Chapter Fifteen
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape or form. I only own Nightshade. Thankies!
Yeah, so the rating goes up another notch in this chapter...just a warning. : D Enjoy!
MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope y'all get some good loot! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, have a wonderful holiday season!
I got a calender with Ratchet in it...and it's hanging above my bed. :P
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Unknowing of the fate Starscream had planned for her, Nightshade sat at Ratchet's side patiently, rubbing his knuckles gently with her hand. He hadn't so much as moved in the past 24 hours and it was starting to worry both her and Red Alert. Optimus had forcibly removed her from the room two hours ago, and she had managed to sneak back in. She bit her lip softly, wiping at a stray tear that ran down her cheek plate. She hadn't even bonded to the mech and her spark felt like it was being torn apart. Nightshade took in a shaky puff of air and tried to calm her processes. It wasn't working, she realized, as tears began streaming down her face. She'd thought that she'd cried herself out last night, when no more tears would come, but she was wrong. She leaned her head down onto her arms, soundlessly sobbing.
Red Alert and the Duo of Destruction (as he fondly called Elita and Chromia) stood in the doorway. Red Alert leaned on the door jamb itself, his arms crossed. Elita stood quietly beside him and Chromia leaned heavily on her commander, her chin on her friend's shoulder. Elita walked toward Nightshade suddenly, causing Chromia to lose her balance. Chromia cursed under her breath and staggered after Elita, struggling to regain her balance.
Elita crouched beside the femme and wrapped her arms around her shaking frame. Nightshade peered up blearily, her optics watery. Chromia sat on Nightshade's other side, squashing herself between the femme and wall. She huffed and glared at the wall before turning to Nightshade. Chromia slung one arm around Nightshade's waist, leaning her head on her shoulder. Nightshade sniffled and wiped a few tears off of her face with the back of her hand, feeling miserable.
"Babe, you need to go and get something to eat," Chromia said bluntly.
"I don't want to leave him," Nightshade responded quietly.
"He'll be fine right where he's at. Red Alert will take good care of him."
"But I don't want him to wake up without me," Nightshade said, her bottom lip quivering dangerously. Chromia almost growled in annoyance. Nightshade may have been a decent medical rookie, a slightly better dancer, and an excellent sparring partner, but Primus, the girl did not know when to turn the waterworks off!
"Let's go and get something to eat or else I'll sic Red Alert on you," Elita said, crossing her arms, ignoring Red Alert's cry of protest.
"But…" At Elita's pleading look, she fell silent. She touched Ratchet's hand one last time and stood suddenly, sending Chromia flying onto her aft. Chromia landed hard, wincing at the loud thud her aft had made upon meeting the concrete.
"What the slag's wrong with you, femme?!" Chromia yelled, standing and rubbing her aft. Elita only giggled and grabbed Nightshade's arm, lacing it through hers. Red Alert stared after them, their friendly jibes echoing down the hallway to the rec room. Perhaps he would have to change their nickname.
Perhaps the Trio of Terror?
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Nightshade decided that she wasn't just miserable, oh no, she was absolutely miserable. Scorponok chirped softly, running a claw down her arm, trying to sooth her. The little creature screeched in surprise when she suddenly embraced it, sniffling. It hung there for a moment, tense, but then soon relaxed. After a few minutes (which had gone by far too quickly for Scorponok's liking), she set him down on her lap and leaned over him to drink her energon. He chattered, and tried to crawl back into her arms. It was so warm and he felt safe! She ignored him and gently set him down on the chair beside her. He let out an angry whirr and leapt into Chromia's lap, cuddling into the femme's chassis. Hah, what now, Nightshade?
Chromia swatted him away, glaring at the little scorpion. He sat slumped between the two femmes and let out a pitiful whine.
"Oh, come here, you big baby," Chromia snapped, petting Scorponok. He purred and settled on her lap, wrapping his long tail around himself.
"You're spoiling him," Elita warned, shaking her head. Nightshade smiled sadly when Chromia ignored her commander and picked up the scorpion, talking to it like it were a sparkling. She blushed at the thought of a sparkling in her arms and then she smiled the tiniest bit, imagining a tiny fist waving up at her. What would it look like? Would it be red like its sire, or blue, like her? Or would it be purple, just to spite the both of them? A goofy smile spread over her face…what would it be like to carry the sparkling right next to her spark, for a few vorns? To feel it grow, nestled safely in her chassis?
"Earth to Nightshade," Elita said, waving her hand in front of Nightshade's dazed optics. Nightshade yelped and clutched at her fuel pump, which was going much faster than it should have been.
"What were you thinking about, girlie," Chromia asked, a smirk on her face. Of course Chromia's mind was in the gutter...she may have looked sweet and innocent, but she wasn't. Not in the least (Thanks to Ironhide). That's exactly why she was a force to be reckoned with on the battle field - when she widened her big blue optics and batted them just so, 'cons would hesitate for just a fraction of a second. Then they'd die. Chromia would often finish them off with a giggle.
"Nothing…I just…"
"What?" Both femmes were leaning toward her, their voices hushed. Damn those gossip subroutines, Nightshade thought, before answering.
"I think I might want a sparkling," she finally admitted, looking down at her lap. There were two seconds of silence before the two fully grown femmes squealed like a sparkling with a brand new toy. The few mechs that were in the room looked over curiously. Most mechs knew that squealing femmes meant that there was plotting, gossiping, or a sparkling on the way. And the ones in the room hoped sorely that it wasn't the latter, because they would not be able to deal with the spawn of Optimus, Ironhide, or Ratchet.
"Then go bond with Ratchet already," Chromia bellowed, neatly shoving Nightshade out of her chair and onto her aft. Nightshade used a rather vulgar gesture involving the middle digit of one hand. Chromia ignored her. Nightshade's smile suddenly disappeared as she remembered his condition.
"Aw, he'll be fine, Nightshade. You can't kill evil," Chromia said, patting the femme on top of her head.
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Nightshade entered the med bay quietly, not wanting Red Alert to come into the room and chew her aft out. It was dark and cool in the small room. The only sounds she heard were the quiet, internal hums of Ratchet's engine and the whirrs of his fans, and a few quiet beeps coming from his monitor. Her engine let out a sleepy rev and she blushed hotly. Her limbs were suddenly heavy, and she decided that a quick recharge would be nice.
Nightshade scurried around to the opposite side of Ratchet's recovery berth and curled up into his side, draping her arm across his chest…a few minutes with her soon-to-be-mate wouldn't hurt…
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"Aww, they're so cute together…"
"Shut up, you'll wake them up."
"Take another picture."
A snicker.
Nightshade blearily opened her optics, raising a hand to block out the sunlight pouring into the room. She heard soft giggling and her optics focused. There, in the room with her, were Elita and Chromia, along with Moon Racer. The latter had been dragged in. Nightshade let out a low growl and dropped her head back onto Ratchet's chest, seeking warmth. Ratchet's arm tightened around her waist and she could hear a low, almost inaudible chuckle come from the mech below her.
"Ratchet? Are you okay? Am I squashing you?" She made to roll off of him, but he kept his arm firmly clamped around her waist.
"You're fine where you're at. The rest of you, get out," he muttered, his optics becoming more and more focused. The three femmes left, giggling over the pictures that they had taken.
"How are you," she asked, propping herself up on his chest. He smiled up at her weakly.
"I've felt better," he grunted, relishing the curvaceous body resting on top of him. Nightshade's spark leapt in her chest as he shifted beneath her, sending her headlong into his chest. She planted her hands over his chest, trying to keep from hitting her head.
"Don't ever do something so abso-fraggin'-lutely stupid like that again, Ratchet," she said sternly, poking him gently. Ratchet chuckled again but winced as he jarred some freshly soldered wiring. Concerned, she leaned up and kissed him gently. He rested on hand in the curve of her lower back…Nightshade wasn't going anywhere…
Ratchet slanted his mouth over hers, tracing her lips with his glossa, begging for entrance. She acquiesced, gently sucking on him. He let out a low moan, his grip on her waist tightening. Nightshade smirked and nipped at his lower lip, demanding more. Nightshade shifted above him and he almost hissed when she straddled him, her thighs gripping him tightly. If the femme didn't get off of him now…
He arched off of the bed when her fingers found the sweet spot in his chest seam, crying something incoherent out. She smirked again and lowered her head to his chest. She began biting at the raised edges of his armor, her fingers dipping into the seams and gaps of his pelvic armor. He could feel his interface unit heat up, ready to join with another. He almost howled when Nightshade reached down and tweaked several very sensitive cables in his unit, biting the ridges in his abdominal plates at the same time.
Nightshade squeaked softly when Ratchet wrenched her from where she'd been. She stared up at the medic looming above her, his optics white, promising her the night of her life if she accepted his advances. She nodded her assent and spread her legs a little. Ratchet lowered himself, gripping one leg and bit her neck gently, making her arch into him. He let out a soft moan as he felt her grind against him...
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Red Alert slid the door open, followed closely by Chromia and Elita, chatting amiably to the femmes behind him. The scene that met his optics made him drop the data pad in his hands. Chromia and Elita peered around his stock-still form and giggled at what they saw. Nightshade was flat on her back, mewling Ratchet's name while he knelt between her legs, doing some interesting things to her frame with his fingers and glossa. Red Alert turned, his face ashen, and shut the door.
Not a full minute had passed before they heard a scream of "RATCHET!" emanate from the sealed doors.
Red Alert opened the doors and peeked in. Ratchet was on top of the femme once more, ready to finish the both of them off. Two pairs of optics were on him. One pair was mortified. The other was indifferent.
"What the slag're you doing, Ratchet? You're not ready for any kind of vigorous activity! No interfacing until you're completely recharged!"
"Go away," he snarled, sending an acidic glare to the trio in the doorway.
"I think not! Get off of your femme and get your aft in recharge!"
Nightshade groaned in absolute mortification and Elita smirked. It served her right! Now she knew exactly what she and Optimus went through! Ratchet growled and pushed himself off of Nightshade, clamping on arm firmly around her waist.
"Nightshade, you need to leave."
"No, she stays with me. I'll behave," Ratchet growled, his entire body still tense from not overloading properly.
"Fine. But I hear anything that sounds remotely like interfacing, and Nightshade will be removed."
"...fine."
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(ducks bricks thrown by audience)
Yeah, I know. I love tormenting my characters.
Ratchet: (curses) I was about to get some!
Nightshade: (giggles)
Ratchet: (gives authoress the one finger salute and marches off into the med bay)
...and I think I sense some smut coming into the picture pretty soon. (whistles and looks around innocently)