This is something that my friend Phoenicem Argentum and I were plodding along with in Russian class because we were bored after finishing our work early. It kept us going for a while, but then we finished, and we're doing others over the summer. So, we thought we'd share it with the rest of the world. Yay for (H)Ratchet and 'Hide getting revenge.

Cue

Summary: Ratchet's ire is never subtle and always dangerous. Provoke it at your own risk. Coauthored between Phoenicem Argentum and NekoYami911.

Ratchet yelled loudly, and Optimus perked up to listen.

"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe! Your afts are MINE!"

There was a noise of screeching tires, a resounding BOOm, a clatter as of metal falling a distance, and finally an inarticulate yell - of pain or surprise, Optimus couldn't tell. He smiled fondly. They were all so alive; it made him feel like things really were settling in on this planet.

"Oh no, you don't!" Ratchet's dulcet tones echoed up the corridor, and the noises of the conflict began to grow more alarming. Optimus wondered whether he should intervene on the twins' behalf.

Suddenly, yellow, red, and bright pink blurs sped past, the last one emitting yells of fury and brandishing an equally brightly colored wrench. Optimus put two and two together and chuckled deeply. The twins really were asking for it this time.

Thus, he left the twins to their fate, at Ratchet's mercy, little though it may be.

"Which of us was the idiot who suggested this, again?" yelled Sideswipe to his brother.

"I bet it was yours! You wanted to paint his wrench! He'd have left us alone if we just painted him!" Sunstreaker yelled back irritably, dodging a fine swipe at his helm from their pursuer.

Indeed, Sideswipe reflected, Ratchet's bellow of rage at discovering his favorite bludgeoning instrument befouled with magenta paint had been more resonant than usual... but it had been such a good prank! Only the aftermath was undesirable.

So they ran for it, and with the first chance they got and a glance back at the other, they split up, going in opposite directions. Ratchet paused very briefly before turning on Sunstreaker's trail. The general comm that pinged their sensors revealed his plan: -I call a general free-for-all on those misbegotten, Pit-crawling, slag-licking twins!-

A booming cackle across the comm sent a dark shiver down Sideswipe's frame, and he quickly ran through his list of possible places to hide until things died down.

Sunstreaker could feel panicked lines of coding threatening to escape his vocaliser as the roar of Ratchet's engine closed on his wheeled heels.

Caught in his thoughts, Sideswipe was almost swept by the arm that jutted out unexpectedly from the cross hall on his left.

The lines of code did escape Sunstreaker's vocaliser in a kind of high pitched squeal-shriek as a too-large hand closed over his shoulder, overbalancing him and sending him to his knees just a few feet from the blast door that barred his escape.

Even as this happened, the mech wheeled around to put a strangle hold on Sideswipe's arms, knocking him straight onto his back, and when he looked up, the smiling face plates of Ironhide looked down on him predatorily.

Ratchet's face glared down at Sunstreaker, optics focused into twin points of brilliant light. "You thought you could get away? Think again," he purred, which was far more frightening than his yelling before.

Primus, God, and everything that might listen, that smile was terrifying. Sideswipe swept a leg out to make an attempt at tripping the black mass of a mech, but ended up nearly whimpering when Ironhide just held out a foot, catching the leg underneath, grin widening.

Ratchet's smile had far too many denta in it, and it only widened as he seized one of Sunstreaker's sensitive audial fins and began to walk. Sunstreaker had to scramble to his feet and move with him, or risk having the fin pulled off... "Ratchet, you glitch, let go! My paint!"

Slowly, Ironhide leaned down, grabbing Sideswipe by the upper arm and hauling him up by it. "And where do ya think you're going, Red? You got an appointment with Dr. Hatchet now. Don't ya wanna get fixed up?"

"What about my paint, hm? Until your brother gets here, I'm perfectly happy to hold you fully responsible." Sunstreaker, not usually one to be intimidated, shuddered at the implications.

Sideswipe whined softly at the mention of Ratchet's nickname, knowing all too well from past experiences how well Ratchet had earned it. It made him wonder if his and his brother's pranks originated from stupidity, masochism, or an odd mixture of both.

With a sense of detachment, Sunstreaker wondered whether the Hatchet would live up to his nickname and carry out his usual threats. He really had no desire to be a toaster; they all had such horrible finish... and the bread crumbs...

'Hide started hauling Sideswipe after him, yanking him forward when he fought the pull. "Hide! Please, let me go! I'll... polish your cannons! I'll volunteer for target practice! Just don't take me there!"

The medbay door hissed shut behind him, and Sunstreaker went limp as his last chance of escape was cut off. He resolved to submit to his doom with dignity and stoicism. "Let's see," hummed Ratchet contentedly, rummaging through drawers and boxes.

Ironhide just laughed at the stricken mech, nearly a cackle, and went on his way towards the medbay, having fun pulling the rambunctious twin struggling fruitlessly to get away.

"There it is! I knew keeping this thing was a good idea!" Ratchet the Hatchet turned around, and despite his resolution to take it like a mech, Sunstreaker flinched. In one hand, Ratchet held a container of high quality, highly sticky adhesive, and in the other...

The black mech took joy when Sideswipe's whining turned into small noises of protest - they'd gotten into the hall containing the medbay. Ah, sweet retribution was close at hand.

From Ratchet's other hand hung a large, feathery-furry boa. Two and two came together to make a large and ominous four, and Sunstreaker's despairing wail echoed down the halls, to be heard by the pair standing just behind the door.

Sideswipe froze, fear chilling him from the spark out and even Ironhide slowed, saying happily, "Aww, hear how much fun your brother's having? Let's go join in, shall we?" He reached out and activated the motion sensor on the door, sliding it open.

Ratchet slowly moved toward the trapped Sunstreaker, unscrewing the lid on the glue with malicious slowness - but one should never approach a cornered animal. Sunstreaker bolted forward even as the door opened and collided with Ironhide in a painful clatter of plating. Without hesitation, the frontliner seized his brother's hand and tore down the hall.

Yelling broke out from anyone but Sunstreaker. Sideswipe in shock and relief, Ironhide in shock and quickly building anger, and Ratchet in rage as his prey escaped, just as his long-anticipated revenge was about to be fulfilled.

Optimus was more than a little irritated to be involved in this. With two cowering twins behind him and two enraged officers before, he would have to play middlemech - how apt, that human expression - and he wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic towards either party.

Growling in anger, Ratchet spoke, though it was closer to an animalistic noise, "Get out of the way, Prime! It won't hurt them - too much! Just look at me! Look at what they did this time!" He brandished his wrench, nearly winning Optimus' sympathy at the sight of the horrendous color coating it thickly.

Prime sighed, blowing air through his vents - another human affectation - and addressed his CMO. "I cannot risk the eruption of a prank war. You will have to be satisfied with brig time and hard work," his optics turned to the Twin Menaces, "...hard work."

Ratchet growled again, but at his side, Ironhide was considering. He was in charge of the brig. And with work, Ratchet could be in charge too. He mentioned this to Ratchet via data burst, and the medic's visage instantly calmed. The twins looked uneasy where they huddled behind Optimus.

"Dismissed," said Optimus softly, and as Ratchet and Ironhide filed out, he turned to the twins. "And as for you, don't come to me until your punishment detail is completed - in an orn." The two left with a nod, already heading to their quarters, discussing exactly how they were going to manage to fix Ratchet, and more importantly, his wrench.