Chapter 11
=0=Right after the Senior Autobot Staff Meeting
Ratchet wandered into the Med Bay scanning the empty precinct, then leaned into the office shared by First Aid and the other lesser medics. "I'm going off duty for a while. Comm me if there's anything that I need to know."
First Aid nodded, the sweet quiet mech considering Ratchet once more. He shook his head and returned to his inventory, as uncertain and confused as everyone else.
Ratchet walked out nodding to those who nodded at him and by the time he reached the door of his quarters he was as filled with mirth and excited uncertainty as he could be. He schooled a bland expression and opened the door, stepping inside to glance around.
Ironhide, fuming and silent was sitting on the berth. He looked at Ratchet, his optics following the medic around the room as Ratchet dropped his datapads and began to tidy up. "No hello? No 'welcome home, how are ya, Ironhide' kiss?" His deep muddy voice was petulant and irritated but it was also subtler shades all of which Ratchet was expert at deciphering.
The tall mech looked at Ironhide considering him with a smirk. "I would but you/d grab me and I don't trust you as far as I can throw you right now, Ironhide. Can you blame me?"
Ironhide faked his best 'stricken' expression. "You wound me, Ratchet," he said gazing at the floor with a hurt expression on his face.
"I could have," Ratchet said folding his arms in front of his chassis, regarding the big sulking mech with amusement and deep affection. "You wouldn't want me to make this too easy would you? Where would be the fun in that?"
"True," Ironhide agreed wholeheartedly, glancing at Ratchet as he mentally did the math. He calculated how far away he was, how much power he would need to launch himself to grab Ratchet, how much furniture, datapads and weapons components would break into bits under the crashing weight of the two of them since they weighed something in the realm of nearly ten metric tons combined, then decided not to do it. He'd probably overload mid leap anyway.
Ratchet sighed calculatedly then turned away to pretend to gather his emotions.
Behind him watching with a wary optic, Ironhide finally capitulated the round. "Undo this, Ratchet and tell me what the frag you want."
Ratchet pretended to wipe an optic then looked with a terrible fondness at his bond. "Ironhide, don't you ever wonder what its going to be like someday if our people don't get a chance to recover themselves, to have children among us again?"
"Is that it? Are you really serious about a sparkling? Is that the reason this whole fiasco has been going on?" Ironhide asked with incredulity in his voice.
Ratchet stared at him a moment, then shook his head. "Do you know how many mechs I've asked the same question? Have you ever seen a sparkling? It's almost never a yes. Almost never. It's so many I don't dwell on the number, Ironhide. Can you imagine going your whole life without seeing or touching a child, or hear their little chirps and see their little sweet faces?"
Ironhide was solemn. "I'm aware of that."
"It's so wrong. I'm so sad about it, Ironhide. You were a wiseacre when you brought it up, joking about it. But it made me sad for you and I. There's nothing going to carry on about you and me if there's no sparklings now. There will be no younglings and no future sparklings. Nothing." Ratchet shook his head. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to have a little Ironhide running around? A little Ironhide looking up at you with all the trust and love only sparklings can have for a genitor?"
Ironhide watched Ratchet, considering the quandary of his emotions. "I have."
"Then you understand me and my regrets," Ratchet said.
"I do. I've thought about it a lot. I guessed that was the biggest part of your madness," Ironhide said. "I like our life, you and me. The uncertainty of the war and our people's homelessness makes me afraid but I don't have a problem with having sparklings."
Ratchet gazed at him tensely. The look on his face was astonishing to Ironhide. "Then you don't have objections."
"No," Ironhide said simply.
Ratchet stared at him with the deepest most affectionate optics Ironhide had ever seen, then he pulled a datapad out of subspace ending the programming loop that laid Ironhide up. The wash of relief coursing through Ironhide's body was enormous and when Ratchet walked to embrace him, laying his helm on the top of Ironhide's, he embraced Ratchet, too. They sat and stood together holding each other and the moment was sublime. Then Ratchet sniffled softly. "Ironhide?"
"What?" Ironhide replied as his servo rubbed Ratchet's back gently.
"I won't let you down."
"I know you won't, Ratchet."
"I'll take care of you and when the moment of separation comes I'll be the one to put our sparkling into its protoform myself."
It took Ironhide a kick or two to process that remark, then his optics opened again.
Wide.
=0=On a 'date'
Jazz and Prowl walked together, the two of them ignoring the smirks and wide optics that they were getting as they walked to the Rec Room to sit and have a break. They had sat together in the meeting with helms nearly touching, giving and taking little asides and servo touches now and again. Neither of them made a point to look at Prime but both of them could feel his optics upon them and the emotional tension moving through his big frame. His energy field alone was a measure of his anxiety.
Prowl had been relieved, having slurred out a confession of his entire evening's point to a surprisingly receptive Ratchet when the medic had hauled him off the floor of the corridor and back to his berth. It was confession time on both sides as Ratchet swore him to secrecy and laid out the whole thing.
"WHAT!"
"Now Prowl, let me explain."
Prowl who looked on the fritz once more centered himself remembered the words of Master Yoketron, his circuit su teacher and mentor for the times he would find himself turning too much inward: "KNOCK IT OFF, PROWL!"
He waited.
Ratchet had explained the practical joke part. Then he explained the part about wanting a sparkling with Ironhide, a confession that made Prowl's optics twirl. Then he explained how difficult Prime was about courtships and other complications to his self denying self view, perceived dignity as a Prime and all around oblivious mech attitude. It all made sense and Prowl knew that when he meditated on it later it would refine even further but it still made him angry.
"I thought he was interested in me. Then he tells everyone he's bonded to Springer. Then there's the family bit and Ironhide running around like a berserker. First he says and acts like he likes me, then he takes it away."
"Prowl, let me propose something here. I'm going to break the news to Ironhide that I want a sparkling. He's probably going to be all right with that. Then I'm going to break to him that I want him to be the carrier."
Prowl snorted. "That won't go over well will it?"
"No," Ratchet said. "But it'll percolate in his skull for a while and that's the key to Ironhide. If you don't have enough seniority to order him to do something you tell him what you want and let him think about it. When he gets to the point where he thinks it's his own idea then you win."
"How long will that take?" Prowl asked as he listened fascinated to the obviously superior psychology and life experience of the medic.
"Sometimes forever and sometimes not. I have the upper hand."
"What do you mean?" Prowl asked.
"Read the Lysistrata," Ratchet said with a grin.
[Initiate. Access. Search function: Lysistrata, literature, work of. Scan. Acquired information download initiate. Access concluded]
Faster than an eye could blink, Prowl had accessed, downloaded and read the story finding himself torn between hiding under the couch and laughing out loud. "You're evil."
"I am," Ratchet said as he chuckled. "That's part of my allure." He patted Prowl's servo. "When I get you on your feet I'm going to help you land the Prime."
Prowl blinked. "What?"
"You want him, yes?" Ratchet asked.
"Uh, yes," Prowl admitted, feeling as he did the combined weight of embarrassment and high grade pinching him in the aft. He wasn't a flamboyant mech by even the most generous measure and self-disclosure even to his doctor was hard.
"Well, good. If we leave it up to you two, you'll never get together," Ratchet said. "First thing, you have to get spiffed up, then energized so that your optics shine. Next, you'll sit with Jazz and flirt." Ratchet gave Prowl a critical discerning optic. "You do know how to flirt don't you?"
Prowl frowned at Ratchet. His ego, such as it was about personal things felt wounded slightly. "I do. I can."
"Oh, Primus. Special case. Well, we'll help you. Jazz is the king of tease and I'm no slouch myself. Come on. Let's get you ready. The meeting is coming up fast."
That had been the morning and when he entered the meeting with a clued in Jazz by his side, Prowl looked cleaned, waxed and refreshing as a morning breeze. Prowl would never forget the whirlwind that was Ratchet on a mission.
=0=Optimus Prime
He stood in the doorway of Ops Center watching the loveliness that was Prowl. It was impossible that Prowl could have been face down on Wheeljack's floor, he considered. He looked beautiful and wonderful and he was *flirting* with *Jazz*. He felt as confused as he ever was as walked out the door to the Ops Center in the N.E.S.T. hangar and the human beings that had no clue so much drama could exist in the confines of the Autobot's Command Center.
=0=Ironhide
He crept around the corner and slipped away heading for the obstacle course. It was nearby and from there he'd be able to step over the electrified fence. The beach ran alongside it and there he'd be able to sit and think. Ratchet had pulled another fast one on him and when it was clear that he was being prepped for sacrifice he'd fled.
He would never learn, he considered as he stepped over the fence, disappearing toward the gleaming waters and warm sand nearby. The soldiers working on the obstacle course paused to watch him, utterly fascinated that such a huge mechanical being could be so light on his feet.
They had no idea at all.
=0=Jazz
He stood next to Prowl watching the screen as they tracked the skies of Earth. Ratchet had been to him and given the severity of the lack of confidence in Prowl about relationships and other personal obstacle courses, they had agreed to help the quiet mech find his footing again even as there was still some work to do on Operation Frag Ironhide's Aft. It would begin immediately and culminate when Prowl had what he wanted. That Jazz had Mirage was of little consequence. He could talk Mirage into anything.
And so it was that Operation Get Prowl Laid was born.