet's pinging. Otherwise he might have done something he would regret deeply. For a moment he had completely forgotten everything, and in his mind Starscream had become Solarstorm.
He almost flees the room, just barely remembering to tell the tricolored seeker the code to the energon dispenser before leaving.
Raised voices permeate the heavy doors into the medical bay, and anyone passing at this very moment would be able to hear the words almost as if they were standing inside the room. But while most of the words are common cybertronian, another language is working its way into the heated argument between the two mechs inside.
"Stupid, foolish Serkhar! You are risking everything in a moment's weakness!" The voice is gruff, slightly distorted when the mech reverts to ancient cybertronian. It has been a long while since he last took the ancient glyphs in use, but his anger makes him throw any caution to the wind, and fuck anyone happening on them and hearing him using the words he shouldn't even know.
"Did you only summon me to rant, or do you have a purpose for me to be here?" Thundercracker asks, indignantly letting the old term for his being go.
"Fireflight told me you didn't use him last night." The voice states coldly, direct and accusing.
"And?" The blue seeker asks calmly, but there is an undertone that the other instantly tunes in on. "I'm not their plaything. What we have been doing is strictly necessary medical precaution. Nothing more. I am free to choose who I want to merge with, and if it isn't one of them, then they have to accept that this isn't some kind of claim they have on me." The seeker adds with a rumbling growl.
"But seriously Thundercracker. Starscream of all mechs?" The disdain in the voice is thick with prejudice. 'A 'con is always a 'con' is the clear message and it riles the blue seeker in a way taking them both by surprise.
"Rachïar!" The blue seeker roars, taking a threatening step towards the other mech, looming above the smaller frame in an impressive display. And had it been everyone else but this mech, they would have cowered by now.
"Don't you dare call me that!" the mech growls in warning, optics looking to the closed door.
"Mehilïs!" the blue seeker snorts, laughing as the other's face almost turns as red as the symbol adorning his frame. "Well, if I can't call you by your name, then I suppose I need to use your profession." Thundercracker states, while looking completely innocent with tears in the corners of the optics from laughing.
"I wonder what 'Trion would say if he saw you like this." Ratchet sighs, giving up on admonishing the unruly seeker.
That firmly erases any humor from the seeker. Blue wings lower completely on the massive back and a slight tremble travels through the whole frame ending in the highly communicative appendages.
It is a low blow, and Ratchet knows it.
"I'm sure he is okay. I know you don't know it, but when you went missing some of the other's took that as a sign and went off world. They are still out there somewhere." The medic tries to reassure.
"Is 'Trion one of them?" the seeker asks hopefully.
"I don't know. He just vanished suddenly. None of us could find him, just like we couldn't locate you. Then they found your wingmates in the ruins of a completely devastated area far from any city-state. But there were no sign of you beyond the telling traces of your sonic booms having torn asunder the buildings in the whole area. They filed it away as an accidental explosion, but 'we' knew the truth. Less than a week later Megatron proudly displays his new Command Trine in a devastating attack on Helix. Imagine our horror when a seeker carrying your name is flanking Starscream's right. You. Our protector. Our guardian. Reduced to a mere peon in the hands of a mad mech." Ratchet painfully retells his memories to the seeker, staring into nothingness as he speaks.
"Rachïar…" Thundercracker murmurs the name softly; taking the last step that separates the two and kneels to hug the other close. "I'm here now."
Offlining his optics for a moment, Ratchet melts into the powerful frame of the protector. He can never think about the seeker in any other way. They have been through too much together to forget all the atrocities the guardian suffered to keep them all safe during the worst times of the Quintesson War. For a very long time Thundercracker had been the only one among their slowly growing group of sentient former slaves able to fight and it shaped him, shaped his personality. He became what was needed then, and after their transition into the modern frame types he remained unchanged. Na'hïl and Fraÿor was one of the reasons, his wish to keep being their guardian angel, even in a post war society, another.
"How are your wings? How are Na'hïl and Fraÿor? I hear you drew them on the decepticons the other day. Did the transformation go smoothly enough?" Ratchet asks, his hands reaching and examining the wings meticulously.
"Your work is as always flawless Ratchet. Thank you for saving my wings and my frame." the blue seeker smiles, shivering at the feeling of the medic's expert hands digging into seams and testing the wires below the armor.
"It is good I still kept my knowledge of your frame type in my database. And you are a lucky serkhar. No one else would know what to do with your special and foreign design and with how damaged you were when they brought you to me it is no wonder Megatron back then just transplanted your spark into a new frame." the medic smiles sadly.
"There is something I need you to do Ratchet." Thundercracker breaks in, hands gently gripping the medic's arms and coaxing the hands on his wings to stop their examination.
"Anything malfunctioning?" the CMO asks, optics narrowing and the seeker can see how the gears begin to move inside the medic's processor to figure out what might be the problem.
"Ah...no. Not like that. It's just… Starscream became a bit eager and… well you know what happens." Thundercracker explains, counting slowly to five, audials already tuned down in anticipation of the lecture of profane curses the medic surely is going to release when the meaning finally dawns.
"No. Oh No Thundercracker. Don't tell me you interfaced with him as well! Of all irresponsible…" before the vicious tirade even has begun it is swiftly silenced by a hand covering the medic's mouth.
"Not that! I'm not that stupid. I know what happens! No, I meant that my defensive protocols activated when Starscream played a bit too much with Fraÿor's hinge." The seeker hisses in a low voice staring indignantly at the medic, deeply offended that Ratchet would think him so thoughtless to even engage in interfacing.
Not that he doesn't want to… but… well it is complicated.
When he removes his hand Ratchet manages to look apologetic for a brief moment, then it is gone.
"Give me a moment to locate the right hardware connector and I will take a look." The medic tells the seeker, pointing at a free berth while distractedly roaming around in his subspace for the right part to connect him to the seeker's systems.
"When we are done here I have something else to talk to you about." Ratchet adds offhandedly when he flips a latch and connects to the port at the side of Thundercracker's neck. There is silence between them for a few minutes before the medic speaks again.
"There is a level three warning still active in your systems. I will need to take a closer look at the hinge. It might just be a twisted wire or something. I'm sure he got the whole lightshow then?" Ratchet adds wryly.
"Oh he did." The seeker snorts, "Wanted to know more. So curious. Just like the young seeker I remember."
"What did you show him then?" the medic asks, stopping in his work and frowning.
"My forging into a sentient being." Thundercracker answers with a smile.
"And he still wants you after seeing that?!" Ratchet asks incredulous. He has only heard what happened from Alpha Trion, but that had been enough to make him nauseous. It still unnerves him to this day that 'Trion so fearlessly had gotten himself captured on the weak possibility of gaining a strong ally in the Quintessons' own executioner. If he had been wrong in his report about favorable changes in the serkhar, Alpha Trion would have been killed that day, all because of Ratchet. Or, Rachïar as his name had been back then.
But his report had held true. In one sweeping move the small group of sentient transformers had gained a protector, able to fight and protect them against the oppressors while they gathered more of their own kind. Meanwhile they had an enemy less; since the Quintesson Thundercracker had killed had been one of the Magistrates.
"I don't think he knows what he wants Ratchet. He still suffers the loss of his trinemate and so far I have been a familiar presence, reminding him of what he has lost, but still different enough to know that what he had is gone. If he still had believed that he would be able to regain his trinemate, he would have gone through with the reprogramming. And he would be dead now." The blue seeker's voice starts out soft and slowly grows more cold and determined, the last sentence stated in an almost clinical tone devoid of any feelings he might have for the tricolored seeker.
"True. I did wonder why you didn't kill them that day you were captured. Six or was it seven mechs against you? They would have stood no chance." Ratchet snorts. "By the way. I want that booster back! It is sparse enough as it is, I don't want my special tech to go vanishing." The medic growls, hand outstretched, demanding the small gadget.
"Just because I have the power doesn't mean I need to use it." Thundercracker answers before handing over the booster. "I'm sorry that I haven't managed to refill it yet." He apologizes when Ratchet tugs it safely into subspace before returning to work on locating the issue in the wing causing the warning to remain active.
Thoroughly examining the surface of the hinge and finding nothing out of place or twisted Ratchet carefully delves into the mechanics of the structure, feeling for anything unusual. A small 'ha' and then Thundercracker feels a moments excruciating pain before the tension he didn't know was there eases in the wing and his systems slowly returns to an 'all clear'.
"You are the only one who would dare such a move Rachïar." The seeker comments, his spark pulsing slightly faster than just a moment before, and not because of the short moment of pain.
"I have been your medic for how long?" Ratchet snorts. But when he turns his back to the seeker for a moment, a silent curse escapes his lips. Thundercracker's words are like a slap to his face. They had seen it before. The weapons activate a level one warning and imminent activation following from just a mere touch. For a moment images of the mutilated corpses of the autobots flashes in his processor and once again he curses himself for his forgetfulness.
When he turns back to the seeker, there is nothing to see on his expression.
"How are the inhibitors?" He asks casually, his own spark pulsing fast in his chamber. These weapons aren't of cybertronian origin. They are a completely immersed part of the seeker's systems, and reacts upon Thundercracker's feelings and actions. During the Quintesson War they decided to install the inhibitors when they realized that even as controlled as the seeker's personality is, he still possessed a danger to everyone around him. Attuning the friendly targets' EM fields to the inhibitors installed in the advanced Quintessonian weapons system in the serkhar they lowered the danger towards their own, while Thundercracker remained as deadly and swift against their enemies.
"They are fine. They are as strong and efficient as always. And don't worry Ratchet; I can see you are tense. I'm not going to slaughter you all while you recharge. There was no reaction at all. And you have been my medic for as long as I have been a sentient being. You are attuned, classified as no threat with a note that you have a few sadistic streaks now and then." The seeker laughs, the mirth increasing at the scandalized look on the CMO.
"Now that we are done, and if you are done laughing at a serious matter, let's get on with why I summoned you in the first place." Ratchet growls, disconnecting from the port and flipping the latch on the blue seeker's neck closed.
"I must admit I am curious." Thundercracker states, the laughter slowly dying down and he rises from the berth stretching his wings and enjoying that the feeling plaguing his right wing ever since the night before is gone.
"Getting old Thundercracker? Or did you forget that I have been elbow deep in a certain black and purple seeker's internals while you played around with Starscream? For your information, your sonic boom very nearly killed Skywarp. I guess he was the one closest to you, maybe shielding Starscream a bit with his frame, why Starscream didn't suffer as many damages at the teleporter." Ratchet growls, almost sounding accusing.
"I… He… WHAT?!" the seeker blurts, blue optics obscenely wide and the sight would have been comical to the CMO if not for the seriousness. At least the medic knows when to be serious and when to joke around.
"You damaged his fuel pump so much that it actually failed upon me a few times after you brought him in. It is pure damned luck he is still alive." The CMO explains with a deep frown.
"He is…okay then?" Thundercracker asks in a small wavering voice, his deep rumbling preventing him from sounding too pitiful, but the slumped almost cowering stance when Ratchet explains is satisfaction enough to the medic.
"He isn't out of the critical part yet, but if he survives until tomorrow then I have faith." The medic explains, walking to the door into the ICU housing the stasis-locked recovering seeker.
Walking up behind the medic and looking in through the small window in the door, blue optics takes in the jumble of monitors, wires and drops connected to the prone battered black and purple frame. The sight of the open chestplates and visible sparkchamber with the myriads of wires sticking out feels like a punch to his midsection, and he can feel his legs sag slightly.
"Can I?" he asks the medic, optics still trained on the monitors showing that yes Skywarp is still alive, but the data shown is of a weak frame and a spark fighting to keep everything functioning.
"If you promise to not touch anything in there. I'm sure I don't have to lecture you about what would happen if you do." The medic answers grimly.
"I…will be careful." Thundercracker murmurs before he keys the door open and slowly steps into the room. It is cold, the countless sounds of machines filling his audios and the small blips now and then is a somehow reassuring sound. It is the reassurance of life in the lifeless frame in the center of it all.
Inside the ICU room, he is unsure about what to do since there is no chair or anything to accommodate him; the machines are taking up so much of the room that the comfort of a chair is impossible. Instead he just stands beside the berth and looks as the respirator forces air down the seeker's intake to cool the frame from within. His hands itch to touch, to take the lax hands resting at each side of the prone frame, but Ratchet's words stands stark in his processor. Don't touch ANYTHING. So he just stands there and does nothing, drowning in an all-consuming guilt.
This…shouldn't have happened.
Serkhar = Ancient Cybertronian glyph equal to the use of Seeker in Common Cybertronian.
Rachïar = Ratchet's name in Ancient Cybertronian.
Mehilïs = Crude, explicit desciption of the medical function. 'Don't ask questions, or Ratchet is going to threaten me with that wrench of his.'*Shudder*