Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro
Warnings: Bondage, oral, and sticky mech sexings. And seeing as this is a sequel, the androgyny/gender confusion warning still applies.
Notes: Again, a kink-meme inspired piece. I was inspired to continue exploring this particular 'verse for some reason (mostly popular demand on the meme as well as my journal, plus my own twisted mind) and decided to let the boys have their fun. As with LBDT, this is sticky and the gender confusion warning is there for a reason. Don't like, click the back button now.

It was probably childish to do so, but Starscream scowled at the energy bars in annoyance and threw the still-full cube at them; the resulting crackle of electricity and jump from the Autobot guarding him was only mildly satisfying.

The seeker, quite frankly, was placing the blame for his current predicament – captured by the 'bots, shut up in a holding cell, and in pain because one of those twin glitches had managed to literally tackle him out of the sky – fully at Megatron's pedes. If his illustrious leader hadn't decided that it was a good idea to raid a power plant situated practically in the Autobots' backyard, he could be at the base right now curled up on a recharge berth with Skywarp and Thundercracker. It had already been a trying month, and all Starscream had wanted – and been courteously granted by his trine – was some peaceful downtime away from the daily politics; a good, private overload might have been nice, too, but after the last session he hadn't been willing to venture very far from base.

Mainly because when he'd come back online he had noticed that some of the flora had been disturbed along the tree line of his chosen clearing, and upon investigation discovered evidence that someone had been watching him.

It was troubling in its own right, knowing that some mech had stumbled upon him while his sensors were offline, but the fact that whoever it was hadn't approached and apparently had been content to simply watch (and obviously enjoy the show, if the transfluid spillage was any indication) left him troubled. A Decepticon would have approached immediately and tried to take advantage of the situation, and there were a few Autobots he could name who would have done likewise. It had to have been an Autobot, however, and he had no idea who.

(He knew who he wouldn't have minded it being, but the chances of the medic – Ratchet, right? That was what the idiot guarding him right now had called the mech while whining about not being allowed to stay with his equally-idiotic brother – were astronomically low. It did, however, heat him up just imagining the possibility of it being the truth.)

Starscream shook his head slightly to rid himself of those thoughts and turned his attention once again to the cell. No windows, energy bars that would shock him if he tried to go through them, red-plated moron giving him a suspicious look... yeah, there was no way he was getting out of here without some outside assistance. And with how frustrated everyone back at base had been lately, chances were good that he'd be cooling his thrusters in the Autobot brig for a while. Huffing through his vents in annoyance, the seeker turned a glare of his own onto the idiot outside his cell.

"Wow, someone's grumpy," the idiot remarked, sounding almost cheerful. The seeker knew he should just keep his mouth shut, but if he was going to be stuck here he should at least attempt to make someone else as miserable as he was.

"And you'd be sunshine and energon goodies if you were locked up in the Decepticon brig with only Rumble for company after being slammed into the ground three times?" he snapped.

The Lamborghini actually had to stop and think about how to answer that, giving Starscream time to add dimwit to his list of nicknames for the glitch. "When you put it that way...."

"—still think this is a bad idea," a different voice remarked, and the two mechs currently in the brig looked over to watch two more Autobots walk in. The speaker – joy of joys, it was the yellow twin – was scowling darkly and he shot a glare at the caged seeker. Starscream resisted the urge to try out one of the human gestures he'd picked up, only because his day was already bad enough and he didn't want to add any more annoyances to the pile.

The other newcomer, the third in command – Jazz or Reggae or something like that – simply grinned and almost seemed to bounce on his pedes. "S'not your call, Sunshine," he replied, and damn if he didn't sound cheerful. "It's Ratchet's, and you know as well as I do how he feels 'bout leaving any mech sitting around with injuries if there's something to be done 'bout it."

"That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it," the newly-designated Sunshine (and that was so what Starscream was going to call him from now on) groused, still giving the air commander a dark look. Rather than give into his suicidal urge, the seeker simply offered a smirk and waved at him.

"What's crawled up your tailpipe and died, Sunny?" the red glitch asked, only to have the stormy look turned onto him.

Reggae answered for him. "Oh, he's just torqued 'cause Ratchet basically told Prime he wanted Screamer bought up to the repair bay as soon as all our mechs were cleared out, and your brother here was the last one to leave."

Starscream listened absently as the twins commenced arguing with their superior, a thoughtful expression drifting over his faceplates. While he greatly doubted that the medbot would be anything but professional, this could be an opportunity to harvest fodder for some later fantasies-to-be....

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It had been surprisingly easy to get his way, Ratchet reflected almost smugly to himself as he straightened out his tools. He had honestly expected his request to be greeted the same way it always was where captive Decepticons were concerned: a drawn-out argument with the security team over how factions didn't matter when it came to injuries, followed by Prowl adding his opinion that it would be the best course of action to keep the prisoner or prisoners cooperative, ending with Optimus Prime reluctantly granting permission... mostly since he knew the medic would proceed either way.

This time, however, Ratchet had received unexpected backup in the forms of Skyfire and the Aerialbots.

Most likely the flyers' argument that any aerial-build would be aggravated and uncooperative after a forced crash landing – even Skyfire himself – was the lynchpin in causing Optimus to agree much sooner than he normally would. All Ratchet had needed to do was vouch to their claims based on pre-war experience with flyer-builds and even Prowl quickly sided in favour of repairing the seeker currently sitting in the brig.

To be honest, though, the shuttle's speculative look made the medic wonder if Skyfire had even the slightest inkling that the bulk of Ratchet's pre-war experience with flyers was spent mostly in a berth and had little to do with the healing arts. He wasn't about to offer that information, however, as he was a professional and his private life was of no consequence to the argument.

The only real problem had been convincing Optimus that he didn't need someone standing guard while he did the repair work. Prowl ended that speculation by stating that while Starscream may be many things, he certainly wasn't stupid enough to fight or attempt to escape while in need of repairs. Ratchet offered that he planned to sedate the seeker before beginning at any rate, and the notion of posting a guard was dismissed.

Of course, the medic had no intention of doing any such thing. It was impossible to attempt to seduce someone who was unconscious.

He had been correct in his assumption of just how often he would watch the recording he'd made; it had been just a little over a month and he had accessed the file at least once every twenty-four hour cycle. If he'd thought he was obsessed before that accidental discovery, it was probably safe to say that now the medic was well and truly addicted to the thought of 'facing the seeker. It was far too easy to picture the same scenario playing out with only minor alterations – a change of location from the Canadian wilderness to his personal quarters, Starscream fully aware of his presence and watching him the whole time, being beside the seeker and stroking his frame during the 'performance' – and the temptation to even just try getting a little closer to the mech was impossible to resist.

Ratchet allowed himself a brief - and possibly smug – grin before letting it drop off his face as the sound of voices approached the repair bay. He recognized one as Jazz (the only one to sound even mildly amused) and the other was Sunstreaker still making his protests; he had little doubt that Sideswipe was tagging along just to antagonize his brother and see how long the argument could continue. The medic pretended to still be busy as the door opened to admit the four mechs, glancing up to see that his guess had been correct and also to note that Starscream (and the cuffs were probably going to feature in a few future daydreams, they made for a very nice image) looked somewhat amused.

"I still can't believe Prowl approved," Sunstreaker was complaining, shooting equally dark glares at his twin and the seeker. The recipients of said glares were content to ignore the attention, the seeker glancing around the repair bay with genuine interest – it was likely that no matter how well the Constructicons did their job, the Decepticon repair bay would probably not be as well-maintained – and the red twin merely grinning broadly in reply.

Jazz was obviously finished the discussion, as he ignored Sunstreaker's remark altogether. "Hey, Ratch!" he said cheerfully as he pulled Starscream further into the room and towards one of the repair berths. "I brought somethin' for you from the brig as requested. Where do you want him?"

Oh, but there were far too many ways to answer that question, and Jazz probably didn't want to know half of them. Dragging his processor out of the gutter, Ratchet replied, "Right there is fine, thank you, Jazz." He watched as the saboteur made sure that the seeker was actually on the berth before adding, "I'll comm you or whoever's on duty when I'm finished."

Sideswipe blinked. "You sure you're gonna be okay alone, Ratchet?"

"Like I've said a dozen times, I'm positive," the medic said, noting from the corner of his optic that Starscream seemed surprised that the other three mechs were leaving. There may also have been a vaguely calculating glint in his red optics, but Ratchet chose to ignore that for the moment. "Now everyone who isn't a seeker, get out. I've got work to do."

Sunstreaker looked ready to start arguing again, but what came out was a brief yelp as Sideswipe and Jazz each grabbed an arm and began to pull him towards the exit. Sideswipe shot a grin back over his shoulder and waved. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" he exclaimed, causing his twin to stare incredulously at him and Jazz to burst out laughing.

Ratchet waited until the door had closed behind them and databurst a lock code. No one would be able to enter or leave the repair bay until he unlocked it, and he wasn't planning to do that for quite a while. Once he was positive that there would be no disturbances, he turned his full attention to Starscream. The seeker was still seated where Jazz had left him, legs crossed at the ankle and watching the medic with a mix of apprehension, suspicion, and appreciation. The third aspect of that look was both confusing and flattering; it had been a long time since someone had looked at Ratchet in admiration for anything aside from his medical skills, and he had the feeling that Starscream wasn't even thinking about that at the moment.

The seeker knew that he was staring, but that didn't stop him from mentally logging every detail he could as the medbot crossed the room. It was much different than spotting someone from across a battlefield or catching a few glimpses of on one of the Cassetticons' recordings; distance and vid files didn't do the mech justice. Starscream took a few moments to admire the other mech's build – unlike most other seekers, he had nothing against the groundbound, and some of his more considerate lovers had been non-flyers – before shifting his attention to his surroundings once more. The repair bay was a step far above the Constructicons' domain back at the 'con base, and a stray thought flitted through his processor about how many... alternate uses there were for some of the equipment located throughout the room.

As Starscream rather blatantly gave him the once-over – it wasn't as if he was being subtle about it – Ratchet took a moment to visually examine the other mech. The damage was mostly superficial, dents and dings in the armour that were probably more annoying than painful, but there was a deep gash in the seeker's left wing and it looked as if the heel thruster on that side was cracked as well. He would definitely have to tend to both those areas before attempting anything that could put stress on the injuries; the more superficial damage he would tend to either once he was shot down or things worked out in his favour.

He picked up a welding torch and stepped closer to the seeker, giving him a stern glower. "How exactly are you walking around with your leg in that sort of shape?" he fairly demanded. Had any other Autobots been present, they would have been surprised; Ratchet tended to use that particular tone when he was genuinely concerned about what damage the mech in question could have done to himself inadvertently.

Starscream didn't know this, but was used to the Constructicons' brusquer manner and didn't bat an optic shutter. "Anti-gravs. It's the only sure way to keep weight off a damaged thruster until it can be repaired." He bit back a faint smile at the medic's annoyed muttering and shifted as much as he was able as the older mech set about welding the crack shut with replacement metal; to keep his balance the seeker rested his cuffed hands on the berth between his legs and shifted most of his weight onto them.

Ratchet glanced up briefly when he felt the seeker shift. For a split second he contemplated removing Starscream's restraints before dismissing the thought entirely. Not long ago he would have frowned at the idea of incorporating such objects in interface-play, but that had been before he found himself in the woods watching the very mech seated before him work himself to overload. After voyeurism, bondage play seemed superficial. Ratchet smirked to himself and resumed working on the damaged thruster, resisting the urge to touch the seeker's leg any more than necessary.

He worked silently, the only sounds in the repair bay the hiss of the welding torch and their intakes cycling gradually. Once he'd finished with the thruster Ratchet stood and turned his attention to the damaged wing. It looked painful, and he knew that a spot-weld would only work with sheet metal rather than the liquidized form he'd used on the other injury. Pulling a bit of it from his subspace, Ratchet set about 'stitching' the gash shut with thin strips of metal.

The silence was broken by Starscream when he was about halfway through the repair job: "You're familiar with seeker-builds."

The air commander was genuinely surprised. True, Skywarp had been a recipient of the medic's attentions once before, but a one-time go fixing a damaged seeker couldn't account for how precisely Ratchet was going about his duty. His sparklinghood medics had been familiar with his build-type because most residents of Vos were one manner of flyer or another, and the only explanation he could think of as to why the Autobot medic had more than superficial knowledge of seeker physiology was past experience.

Ratchet replied with a faint hum, taking care not to scorch the undamaged areas of the seeker's wing. "I've had some experience dealing with seekers," he remarked casually. "On both professional and interpersonal levels. Although you're by far the smallest adult mech seeker I've ever seen." It was a bit of a gamble to mention that, but he figured that he would give Starscream an opening to reveal what he already knew. Granted, it would be riskier to just say, by the way, I know you have a mod-frame because I saw you self-interfacing in Canada last month, hope you don't mind.

He could feel red optics watching him intently and opted not to react, simply continuing to repair the gash. After a moment, Starscream spoke up again. "My creator was expecting a femme. When she realized she'd sparked a mech, she made what modifications she could."

Starscream continued to watch the medbot, idly tapping his fingers on the berth beneath him. He was never hesitant to inform medics of his unique circumstances, so mentioning it to Ratchet shouldn't have been anything more than business as usual; even so, the seeker had briefly felt the same pang of nervousness as he had every other time he gave the same information to a new berthmate. The fact that the medic had possibly bedded other seekers in the past (the best type of 'interpersonal relationship' in his opinion) lessened the feeling only marginally.

As expected, Ratchet's reaction was a brief pause in his work before resuming. "That explains why you're smaller than the other Decepticon seekers," he remarked. "Since you didn't mention a second creator, I'm going to guess that you were split-sparked. Mirrored base protocols only turn up about one time in every ten thousand cases."

"And split-sparking may have been common so far as Vos, Praxus, and Kaon were concerned," the seeker added, still tapping his fingers on the berth, "but they weren't the only cities where sparklings were created over the vorns."

The medic nodded, shifting to his right a bit to check the welds briefly before starting on the last section to patch. "Your creator, whoever she was, did a good job on your modifications. I don't think anyone unfamiliar with the differences between seeker mech and femme frames could tell that anything had been altered." He snorted before adding, "Actually, I would be more surprised if any mech on base has even noticed that you're marginally smaller than your trine mates."

Ratchet smiled faintly to himself when the seeker straightened up a bit from the unconscious slouch he'd sunk into while the medic had worked on his wing. In his experience, it never hurt to praise any flyer, especially on their frame or stature. The subtle preening Starscream was silently engaged in proved that he wasn't immune to that particular weakness, and as Ratchet finished the final weld he decided to test another remembered seeker quirk. He walked behind the seeker to put down the welding torch, resting his left hand lightly between Starscream's wings.

Starscream tensed slightly at the unexpected contact, wondering if the Autobot realized how close he'd come to resting his fingers directly on top of a sensor node. He was admittedly slighter than other mech seekers so a slight miscalculation could be forgiven. He was forced to throw out that particular assessment when Ratchet's hand shifted upward a bit to hit the sensor node dead on and press lightly against it, drawing a faint groan from his vocalizer.

The medic's private grin shifted to a more devious one. Yes, the frame might be a bit smaller but with one 'hot spot' successfully located the ambulance was positive all the others were present as well. Shifting his hand slightly and stroking against the node a second time he schooled his voice to an even tone before speaking. "If you don't mind, I want to make sure your flight sensors are functioning. You did hit the ground fairly hard when Sunstreaker brought you down."

"O-of course," the seeker stammered, trying and failing to keep his voice level. "Standard procedure. Yeah." Somewhat relieved that his hands were out of the medic's direct line of sight, Starscream gripped the edge of the berth tightly. While it was the usual course of action for a tactile sensor test to be performed after a crash landing, he usually asked his trine mates for assistance. The flight sensors were highly sensitized by design to detect changes in wind speed and enable a seeker to pull maneuvers that other flyer-builds wouldn't dare attempt. Unfortunately, it also made the wings sensitive to even the slightest touch, and the air commander found it very hard to think clearly with the 'bot medic gently prodding at each sensor node.

Ratchet continued to 'examine' each of the flight sensors, logging each whimper and soft moan that his actions dragged from the younger mech. He knew exactly what he was doing – after all, he'd 'faced dozens of flyers before the war, more than a few of that number seekers – and made sure to maintain contact with the wing at all times, ghosting his fingers from one sensor to the next. Starscream reacted to each prod as expected, frame held tense as he struggled not to react to Ratchet's near-caress.

As distracted as he was by the constant presence of fingers gliding across his wings, it took Starscream a few minutes to remember the medic's comment about past experience with seekers. When he finally did recall that fact, his optics flickered and darkened slightly as his fingers dug harder into the berth. "Fragging tease," he groaned, unconsciously arching into the next touch. "Trying to get under my plating?"

Ratchet chuckled and nipped at a neck cable, one hand still ghosting the expanse of one wing while the other arm slid around the seeker's waist. "I would say I'm succeeding," he purred, following the bite with a flick of his glossa.

Starscream whimpered softly, letting his head drop to one side as he shifted his weight to rest fully against the mech behind him. The ambulance responded with another bite to his neck cables and began stroking the glass of his cockpit. The seeker could feel his frame starting to heat up from the continued attention, squirming slightly each time Ratchet hit a new sensor or followed a nip with a slow lick. Somewhere in the back of his processor he wondered just how the medbot knew the best way to draw such reactions from him; all seekers had some fairly uniform erogenous zones, but Starscream hadn't met anyone else that heated up from having their cockpit petted so lightly.

His optics widened when a stray thought flitted through his processor just as Ratchet's glossa flicked the spot between his neck and left shoulder vent, and a low moan slipped from his vocalizer. It was the only answer that made sense, and the seeker's core temperature skyrocketed. What was most frustrating now was the fact that the older mech's full attention seemed focused on driving Starscream to distraction, hands still tweaking at the sensors in his wings and cockpit glass.

The seeker sent the command to undo the clasps of his interface panel, hissing as it retracted at almost the same instant Ratchet scraped across the top of his right wing with his teeth. Usually Starscream preferred to manually free the clasps, but at the moment he needed to relieve some of the pressure building up in his frame, the sooner the better. Releasing his hold on the edge of the berth, he moved his cuffed hands towards the primary sensor settled just above his port.

Ratchet noticed the movement and reacted quickly, grasping the cuffed wrists and pulling them above Starscream's head. He glanced up and felt a smirk cross his lips; located just above the berth was one of the ceiling-mounted clamps that he utilized whenever any of his patients needed a sedative drip. The clamps would hold the sedative containers securely, and couldn't be pulled free no matter how much weight was put on them. Before he could talk himself out of it, Ratchet slipped the center of the seeker's restraints into the clamp and snapped it shut.

"That's better," the ambulance remarked, snickering at the heated glare Starscream shot his way. The air commander's optics were glinting a deep red, the expression in them more need and lust than any true anger. Ratchet took a moment to muse on how very pretty they were – he could still remember when optic colour didn't identify one as 'bot or 'con or neutral, and he'd always loved how the red shades very nearly glowed when their owner was aroused – before moving around the berth and sinking to his knees, carefully pushing Starscream's thighs open. He didn't give the younger mech any time to put up even a token argument, flicking his glossa over both primary sensor and port.

Starscream gasped, optics flickering and hips jerking forward at the contact. He wasn't sure what the Pit he'd been expecting when Ratchet snapped the restraints to something above his head, but it hadn't been this. His hands curled into fists and he let out a soft moan as the medic's glossa swept over his port a second time before slipping inside. All the seeker could do was rest his legs over the older mech's shoulders, another quiet mewl escaping as his hips were held in place to keep him from moving.

Ratchet growled softly, glossa delving into the seeker's port and flicking lightly over the sensors located within. Starscream's quiet whimpers and cries of pleasure were music to his audio sensors, and he drove his glossa in a bit harder. One hand slipped from the seeker's hip to tease his primary sensor before the older mech pulled back. He lapped at the excess coolant seeping from his lover's port, fingers teasing the opening before slipping two inside sharply. Starscream gave a harsh cry followed by a string of softly-whimpered Cybertronian and English cursing; Ratchet responded by continuing to pump his fingers into the younger mech and licking the edges of his port.

The combined sensations of hard fingering and slick glossa proved to be more than Starscream could handle. He gave a stuttering gasp as overload hit suddenly, his entire frame shaking as electricity raced along his circuits. His intakes cycled rapidly in an attempt to catch his breath, a task made almost impossible as Ratchet smoothly lapped away the coolant dripping from his port. Starscream let out a soft moan when the medic finally pulled away to stand, only to repeat the sound when Ratchet caught his chin and pulled him into a deep kiss. The taste of his own fluids on the older mech's glossa made him shiver, heat beginning to rise within him once again.

Wanting to plead with the medic for more yet reluctant to break away from the kiss, Starscream wrapped his legs around the other's waist. Ratchet growled in approval, the hand still at Starscream's hip digging into the plating lightly. His own interface panel retracting, he broke the kiss to nuzzle the seeker's neck while pulling him to the edge of the berth. Starscream groaned softly as the older mech's still-closed spike housing brushed against his port, tightening his leg-hold and arching against Ratchet as much as he could.

"Don't stop now," the seeker whimpered, tugging at his restraints as the ambulance stroked his hip plating. Having only had one form of interfacing – fast and hard, and skip the foreplay – for so very long, Starscream'd forgotten how wonderful it was to be teased and tormented by a lover.

And Ratchet was very good at that aspect, rocking his hips lightly against the seeker's while nipping at a shoulder vent. "Mmm, I don't know," he purred, resisting the urge to just slide immediately into Starscream's port, wanting to draw this out just a little longer. "Maybe I should just finish your repairs, send you back to the brig."

"Fragger," Starscream groaned, shifting his hips to press hard against the medic. "Stop teasing and just 'face me!" The words were just barely voiced when Ratchet captured his mouth, swallowing the seeker's squeak as his spike extended and slid smoothly into the other's port. He softened the kiss and petted one hip soothingly, giving his lover time to adjust to suddenly being filled.

When the younger mech shifted his hips and nipped at his mouth, Ratchet took it as his cue to move. Slipping his hands to Starscream's waist and breaking the kiss, he slowly pulled out almost to the tip only to slide back in at the same pace. The seeker moaned and arched against him, legs tightening and relaxing with each languid thrust; the way his optics brightened and dimmed was enthralling, and Ratchet started a new vid file so as to not forget how that particular look on the mech. The medic gripped Starscream's waist harder, speeding up his thrusts and striking the sensors located deeper within his lover's port.

"Ratchet!" the seeker gasped out, head falling back against his arms as heat raced through his circuits. He wasn't aware that he was still speaking, curses and pleas falling from his lips as the 'bot he'd secretly lusted after for so long pounded into him. The medic hissed and sped up the pace yet again, his lover's obvious pleasure driving him quickly towards the edge.

"You're so quiet," Ratchet growled, heat surging through him at another faint cry from the seeker. "Hottest thing I've ever seen." He leaned in and claimed Starscream's mouth in a harsh kiss, another growl escaping him as the seeker's glossa brushed against his. He pulled back, meeting Starscream's optics as he half-commanded/half-pleaded, "Let me see you fall."

The words and another harsh thrust were the catalyst Starscream needed, and he overloaded with a drawn-out moan, electricity crackling through his entire frame and port flexing. The seeker's overload set off Ratchet's own and he thrust in one final time, transfluid and energy flowing from him and spilling into the other mech's tanks. Their intakes cycled hard as they panted for breath, pressed tightly against one another in the aftermath of their coupling.

Ratchet slowly reached up and undid not only the clamp but the cuffs themselves, setting them off to one side as Starscream's arms dropped to rest over his shoulders. He nuzzled at the seeker's neck lightly, receiving a lazy purr in response. After a moment he lifted his head and kissed Starscream's helm.

"Okay?" he asked quietly, not feeling guilty about his actions but worried that the younger may have felt that he'd been manipulated.

"Mmhmm," Starscream murmured as he lifted his head, optics dim and a faint smile on his faceplate. "Are all Autobots into bondage and voyeurism, or just you?"

Ratchet blinked, startled. "How did you know about that?"

"I was guessing; you just confirmed my hypothesis."

The seeker's smile shifted to a cheeky grin, and Ratchet felt compelled to smack him lightly on the hip. "Brat. I still need to see about those dents, plus the ones I just finished adding to your plating."

Starscream nuzzled the medic and hummed in contentment, satiated for the first time in over a month. He whined faintly as he felt the other's spike withdraw from his port, sending the command to slide the interface panel back into place before lifting his head to lock optics with Ratchet. "What's your comm frequency?"

The medbot quirked a brow ridge at him. "Why?"

"So that the next time I decide to take off from the base I can tell you where I'm going," he replied matter-of-factly. He smirked and added, "You can even bring the cuffs."

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Nearly two hours had passed – Starscream having been returned to his cell fully-repaired, more cooperative, and in possession of Ratchet's comm frequency for future use – when Red Alert walked into the repair bay. Ratchet looked up and frowned, wondering what had drawn the resident security director to his domain.

"Afternoon, Red," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

The Lamborghini pulled a recording disk from his subspace and held it out to the medic. "This is yours."

"What is it?" Ratchet asked, taking the disk in spite of his confusion.

"The repair bay security footage during the time you were working on Starscream's repairs."

The medic's optics widened and he stared at Red Alert in shock, the other mech only peering back at him evenly. "I—"

"As there was no risk to base security," Red Alert cut in, "I saw no reason to keep the footage on file. It's been erased from the archives; I figured you would prefer to have the only hard copy."

Ratchet blinked twice, waiting for the other shoe to drop and cycling a sigh of relief when there was none forthcoming. "Thank you for your discretion," he said. The security director nodded and turned, leaving the repair bay as suddenly as he'd appeared. The medic looked at the disk in his hand and subspaced it, deciding to review it after his shift ended.

In the hallway just beyond the repair bay doors, Prowl fell into step with Red Alert. "I noticed you didn't say anything about the copy you kept of the footage," he remarked casually.

The security director smirked. "Well, you never know when you might need good blackmail material. And besides, good amateur pornography isn't easy to find." He gave the other mech a sidelong glance before adding, "Want to go see if we can reenact any of that?"

"I'll bring the restraints."