Chapter Eleven
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape or form. However, I do own Nightshade.
Yeah, I love my reviewers. :D
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The weeks went by quickly for Nightshade. When she wasn't with Ratchet (reading, talking, or helping in the med bay), she was usually helping Elita and Chromia with repairs or training. In her off time (which was extremely rare), she usually was with her gang of friends. In the love department things were progressing slowly, but Ratchet was happy nonetheless. (Besides, they'd be bonded soon, and it wouldn't matter after that.) Scorponok had been reformatted with a non-lethal, non-weapon tail, but allowed to keep his pincers. So far, he was treated with mild indifference (after all, Barricade and Frenzy were in the midst of defect talks with Optimus). Things were going absolutely perfectly…
As Nightshade approached the medical bay, she heard yelling (mainly from Ratchet), cursing (also, mostly from Ratchet), two thuds and a crash. She broke into a jog and peered into the doorway cautiously. The medical bay looked like it had gone through a hurricane. There was absolute chaos wherever she looked.
There were mini-bots carrying I-beams and tools and wood every which way, and there were piles and piles of supplies every where she could see. Ratchet was standing off to one side, rubbing his head and muttering quietly. As she approached, she could hear what he was saying.
"I am a medic. I will do no harm. I will not off-line the mini-bots."
"Ratchet," she asked quietly. His optics flashed on.
"Nightshade, how are you?" He gathered her into his arms and greeted her with a warm kiss. Pulling away gently, she surveyed the mess. Scorponok was in the roof beams, hissing like a cat down at the chaos. Scorponok did not like the minibots in his living areas. Neither did he like disorder. The little scorpion reached down slyly with one clawed arm and picked up something…
"What's going on?"
"Optimus decided to expand the medical bay. Without telling me first." His voice had gone from warm and caring to cold and scathing by the end of the sentence. She chirped softly to him and cuddled into the thick armor that covered his chest. He sighed gently and nuzzled her neck softly, seeking comfort.
"What the slag are you staring at, Gears? Get your aft in motion before I reformat you into a leaf blower," he snapped, glaring at the minibot. The minibot in question nearly dropped what he carried in his hands as he scurried out of the medic's throwing range. Scorponok had somehow managed to grab a tool with one pincer and he dropped it onto Gears's head, making the minibot squeal in pain.
Ratchet smirked sadistically up at the scorpion.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you, Scorponok," he said, giving the creature a thumbs up. Scorponok chirped happily, glad to have been able to please Ratchet AND get some violence out of his systems at the same time.
"Oh, be nice," Nightshade murmured, tracing little circles on his armor. He gave a low purr of approval, his hand sliding down to her hip, the other reaching down to cup her aft.
"Nightshade, that is very distracting…"
She gave him a wicked grin before speaking.
"So what is Optimus adding?"
"Slag if I know."
"Language, Ratchet. There's a youngling present," she murmured, watching as Bumblebee approached.
"He's got a filthier mouth than I do!" Ratchet exclaimed, pointing at the minibot. Bumblebee shrugged. He knew it was true…
"I better not hear anything like that escape your vocal processors," Nightshade said, glaring at the smaller bot. Bumblebee shrugged and gave her the 'wide-baby-blue-optics" routine. It had no effect on her.
"That is not going to work with me, Bumblebee."
He 'hmph'ed unhappily and shrugged his shoulders, turning to pick up some equipment. The med bay doors hissed open. In stepped Optimus, his optics taking in the level of chaos.
"Just the mech I wanted to see," Ratchet growled. "Nightshade, I'll be back in a breem. I need to have a 'chat' with Optimus."
Ratchet started walking toward Optimus, a frown on his face. Once he reached the leader, he tapped him on the shoulder.
"Ah, Ratch-"
"Why on Cybertron are all these minibots in here, in MY medical bay, tearing the place to bits?! I have no way of treating my patients in a sterile environment, thanks to this lot! What the slag are you doing and why haven't I been notified?!"
"Oh."
"Oh? Is that all you have to say?!"
"You didn't get the message?"
"Obviously not," Ratchet spat out at his leader, "You've got some explaining to do."
"Ratchet, I'll go get the data pad and have Jazz deliver it-"
"Oh, no you don't," Ratchet snapped. Optimus had tried to duck out of the medical bay, but Ratchet had grabbed a hold of one of his distinct helmet antennae, giving it a firm tug. Now Ratchet was using the grip he had to drag Optimus into one of the examination rooms.
"OUT," Ratchet said loudly, scaring a minibot out of the room. He ignored Optimus's vague declarations of pain and protests.
"I'm Prime, you can't drag me around like this…!"
"I'm CMO and I can weld your sorry aft to the ceiling!"
"But-but…I've got rank!"
"I've got a welder and I'm not afraid to use it, slagger!"
"You're hurting me!"
"I'll do worse if you don't stop your whining-"
Here the door slammed shut, the nearly-sound proof metal cutting him off. Nightshade stared after Ratchet and Optimus. There was almost a breem of silence before she heard Ratchet's voice from behind the door. Scorponok looked down at her, chirping questioningly. Why was Big Red Grumpy gone? She wondered just how loudly he was shouting to be heard past the door. Another breem passed and out came Optimus, looking haggard.
"Don't ever remodel my med bay without my consent again! You hear me?!"
Ratchet was leaning heavily against the door frame, his intakes heaving. Nightshade shook her head and hurried over to his side. If he kept doing that he would short his circuits out…
"Sweetie, calm yourself," Nightshade murmured, wrapping her arms around Ratchet's waist and nuzzling his chest softly. At her sweet touch, he sagged into her embrace.
"He is so infuriating."
"I understand, but you're going to short yourself out if you keep getting angry like this," she admonished gently, rubbing her hands over his tense frame. He nodded, leaning his weight onto the wall and pulling her into his arms. His intakes finally slowed to normal.
"Thank you, love," Ratchet murmured, rubbing her back softly.
"I've got to go, Ratchet. My shift with Elita is in-Primus! I'm late!"
She yelped and started panicking. Ratchet chuckled and stole a kiss, wrapping his arms around the femme. She gave a soft purr and began nipping at his lower lip, forgetting that she had an important meeting. Five minutes later, things had progressed. Ratchet had his hands on her hips, hoisting her up and pinning her against the wall. She had both of her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him passionately, hands slipping down his chest plates. Her optics flashed on and she started squirming and pushing at his chest. He let out a soft disappointed whine and let her down.
"Hands off, Ratchet. I've got to go and meet with Elita," she said, batting the rogue appendages away.
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Nightshade trotted up the hallway to Elita's post, trying to be only moderately late. She skidded to a halt in front of the doors and knocked gently. No response.
She knocked again. No response. She vaguely heard noises. Looking around, she pressed her audio to the seam in the door and listened carefully.
"-Oh, Optimus!-"
"Elita!"
Nightshade squeaked and back pedaled away from the door as quickly as she could. Her day had been going so splendidly, it had been like a meadow lark, soaring happily across a sunshine filled meadow…and now the bird was dead. Kaput. Shot-down-with-a-fraggin'-flamethrower and roasted in flames dead.
"What's wrong, Nightshade? She and Optimus in there?" Chromia had come out of her office. Nightshade only nodded, trying to delete the noises she had heard.
"Watch this," Chromia said quietly, a mean little smile on her face.
"Chromia to Prowl."
"Prowl here."
"I'm in front of Elita's office. She's in there but I can't get in touch with her. I'm hearing strange noises, and I'm worried," she stated, trying to sound frantic. It came out as devious.
"I'm on my way. Prowl out."
Chromia snickered and said, "I hope he brings the whole security team." Nightshade giggled and stood back to watch the action. It took Prowl and his gang of three security mechs less than two minutes to arrive. The three bots each had a rifle. Prowl was empty handed. He approached the door, motioning the females away. He pointed to one side of the doorway. Two of his men went to the other side.
Prowl typed in the override code for the door. The doors hissed open.
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Elita only called Optimus into her office to get a report from him. Honestly. But once the door had hissed shut behind him, the look in her mate's optics meant that he had different plans for her.
And that was why she was now sitting, legs wrapped tightly around Optimus's waist, clutching his shoulders and wondering how the Pit he managed to get her in the aforementioned position. Optimus had her hips in a death grip, voicing his pleasure loudly as he thrust his chest hard against her. She started whimpering when the familiar 'critical level' messages heralded her overload.
They were only vaguely aware of the fact the soft beeping that indicated a code being typed in.
Elita screamed Optimus's name just as the door opened, Prowl and three security guards holding rifles. Chromia and Nightshade were in the background, laughing hysterically. Her climax suddenly fizzled out as horror replaced the pleasure in her spark.
"GAH…slag…" Optimus never thought he would ever hear such an ineloquent statement come from his tactician. Normally he was cold and indifferent, but now he only looked disturbed.
"Unless interfacing with my mate is a crime, I suggest you get out," Optimus snarled, not even having the decency to look embarrassed. Prowl only made a strange noise and turned around stiffly, shutting the door behind him. Optimus then turned back to his mate, shifting her so that he would have easier access to her spark. Elita was angry…she had been robbed from one amazing overload.
"Now, where were we?"
Maybe not, she thought, as Optimus continued their activities with a renewed vigor.
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Chromia had never laughed so hard before in her life. Warning messages flashed across her vision, warning her that her core would overheat unless she got some oxygen into her filters. But it was so damn hard to even think about taking in air with the image of Prowl's face fresh in her computing center. She slid down to the floor, screaming with laughter and pounding the floor with one fist. Nightshade held her hands over her mouth, suspended somewhere between absolutely revolted and hysterical laughter.
Prowl snarled at Chromia.
"That-that was the most disturbing thing I have ever seen. Chromia, you are sentenced to 6 hours in the brig, in accordance with page 134, paragraph 45 of the Book Of Codes as instituted by the lord high protector of our city, for blatant abuse of security. Nightshade, you as well."
"I didn't do anything!"
"You're at the scene of the crime," Prowl said, growling, "Now get to the brig before I make it two days."
"Slag-tard," Chromia muttered, offering Nightshade her arm. Both femmes chatted amiably as they walked to the brig.
Once in the dark and gloomy chamber, he opened the door to one cell and motioned for Chromia to go in. The next cell was reserved for Nightshade. Once both femmes had been put in separate cells, Prowl stood back, a nasty glare on his face. The room they were in was dark and cold. The air was rank and smelt of cabbages and old socks, and there were sheets of mold growing on the walls. Water dripped from the ceiling.
"Your punishment begins now. You will be released in exactly 6 hours. You are not to use your communicators unless it is an emergency," Prowl said, standing back. Okay, maybe his punishment was a bit harsh, but…those two evil femmes deserved it! He did not want to know what his boss's reproductive bits looked like, nor what Elita's looked like! Once Prowl had left the room, both femmes dissolved into hysterical giggles. They may have been locked up for 6 hours, but it was worth it.
"Primus, that was the funniest thing I'd ever seen in my life! Aside from that picture of Ironhide…"
"What about Ironhide?"
"Well, you remember when I got over-energized with Ratchet, right?"
"Yes…"
"Well, we…used a human program called "PhotoShop" to alter his image…"
"What did you do to him," Chromia asked, a grin starting to spread across her face. It wasn't that she didn't love her mate, she honestly did with all of her spark, but his aft-headed attitude sometimes did mean that he deserved some abuse.
"We painted him pink," Nightshade said, grinning. Chromia responded by snorting and bursting into gales laughter.
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Cliffie! Well…kinda.