Here Be Medic

Rated: R for smex, foul words and bad puns.

Disclamer: Don't own them, but I sure like using them. May Hasbro forgive me.

A/N: This is an AU, made on a challenge

The amount of warning signs of various size and format was impressive. So were the texts, starting from:'Here be Medic' on simple black on white paper, to 'Never forget safety rule number 2' written in binary code on a sheet of galvanized metal. Music muted by the infirmary door was still impressively loud in volume. And the song itself… some organic male growling about 'wings on my back, I've got claws on my hand' (1). All in all, the Autobot prisoner thought that maybe, just maybe, there were scarier places than the brig.

"What's this medic doing to scare you so much?" He asked.

Soundwave listened to the music blaring from the infirmary for a moment, before answering the prisoner.

"Music: Lordi. Medic doing: Seekers."

"Your Medic is doing Seekers?" Ironhide repeated dumbly, missing the pun.

Soundwave's visor showed mild amusement as he pressed the intercom button on the infirmary's door.

"Ratchet, open up."

The reply made Ironhide's faceplate's heat.

"Am doing just that." The mysterious Medic replied, voice heavy with lust. "Ooh, right there!"

"Open door. Megatron's orders." Soundwave elaborated.

"What can be more imp… bite me again and you're a toaster! Important than my private time?" Ratchet wondered.

"Repairing prisoner."

"Is he bleeding to death at this very moment? Or a Seeker? Nope to the second one. Got all three here. And ooh, they're good."

Ironhide looked at Soundwave, optics wide. Even Jazz, in his most uninhibited state of overcharge never allowed himself to be so blatantly lewd. The comm. officer just shrugged.

"Leaking: affirmative. Offline: punished by Megatron."

"Oh, allright. He'll better be Optimus fragging Prime or something. Party's over! C'mon, Thunderbirds, wing it. (2)"

A minute later the door opened, revealing Starscream and his trine, smeared in energon, lubricant, and some other stuff Soundwave didn't want to know about, looking absolutely murderous.

"And you ask why I want Megatron dead? Interrupting our time with my Medic for the sake of some Autoscum…" The AC growled as he walked by.

"TMI." Soundwave commented and pushed Ironhide into the infirmary.

By that time, the weapon specialist expected anything, except a medium- sized white Medic, with amused blue optics, and a chevron like Prowls', looking at them with slight displeasure on his faceplate.

"Well, get him on the berth." He muttered and pulled out a scanner. "What happened?"

"He foolishly tried to take on lord Megatron." Soundwave explained. "Autobots inferior."

"Soundwave: a bore." Ratchet muttered as he examined Ironhide and started the repairs.

"Autobot: still too strong. Suggestion: restrain." The communication officer informed the Medic.

"I was restraining someone on this very berth, and then you came. Which means I didn't. Besides, if there's one thing where Autobots are not inferior, is discipline. You will stay put." The last one was addressed to Ironhide who looked scandalized at the idea of being on a bunk on which a manage-a-trine just took place.

"Sure thing, doc." The prisoner agreed.

"Now do like the little yellow Autobot, and bug off!" Ratchet picked a wrench.

"Suggestion: unsafe."

"I said OUT!" The Medic's optics flared red and the wrench went flying with deadly accuracy, hitting Soundwave on the head. "NOW!"

The cassette master retreated.

"Each time the helm rings, a Seeker get his wings. (3)" Ratchet sing-songed, optics turning blue again. Then he started working on Ironhide's injury.

"Who's your medic?" He asked suddenly.

"Wheeljack." Ironhide replied. "Why?"

"He's not a medic. He's an engineer. And who the frag lets someone who's works are legendary for tending to go BOOM handle internal wiring? Your systems are more a mess than the mess hall after Rumble's creation day celebration. I'm surprised you didn't go BOOM."

"Thanks for the comfort, doc."

"By all means, you're welcome." Ratchet replied.

"My turn to ask a question. Your optics are blue, and yet you're a Decepticon. How?"

"I'm not capable of unmotivated aggression. That's about the optics. As for the Decepticons, let's just say there was a battlefield triage that got ugly, and someone had to take the blame for all those deaths."

"You didn't try to prove them wrong?"

"I did. But nobody listened. Then, one evening I was getting sloshed in some low-life facility, when I met a spark in similar pain. He was blamed for the death of a teammate too, and no one listened or cared for his grief. Next thing I know we cry on each other's shoulders. One thing led to another, so when word got out the Megatron is recruiting, we decided to try our luck. A brilliant flier and an infamous murderous Medic. Megs couldn't believe his luck." Ratchet finished his repairs.

Ironhide stretched carefully.

"Wow, that was fast. And good work too." He commented.

"Too bad I'll see you soon." Ratchet sighed. "You know where you're going next. Mechs nowadays have little appreciation for good repair work."

"You can still change sides."

Ratchet looked pensive for a moment, then smirked.

"When was the last time you got laid?"

"What?" The change of subject made the Autobot stare.

"My point exactly. Here I screw more than screws. You heat up at the very idea of a good interface. Now why would I give up on Starscream? Soundwave! Your prisoner is well enough to annoy me!" The last one was yelled into the intercom.

And as the guards led Ironhide out, the last thing he saw was Ratchet's turned back… and the writing on his aft: 'For Seeker use only.'

-------Scene cut---------Scene cut----------

Over the next few cycles, until he was rescued, Ironhide has seen the medic again several times. Most of those times he dragged down Starscream to enjoy some not- so- private time. After all, who'd look for a claustrophobic AC in the cell block? Besides, Ratchet loved making Starscream forget about his phobia in very creative ways. Even Ironhide, who considered himself quite the famous lover-bot, learned a few new things from watching those two.

But sometimes Ratchet went down to visit Ironhide himself. Two of those times were to repair him after Shockwave got a bit too carried away. Each time ended with Ratchet yelling at the abovementioned Shockwave about lack of appreciation, disrespect and having difficulties with 'sharing and playing nicely since Shockwave was a sparkling'. And each time the executioner just stood there and looked as sheepish as his build allowed him.

"You guys seem more scared of him than Megatron and Soundwave combined." The Autobot noted after the second yelling session.

"Safety rule number 2: Don't, whatever you do, even facing Unicron and the Lamborghini Twins together, anger the medic." Shockwave explained.

"But why?" Ironhide wondered. "He's smaller, he's all yells…"

"He remodeled Soundwave into an altform of a blue 'bug' and the cassetticons into mini- scooters because Rumble pranked him. And he sold them to a typical hippie family."

"5 against one and you failed?" Ironhide started laughing.

"Which part of him being Starscream's landing pad you can't process? Add that to knowing very possible way to take you apart and drug you that Primus came up with and some of his very own… One day I'll be as intimidating as the Hatchet." Shockwave spoke almost dreamily. "Until then I intend to practice on you."

-------Scene cut---------Scene cut----------

Fate's ways are hard to understand, and one day, long after he was rescued and back on the Ark, when going down to the cells to release the Twins after a well deserved cool down time, Ironhide spotted a familiar flash of white in another cell.

"Ratchet?" He asked, not believing his optics.

"Well no, it's Omega fragging Supreme. I locked myself inside."

"If so, why are you so small?" Sideswipe asked from his cell.

"You try growing big on the trashy stuff they call Energon around here. Even Ravage won't eat that, and she has a thing for trash cans and tuna."

The Twins roared with laughter.

"Alright, you two. Out!" Ironhide growled.

"At least Soundwave locks his own mistakes inside himself. You let yours run lose." Ratchet muttered.

"Telling me? They spend more time here than a Seeker spends time interfacing!" A second later the weapon expert realized what he'd just said, but his pride won't let him apologize to a Decepticon.

"Tell me something I don't know, biblically speaking, as the humans call it." Ratchet commented snidely on Ironhide's embarrassment.

"Actually, you should be the one telling things, Decepticon. Things like security codes."

"Aww, you poor thing. Let Ratchet check your optics. Because they're bad enough to make you mistake me for Soundwave."

"All Medics have priority overrides. Especially those who bunk with the enemy Air Commander."

"So go look for Shocks. He's bunking with Soundwave. Ask him for security codes."

"Don't push your luck. I want to pound your faceplate in bad enough for you being a Decepticon, you don't have to annoy me as well."

"Is that a threat?" Ratchet's tone turned from amused to silky.

"I don't need to threat. I promise." Ironhide growled.

"I've seen scarier cassetticons. Smarter too."

"That's IT!" Ironhide lowered the bars and walked in, fully intending to silence the Decepticreep or at least to teach him good manners… and he felt a sharp prick in the sensitive wiring between his arm and shoulder plating, soon followed by a drowsy feeling.

Ratchet stepped back and watched the needle retract back into his hand.

"Safety rule number 2, Autobot. No wonder you can't win." He pushed Ironhide to the floor. "But I like you, so I won't kill you this time. I'll just…" He unsubspaced a field repair kit. "Explain to you one last time why Decepticons are better than Autobots in everything."

---------A couple of breems later--------

Ratchet walked up to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, who were boring themselves to tears guarding the main entrance.

"Ahem… Boo?" He offered.

Both grabbed their weapons.

"Easy. I was just leaving. And if I were you, I'd check on whats-his-name in the brig."

"You're not going anywhere!" Sunstreaker growled.

"Except up. My pickup is here!" Ratchet pushed past the Twins and walked a couple of meters from the entrance and raised one hand.

A second later Starscream dropped from behind a cloud, and gave the Twins a nasty smirk.

"I dare you to try anything." Ratchet smiled. "You two will make lovely toasters to match the one on the observation deck."

The Twins exchanged looks.

"Jet Judo?" Sideswipe offered.

Ratchet frowned.

"Two slow processors. I'll fix them." Two loud clangs later, and the Twins were clutching at their helms, while Starscream took off, Ratchet mounted on top of his altform.

"Oh, I love feeling power between my legs." He teased the AC.

"Wait until we're back. I'll show you power." Starscream threatened.

"You'd better do so. I didn't pair with you just because I like your wings." Ratchet smirked at the threat.

"And I didn't pair with you because I like to listen to your back-talking."

"Then hurry up, so you can shut me up!"

---------Aftermath-----------

It took Megatron three hours to debrief the Medic. Two of those he spent laughing over the damage report. Another half an hour- in kicking both Ratchet and Starscream around for being careless, getting caught and being an all out disgrace. After that, he gave them a cycle off- to lick each other's wounds. It wasn't done because he was kind, but because they already started in his presence.

Starscream snickered all the way to his and Ratchet's quarters, amused by the Medics fail- safe method of getting time off from Megatron by screwing in his presence.

At the Autobot base, after they recovered from the attack and the shock, it took the Twins four hours to get things in order. Most of that time was spent laughing over the unlucky Autobots Ratchet met on his way out, and chose to sedate and weld to the walls, chairs and ceiling.

It also took them quite the while to remodel Ironhide back from being an oversized scooter.

The end.

(1) Hard Rock Hallelujah, by: Lordi.

(2) Reference: "Silverhawks, wing it!" A takeoff command from a cartoon I adore.

(3) My trademark joke. Don't use it in vain.