Ornery Soldiers and Sadistic Medics

Ironhide glanced up from the table as he detected another presence within the previously empty recreation room. His optics followed Ratchet as the medic entered the darkened room making a beeline for his table and taking a seat directly across from the weapons specialist. Ironhide leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest patiently waiting for whatever the medic obviously had to say to him. Instead, the other mech grinned and mimicked his movement folding his own arms across his chest. Ironhide raised an optic ridge in question to the other's antics. "Well? Out with it already?"

Ratchet smirked and shook his head. "Ironhide, is there any particular reason as to why you are sitting in here by yourself?"

"Watchin' a movie."

Ratchet turned around in his chair to regard the large television that the humans had provided them with. It was indeed playing a movie that he'd recognized as one of Mudflaps'. With a snort he spun around and fixed the other mech with an amused expression. "Really? What is the title of said movie if you don't mind me asking?"

Ironhide shrugged. "Annoying Human Entertainment." Ratchet snorted again. "Oh, my apologies, that was on earlier. I believe this one's called the Return of Annoying Human Entertainment."

"Ironhide, we've had more then a handful of new arrivals over the last several months. I fail to see why you still choose to seek so much time in isolation. It is not healthy for a mech to be this anti-social. Even an ornery old scrap heap like you needs company once in awhile."

"An I fail to see why ya'll can't just leave me alone. Maybe I just wanna sit an enjoy some peace an quiet."

"I was unaware that your vocabulary even contained the words peace and quiet… or enjoy."

Ironhide let an exasperated huff of air out from his vents and leaned forward. "What do you want medic?"

Ratchet leaned forward once again mirroring the other's movement as he studied the dark mech across from him. He gave a sharp nod as if reaching an important decision and leaned back into his chair. "You know what you need Ironhide?"

"Don't care."

"You need to relax."

"I am relaxed."

"You are too tense."

"Keeps me sharp for battle."

"You need to unwind as the humans say."

"I don't need human advice."

"What you need is a good, long, hard interface."

"I don't need…" Ironhide cut himself off and lowered his optic ridges until only a narrow line of blue light showed through as he glared at the medic. "That's just cruel Ratch'. Ya don't go sayin' things like that to a mech who's been without…without..."

"A fuck buddy?"

Ironhide jerked backwards in his chair nearly sending both himself and the piece of furniture crashing to the floor. "A what?!"

Ratchet half turned back towards the tv as if only barely paying attention to their conversation. "A fuck buddy. It is a human term. You really do need to spend more time learning about our new home and it's occupants; or at least some of their mannerisms." He smirked and rolled his head to the side catching Ironhide's shocked expression. "Oh fine, if it bothers you that much, we'll go with the more traditional title of berth partner."

Ironhide gave his head a slight shake as if attempting to physically reset his processors. "Uh, yeah, berth partner." With a low growl he regained his composure and leaned forward onto the table. "Doesn't matter what you wanna call it, it doesn't make it right to use it as form of teasin'! It's downright…"

"Cruel, yes, we've established that already Ironhide."

Ironhide felt his lip components pulling back to reveal a snarl as he was interrupted once again. Ratchet was getting way too much enjoyment out of this conversation for the weapon specialist's liking. "Then why…"

Ratchet cycled his vents loudly in a dramatic sigh effectively cutting the black mech off once again. "You make this so easy you might as well repaint that ridiculously over armored chassis of yours with a target practice glyph. Highly amusing considering how quick you are to shove your cannons at anything even remotely resembling a target to begin with."

Now quite thoroughly convinced that he was being made the butt of some joke he wasn't entirely getting, Ironhide abruptly stood throwing his chair into the far wall. "What?!"

"My vocals are functioning at one hundred percent. If you misunderstood my last statement the fault is not with me."

Ironhide shuddered as he attempted to hold his temper in check. "Now look here you glow in the dark smelter reject…"

"Now Ironhide, there's no need for actual name calling. You might make me reject my offer." Ratchet fought valiantly to keep his facial plates in a neutral expression as Ironhide froze with his mandible wide open. It was obvious that the slightly larger mech was well and truly shocked and having difficulties processing exactly what Ratchet was implying. "Take your time; it'll come to you eventually. In the mean time I will be over on the couch watching the television should that ancient CPU of yours decide to de-frag."

Ironhide sat down next to Ratchet on the couch forcing his optics to remain focused on the movie in front of them. He opened his mouth three times with nothing coming out before he was finally able to properly vocalize. "So, you uh, offerin'?"

"I was."

Ironhide glanced at the brightly colored mech for half a second before he returned his optics to the television. "Was?"

"The offer has since expired."

Ironhide's head whipped around to face the medic full on. "Whaddya mean expired?"

"Now you have to beg."

Ironhide stood up angrily and glared down at the now smug looking mech. "Beg?! I don't beg for anything! Not from Decepticons, not from Autobots, and most definitely not from you!" With that he stomped around the couch and stormed out of the recreation room.

Ratchet stopped his internal chronometer at four minutes and twenty-two seconds as Ironhide sat back down on the couch beside him. "Welcome back."

Ironhide cleared his vocalizer of static and scooted closer to Ratchet. He reached out and gently grasped the other by his chin and forced the smaller mech to face him. He altered his vocals to a softer setting and dimmed his optics. "Ratch? Please?" Ironhide felt his spark pound against it's casing in anticipation as Ratchet made no move to pull away. With a small victorious smile Ironhide leaned down to claim the medic's lips.

"What a pity. Samuel put forth so much more effort when begging Mikaela for her attentions just this morning."

Ironhide cycled his optics in confusion at the sudden comment. He cycled them again as Ratchet not only removed his hand from his facial plates but moved his frame to the other end of the couch; and well out of reach. "Samuel? The Whitwicky boy? What, you want me to beg like a human now?!" Ratchet hmm'd in response as if the thought was only just now occurring to him. For the second time that evening Ironhide found himself jumping off the couch in anger. He took a few steps towards Ratchet shoving a finger at the other's chest plates. "You are straight up outta yer processor if you think I'll lower myself to mimic some human's desperate an pathetic act to mate with his partner just to satisfy your sadistic little…" Ironhide cut off with a frustrated snarl as he failed to find the appropriate word.

Ratchet glanced over the back of the couch as Ironhide's broad back cleared the recreation room's entrance. With a grin he stretched his arms over his head and re-initiated the timer on his internal chronometer. Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later he felt the couch shift as a heavy weight settled onto the furniture next to him.

"Alright Ratch, what do I gotta do?"