Title: A Tail or Two (Chapter 1/6)

Fandom: Transformers G1 but heavily AU

Pairing/Characters: Sideswipe+Sunstreaker, Ratchet (no pairings yet), OCs

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Rated so high for mentions of dog fighting and abuse. May be triggery for some people.

A/N: This idea randomly popped into my head while I was lying in bed one morning. Writers are supposed to write what you know and how better do that than turning Ratchet into a vet medic and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe into fighting dog-mechs? Not that I have much personal experience with fighting dogs as a vet, but I have seen plenty of abused cases. Alternating POV

Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.

"Here we are."

Ratchet followed his guide to a nondescript door, waiting with barely concealed impatience as the other mech fumbled on his chain for the correct key. Finding it, he inserted it into the cage lock and turned it, but did not open the door. Instead, he pulled a long, thick rod spitting with energy from subspace and hefting it, opened the door a crack, peering into the interior of the room.

"These two… they're a little feral," CopOut said, gradually pushing the door open wider. Ratchet gave the mech's back a look of pure disgust.

The vet medic hated this part of his residency. The majority of the "sporting" arenas were mere covers for underground fighting rings where instead of letting the dogs fight to first blood, it was a fight to the death. Ratchet considered the first to be a cruel practice; the second made something deep inside him twist and turn with pure hatred.

"Oh, get on with it," Ratchet said, shouldering past CopOut, only to stop and stare at the mound of metal in the corner. Two dog mechs, one red, the other yellow, were curled up together so tightly he could barely discern where one started and the other ended. The red one lifted his head from the hip of the yellow and a low warning growl permeated the room.

"Careful, doc," CopOut warned behind him. "These are TopNotch's best. They didn't get that way by being nice to strangers."

Ratchet ignored the mech behind him, bright optics immediately identifying injuries and triaging them. The dogs' dull finishes were covered with gouges and tears, but the largest and most dangerous was the gash across the yellow one's abdomen. Every time he vented out, Ratchet could see wires and the edge of a fuel pump peeking through the laceration.

"All right now," Ratchet said in a soothing tone, lowering his kit to the side and crouching down. "What did you two get into? Now, now, none of that," he said, eyeing the red one's slow rise to his feet. The dog slowly moved his front limbs so that he was protectively straddling his companion's side. The yellow one wearily raised his head enough to glance at Ratchet and then it dropped back down to his paws. His optics were open and alert, however, and Ratchet knew not to dismiss him.

Ratchet took a few shuffling steps forward, and the red one crouched down, lipplates lifting to show sharp, serrated teeth. The growl became louder.

"What are their names?" Ratchet asked, never taking his eyes off his patients.

Ratchet could feel the shrug from behind him. "Dunno what their real names are. Just call them Red and Yellow. Yellow is vicious through and through, but Red's usually pretty decent. Except when one's hurt; then they get all protective over the other. Here, I'll get 'em for you."

Before Ratchet could say or do anything, Red jolted and let out an audio-piercing screech. A collar that Ratchet hadn't noticed until now glowed blue and spit sparks, some landing on the dog's paint job and singing it. Whipping around, Ratchet saw a smirk of glee on CopOut's faceplates. Ratchet reached down and grabbed a wrench from his kit, turning back and throwing it with surprising accuracy at the other mech's head. The remote for the collar fell from CopOut's hand as the mech fell to one knee, and the red dog's screams faded away.

Ratchet stormed over and kicked the remote to the side, barely refraining from doing the same to CopOut. "Get out," Ratchet hissed, looming over CopOut as he cradled a dent in his helm. "Don't you ever use such a pit-slagged piece of scrap metal in my presence again!"

Surprise turned to anger, and CopOut stood and strode angrily to the door. "Fine! Get torn to shreds for all I care!" he spat and slammed the door behind him. The echoes of his footsteps rang out in the hallway for a few moments before diminishing into the distance.

Still venting quickly in fury, Ratchet turned back around to see Red carefully pushing himself up from his side. The beast's intakes were working overtime and small shudders overcame his frame as his body attempted to dispel the foreign charge. Yellow began belly crawling over to his companion, soft snuffling whines showing his concern.

"Hey, hey, none of that!" Ratchet protested and strode forward to place a restraining hand on the point of Yellow's shoulder. Then he leaped back away from the snap of teeth that nearly took his hand off.

Ratchet huffed again. "Will you tell your Primus forsaken friend here that I'm just trying to help?" he asked, turning to Red.

Red's head tilted up, the dogs' optics meeting his. Ratchet froze in place at the strength of the glare. Pain, hatred, despair, worry, all swirled together into a slitted ice blue gaze that seemed to bore into him. Ratchet's optics blinked, taking in the fine facial features of one dog than the other, their similar if not identical frames.

"You're siblings," Ratchet breathed, glancing back from one to the other, seeing more and more similarities. "Pit, you could even be twins."

Red's subsonic growl trickled to a stop, and his head tilted to the side. Some of the hatred on his faceplates bled away to be replaced by a wary curiosity.

"Twins," Ratchet said to himself. "They're fighting Twins. The slag eating…" Ratchet continued to spit curses into the air until he wore himself out. He wiped a weary hand over his faceplates when his tirade spiraled down into a close.

"All right, I'll go kick some aft later. But for now, I really need to look at that," Ratchet said, pointing a careful finger at Yellow's abdominal laceration. He leaned forward again and just barely avoided getting his head taken off by a swipe of a paw. Yellow ended up on his side at the action, an involuntary yelp emerging from him. He remained there, all four limbs pulled in tight to his body in preparation of kicking with blade tipped feet. Panicked, pain-filled optics flitted around the room, landing repeatedly on the medic.

"You idiot. I'm gonna have to sedate you, aren't I?" Red whined at the words, and Ratchet looked up in surprise. Fighting beasts were not much more intelligent than drones. Their programs consisted of killing techniques and not much else. It was only the companion pets that received the more comprehensive intelligence programs. But no, Red was merely nosing at his brother in concern.

Ratchet reached for his bag, groping around until he found the sedative he was looking for. He still didn't remove his optics from the pair in front of him. Even though Red seemed more comfortable in his presence, he still didn't trust either of them one bit.

Affixing the sedative in his dart gun, he eyed the yellow frame, determining the best spot to aim for.

I think you should let him help. A red nose nudged at Sunstreaker's audio flap, and he growled, snapping at his brother before letting his gaze fall back warily on the red and white mech crouching a few feet away.

He'll offline me. Take me away.

Sideswipe stared down at his brother with worry. He didn't like seeing his twin's inner bits amidst the growing puddle of energon. And Sunstreaker was in pain. Pain that he couldn't completely block from the bond because of exhaustion. An unconscious whine escaped Sideswipe.

No, I don't think he will. Please, Sunny. Please just let him look at you. I'll be right here. Sunstreaker snarled wordlessly, paw pushing at his twin while at the same time his half of the bond wordlessly screamed, don't leave me!

The medic hefted a gun of some sort, and Sunstreaker went wild, thrashing, instinctively trying to get to his feet in preparation for a fight.

No! You're making things worse! Stop it! Sunny, stop! Sideswipe leapt onto his brother, pinning him as best as he could. Even injured, Sunstreaker was strong, and Sideswipe didn't know how long he could hold him down for. Sideswipe looked up at the medic, optics pleading for the other mech to do something.

Ratchet reared back in surprise at the short scuffle that had broken out. The two dogs had been so entwined when he had first entered that he hadn't expected them to fight each other. But then he realized that Yellow had tried to get up, likely to attack Ratchet, and Red had leapt on top of his brother to try and prevent further injury.

Red's head lifted, and he stared directly at Ratchet. He barked, several short, deep sounds as if to say to Ratchet, get on with it already. Seeing an opening, the vet fired.

Ratchet's aim was true, and the dart landed inn Yellow's upper thigh, immediately pumping sedatives into the fuel line that supplied the limb. Yellow's struggles continued for several moments, but became weaker and weaker. He finally went limp, optics staring sightlessly at the farthest wall. It was a good sedative that Ratchet had picked; pain control as well as an immobilization medication. But it was also short acting, so Ratchet grabbed his bag and moved forward.

Only to be stopped once more by Red's show of teeth. Ratchet's bag plunked back to the ground in frustration. "Come on! I can't do anything with you sitting on him! Go! Shoo!" He waved a hand, trying to wave the protective beast away.

Red's head lowered, optics peering up at Ratchet in a fixed stare that made the medic shiver. He had seen similar looks in documentaries on the faces of the beasts that still roamed the undeveloped parts of the world. Although smaller than his wild cousins, Red was no less dangerous, and Ratchet froze, suddenly feeling more threatened now than he had been when he first entered the room.

Then the spell broke as Red barked once more and hopped to the side by his brother's head. He sat on his haunches, tail balancer wrapping around to cover his paws. His audio flaps flipped forward, and the lips came down, covering the gleaming teeth.

Ratchet blinked at the transformation. Red now looked like many of the companion dogs Ratchet had seen on his rounds, if a little more roughed up. Red looked over at Yellow and then back to the medic, giving a short yip as if to say, I give you my permission. Now fix him!

Sideswipe watched the vet as he worked on Sunstreaker. The medic moved with confidence, seemingly not fazed by a vicious dog staring at him while he worked. The repairs were over quickly, much quicker than any of the other medics that had ever laid hands on them. The entire time, Ratchet spoke aloud of what he was doing, what part he was exchanging and why he was clamping this line off. Sideswipe understood every word, although the meaning behind much of the medical jargon escaped him. Sideswipe knew that Ratchet believed they couldn't understand him, but the dog was grateful anyway. It gave himself something to focus on instead of seeing his twin's innards strewn all over the floor.

"There. That should do it," Ratchet said, giving Sunstreaker's shoulder one final pat. "Now let's see what you've got going on."

He reached over Sunstreaker and gripped under Sideswipe's lower jaw, forcing his head up and letting the medic critically examine his face. Sideswipe froze at the abrupt handling, optics wide as foreign hands roamed over his head and then to the rest of his body. The vet's hands were gentle but confident, and Sideswipe found himself beginning to tremble in confusion. He couldn't remember a time when someone had touched him in anything beyond anger or greed. This was almost… nice…

"Now, now," Ratchet said soothingly, as his hands patched a small tear on the back of Sideswipe's neck. "No reason to shake. I'm not going to hurt you."

Up close like this, Sideswipe let himself be distracted into analyzing all the scents that clung to the vet's frame. Scents of other dogs, at least a dozen, and some felines as well. A hint of spice clung to the stink of antiseptic, and Sideswipe couldn't decide if he was intrigued or disgusted. So he shuffled forward a bit, his sensor laden nostrils scenting alone the medic's side as Ratchet palmed Sideswipe's hips and back legs.

"Not too bad," Ratchet murmured. "A lot of these should be fixed by your self- repair systems. A little thin. Wonder how much your rations are. All in all though, you are a pretty handsome fellow." Ratchet sat back and stroked a hand over Sideswipe's helm, right between his audio flaps.

Sideswipe trembled again, but this time he couldn't stop his tail from making a few sweeps behind him. Ratched eyed the tail and then stroked again, curling his fingers up behind the base of one of the audios and massaging the flap's connection.

"Like that, huh?" he asked, with a small grin.

Sideswipe wanted to tell him to wipe the smug smirk off his face, but all he could do was groan and lean his head into the caress. His tail began beating against the floor in a mad, uncoordinated rhythm.

Ratchet chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you do," he said, answering his own question. His other hand came up to join the first, and Sideswipe collapsed halfway across the medic's lap, making whuffing sounds of bliss. Some part of him was horrified at his own behavior. The rest of him said frag it all and enjoy the attention; that was the part he listened to.

Smiling in delight, Ratchet smoothed hands over Sideswipe's upper body and back, always going back to the audio flaps. Sideswipe squirmed and wriggled and eventually ended up on his back, Ratchet's hands tickling his belly. Legs kicking at the air, he felt utterly silly with his glossa hanging out of his open mouth, but he felt so good! What was this vet doing to him?

Twisting his head, he caught sight of Sunstreaker's open optics. His brother was staring at him in hazy confusion, an emotion that was beginning to seep over the bond. What are you doing? Is he hurting you?

Na uh! He's… he's petting me, I think. It's great!

Sunstreaker lifted his head to see and a flare of pain escaped past the block. Sideswipe was up in an instant, nose working along the fresh patches with cautious intent. I'm alright, stop it.

I was worried about you, Sideswipe confessed, satisfied that the wounds were still closed. He could now feel that the pain was due to overstressed cables and bruises, nothing fatal. Sideswipe curled up along his brother's side, his head coming to rest on Sunstreaker's shoulder. Sunstreaker lifted his head enough to nuzzle at Sideswipe's face and then stretched back out.

"Well. I think you two will be all right," Ratchet remarked. He picked up his kit and slung it over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, staring down at the dogs. "You two take care of each other." With a frown, the medic turned and walked away, the door shutting softly behind him.

Sideswipe's optics blinked several times before he settled against his brother more securely. I liked him.

Sunstreaker grunted, shifting to find a more comfortable spot. You let him rub your belly, he said with a hint of disgust.

Don't knock it til you try it, Sideswipe returned. I hope he comes back. Sideswipe's systems began powering down, content now that his brother was safe. He crawled deeper into their bond, forcing pulses of love and memories of the medic's hands on him until he could feel Sunstreaker began to relax as well.

He did an ok job, Sunstreaker said grudgingly.

I liked him, Sideswipe repeated. I wish we were his.

Sunstreaker sighed in response to the wistful whisper, and cuddled closer, recharge claiming them both within moments.