Chapter 15

=0=Diego Garcia

He trudged wearily down the two lane road that formed the central artery of the mostly underground complex that was the Autobot's home and work space. It had been the main entry point for trucks and other vehicles that had hauled tons of equipment and supplies in that served the base before their arrival, storing all of it in gigantic over sized rooms. The need for privacy and a place that was their own, an Autobot embassy if you will had allowed them to negotiate for the hangar complex and make it a sovereign territory with all the rights and privacy of any other. No one could come here without permission but for the handful of humans that were welcome at any time.

He reached the Med Bay doors after running a gauntlet of mechs delighted to see him and after being peppered with questions, half of which he couldn't answer. He paused peering inside, finding it empty but for a recharging Bluestreak. He entered to walk over to the youngling mech whose youth was even more pronounced in repose. A shaft of guilt pierced Ironhide as he leaned down to kiss Blue on his forehead, petting his cheek as he watched him resting.

You should be a youngling still, worrying about school and playing pranks with other younglings he thought. You shouldn't be the sole survivor of an atrocity committed to your home, our home, our Praxus. A flutter of sorrow filtered through and was dampened down as Ironhide looked at the cute kid lying on the berth with energon lines plugged into his arms and other things. Even bonded to a medic, he only vaguely recognized what they were as they did their part for Bluestreak.

He looked around, the chaos still apparent and he knew that Ratchet was tired or it would be more organized. Energon spotted the floor. He moved his ped to avoid more of it than had already found him. Tracks of it were already on the floor and he considered a couple more probably wouldn't hurt. Cast off wires and tubing, a charred bit of armor here and there, it was too common and it had been visited on the kid, too.

Again.

He glanced around scanning for Ratchet, nothing too strong, just enough and found that he was in the back. Walking as quietly as he could he found Ratchet in the farthest room staring at a computer screen, his servos braced on the counter. "Ratchet," he said softly.

Ratchet didn't hear him or he was lost in thought so deeply he felt alone so Ironhide gently surged his energy field, touching Ratchet's own tightly wound energetic aura. Ratchet started, then looked up, the effects of the blast he'd taken clear to Ironhide. "Hi, Ironhide."

Ironhide nodded. "Hi, Ratchet."

They stared at each other a moment, then moved together embracing tightly as they did. They stood together silently, then Ratchet whispered. "I hear you did good."

"I hear you got blown head over peds."

"Yeah. It was almost fun. Almost."

"You lost some paint."

"Yeah."

"I'll repaint and buff you, Ratchet."

"And I'll fix you, too, Ironhide."

There was a pause, a gentle swaying, then Ironhide got to the important stuff. "The prank stuff ... it's still on?"

"Yeah."

Ironhide smiled brightly, then quashed it schooling his features to a serious affect. "I thought so."

"You wouldn't want it any other way."

"Nope," he said truthfully. "I don't suppose you want to call a truce just for tonight..."

"So you can get some?" Ratchet felt his smile forming and he struggled to quash it. He hugged Ironhide even tighter until he could.

"It's been a while. And you owe me."

Ratchet leaned back to fix Ironhide with a jaundiced optic. "Owe you? I owe you?"

"You left my sexy programming running in a loop until I nearly melted my critical energy port."

Ratchet smiled. "That was a good one wasn't it."

"Yeah," Ironhide said as his hands drifted down to grip Ratchet's aft. "You owe me."

"You can squeeze my aft, Ironhide," Ratchet said. "But you won't be getting any. The spigot is closed until further notice."

Ironhide stared at Ratchet with a smirk. "You won't be able to hold out."

Ratchet smiled back grimly. "I will. You know I will."

Ironhide stared at the stubborn mech in his arms, his smirk fading at the desert yawning before him to infinity. "I suppose you have the appropriate literary references."

Ratchet nodded. "Lysistrata."

[initiate. Access. Search function: Lysistrata, literature, work of. Scan. Acquired information download initiate. Access concluded]

Ironhide's optics surged as he leaned back to look at Ratchet with a grimace. "Where did you find that? I didn't need to know about erect human penises no matter when it was written or by who."

Ratchet laughed, a wholly beautiful sight Ironhide considered. "You're such a whiner."

"I don't whine. I merely loudly point out things that bother me," Ironhide said smirking once more. "And one of the things that bothers me is not interfacing after a battle. It's a rule. We interface after a battle when we're together. You owe me one, Ratchet."

Ratchet chuckled, then leaned in to kiss Ironhide so softly he could barely feel it.

Ironhide dialed up his facial sensors but the kiss was over. "More, please."

"Dickens," Ratchet said as his digits traced Ironhide's lips gently.

"I don't care what or who, I just want to 'face you. Here is as good as any other place," he said waggling his optical ridges.

Ratchet snorted. "You know that's against The Rules."

"Frag The Rules."

"Okay. Here's the only way you're going to get 'faced tonight."

Ironhide nodded expecting just about anything and he got it.

"I'll let you bend me over but Prime has to be on his hands and knees. Bend me over Prime and you can 'face me."

A visual neither of them truly wanted flashed across their processors and was gone even faster.

Ironhide smirked. "What makes you think I won't ask him?"

"Because, Ironhide, I believe even you won't sink that low. Consider the Matrix... the wrath of the Primes? Primus?..."

"Give me a few orns."

Ratchet laughed as he looked at him with loving optics. "I'll bend a rule a little. You can kiss me. Nothing more."

Ironhide snorted. "You want to 'face, too."

"Way bad," Ratchet said smirking back.

Ironhide gripped Ratchet's aft tighter then pressed him against the wall.

Ratchet slipped his arms around Ironhide's broad shoulder and proceeded to devour the big mech. They battled back and forth, each determined to kiss enough to weather the dry spell that was looming at them like a Deception mother ship.

Standing in the doorway staring at them with a shocked and surprised expression, First Aid watched. He didn't mean to. He had to ask Ratchet something before returning to attend to Bluestreak's release instructions. But he had.

It burned into his optics, the two of them thrashing against the wall so he backed out slowly as the fritz skipped across his processor. Glancing around with confusion, whimpering just a little he glanced in again. "I don't understand. I don't understand." He then continued down the hallway and out of the door to walk with increasing speed to Wheeljack's lab, this sweet good sparked and obviously sheltered young mech.

^..^ Meanwhile ...

Ironhide deciding that the best offense was to break the rules began to grind against Ratchet hoping against hope to override the rule about banning interfacing or overloading as a tactic during a prank war. Ratchet whose glitching processor enjoyed every moment of Ironhide's efforts waited patiently.

It wasn't for long.

The warnings flashing across his processor were the first indication that Ratchet had brought game. They began the override protocols that would shut off his libidinous programming for a period of three joors. One by one the fail safes activated and in no more than a nanosecond all of the momentous feelings and needs were gone. In their place was normalcy. At least, the return to himself before their tryst began. He relaxed, hanging his arms by his sides even as he lay his head on Ironhide's shoulder. He waited for the heaving behemoth to notice.

He did.

Looking up, his optics surging streaks of red, his body heating up from his exertions, he stared at Ratchet uncomprehendingly. "What? What's wrong?" he managed as the carefully stoked inferno inside began to bank just a smidge.

"I don't feel it."

Ironhide stared at him, standing a little straighter in surprise though his grip on Ratchet's aft was still as tight as ever. "You have to be kidding? You were thrashing all over the place."

"I turned it off."

Ironhide stared at Ratchet and comprehended. "You. Are. Low."

I know," Ratchet said standing straighter himself as he wrapped his arms around Ironhide. He kissed him lingering on his lips. His lips were hot. Ratchet grinned.

Literally hot.

Ironhide gripped him and began again working his mojo in the hopes it would supplant programming. Standing in the doorway watching with an indeterminate expression on his face, Sunstreaker watched silently. The only thing in him that wasn't silent were his tanks turning over. The whole thing burned itself into his processor so he fled, pausing next to Bluestreak long enough to kiss his lips. Then he was gone, running as fast as his peds could carry him.

Ironhide, meanwhile, did his best. He carried on in the best interests and tradition of the Autobot Army. But it was for naught. He leaned back letting go of Ratchet's aft to glower. "This means war, you know."

"I know," Ratchet said dropping a kiss on Ironhide's lips. "I know, you big glitch head."

"You won't last. New rule. You can't turn off your sexy stuff."

Ratchet guffawed and smiled looking at Ironhide with serious deep affection. "All right. New rule."

"Good," Ironhide said grinning with pure battle lust. "Now I gotta go to the wash wracks, you slagger." With that, he walked to the door, pausing to turn toward the raging center of his universe. His optics rested on Ratchet with a soft expression. "I love you, Ratchet."

Ratchet nodded. "Ditto," he said.

Ironhide grinned. "Don't tell anyone." With that he left, leaving the room oddly colder.

"I count on it, you big tool," he said before tending to his other responsibilities once more.