Kiss Me, Then Let's Rock & Roll

A/N - This was inspired by Ryagelle's stories of Ratchet and the Twins. She turned me on to this threesome, and I decided to give it a try, using one of my music meme ideas. This is really a collection of drabbles strung together to form a story.

I really wanted to finish before the new movie. Well that's obviously not going to happen because I'm such a procrastinator. But, at least the first chapter is posted.

This is based in the 2007 movie verse, but I used what I think are elements of their G1 personalities.

Many thanks to balrog roike for her ideas and to Cleargold for her beta work.

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Ratchet was nervous. How ironic, how silly, how, how…like an organic creature to feel this way. Who would believe it? Ratchet 'The Hatchet', Medical Officer in the Autobot Army, terror of the med bay and a decorated war veteran, nervous?

The twins had finally arrived on Earth. They found their alt modes and were being debriefed at this very moment. What would happen next? Would they - could they just pick up where they left off, so long ago? Maybe they found someone new and had become attached to another mech.

Everything had happened so suddenly, Prime deciding to leave after the Allspark, Ratchet volunteering because, truly, he was the best medbot this side of the Oki-Arxiv galaxy.

There were never any promises spoken between them. When had this madness begun?

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Ratchet remembered exactly the first time he laid optics on the twins. He had already been Senior Medical Officer for 41 vorns, and these recruits were as green as the sky of planet Idun. Though untried in battle, they were not naïve and innocent mechs. Primus forbid, they were sly and cunning and scheming. And no one had warned them that Ratchet possessed a volatile temper. Ratchet snickered to himself as he remembered his throwing arm had been in fine form that day. All eight projectiles he hurled had struck some sensitive part of unarmored mech. Slag, he was good.

"Get out of here, you pit-spawned glitches!" *CLANG* *CLANG* "Being new is no excuse!" *CLANG* "If I ever catch you" *CLANG* "messing with my equipment again," *CLANG* "I'm gonna weld your afts together!" *CLANG* *CLANG* "Get out! GET OUT!!" *CLANG* "…Slagging…grumble…prank…stupid sparklings…grumble…handsome bots, though…."

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In the beginning, Ratchet was oblivious – his usual state when confronted with emotions. Olfaction research was his first true love, after all.

"Ya know, Ratch, I think they like you." Wheeljack grinned at his associate.

"You're a glitch, Wheeljack. What are you blathering about?"

"You heard me the first time, don't be obtuse. They, meaning the twins, like you. They're always hanging around the med bay, even when neither one is injured. And you do seem to be a favorite prank victim. It makes a mech wonder if you're their creator or something."

"Your CPU is definitely fried, my friend." Ratchet shook his head and turned back to his paperwork. "Where do you come up with these bizarre theories?"

"Ratchet, I must concur with Wheeljack. Ever since you first tried to banish the two hooligans from your med bay, the rate of recurrence of the twins sojourns and attempted fraternization with your person has increased exponentially."

Ratchet huffed in exasperation, "…Perceptor, you're just an aft."

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Interactions between Ratchet and the twins continued on, somewhat normally. Or what Ratchet considered normal in this particular universe. The twins would get wounded, and usually he would be the mech to fix them. If one was hurt, the other was always there. If it weren't so spark warming to see the love they had for each other, it would be annoying. For some reason known only to the twins, the med bay and it's public rooms became a refuge for them when not on duty. Ratchet and the other medbots didn't mind the intrusion when things were peaceful. But, usually things didn't stay that way. Invariably, Ratchet would forget to be on his guard and get pranked. Objects would be thrown, certain mechs would get hit, and Sunstreaker would bitch about his paint.

But one day, in the heat of the moment on the battlefield, something changed.

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"Primus fraggit! If I offline, it'll be on your heads! You two are going to give me a spark-attack! If it isn't one of you slagged all to the pit, it's the other. Come on, come on, they're not gonna wait for us to catch up. Sunstreaker, you have to help me fix your brother. Quickly, now…."

"What?! Slag off - I'm not a medbot. Why aren't you fixing him, what's the matter with you?"

Ratchet threw a spare wrench with his one good arm, which glanced off Sunstreaker's helm. "OW!" Sunstreaker growled and gave him an evil glare. "Slaggit Ratchet, don't mess with me," he warned.

"Aft-head, don't give me any of your slagging attitude. Now, I can't do my job properly and repair your brother with only one, half-working appendage. You're his only hope right now. If we don't take care of those ripped Energon lines and that crushed manifold, he's gonna bleed out." Ratchet gave a warm glance at the unconscious Sideswipe held in his brother's arms and murmured, "And we both don't want that."

The look on Sunstreaker's face went from agonized to antagonistic. "Yeah, right. You don't care about us. No one cares about us. We're just the mechs that do most of the dirty work around here." He started to reach out to pet Sideswipe's cheek, but stopped himself before he completed the motion. "Do your job and fix him. Now - or you're gonna end up with no working limbs, so help me Primus!"

Ratchet struggled to his feet, lurched over to Sunstreaker's side and grabbed his chin with crippled fingers, forcing the frontliner to look him in the optics. "Don't threaten me, you pathetic excuse for a mechanoid. Remember, I outrank you and I can make your life very miserable. But, considering the stress of the moment, I'll overlook your insubordination. This time."

Sunstreaker easily shook himself free from Ratchet's grip and held his tongue. No sense antagonizing the medbot when they needed his help. But later…. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Ratchet hesitated and looked away from Sunstreaker's intense glare. "And don't ever say I don't care about you. I care about all my patients. But, you two…you two…." Ratchet blew air through his vents in a deep sigh. "It would truly destroy something deep in my spark if one or both of you offlined." He awkwardly knelt down next to the brothers. "But you never heard me say that. I will deny everything. So let's get to work and save this glitch."

Sunstreaker kept his mouth shut, not because of any threats, but because he was rendered speechless by Ratchet's admission of fondness. This would require some reflection and discussion with his twin, when they had the time.

"Fine, sir. What are you going to do?"

Obviously, you haven't been listening. I'm not going to do anything, you are." With his right hand, Ratchet fumbled open a compartment in his side and awkwardly pulled out an interface cable. Sunstreaker looked on in disbelief, as Ratchet held it out to him and calmly continued, "I'm going to have to connect up with you and feed you the info as you go. It's the only way to get this done quickly and properly, just relax. It's a bit complicated…."

"You're kidding me, right? You want to practically interface with me in order to fix Sides?! What are you, a perv-bot now? I'm telling Prime!"

Ratchet fixed Sunstreaker with his most fearsome glare, optics slit and steam starting to waft from his vents. "Don't flatter yourself Sunstreaker, and don't argue with me. Time's a'wasting and you'll end up killing your brother if we don't get this done quickly."

"But…but…no, I don't want to do this." Sunstreaker felt panic take hold, this was out of his comfort zone. "You're going to have to order me. I'm a fighter, I don't even know which end of a scalpel is which. Can't you call someone else? I'm not doing it!" he practically screeched.

Ratchet whacked Sunny across the helm a second time, "There is no one else, and we're all alone on the edge of enemy territory, in case you didn't notice. Quit whining and acting like a sparkling. Where are your bolts? I'm ordering you to connect with me. Don't worry, you'll do fine with a little guidance. Here's my cable, connect and I'll feed you instructions as you go. You can do this. Hurry, don't think, just do."

Swearing quietly to himself, Sunstreaker reluctantly grasped Ratchet's cable, and prepared to connect to one of his ports. Generally, information transfer was an intimate and delicate procedure, not something to be rushed or ordered into. But his processor couldn't calculate any other alternative or option to get them out of this situation. If there were, Ratchet would be scrap – officer or not.

But, at least Sunstreaker wouldn't be feeding Ratchet any information, as the connection was only going one way. He didn't need to have the medic know what he really thought about him, other 'bots, the war, and life in general. His secrets were his own to keep. Well, him and his brother's. That's what it meant to be a twin, after all.

Clicking the cable home, Sunstreaker was bombarded with fleeting images from Ratchet's CPU. Most were medical in nature, complicated tests, diagnoses and plans of treatment. Intertwined within, Sunstreaker could get the sense of Ratchet's commitment to his patients, the Autobot cause, a hatred of the loss of life, any life. But what made Sunstreaker pause and try to read deeper, were Ratchet's not-quite-hidden feelings about the two of them. It was true - he actually liked them! They fascinated him, and kept him on his toes. In fact, Ratchet admired their perseverance, their attention to duty, and even their choice of alt forms – he thought they were cute! Astounding.

Ratchet didn't seem to realize that Sunny was going a bit deeper into his feelings than was warranted in the situation. "Pay attention now, I'm going to feed you specific instructions on what to do as you go along. Don't go poking around where you're not supposed to be. You'll need to take some parts off of me to replace the…."

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The whole battlefield scenario had ended rather well, Ratchet thought. Sideswipe was saved, and the three of them were picked up by their own troops just as Sunstreaker was closing up his brother's chest plate. All parties were granted some time off to recuperate.

Neither Ratchet, nor Sunstreaker mentioned the impromptu interface, and Ratchet supposed it was better that way. Fleetingly, he wondered what Sunstreaker had gleaned from the one-sided connection. He did notice that in the convoy back to base, Sunstreaker neglected to meet his optics, and disappeared quickly with his twin into the med bay with no word. Ah, it probably meant nothing. Sunstreaker was a rather antisocial mech.

But, Ratchet couldn't help wondering if he had done the right thing, and what this would do to their doctor/patient relationship.

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All was not calm in the twin's quarters. Sunstreaker was pacing back and forth in agitation, his processor consumed with the images and sensations he had registered from linking with Ratchet.

Sideswipe had been trying to relax in his berth, but the tension he was receiving from the twin bond was giving him a processor-ache. "All right, give it up. I can feel you, you know. And you're getting annoying. Talk to me."

"I can't. Anyway bit-brain, you're supposed to be resting."

"Pah, there's nothing wrong with my mind, but my chest is a little sore from your amateurish attempt at repairs."

"Frag you."

"Come on bro, let me see what's got you all riled up. You know I'll worm it out of you eventually. Sit down and link."

Sunstreaker flopped down beside his twin. He was still having a hard time wrapping his processor around the revelations in Ratchet's thoughts. He prided himself on being aware of his surroundings. He had to be, it was a matter of life or death on the battlefield after all. How could he have missed the attentiveness and undercurrents in the interaction between Ratchet and themselves?

Were all three of them oblivious? Hard to tell. Sure, Ratchet took good care of injured mechs, but that was his job, wasn't it? Searching his memory core, Sunstreaker could remember countless times when Ratchet did seem to go the extra deca-mile for them when they were really fragged up. He hardly ever allowed any other medbot to work on them, even when the injuries were minor, or from their own carelessness. And he always seemed to have an extra little pat or stroke to try to soothe away the pain or discomfort.

Cybertronians weren't necessarily an overly touchy species, but all sentient life enjoys a caress now and then. And sure, Ratchet yelled at them a lot, but they never took his threats seriously. If he hadn't reformatted them into deluxe Energon dispensers by now, he wasn't ever going to do so. They hung around the medbay because the atmosphere was comfortable. As long as Ratchet wasn't peeved with them, of course.

"You should have felt it, Sides." Sunstreaker jumped up to once again pace the floor. Discussing sentiment was hard for him, not that he would admit it to anyone. "We've had bots that thought we were beautiful, strong, worth the effort, but no one has really…I've had experiences, but I've never felt special. Before you say that's not true, I know what I felt. And you don't count worth…."

Sideswipe cut him off. "Are you sure, Sunshine? Not that I don't trust your judgment, but I don't trust your judgment."

Sunstreaker's disquiet was such he let the nickname slide. "Stop it. This is important. Important enough that I actually need to share emotional slag with you. Bleah. And maybe, even Ratchet."

"Whoa there, you're going way too fast here."

"I said, shut it and listen. I'm serious. I think we can actually have one of those, um, you know…." Sunstreaker was hesitant to actually say what he wanted.

Sideswipe threw his hands up in the air, "No, I don't know. You've got me blocked out of our bond, dumb-aft. One of those, what?"

"Come on, read my spark here and give me a break. Don't make me say it out loud." Sunstreaker opened the link between them fully.

"…Oh. Slag Sunny, you're talking about a 'meaningful relationship'! Ha, ha, ha, you're joking, right? A relationship with Ratchet the Hatchet! You need to defrag yourself."

Sunstreaker punched his twin in the arm hard enough to leave a slight dent and glowered, "I'm serious Sideswipe. Here, connect with me and I'll show you everything I felt."

"Primus, I'm just pulling your leg, you didn't have to hit me! Fine, fine, link us up, just so you quit obsessing and bothering me." They quickly connected, sliding into one another's thoughts with an ease born of practice and their twin bond.

"Whoa, Sunny…you might be onto something here. Mmm, let me process this and figure out what we should do."

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The twins were discussing their new obsession.

"Is he involved with anyone? Have you heard anything? I couldn't pull up any smutty details when we linked. I bet he was blocking me." For a mech with such an arrogant image, Sunstreaker certainly was feeling unusually flustered and uncomfortable.

"Don't know. If he is, he's pretty discreet. I would bet it's one of those science nerds though."

"Ew, that's just nasty. If that's all he's been with, he should jump at the chance to be with us, right? I mean - I am the most attractive mech around here." Sunstreaker revved his engine to make his point. "And you're not bad yourself. Second-rate when compared to me, of course."

"Stuff it you aft. If you expect Ratchet to even bother with us, you're gonna have to tone down the 'I am a gift from Primus' attitude. I think you'll scare him away." Sideswipe punctuated this statement with a shove. "We need to create a plan."

Both twins were lost in thought. Sideswipe was sure he could smell the wires burning from overuse in Sunstreaker's processor.

"Let's get him something."

"What are you talking about, Sunny?"

"Let's get Ratchet a present. Kind of, like…like a…courting present. So he'll get the idea we like him and, you know."

Sideswipe cocked his head and shuttered his optics, mulling this suggestion over. What would be the pros and cons of declaring their romantic intentions to Ratchet 'The Hatchet' with a gift? It probably would depend on the gift. The silence stretched on for half a breem.

"Well?" Sunstreaker had no patience left, he was a mech of action, and he wanted action now. "Did you fall into recharge or something?"

"No, you pain in my aft. I'm trying to think. All right, a present sounds like a good start. What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. You're supposed to be the sensitive twin," Sunstreaker sneered at his brother.

"Me! You're the artist, and artists are supposed to be sensitive."

"Huh. I guess I am," Sunstreaker declared, standing taller and pulling his shoulders back in pride.

Sideswipe had to fight to hold back a guffaw at hearing this blatantly untrue statement come out of his brother's mouth. "Okay, how about this…?"

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Ratchet came back on shift, well rested and ready to tackle the world. He stopped short as he came within viewing distance of his work area.

"Jack! What's with these packages on my desk? Where'd they come from?"

"Oh, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker dropped those off for you at the end of last shift. I think they mumbled something about from the President? Or did they say it was for your feelings of prescience? Did you do any fortune telling for them lately?" Wheeljack queried.

"Never mind you stripped bolt. Why can't you pay attention to what goes on here when you're supposed to be in charge?" Ratchet shook his head at his friend's distracted mien. He wasn't going to touch those packages with a thirty-meter pole. "Here, you open them. That way, if they explode, I won't get hit. You're better with explosions, anyway."

"Now, that's not a nice thing to say, Ratch," Wheeljack protested. "But, okay, I'll open them for you. Let's see." He moved over to the bench where the suspect packages were resting innocently. "Hmm, they seem to scan as harmless, I don't think there's any explosives involved. One seems to be equipment. All right, stand back, I'm taking the plunge."

Ratchet quickly ducked behind the doorjamb to an inner office, just in case, as Wheeljack unfolded the smaller of the two parcels. "This one is…oh, Ratchet, it's a painting. Wow! It's you working in the lab." He held the image up and twisted it this way and that, admiration evident on his faceplates.

Ratchet couldn't see anything from his hiding place. He calculated the probability of an exploding painting at only 0.000498 %, and couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He sidled up behind Wheeljack to get a look. "Lemme see. Oh my. Oh my, I look…I look great!"

"You sure do Ratch. That's a miracle in and of itself." Wheeljack couldn't resist the small insult.

Ratchet didn't even hear Wheeljack's jab. "Look at that detail. You can see scratches on my hands. And I look all polished up, I don't think I've ever seen myself looking so shiny."

Wheeljack jabbed again, "Yes, I do realize it is a nice fantasy portrait." Well, he didn't get too many opportunities to needle Ratchet, and now was as good a time as any, since his friend was too distracted to retaliate.

"And, look Jack, you can actually read some of the notes on the table. Hey, I recognize those, I was working on that project vorns ago. When…how did…I'm confused."

"I'm quite jealous, Ratch." Wheeljack said seriously. "You know who did this, don't you?"

"I would presume Sunstreaker. The question is – why? And what does he want. It makes me wonder what's in the other package."

Wheeljack eagerly reached for the second container. "Let's check it out then." Ratchet was so curious, he forgot to take cover and hovered over Wheeljack's left shoulder as his friend let out an appreciative, "Oooh!"

"Holy Primus," Ratchet exclaimed. "It's a miniature, portable, oscillating spectrum scanner. I haven't seen one of those since we got kicked out of Iacon. I lost mine in the field and always wanted to get another. How did those glitches know I needed one? And how did they get it?" He was excited and babbling. A sparkpulse later, suspicion programs re-engaged. "But, why did they give it to me? What do they want?"

Wheeljack was pretty sure he knew what was going on. "Well Ratch, it looks like a couple of mechs around here have been paying attention. Remember what I told you about the twins, long, long ago? They liked you then, and it looks like they still do. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

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