Chapter 47 dd1
The Diego Diaries: The Ratchet Two Step, Part One
=0=Two days later
Ironhide's sensors were up as he walked with great care, expecting fire from any direction. He didn't know where the attack would come from, he just knew it would. He hurried down the road and made for the shelter that he knew was unassailable. Knocking, he waited.
"Enter."
The voice was warm and welcoming. He knew that individual would shelter him against being caught. Gripping the handle, looking all around before entering, he slipped inside, the door closing noiselessly behind him. He huddled, his audials pressed against the door listening. No footsteps behind him. Probably a good thing. He in all likelihood eluded capture.
"Ironhide, what are you doing?"
He turned to the voice, relaxing only marginally. "Hiding, Prime. If you don't mind."
Optimus Prime, the bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, put down his stylus and leaned back in his chair, enjoying to a degree he found almost indecent the visual of Ironhide, Chaos Bringer and front liner, the single most feared Autobot among the Decepticons hiding behind his door. "I do t mind," he said with a chuckle.
Ironhide slumped with relief, moving to sit on the chair across the desk from Prime. "Thanks."
"Ratchet?" Prime asked, putting his peds up on his desk as he took a moment for hilarity from the drudge of paperwork and budgets.
Ironhide nodded, off-lining his optics for a moment. "Ratchet is going to kill me, Prime. You better audition another soldier to be your right servo go-to mech. I am fraggin' done for."
Prime laughed. "Do fill me in. Prowl only gives me the executive version."
"Prowl has too many scruples. Fortunately, Ratchet and I don't have that problem."
"I do not know," Prime said lacing his digits behind his head. "You are hard on yourself. And Ratchet is the sole of discretion."
Ironhide snorted. "You should see Ratchet when he's on a tear."
"He is not now?"
"Well, yeah. But this is sort of muted compared to some of his crazy back in the day." Ironhide got a faraway look for a moment, then shook his head. "I have to hide out a while."
"Sparklings."
Ironhide nodded. "He has this idea that our sparkling, if we can do this, will be the first sparkling born on the colony."
"That would be a wonderful thing," Prime said.
"It can be. If I live through it that is," Ironhide said, freezing as something bumped the door. He listened, relaxing as it went away.
"I take it you are being hunted."
Ironhide looked at Prime, nodding his head. "You know me. I'm all for a good 'facing but Ratchet is out of his processor. Day and night, everywhere I turn around. A mech can only take so much."
"I would feel sorry for you but most mechs I know would love to have your problems," Prime said, grinning broadly.
"Well, most mechs aren't bonded to Ratchet."
"You aren't telling me you have second thoughts? Its been what? A few zillion eons you two have been together..." Prime began.
"At least. I think we were there when Unicron popped out," Ironhide said. He shook his head. "Ratchet is relentless and he has all these datapads filled with suggestions."
"A 'facing manual," Prime said, grinning.
Ironhide glanced at him. "Apparently Ratchet has a store of dirty datapads that he's never shared, the slagger."
"But they are medical datapads are they not?" Prime asked, making a mental note to talk to Ratchet at some future date.
"If you say so." Ironhide shook his helm. "I thought this last prank war would never end. I dreamed day and night of 'facing the old yellow aft and now? I can't turn over in the berth without a yellow servo reaching for something."
Prime laughed. "Reach back."
"I did. For a while. You know, Ratchet is a good old mech but he outweighs me."
Prime grinned. "He does?"
"Yeah, but don't tell him I said so. He has redundant systems and the like. It's how he's designed. But when he decides to 'face ya, he's almost stronger than me."
Prime laughed as he regarded Ironhide. "You better start working out."
Ironhide grinned. "It wouldn't help. Ratchet has skills. Did you know he's slagging good at hand-to-hand combat?"
"I know he can fight but as far as it goes..." Prime prompted, thoroughly enjoying himself at Ironhide's expense.
"Oh, Primus. He can deck ya if you aren't ready for it." He grinned. "He's also a pretty good wrestler."
"The Sexy?" Prime asked chuckling.
Ironhide snorted. "Yeah. How did you know?" Ironhide shot Prime a wary optic.
"You two live large. It is hard to not hear half of what you do when you are warring and yelling." Prime grinned at him, noting his discomfort.
"Oh," Ironhide said. "Well, he's got his sails up and I'm doomed."
"Shall we take you off the duty roster until the deed is done?" Prime asked, smiling.
"Oh, Primus, no! He'll kill me!"
They chuckled together. It was nice, quiet and easy-going.
"Ratchet told me about your dream." Prime grinned. "Apparently he would never date a Mom van."
Ironhide snorted and grinned. "I was a red van and sounded like a slagging idiot. He was fraggin' good looking, all white and red. Ratchet looks real good in white."
"Maybe you can suggest it and play White Medic and Mom Van. Could get you through the dark orns ahead."
Ironhide grinned. "We play Yellow Medic and the Chaos Bringer."
Prime laughed out loud. "I can see it," he said.
Ironhide smiled. "Ratchet is the best fun I ever had. He sure likes to have fun."
Prime nodded. "He does. What is your plan? You have to go home at some point."
"I was hoping the Decepticons were attacking Washington, D.C." Ironhide paused. "I think I did dream that once. Wheeljack got slagged but he saved the day."
"You should tell him."
"I will. I can tell him when he's hiding me," Ironhide said with a grin.
The intercom tweaked. "Ratchet to Prime."
"Prime here."
"Optimus, I know Ironhide is hiding in your office. Send him out or I'm coming in after him."
Ironhide stood up swiftly, staring at the door like it was a many tentacled monster. He looked at Prime. "Hide me."
"You are a bit on the big side but I do have a desk drawer," Prime said, pulling one open. "If you can fit in here I will lie for you."
"The only consolation I have right now is someday Prowl is going to beat your aft as hard as Ratchet."
Prime laughed, shaking his head. "No. Ratchet is one of a kind."
Ironhide pausing by the door grinned at him. "He is." With a nod, Ironhide opened the door a crack and peered outside, seeing no yellow medico lurking. He slipped out and was gone, the door closing behind him. Prime, snickering, put his peds down and picked up a stylus. Shaking his head with a grin, he returned to the bone dry world of work.
=0=Ratchet, hunting
Ratchet walked calmly out of their quarters, a datapad in his hands. It was a sparking manual and he was determined to make sure that the momentous was achieved.
One way or the other.
Ironhide wasn't in the rec room, the training room downstairs, the munitions vault or the armory. He wasn't in the Med Bay nor was he outside. The Officer of the Day told him that he wasn't on the records as going out. That meant he was in the complex and it was only a matter of time. Pausing outside Ops Center, he peeked in.
No Ironhide.
Continuing on, he slipped the manual into subspace and returned to the hunt, a feral gleam in his optics.
=0=Ironhide, fleeing
He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it tightly. Listening for footsteps, he heard none. Turning, pausing, he locked optics with Wheeljack. "Hey, 'Jack."
"You can't hide here, Ironhide."
"You can't kick me out. I'm running out of places."
"I have to work with Ratchet, Ironhide."
"Just let me hide somewhere. You won't even see me." He looked around, opening a closet and closing it. Then he moved to Wheeljack's desk, pulling the chair out, studying whether he could fit underneath. Then he heard a knock on the door. Freezing, his optics as big as truck tires, he turned and ran in circles seeking shelter.
Wheeljack watching him with his own big optics pointed to a small equipment room. Ironhide tip-toed as fast as he could toward it, shutting the door behind him.
"Wheeljack?"
It was Ratchet. Wheeljack for a nanoklik almost joined Ironhide in the equipment room, then he pulled himself together. "Come in, Ratchet. It's not locked."
Ratchet entered then looked around, checking the corners and under the desk. "Where is he, 'Jack?"
"Who, Ratch?" he asked, his voice betraying his nerves.
Ratchet paused, looking at Wheeljack with a smirk. "You're a terrible liar."
"I don't know what you mean?" he said, nodding his helm at the equipment room.
Ratchet grinned as he folded his arms across his chassis. "Actually, I wasn't coming here to see Ironhide. I didn't want to see him actually."
"You didn't?" Wheeljack asked with surprise. Ratchet waved his hands, pointing at the door with a smirk. He nodded at Wheeljack and 'Jack, sort of getting it, nodded back. "You didn't. That's right. You weren't here for Ironhide." Wheeljack looked at Ratchet trying desperately to follow along.
"I was here for you, 'Jack."
"You were? Uh, yes. You were," Wheeljack said stuttering. "Anyone can see that."
Ratchet bit his lower lip and shook his helm. "I think with all that's going on that it's time to stop hiding."
"Who? Oh. Yes, stop hiding." He frowned and mouthed, "what?"
"Us, 'Jack. You and me. How about going some place and having a 'face?"
Wheeljack's mouth fell open as Ratchet put both servos over his mouth, quelling the belly laugh he wanted to have. As he did the door opened and Ironhide stepped out, anger on his face and fire in his optics.
"Why, Ironhide! Who could have known you were hiding in the closet?" Ratchet said, feigning surprise.
"I wasn't hiding in a closet! It's an equipment room," Ironhide said, moving to stand nose-to-nose with Ratchet. "What the frag is going on here?"
"I don't know," Ratchet said, grinning. "What is going on here, 'Jack?"
Wheeljack arose from his chair, his audial finial lights blinking wildly. "Don't drag me into this."
Ratchet patted Wheeljack's arm and grabbed Ironhide's. "Come on, Ironhide." He pulled Ironhide behind him, closing the door.
Wheeljack standing silently in appalled disarray a moment shook his head. "I think they deserve each other," he said with a chuckle.
=0=Ironhide and Ratchet
They walked together down the corridor, Ironhide's servo resting lightly on Ratchet's back.
"Poor Wheeljack."
"That was mean," Ratchet conceded. "If you weren't such a little femme this wouldn't be necessary."
"This? You're wearing out my sprockets," Ironhide replied with a grin. "You're a terror, Ratchet."
"I know," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
They walked together and when they reached their quarters Ironhide gave it up without a fight.
Which was his plan all along.
=0=TBC 2010 (11) edited 1-1-17