Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro
Measures of Time: vorn = 83 years / breem = approx 10 minutes / orn = 14 days / joor = 6.5 hours / cycle = 1 day
Notes: Obviously, I managed to coax my muse back out of the corner it had hidden itself in long enough to get the story updated. For the explanation on why I had to do so in the first damned place, check out my author profile for the two most-recent updates. I apologize for the delay to all of you who have been waiting patiently, and hope you enjoy!

Oh, and the rating bumped up this chapter. Starscream and Ratchet just can't keep their... hands to themselves.

While most of their human allies were under the impression that Cybertronians could "wake up" from a deep recharge quickly, the fact of the matter was that individual mechs and femmes came out of recharge in as many ways as humans themselves woke from their rest. Starscream was one of those individuals who came online somewhat slowly, audio receptors tending to activate a full twenty or so astroseconds before he would even start thinking about unshuttering his optics. Even in the depths of the Decepticons' base, he'd never quite broken the habit of doing a full audio sweep of his surroundings before confirming his location visually.

So in spite of the fact that he felt more well-rested than he had in the past few days – honestly, he probably should have gotten a scan much sooner, but hindsight was perfect and Primus liked to make things interesting for his creations – the seeker took a moment to catalogue his sensory data.

The first thing he took note of was physical data – what was most likely an arm thrown loosely around his waist and the feel of warm, familiar metal beneath his own chassis – and vaguely recalled Ratchet returning after his impromptu meeting with Prime; apparently at some point after Starscream had slipped back into full recharge his lover had rearranged them with their mutual comfort in mind. He mused that he would have to thank the other properly for that. The next bit of data was from his audio sensors, the soft sounds of the ambulance's systems humming even in recharge and the faint thrum that denoted his sparkpulse drawing a small smile from the younger mech.

Finally, after listening to Ratchet's spark pulsing so close to his for almost a breem and feeling both his own spark and the tiny new-spark they'd created slowly begin to pulse in time with it, Starscream unshuttered his optics and tilted his head to peer up at his lover. The older mech was still deep in recharge, and a tiny part of the seeker admitted – if only to himself – that he could very quickly become used to onlining like this. He shifted slightly, resting his chin on the other's chestplate, and took a moment to record the image to his memory banks. It was one more argument in favour of staying indefinitely, a purely mental debate that he'd been having with himself since finding out for certain that he was carrying a new-spark. The other arguments included Ratchet's positive reaction and the fact that the other wasn't trying to force him into any immediate decisions.

Chances were pretty slagging good that he was not only going to stay the full twelve orns until the new-spark was ready for its sparkling protoform, but that he would defect and become either a neutral with Autobot affiliations or a full-fledged Autobot... most likely the former; leave playing the hero to other mechs, he was going to have a sparkling to raise.

The faint smile on his dermaplating shifted slowly to something a bit more devious, and he reached behind himself to slowly, carefully shift Ratchet's arm from where it was still resting across his lower back. The ambulance didn't react other than to shift a bit in his recharge before settling fully once again. Starscream's smirk widened a bit and he carefully slid down the older mech's chassis, watching his lover for signs of onlining as he arranged himself to rest against Ratchet's legs.

Just as until recently it had been a very long time since he'd enjoyed slow and unhurried interfacing, it had been even longer since he'd awakened from recharge with another. And the thing he'd enjoyed most about spending a full night and the morning with a lover was waking the mech or femme up.

Optics locked on the older mech's face, Starscream lightly traced his fingertips over the seams to Ratchet's interface panel before flicking the catches open one at a time. The only reaction was a subtle shift of the other's frame and a huff from his vents. The seeker snickered softly, musing that his lover – mate? He rather liked that term, even if they weren't bonded... yet – was quite the sound recharger before moving his attention to Ratchet's spike housing. Stealing a final glance at the other's face, Starscream leaned down to run his glossa lightly across the cover to the housing. It took a few microns, but finally the cover slid aside and the seeker turned his focus to Ratchet's spike as it slid free.

Ratchet had been drifting between full-recharge and online for some time, and was absently cataloguing the input his sensors were sending. The seeker shifting towards the end of the berth hadn't been enough to drag him to awareness, nor was the idle teasing the mech had initiated. What pulled him instantly online, though, was the warmth and pressure that quite suddenly engulfed his spike, and he didn't bother trying to hold back the moan that escaped from his vocalizer. Starscream hummed softly in amusement, flicking his gaze up to lock with Ratchet's as he pulled away for a moment to lap the tip of his lover's spike before drawing it back in his mouth once more.

The older mech pushed himself up slightly, cooling fans kicking on as he took in all the sensory data. There was just something about watching his seeker sucking on his spike and feeling all the sensors going wild at the pressure that kicked his arousal up several degrees. He hissed slightly as Starscream's red optics lit with devious amusement followed by a sharp nip to the base of his spike, and his own optics flickered briefly when the seeker dragged his denta along the length as he pulled back.

Knowing that he was being a horrid little tease, Starscream repeated the action a few more times before sliding his mouth back to touch the pelvic plating once more and starting a low hum in his vocalizer. It was just enough to shove the older mech into overload, a sharp cry accompanying the rush of transfluid and energy that the seeker eagerly swallowed. He waited until the last tingles of electricity clicked over his glossa before pulling away to crawl back up the berth and drop a soft kiss to Ratchet's dermaplating.

"Recharge well?" he asked, the teasing smirk replaced with a tiny, pleased smile.

"Mmhmm," the ambulance replied, wrapping an arm around the slighter mech's waist. "You're obviously feeling better than when you arrived." He smiled warmly at his lover's snicker before adding, "Prime's going to announce that you're here in the meeting taking place in a couple breems. I'll slip out to the mess once it starts and grab us a couple of cubes. You'll need the extra intake for a while."

Starscream nodded and shifted until his legs were settled on either side of Ratchet's. "So, what shall we do in the meanwhile?" he asked in what would be considered an innocent manner if not for the fact that he'd retracted his interface panel covering as he spoke and was idly grinding against his lover.

"Oh," the older mech said as he caught hold of the seeker's waist and repositioned him, "I'm sure we'll think of something."

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The morning meeting was the most eventful that Jazz could remember in recent history.

Oh, sure, it started out innocently enough, until Sideswipe (who had more energy than he should after how enthusiastic he'd been in the berth the previous night, the little slagger) had looked up and noticed that one of the command team was missing. And never one to keep silent when he was curious, the Lamborghini had asked, "Hey, where's Hatchet?" loud enough for the whole room to hear.

It was a valid question, but Optimus had stopped mid-sentence to look over at Prowl, who smirked – Prowl, for pit's sake! – and gave no indication that he was going to help answer that question in any way shape or form. Red Alert had frowned and gone back to the datapad he'd been glued to since the triad had arrived, ignoring the room once more, and neither Jazz himself nor Ironhide had half a clue what was keeping the medic from the meeting.

After giving his SIC a look that clearly said thank you so much for your help, Optimus cleared his vocalizer and replied, "Chances are he's making sure our... guest" – and here Prowl actually snorted and Red Alert's dermaplating quirked into a brief grin – "is settling in."

"Is someone from Elita's team visiting?" Mirage asked, tone light and curious from his spot across the room; Jazz noted that his Ops mech was rather close to where the minis tended to converge, and that for once Cliffjumper wasn't shooting him dirty looks for what he generally perceived as an invasion of personal space.

"No," Red Alert cut in, optics still locked on the datapad in his hands. "And I don't think guest is the right term, sir. I'd venture to say defector at the least."

That set the room buzzing, and unsurprisingly Cliffjumper's voice was heard over the din: "You mean we've got a 'con on base right now?!"

Once again, Optimus shot a harsh look at one of his command team. "In a manner of speaking. The former SIC of the Decepticons contacted a specific member of the command team yesterday seeking asylum for the next twelve orns."

"Twelve orns?" Ironhide asked, looking both confused that a seeker was on base and annoyed that he'd been out of the loop. "As in, close to six Earth months? Why the pit should we hide a slaggin' Decepticon for that long?"

Optimus looked to the bonded officers for help, but only got another smirk from Prowl and was utterly ignored by Red Alert (and what was so interesting about that datapad anyway?). Realizing there was no help from that quarter and that Ratchet obviously was pulling a no-show, the Prime finally huffed a sigh and replied, "According to several medical scans, Starscream is carrying a very young new-spark and is seeking asylum to ensure its survival."

"I didn't think 'cons even bothered with sparking," Sideswipe remarked in the sudden silence that descended upon the room. Sunstreaker elbowed his twin and glared at him for the fairly rude remark.

"Obviously two of them do," Tracks snorted, "or the Decepticons' pit-spawned air commander wouldn't be here right now."

"Actually," Prowl spoke up, and the slagger sounded viciously amused, "it's all Ratchet's fault. He's the other creator."

Once again silence blanketed the room, and more than a few processors could be heard crashing. Ironhide actually had to do a full reboot, as Jazz could clearly see from his spot next to the bigger mech. The twins looked torn between shock and amusement (more shock on Sunstreaker's part than amusement), Tracks had crashed completely and was slumped on the ground, and Bluestreak was utterly speechless for once.

Then: "I know I said Ratchet needed to get laid, but damn."

A few snickers filtered into the quiet of the room as Mirage reached over and smacked Cliffjumper on the back of the helm for the comment, looking mildly flustered. Jazz absently wondered when the red mini had made that observation and why the noblemech was apparently the only one who knew about it.

Optimus sighed and rubbed at his optics. "Thank you, Prowl, for announcing the news so tactfully," he said, the sarcasm clear in his words. "In any case, I ask that you try to treat Starscream as you would any defector or informant just coming to our side, and I'm sure Ratchet would appreciate it if everyone aids in monitoring him as well. It's been a very long time since any sparklings were formatted, so I doubt any of us knows what to expect."

With that, the Prime turned and exited the room, leaving the Autobots to abruptly start speculating about the when-why-and-how of Ratchet hooking up with not only a Decepticon but the slagging SIC himself. Jazz made a beeline for the twins, who had their helms tilted together and were engaged in a furiously whispered conversation. Sideswipe lifted his helm and grinned brightly at the Porsche before grabbing his arm and dragging him in close to join them.

"I still say that Red should have said something to us," Sunstreaker hissed, obviously annoyed. "I'll bet anything that that slagging datapad he had his nasal plating buried in the whole meeting was a schematic of the Ark and he's already prepping things for the scraplet."

"C'mon, Sunny, they only found out 'bout the new-spark yesterday," Jazz replied. "If he is prepping the base, he only just started."

"Doesn't mean he didn't know something was going on, though," Sideswipe chirped. "I just wanna know how long Hatchet's been playing berth-games with the screaming one."

Jazz shook his head before abruptly freezing. A quick snippet of a memory file came to the surface and he quickly pinged his two bondmates to send them the file. Sunstreaker drew in a sharp intake and Sideswipe's optics widened almost comically.

"You don't think—"

"It did take Ratchet an awful long time to tend to a few fairly minor injuries..."

"Oh, ew," Sideswipe whined. "I'm never gonna be able to set foot in the repair bay again without thinking about... about..."

"Kinky 'facing using the equipment there?" Sunstreaker chimed in helpfully.

As the red Lamborghini howled and launched himself at his twin, Jazz snickered and scanned the room. Things were going to be a bit crazy for a while as the Earth-bound Autobots got used to having an ex-Decepticon in their midst, but hopefully with time they'd all adjust.

And hopefully Ratchet would warn them before the first of the mood swings struck. That would be scary.

End Notes: Once again, thanks so much for your patience, everyone! And if you ever wonder what the hell I'm working on that's keeping me from updating over here, check out my fic journal (link is my homepage); who knows, you might find something else to read while you wait.