keelywolfe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keelywolfe) wrote2010-11-04 09:05 pm
keelywolfe) wrote2010-11-04 09:05 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Settling Debts (Human Series)
Title:Settling Debts
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Bumblebee, Ratchet/Optimus
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Lies of Omission
The Theory of Existence
Beyond My Brave Facade
Parental Interaction In The Third Degree
Field Trips Into the Hypothetical
Arrested Developments of the Heart
Necessary Repairs
4x4
Prime and Punishment
Gravitational Drift
My Mechanical Romance
Eternal Sunshine of a Sparkless Mind
To Serve and Protect
Synonymous to an Intermission
Idioms for Idiots, In Any Language
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
~~*~~
It never rains but it pours was the saying. Sam wasn't sure how that applied when you were in the desert and it didn't much rain, but he still felt worked pretty well. After Ironhide's little spectacular, Sam had taken the time to get the 'bot side of the infirmary into order while Ratchet sat just a little longer, silent but for the hum of his systems. Finally, he moved and Sam had watched apprehensively while Ratchet reached for another of the fuel capacitors. This time he was careful, and the soft hiss of soldering added a little rhythm to their near silence.
If Ratchet just wanted to hang out without talking, Sam could do that.
Only, the universe didn't seem to agree. The door swung open smoothly on its hinges and Sam's heart sank a little when he saw Optimus stride in, ducking his head a little under the door frame. Another 'bot that Sam didn’t recognize was right behind him, barely half Optimus's height, his armor a deep metallic blue.
Optimus crouched low in front of Sam, bracing one hand against the floor. "Good afternoon, Sam," Optimus said, his smile considerably warmer than the last time they'd spoken. It didn't seem like Optimus was one to hold a grudge. "Ratchet tells me that you've been very diligent in your work detail."
"Yeah, Ratchet's been keeping me busy." But he didn't miss the way Optimus's optics flickered towards Ratchet or the way Ratchet didn't turn around.
"Jolt," Ratchet said brusquely. "I don't have you scheduled until later today."
The other 'bot shifted uncomfortably, his feet scraping the floor softly. "Yeah, uh, I know. But, Ratchet, it itches!" he whined, "You don't have energy whips, you don't know what it's like to have the calibration off and I've been waiting—"
"Sam," Optimus interrupted smoothly. "I don't believe you've met Jolt yet."
"Yes, yes," Jolt gave him a dismissive glance. "But Ratchet—"
"Ratchet is going to put off your repairs indefinitely if you don't show the proper respect to the young man who destroyed Megatron and saved the life of our Prime in the process," Ratchet said sharply, finally turning around to glare at the smaller 'bot.
Immediately, Jolt flung himself at Sam's feet and the sight of a fifteen foot mech genuflecting in front of him was surreal, to say the least. He stared, bemused, as Jolt slapped his hands on the floor, bowing and simpering.
"Thank you!" Jolt simpered, "Thank you, little human! Thank you for all you have done!" He knelt back up with a scowl. "Good enough? Will you fix me now?"
"Jolt," Optimus began, a note of warning in his voice.
Jolt heaved a very familiar sounding put-upon sigh, "Hey, kid, nice to meet you. Bumblebee has mentioned you, oh, a few thousand times. You sound okay, for a human who managed to kill Megatron. Now would you please tell our glorious medic that we have been suitably introduced?"
"Uh, sure. Nice to meet you, too," Sam said dubiously. He supposed Jolt couldn't be too bad, if Bumblebee spoke to him on a regular basis.
"You're still early," Ratchet pointed out.
"Yeah, but Optimus said that he was stealing the kid here for a while and suggested I, ah, impose upon you to fix me while he's gone. Something about humans having a weak stomach?" Jolt raised what passed for his eyebrows and Sam felt warmth flood his cheeks. Lovely, every Autobot knew that he'd yakked his breakfast up after watching Ratchet fixing Bumblebee. Nothing like a little fresh humiliation to add to the day.
Ratchet's fingers moved nimbly, there was a sizzle and the smell of hot solder filled the air. "If it were you on the table, Sam would probably be delighted to hand me the scalpel," Ratchet finally replied. "Let me finish this and I'll check you over."
"You're stealing me?" Sam asked Optimus, even as Jolt grinned smugly and boosted himself up to sit on one of the exam tables. He seemed like he was young, younger even than Bumblebee and the way he sat, swinging his legs impatiently, made Sam think of a little kid.
"For a brief moment, yes. I'll return him to you shortly, Ratchet," Optimus said, to Ratchet's back since the medic was focusing on the fuel capacitor in front of him and pointedly didn't turn around again.
"That's fine," Ratchet replied, soundly oddly...subdued? Yeah, this was some serious awkward here. Just as Sam was turning towards the door, Jolt caught his eye, bright blue optics meeting his. From his expression, Jolt wasn't much more comfortable and his optics flickered in what Sam knew was a very expansive eye roll.
"Hurry up, Ratchet, this itches like hell," Jolt whined, but he gave Sam a little wink. What...oh, now he understood. Jolt was here acting like a buffer between these two, which meant he wasn't the only one who had a chain of gossip circling the city. For pity's sake, first Ironhide and now this guy, Sam thought with savage impatience.
"Sam," Optimus called, drawing his attention. He tilted his head towards the door in a silent little 'come hither, little human'.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Sam said absently, giving Ratchet a quick glance. The medic hadn't looked up from his work yet and Sam kept an eye on him until the door swung shut, stepping out into the heat as Optimus transformed. His driver's side door swung open invitingly and Sam climbed up with only a few misgivings. He hadn't ridden much with any Autobot except Bumblebee and Sideswipe. Riding in Optimus felt…weird. He might be shaped like a semi-truck but it sure felt a lot more like sitting in a limo or a church on wheels. Something sacred like that.
Add in that there was no radio, none of the loud rock that Bumblebee loved, and the interior was oppressively silent, nothing but the quiet hum of a well-maintained Autobot engine.
"So where are we off to?" Sam asked, partly to fill the silence but with some real curiosity. He was getting pulled off work detail for this, after all.
Either Autobots weren't much at surprises or Optimus didn't like to stand on ceremony because he answered promptly. "To your new quarters. I thought you might like to see them."
"Seriously?" Sam grinned. He'd nearly forgotten that he was supposed to get new quarters, that his current little room was only temporary.
"Oh, yes," Optimus's voice through his speakers was amused. "I hope you don't mind, but they are still in the officer's section of the Autobot sector."
"Why would I mind?" Sam shrugged. "I'm assuming that Bumblebee will be staying with me, so yeah, it makes sense for us be there."
Like he and Bumblebee had a choice in the matter right now. It didn't really bother him; if he had had a choice, it would have been the same one so there was no point in moaning about the unfairness of the universe. It was probably better to stay in the Autobot sector anyway, come to think of it. If he had any problems with his receptors, what exactly was a human medic going to do for him, plug him into a wall outlet?
There was a hiss of brakes as Optimus rolled to a stop and Sam peered out the window with interest at the building they stopped next to. Still low to the ground, the outer walls made up of whitewashed concrete blocks…huh. Hopping out of Optimus didn't improve the view and the only real difference between this building and his last quarters is instead of an old warehouse, this place looked like a shiny, new warehouse. Concrete in the place of corrugated steel, well, at least it would be nice and cool inside.
"What do you think?" Optimus, from behind him.
Sam forced a bright smile and turned back towards him. "It's—" Great froze on his tongue because it wasn't a truck talking to him or even an enormous talking robot. Instead, it was a dark-haired man wearing tight jeans and a black t-shirt, blue-eyed and tall, and holy crap this was Optimus's holo? Not that he'd seen it before but he supposed it made some sort of bizarre sense that Optimus would be smokin' hot. He was their leader, right, it was only appropriate that his smile would make Sam feel a little weak in the knees, that his hair was long and a little tousled in the hot, desert wind, and…geez, Ratchet had said Optimus was hot but this—
Optimus gave him a wry smile and Sam swallowed, hard. Okay, maybe it wasn't just Bumblebee. Obviously, he was just gay for Autobots.
"I'm afraid the aesthetic appeal of the outer walls is lacking but it's much better on the inside. I promise," Optimus said apologetically and that deep voice coming from that body...Sam tore his eyes away and told his receptors to knock it the fuck off, Optimus was not one of the options on the menu, thanks.
"It's fine," Sam said, clearing his voice as it came out in a little squeak. "Let's check out the inside, though."
There was a human size door on one wall not far from them and Sam decided that walking behind Optimus wasn't exactly going to be calming, so he went for it, opening the heavy steel door and peering inside. To his surprise, the front hallway consisted of stairs, leading downward. Interesting. He followed them curiously, already having proved time and again that he was the Alice to the Autobot white rabbit, only this was the first time he'd had to actually go down a rabbit hole.
Another door at the base of the stairs and Optimus caught his arm before he could try the handle.
"You have to have security clearance to get inside," Optimus said and Sam forcibly pushed away a shiver at that deep voice so near his ear, the heat of a body close to his own. Jesus, maybe he needed a recharge more than he'd thought.
Every single thought of embarrassment and recharge frittered out of his brain when Optimus took his hand, twining their fingers together. "Here," he said and Sam was just about to mindlessly nod, leaning towards him, when Optimus pressed his thumb into a small square by the door. "It's coded to your living DNA. Bumblebee is also coded into it through his personal signature and you can add others later, as you like."
The heavy door swung open and Sam staggered inside, the rush of cool air against his face slapping sanity back into him. Oh, dear god, he'd actually been thinking about jumping Optimus in a freaking stairwell like some kind of freakish Energizer bunny of fucking. With dread thick in his throat, Sam glanced back at Optimus but he was appropriately bland, either oblivious to Sam's...issue or at least pretending to be.
All right, then, add that to his list of most horrifyingly embarrassing things ever. Still, he latched onto Optimus's possible obliviousness gratefully, turning back to look at his new quarters, and lust promptly dropped away as he gaped, all his earlier disappointment swept away.
It was huge, the small building on the outside was set deep into the ground, the ceilings high with gorgeous skylights built in, sending sunlight streaming down into the large main room. Along one side he could see stairs leading up to a loft, the corner of a bed just visible and the downstairs was completely open, a well-stocked kitchen on one side and the other a large living room, filled with comfy-looking chairs and a sofa and the entertainment center…man, that so was not Sony. To see an obviously alien-crafted television and speakers connected to an xbox was surreal but still way-cool.
Sam turned in a circle, trying to take it all in. He could see evidence of Bumblebee's touches, a Trekkie poster here, one for a favorite band there, and the far wall opened into a garage, the cement floors leading on an incline up to a large, automatic door. So that Bumblebee could come inside in both his forms, Sam realized, and the room wasn't big enough for Optimus to walk around inside but there was enough room for Bee.
"Wow..." Sam breathed. "This is...this is just..."
"I believe your expression speaks for you," Optimus said, amused. "I'm glad. We want you to be happy here, Sam."
That made a tinge of guilt worm up; he'd seen some of the quarters that the Autobots were using and for them to make something this lavish for him just didn't seem right.
"It's awesome," Sam said, honestly, but he couldn't help adding. "But you guys didn't have to do this. I could've stayed in the old ones for a while longer."
"You are the savior of both our species," Optimus said firmly and Sam winced. Yeah, sure, he was a savior, but he was really starting to think he'd ridden that meal wagon about as far as it could go. Maybe Optimus sensed that, or maybe he was just, you know, Optimus and he knew was Sam was thinking, because he added, "You will also be much safer here, particularly when you are at your most vulnerable. Even the craftiest Decepticon would have difficulty getting past the security measures we've implemented."
Okay, yeah, that actually made sense. Him safer actually meant less work for everyone and the niggling guilt subsided, shifting back into awe. "This is really cool."
"Could you please admire it silently? Your astonishment is very loud and distracting, human," Sharply, from beneath the loft stairs and that voice was firmly attached to one mech that Sam had no plans to add to his security roster.
"Sunsteaker?" Sam asked, dubiously, following the sound. Not that he doubted it was his voice, more like his own sanity because what the hell was he even doing here?
The answer that his eyes revealed was so far into the surreal that for a moment all Sam could do was stare blankly. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were both sitting there in their robot forms, Sideswipe flashing him a quick smile, and from the look of it they were painting the wall, the last unpainted spot in the place. Or at least Sideswipe was painting, plain eggshell white. Sunstreaker wasn't painting, exactly, or he was but with nothing so simple as house paint. He was creating...a mural? Of Sam and his parents, and Bumblebee in his human form as well as his Camaro form.
And it was good, amazingly good. As good as a photograph and it would be perfectly visible to anyone in the main room, positioned just perfectly in his new home.
"You're painting that?" Sam asked. Not that he really doubted it , since Sunstreaker was standing there with a brush, the thin handle looking almost ludicrous in his large hand. "That's amazing."
Sunstreaker barely glanced at him. "Your grasp of the obvious is, as always, impeccable. Yes, I am painting it. As I finished working on the shield array earlier in the week, Optimus decided to press my other talents into use."
He studied his work silently for a moment then leaned forward to dab at a minute area beneath Bumblebee's chin. Fiddling with the shadow, Sam realized. "I'm sure you'll adjust from the shock that species other than humans are capable of art with your usual aplomb."
"Actually, you being an artist makes a lot of sense," Sam admitted. Sunstreaker was obviously the Autobot version of Van Gogh. Good thing he didn't actually have ears…
"Human history would indicate that's true," Sideswipe grinned down at him. Even sitting down, they were both far above him. "Hello, Sam."
Sideswipe had a couple dabs of white paint marring his armor, his hands flecked with tiny white speckles. Sam couldn't help but notice that Sunstreaker still looked pristine.
The last bit of plain drywall disappeared under his brush and Sideswipe set it down on the paint tray with a sigh. He started to sling a friendly arm over his brother's shoulder and Sunstreaker hissed at him, and shoved him roughly away. "I'll thank you not to ruin my finish along with your own."
Sideswipe winked down at Sam and smiled wryly. "Sorry, sweetheart."
Yeah, that? Was almost as freaky as his sudden Optimus lust but Sunstreaker's deadly glare at his brother was comfortably familiar. Sideswipe gave his brother a charmingly innocent look that was ignored, his twin focusing again on his work, before giving Sam a little wink. "Why don't you go check out the upstairs? Paint should already be dry up there."
"Sure," Sam stuttered out, and he tore his gaze from that bit of weird to check out his new bedroom.
The walls were gleaming fresh, maybe dry but Sam didn't check, and there was no furniture other than the bed, swathed in protective plastic. He could already see that the room would be awesome. Skylights above the bed filled the room to the brim with natural light and Sam figured the night view would be brilliant, wondered absently what kind of glass those were made with that the Autobots had allowed skylights at all. Maybe the same stuff that made up their windshields?
Curiously made him tap lightly on one of the walls, noting the sturdy construction with some bemusement. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that they'd made him a bunker; it could be that there was a safe room, maybe even an escape tunnel. Nothing would surprise him at this point.
Behind one door was a very well-appointed bathroom, the shower large enough for two and he was not going to blush about that, he really wasn't. The last door had to be the closet and Sam had just opened the door, ready to peer inside when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him inside.
His startled shout was muffled by a mouth over his own, the slickness of a tongue already pressing between his parted lips and the hot, electric blue taste of the kiss made him relax. Bumblebee. Of course Bumblebee would think the irony of hiding in the closet for him was hilarious.
But laughing was just about the furthest thing from his mind and Sam moaned into the kiss as Bumblebee cupped his face with strong hands, stroked the line of his jaw with his thumbs as he held Sam still for deep, wet kisses.
Sam didn't even realize they were moving until the floor was hard under him, Bumblebee hard above him and he just caught a glimpse of pale green eyes, the sharp edge of a grin, before Bee was pushing his shirt up, sinking his teeth lightly into the smooth skin of Sam's chest.
"Gah!" Sam yelped, grabbing Bee's head with both hands. Blond hair tangled around his clenching fingers, spasming tight as Bee licked his already hard nipples. He arched up blindly, begging without words and oh, god, worlds of yes.
"Sam?" Optimus voice, echoing up the stairs. "Are you all right?"
"Better answer him," Bee whispered against his belly, his lips tugging busily at the soft hairs there, following their downward trail. "He might come check on you."
Oh, dear God in heaven, that was an entire universe of no. Sam opened his mouth, ready to yell down that he'd be right there and he would have if Bee hadn't chosen that moment to bite his cock through his jeans, the sharp burst of almost-pain withering his words down to a barely verbal yelp.
"Sam?"
Fuck, he sounded closer and Bee was mouthing him through his jeans, deftly tugging open his belt which meant he had about ten seconds before he had a wet, perfect mouth intent on sucking an orgasm out of him. Desperation broke through the lust freezing his vocal cords and Sam managed a weak, "Be right there!"
He might have added more, might've said he was just checking out a few things but his voice cut out with a strangled yelp as Bee laid the flat of his tongue against Sam's cock and licked his way up, swirling little licks against the head.
Frantically, Sam clamped a hand over his mouth, biting hard at his palm as Bee's mouth closed around him in slick, perfect suction and maybe he'd had a twinge for Optimus, his junkie receptors ready to suck energy from any slutty holo wandering around but Bumblebee was the straight deal, the real stuff injected straight through his cock and into his brain and Sam arched up helplessly, felt Bee's strong fingers, gentle at the base of his spine. Holding him up, holding him, and if Sam looked down he knew what he'd see. Sea-green eyes, watching him, glowing ever so faintly in the dimness. Pretty, hell, yes, pretty, and his.
I love you, Sam thought, helplessly, felt the brilliant flare of connection between them, felt the pure, sweet love reflected back through it, Bumblebee, always. Always.
Orgasm hit him like a physical blow and even his hand couldn't stifle his cry, almost a sob as Bumblebee gentled his touch, warm suction dwindling to the simple warmth of a mouth around him. Barely, through the fog of his trembling ecstasy he felt the faintest brush of something unpleasant, the featherlight brush of grief. By the time he recognized it and, then realized it wasn't his own, it was gone and Sam had barely managed to blink, much less question it, before Bee's mouth was on his own.
"Better get back downstairs before Optimus comes looking for you," Bee murmured into his mouth.
"Huh?" Sam managed. Okay, so his IQ took a dip after a good blowjob. It was a perfectly legitimate excuse for a five-minute bout of stupid. "Wait, no."
He was already reaching for Bumblebee with grabby, eager hands, only to reach right through him. Ew, okay, that was just a little creepy and now he was sweaty inside his clothes and sticky at the crotch and probably looked, and smelled, like someone who'd just gotten a hummer in an upstairs closet.
If it weren't for the fact he'd probably die or something without it, Bumblebee would so be sleeping on the couch tonight. Garage. What the hell ever, there were going to be words said the next time he saw a certain 'bot and not all of them were going to be yes and more this time.
To his credit, if Optimus had any idea what had been going on right over his head- and Sam was going to cling to the fantasy that he didn't for as long as he could- he didn't say a word. He looked up at Sam when he came downstairs with that same bland expression he'd worn earlier.
"I hope you're satisfied with the upstairs facilities," Optimus said, with perfect sincerity, his blue eyes innocent of any shimmer of humor.
"Yeah, they're great," Sam strangled out roughly, looking just about anywhere but at the leader of the Autobots who totally knew he'd been upstairs doing dirty, dirty things.
"If you'd like, you can use the rest of your work detail today to start moving your belongings." Optimus leaned against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest in a casually sexy way but Sam was more than a little relieved that it didn't stir anything inappropriate.
"Actually, I'd rather go back to the infirmary," Sam said, almost absently, "I can move on my own time." He was sure he could guilt Bee into helping him pack and maybe Mikaela wouldn't mind giving them a hand. Not that the soldier boys wouldn't be willing but Sam wasn't sure he wanted strangers poking through his stuff.
Optimus was silent and Sam realized belatedly that he might have hurt his feelings. He'd been offering Sam an opportunity to ditch his work release program for the day and Sam had brushed him off. Not exactly grateful there, was he.
"Very well," Optimus said, finally. "I'll return you now." He didn't sound upset, just sort of neutral and Sam winced.
"Sorry, it's just, I'm supposed to be working—"
"Sam, if half the mechs in the Autobot army had your work ethic, I would call it a miracle," Optimus said wryly. "While all of them demonstrate remarkable ability in battle, they become strangely reluctant when faced with more domestic activities."
"If you're going, would you two hurry up and do it," Sunstreaker snapped out waspishly, his brush flicking with impatient little strokes. "I happen to be trying to work."
"Of course, Sunstreaker," Optimus said immediately. "And I appreciate you putting your talents towards this project. Your work is exceptional, as always."
Silence. Sunstreaker didn't even glance their way and Optimus didn't wait for a response, only turned back towards the door. Sam followed, giving Sideswipe a little wave before jogging after Optimus and up the stairs.
"Not much for a thank you, is he," Sam muttered under his breath. Mostly.
Not enough to keep Optimus from hearing him and he resigned himself to the knowledge that at least three mechs had heard him getting busy today. It wasn't worth cost to his dignity to think about how many of the rest of them had gotten an audio sample on any other day.
"He has never expressed any form of gratitude to me, or to my knowledge, anyone," Optimus said calmly. He stopped next to his semi-form, leaning against the wheel well. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't express mine."
"I guess not," Sam mumbled. Optimus was looking at him almost curiously, probably wondering why Sam wasn't climbing inside, but Sam hesitated. Standing here at a rare moment when he could actually look Optimus in the eyes made him want to ask a question or two, and once he was inside the cab, surrounded in that awkward reverence, he wasn't sure he could do it. Get it over with, coward, he scolded himself. He was going back to the infirmary, and Ratchet, and if he was going to deal with more of that, he wanted to know at least a little of what the problem was. And, you know, maybe give himself a little time to let the smell of sex wear off. Ratchet probably didn't want a noseful of freshly-sexed up Sam hanging around.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Sam asked, hesitantly. It wasn't like he and Optimus were the kind of friends who had went out for a beer and bitch about their other halves and there was a disturbing image.
Optimus's response was immediate and certain. "You saved my life, Sam. There are very few questions I would consider too personal for you to ask."
Ouch.
"Okay." Took a deep breath, this was just epic levels of weird. "So what's going on with you and Ratchet?"
Long silence. Okay, then, maybe he'd found one of the too personal questions.
"He spoke of it to you?" Optimus asked, curiously. He didn't sound mad.
"He didn't really have to," Sam admitted. "He just—" Sam hesitated. He didn't know what they were fighting about, but damn it, Ratchet was in a bad way, didn't Optimus even see that? And personal issues aside, he was Ratchet's boss, didn't he need to know this stuff?
"It's just that Ratchet is way overworked, he's exhausted, and now you guys are fighting and Ironhide is yelling at him," Sam bit that off because dammit, he wasn't trying to tattle but Ratchet had seemed so…vulnerable. "He needs help and he needs some time off, and I don't understand why you don't do something about it."
"I have tried."
That caught Sam out, "You have?"
A sigh and Optimus ran a frustrated hand through his hair in a gesture that was almost disturbingly human. "Several times now. I have offered Ratchet assistants, which he has refused, I have begged, cajoled, and ordered him to get some rest, which he has ignored. I surreptitiously asked Ironhide to set up a combat training schedule with him that would at least get him to leave the infirmary that has had limited success. My only true accomplishment was insisting that he take you on for your work detail and that is simply because I took advantage of his concern for you."
"If you had to trick him into taking me on, then why did you pull me away today?"
Hesitation and for the first time Optimus looked away from Sam. "Ratchet can be, at times….abrasive," Optimus said delicately. "Much as I wanted to give him some much needed assistance, I also wanted to make sure he wasn't taking out his frustrations on you. You've suffered enough from our actions, Sam."
"I'm fine. Seriously. So, you've been trying to help him? And he's not cooperating is what you're saying."
"Worse," Optimus replied darkly, a flicker of inhuman light in his eyes. "He took on extra work when he volunteered his medical services to the humans. It was, and is, an excellent idea. You yourself took advantage of some of the benefits of our technology."
Sam rubbed his arm thoughtfully, "Yeah, a little bit."
"And we are happy to share it. We want to help your people, but Ratchet took on this extra responsibility at the expense of his own wellbeing."
"Well, crap," Sam mumbled. He wasn't sure what he'd been hoping to accomplish by talking to Optimus, but this wasn't it.
"Indeed," Optimus said, and now he sounded tired, slouching back against his own wheel. "I'm afraid I haven't helped him in either a personal or a professional capacity. I had hoped he would allow me to relieve some of the burden he carries. That plan was less successful than most."
"He said that he was having some personal issues," Sam ventured. He kind of hoped he wasn't betraying any confidence but it wasn't as if Ratchet had told him anything.
The smile that curved Optimus's mouth was anything but amused, "I believe the human vernacular would be that he dumped me."
"He broke up with you?" Sam said, disbelieving. What the hell? Then why was Ratchet so…so…
"Insofar as much as he could, considering our level of commitment," Optimus rubbed between his eyes wearily. It made him wonder just how well Optimus was dealing with this, he was the guy who'd gotten dumped, after all. If Ratchet was as torn up about it as he seemed to be, Optimus couldn't be doing all that great and here he was, carrying Sam around, going on with his duties. That little tingle of guilt Sam had felt earlier levered up a notch but, really, what else could Optimus do? Hang around and cry on someone's shoulder? Get drunk and pass out in the main courtyard? Being leader sounded like it sucked.
And yet Optimus only looked faintly tired as he said, gravely, "Sam, I would prefer that we keep this conversation between ourselves. For all that Ratchet has no issues discussing physical intimacy, when he comes to his emotional status, he does not like to be the subject of discussion."
"Gotcha. I won't say anything to him," Said agreed, a little too eagerly. There was no way in hell he wanted to chat with Ratchet about this.
"Thank you," Optimus smiled, okay, he was still pretty hot. What was Ratchet thinking? "And thank you for assisting him."
"I like Ratchet. He's my friend," Sam said, firmly. He meant it. From the sounds of it, Ratchet needed a good friend and if he was the only one Ratchet was willing to accept help from, then Sam would give it.
"And that is just what he needs. It’s getting Ratchet to accept what he needs that is the challenge."
"Well, I can tell you that he doesn't need Ironhide to be yelling at him," Sam muttered. He was still a little pissed about that.
"I have already spoken to Ironhide. He has agreed to leave Ratchet alone. On this subject, anyway," Optimus amended.
"What's up with you two, anyway? Ratchet seems like he's really upset by all of this, so why did he do it?"
Optimus made a noncommittal noise, like maybe Sam was getting to the edge of his willingness to talk about it. "It's not my place to say. Although all things considered, one would hope Ratchet is at least fond of me," he added, wryly.
"What about you? I mean--" Okay, this was getting to the edge of Sam's willingness to chat about it. It was also the middle of the day and they were standing outside in the sweltering heat. Maybe his reverence for Optimus's cab wasn't that sacred, he did have great air conditioning...
"Am I fond of him?" Optimus asked, a little dryly. "No. I can say decisively that I am not fond of Ratchet."
Ok, ouch. That was a little harsh.
But Optimus wasn't finished. "I love him and more than that, I adore him. If I thought he'd allow it, I'd raise him up to the level of my partner and let him enjoy the few benefits our kind still enjoy with that privilege. What is in my power to give him, I would, if he'd let me. He is the friend and the mate I have always and never known, and I would offer him my spark, my soul, if I thought he would accept it. Fond is far too pale a word for what I feel."
Damn. Hot and he had a way with words, didn't he. Seriously, what was Ratchet's deal?
"If he'd let you is the trouble there, isn't it," Sam asked, shrewdly.
"Ratchet rarely allows anyone to make a choice for him," Optimus moved to catch the door handle, opening the driver's side in a not very subtle hint for Sam to climb inside. Cool air washed over him pleasantly and Sam sighed happily, leaning back against the leather seat. Optimus shut the door before dissolving his holo and his next words came through the speaker, faintly tinny and thankfully a lot less sexy. "It's rarer still for him to change his mind when he's made a choice."
A choice like, say, dumping the mech who was professing his undying love. Kee-rist, and Sam had thought his life was a loaded clusterfuck.
"I'm sorry," Sam said with quiet sincerity, resting his hands lightly on the wheel.
"Your sympathies are appreciated but unnecessary," Optimus said, with his same calmness. Much calmer than Sam would be if Bumblebee handed him his walking papers. "He may yet change his mind. As I recently said to Ironhide, I have time. I can wait."
Wait and see if the mech he loved would agree to love him back. Forget fighting skills, Optimus obviously had deeper strengths than Sam could ever hope to have in anything, and now they were driving back for another round of awkward mincing around only this time, Sam knew what it was about.
Okay, then, he'd deal with this and he'd help Ratchet out any way that he could. Optimus might think that they owed Sam for life saving and all that, but what Optimus couldn't seem to get was that Sam owed them, so much, because without them he'd wouldn't have Decepticons trying to kill him, true, but he also wouldn't have Bumblebee, he wouldn't have his cool new place, his friends here, he wouldn't have any of this.
Helping out Ratchet? Yeah, he could do that. Forget owing anybody anything, forget that savior crap. Sam was calling them even.
-finis-
Author: Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Bumblebee, Ratchet/Optimus
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Lies of Omission
The Theory of Existence
Beyond My Brave Facade
Parental Interaction In The Third Degree
Field Trips Into the Hypothetical
Arrested Developments of the Heart
Necessary Repairs
4x4
Prime and Punishment
Gravitational Drift
My Mechanical Romance
Eternal Sunshine of a Sparkless Mind
To Serve and Protect
Synonymous to an Intermission
Idioms for Idiots, In Any Language
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
~~*~~
It never rains but it pours was the saying. Sam wasn't sure how that applied when you were in the desert and it didn't much rain, but he still felt worked pretty well. After Ironhide's little spectacular, Sam had taken the time to get the 'bot side of the infirmary into order while Ratchet sat just a little longer, silent but for the hum of his systems. Finally, he moved and Sam had watched apprehensively while Ratchet reached for another of the fuel capacitors. This time he was careful, and the soft hiss of soldering added a little rhythm to their near silence.
If Ratchet just wanted to hang out without talking, Sam could do that.
Only, the universe didn't seem to agree. The door swung open smoothly on its hinges and Sam's heart sank a little when he saw Optimus stride in, ducking his head a little under the door frame. Another 'bot that Sam didn’t recognize was right behind him, barely half Optimus's height, his armor a deep metallic blue.
Optimus crouched low in front of Sam, bracing one hand against the floor. "Good afternoon, Sam," Optimus said, his smile considerably warmer than the last time they'd spoken. It didn't seem like Optimus was one to hold a grudge. "Ratchet tells me that you've been very diligent in your work detail."
"Yeah, Ratchet's been keeping me busy." But he didn't miss the way Optimus's optics flickered towards Ratchet or the way Ratchet didn't turn around.
"Jolt," Ratchet said brusquely. "I don't have you scheduled until later today."
The other 'bot shifted uncomfortably, his feet scraping the floor softly. "Yeah, uh, I know. But, Ratchet, it itches!" he whined, "You don't have energy whips, you don't know what it's like to have the calibration off and I've been waiting—"
"Sam," Optimus interrupted smoothly. "I don't believe you've met Jolt yet."
"Yes, yes," Jolt gave him a dismissive glance. "But Ratchet—"
"Ratchet is going to put off your repairs indefinitely if you don't show the proper respect to the young man who destroyed Megatron and saved the life of our Prime in the process," Ratchet said sharply, finally turning around to glare at the smaller 'bot.
Immediately, Jolt flung himself at Sam's feet and the sight of a fifteen foot mech genuflecting in front of him was surreal, to say the least. He stared, bemused, as Jolt slapped his hands on the floor, bowing and simpering.
"Thank you!" Jolt simpered, "Thank you, little human! Thank you for all you have done!" He knelt back up with a scowl. "Good enough? Will you fix me now?"
"Jolt," Optimus began, a note of warning in his voice.
Jolt heaved a very familiar sounding put-upon sigh, "Hey, kid, nice to meet you. Bumblebee has mentioned you, oh, a few thousand times. You sound okay, for a human who managed to kill Megatron. Now would you please tell our glorious medic that we have been suitably introduced?"
"Uh, sure. Nice to meet you, too," Sam said dubiously. He supposed Jolt couldn't be too bad, if Bumblebee spoke to him on a regular basis.
"You're still early," Ratchet pointed out.
"Yeah, but Optimus said that he was stealing the kid here for a while and suggested I, ah, impose upon you to fix me while he's gone. Something about humans having a weak stomach?" Jolt raised what passed for his eyebrows and Sam felt warmth flood his cheeks. Lovely, every Autobot knew that he'd yakked his breakfast up after watching Ratchet fixing Bumblebee. Nothing like a little fresh humiliation to add to the day.
Ratchet's fingers moved nimbly, there was a sizzle and the smell of hot solder filled the air. "If it were you on the table, Sam would probably be delighted to hand me the scalpel," Ratchet finally replied. "Let me finish this and I'll check you over."
"You're stealing me?" Sam asked Optimus, even as Jolt grinned smugly and boosted himself up to sit on one of the exam tables. He seemed like he was young, younger even than Bumblebee and the way he sat, swinging his legs impatiently, made Sam think of a little kid.
"For a brief moment, yes. I'll return him to you shortly, Ratchet," Optimus said, to Ratchet's back since the medic was focusing on the fuel capacitor in front of him and pointedly didn't turn around again.
"That's fine," Ratchet replied, soundly oddly...subdued? Yeah, this was some serious awkward here. Just as Sam was turning towards the door, Jolt caught his eye, bright blue optics meeting his. From his expression, Jolt wasn't much more comfortable and his optics flickered in what Sam knew was a very expansive eye roll.
"Hurry up, Ratchet, this itches like hell," Jolt whined, but he gave Sam a little wink. What...oh, now he understood. Jolt was here acting like a buffer between these two, which meant he wasn't the only one who had a chain of gossip circling the city. For pity's sake, first Ironhide and now this guy, Sam thought with savage impatience.
"Sam," Optimus called, drawing his attention. He tilted his head towards the door in a silent little 'come hither, little human'.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Sam said absently, giving Ratchet a quick glance. The medic hadn't looked up from his work yet and Sam kept an eye on him until the door swung shut, stepping out into the heat as Optimus transformed. His driver's side door swung open invitingly and Sam climbed up with only a few misgivings. He hadn't ridden much with any Autobot except Bumblebee and Sideswipe. Riding in Optimus felt…weird. He might be shaped like a semi-truck but it sure felt a lot more like sitting in a limo or a church on wheels. Something sacred like that.
Add in that there was no radio, none of the loud rock that Bumblebee loved, and the interior was oppressively silent, nothing but the quiet hum of a well-maintained Autobot engine.
"So where are we off to?" Sam asked, partly to fill the silence but with some real curiosity. He was getting pulled off work detail for this, after all.
Either Autobots weren't much at surprises or Optimus didn't like to stand on ceremony because he answered promptly. "To your new quarters. I thought you might like to see them."
"Seriously?" Sam grinned. He'd nearly forgotten that he was supposed to get new quarters, that his current little room was only temporary.
"Oh, yes," Optimus's voice through his speakers was amused. "I hope you don't mind, but they are still in the officer's section of the Autobot sector."
"Why would I mind?" Sam shrugged. "I'm assuming that Bumblebee will be staying with me, so yeah, it makes sense for us be there."
Like he and Bumblebee had a choice in the matter right now. It didn't really bother him; if he had had a choice, it would have been the same one so there was no point in moaning about the unfairness of the universe. It was probably better to stay in the Autobot sector anyway, come to think of it. If he had any problems with his receptors, what exactly was a human medic going to do for him, plug him into a wall outlet?
There was a hiss of brakes as Optimus rolled to a stop and Sam peered out the window with interest at the building they stopped next to. Still low to the ground, the outer walls made up of whitewashed concrete blocks…huh. Hopping out of Optimus didn't improve the view and the only real difference between this building and his last quarters is instead of an old warehouse, this place looked like a shiny, new warehouse. Concrete in the place of corrugated steel, well, at least it would be nice and cool inside.
"What do you think?" Optimus, from behind him.
Sam forced a bright smile and turned back towards him. "It's—" Great froze on his tongue because it wasn't a truck talking to him or even an enormous talking robot. Instead, it was a dark-haired man wearing tight jeans and a black t-shirt, blue-eyed and tall, and holy crap this was Optimus's holo? Not that he'd seen it before but he supposed it made some sort of bizarre sense that Optimus would be smokin' hot. He was their leader, right, it was only appropriate that his smile would make Sam feel a little weak in the knees, that his hair was long and a little tousled in the hot, desert wind, and…geez, Ratchet had said Optimus was hot but this—
Optimus gave him a wry smile and Sam swallowed, hard. Okay, maybe it wasn't just Bumblebee. Obviously, he was just gay for Autobots.
"I'm afraid the aesthetic appeal of the outer walls is lacking but it's much better on the inside. I promise," Optimus said apologetically and that deep voice coming from that body...Sam tore his eyes away and told his receptors to knock it the fuck off, Optimus was not one of the options on the menu, thanks.
"It's fine," Sam said, clearing his voice as it came out in a little squeak. "Let's check out the inside, though."
There was a human size door on one wall not far from them and Sam decided that walking behind Optimus wasn't exactly going to be calming, so he went for it, opening the heavy steel door and peering inside. To his surprise, the front hallway consisted of stairs, leading downward. Interesting. He followed them curiously, already having proved time and again that he was the Alice to the Autobot white rabbit, only this was the first time he'd had to actually go down a rabbit hole.
Another door at the base of the stairs and Optimus caught his arm before he could try the handle.
"You have to have security clearance to get inside," Optimus said and Sam forcibly pushed away a shiver at that deep voice so near his ear, the heat of a body close to his own. Jesus, maybe he needed a recharge more than he'd thought.
Every single thought of embarrassment and recharge frittered out of his brain when Optimus took his hand, twining their fingers together. "Here," he said and Sam was just about to mindlessly nod, leaning towards him, when Optimus pressed his thumb into a small square by the door. "It's coded to your living DNA. Bumblebee is also coded into it through his personal signature and you can add others later, as you like."
The heavy door swung open and Sam staggered inside, the rush of cool air against his face slapping sanity back into him. Oh, dear god, he'd actually been thinking about jumping Optimus in a freaking stairwell like some kind of freakish Energizer bunny of fucking. With dread thick in his throat, Sam glanced back at Optimus but he was appropriately bland, either oblivious to Sam's...issue or at least pretending to be.
All right, then, add that to his list of most horrifyingly embarrassing things ever. Still, he latched onto Optimus's possible obliviousness gratefully, turning back to look at his new quarters, and lust promptly dropped away as he gaped, all his earlier disappointment swept away.
It was huge, the small building on the outside was set deep into the ground, the ceilings high with gorgeous skylights built in, sending sunlight streaming down into the large main room. Along one side he could see stairs leading up to a loft, the corner of a bed just visible and the downstairs was completely open, a well-stocked kitchen on one side and the other a large living room, filled with comfy-looking chairs and a sofa and the entertainment center…man, that so was not Sony. To see an obviously alien-crafted television and speakers connected to an xbox was surreal but still way-cool.
Sam turned in a circle, trying to take it all in. He could see evidence of Bumblebee's touches, a Trekkie poster here, one for a favorite band there, and the far wall opened into a garage, the cement floors leading on an incline up to a large, automatic door. So that Bumblebee could come inside in both his forms, Sam realized, and the room wasn't big enough for Optimus to walk around inside but there was enough room for Bee.
"Wow..." Sam breathed. "This is...this is just..."
"I believe your expression speaks for you," Optimus said, amused. "I'm glad. We want you to be happy here, Sam."
That made a tinge of guilt worm up; he'd seen some of the quarters that the Autobots were using and for them to make something this lavish for him just didn't seem right.
"It's awesome," Sam said, honestly, but he couldn't help adding. "But you guys didn't have to do this. I could've stayed in the old ones for a while longer."
"You are the savior of both our species," Optimus said firmly and Sam winced. Yeah, sure, he was a savior, but he was really starting to think he'd ridden that meal wagon about as far as it could go. Maybe Optimus sensed that, or maybe he was just, you know, Optimus and he knew was Sam was thinking, because he added, "You will also be much safer here, particularly when you are at your most vulnerable. Even the craftiest Decepticon would have difficulty getting past the security measures we've implemented."
Okay, yeah, that actually made sense. Him safer actually meant less work for everyone and the niggling guilt subsided, shifting back into awe. "This is really cool."
"Could you please admire it silently? Your astonishment is very loud and distracting, human," Sharply, from beneath the loft stairs and that voice was firmly attached to one mech that Sam had no plans to add to his security roster.
"Sunsteaker?" Sam asked, dubiously, following the sound. Not that he doubted it was his voice, more like his own sanity because what the hell was he even doing here?
The answer that his eyes revealed was so far into the surreal that for a moment all Sam could do was stare blankly. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were both sitting there in their robot forms, Sideswipe flashing him a quick smile, and from the look of it they were painting the wall, the last unpainted spot in the place. Or at least Sideswipe was painting, plain eggshell white. Sunstreaker wasn't painting, exactly, or he was but with nothing so simple as house paint. He was creating...a mural? Of Sam and his parents, and Bumblebee in his human form as well as his Camaro form.
And it was good, amazingly good. As good as a photograph and it would be perfectly visible to anyone in the main room, positioned just perfectly in his new home.
"You're painting that?" Sam asked. Not that he really doubted it , since Sunstreaker was standing there with a brush, the thin handle looking almost ludicrous in his large hand. "That's amazing."
Sunstreaker barely glanced at him. "Your grasp of the obvious is, as always, impeccable. Yes, I am painting it. As I finished working on the shield array earlier in the week, Optimus decided to press my other talents into use."
He studied his work silently for a moment then leaned forward to dab at a minute area beneath Bumblebee's chin. Fiddling with the shadow, Sam realized. "I'm sure you'll adjust from the shock that species other than humans are capable of art with your usual aplomb."
"Actually, you being an artist makes a lot of sense," Sam admitted. Sunstreaker was obviously the Autobot version of Van Gogh. Good thing he didn't actually have ears…
"Human history would indicate that's true," Sideswipe grinned down at him. Even sitting down, they were both far above him. "Hello, Sam."
Sideswipe had a couple dabs of white paint marring his armor, his hands flecked with tiny white speckles. Sam couldn't help but notice that Sunstreaker still looked pristine.
The last bit of plain drywall disappeared under his brush and Sideswipe set it down on the paint tray with a sigh. He started to sling a friendly arm over his brother's shoulder and Sunstreaker hissed at him, and shoved him roughly away. "I'll thank you not to ruin my finish along with your own."
Sideswipe winked down at Sam and smiled wryly. "Sorry, sweetheart."
Yeah, that? Was almost as freaky as his sudden Optimus lust but Sunstreaker's deadly glare at his brother was comfortably familiar. Sideswipe gave his brother a charmingly innocent look that was ignored, his twin focusing again on his work, before giving Sam a little wink. "Why don't you go check out the upstairs? Paint should already be dry up there."
"Sure," Sam stuttered out, and he tore his gaze from that bit of weird to check out his new bedroom.
The walls were gleaming fresh, maybe dry but Sam didn't check, and there was no furniture other than the bed, swathed in protective plastic. He could already see that the room would be awesome. Skylights above the bed filled the room to the brim with natural light and Sam figured the night view would be brilliant, wondered absently what kind of glass those were made with that the Autobots had allowed skylights at all. Maybe the same stuff that made up their windshields?
Curiously made him tap lightly on one of the walls, noting the sturdy construction with some bemusement. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that they'd made him a bunker; it could be that there was a safe room, maybe even an escape tunnel. Nothing would surprise him at this point.
Behind one door was a very well-appointed bathroom, the shower large enough for two and he was not going to blush about that, he really wasn't. The last door had to be the closet and Sam had just opened the door, ready to peer inside when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him inside.
His startled shout was muffled by a mouth over his own, the slickness of a tongue already pressing between his parted lips and the hot, electric blue taste of the kiss made him relax. Bumblebee. Of course Bumblebee would think the irony of hiding in the closet for him was hilarious.
But laughing was just about the furthest thing from his mind and Sam moaned into the kiss as Bumblebee cupped his face with strong hands, stroked the line of his jaw with his thumbs as he held Sam still for deep, wet kisses.
Sam didn't even realize they were moving until the floor was hard under him, Bumblebee hard above him and he just caught a glimpse of pale green eyes, the sharp edge of a grin, before Bee was pushing his shirt up, sinking his teeth lightly into the smooth skin of Sam's chest.
"Gah!" Sam yelped, grabbing Bee's head with both hands. Blond hair tangled around his clenching fingers, spasming tight as Bee licked his already hard nipples. He arched up blindly, begging without words and oh, god, worlds of yes.
"Sam?" Optimus voice, echoing up the stairs. "Are you all right?"
"Better answer him," Bee whispered against his belly, his lips tugging busily at the soft hairs there, following their downward trail. "He might come check on you."
Oh, dear God in heaven, that was an entire universe of no. Sam opened his mouth, ready to yell down that he'd be right there and he would have if Bee hadn't chosen that moment to bite his cock through his jeans, the sharp burst of almost-pain withering his words down to a barely verbal yelp.
"Sam?"
Fuck, he sounded closer and Bee was mouthing him through his jeans, deftly tugging open his belt which meant he had about ten seconds before he had a wet, perfect mouth intent on sucking an orgasm out of him. Desperation broke through the lust freezing his vocal cords and Sam managed a weak, "Be right there!"
He might have added more, might've said he was just checking out a few things but his voice cut out with a strangled yelp as Bee laid the flat of his tongue against Sam's cock and licked his way up, swirling little licks against the head.
Frantically, Sam clamped a hand over his mouth, biting hard at his palm as Bee's mouth closed around him in slick, perfect suction and maybe he'd had a twinge for Optimus, his junkie receptors ready to suck energy from any slutty holo wandering around but Bumblebee was the straight deal, the real stuff injected straight through his cock and into his brain and Sam arched up helplessly, felt Bee's strong fingers, gentle at the base of his spine. Holding him up, holding him, and if Sam looked down he knew what he'd see. Sea-green eyes, watching him, glowing ever so faintly in the dimness. Pretty, hell, yes, pretty, and his.
I love you, Sam thought, helplessly, felt the brilliant flare of connection between them, felt the pure, sweet love reflected back through it, Bumblebee, always. Always.
Orgasm hit him like a physical blow and even his hand couldn't stifle his cry, almost a sob as Bumblebee gentled his touch, warm suction dwindling to the simple warmth of a mouth around him. Barely, through the fog of his trembling ecstasy he felt the faintest brush of something unpleasant, the featherlight brush of grief. By the time he recognized it and, then realized it wasn't his own, it was gone and Sam had barely managed to blink, much less question it, before Bee's mouth was on his own.
"Better get back downstairs before Optimus comes looking for you," Bee murmured into his mouth.
"Huh?" Sam managed. Okay, so his IQ took a dip after a good blowjob. It was a perfectly legitimate excuse for a five-minute bout of stupid. "Wait, no."
He was already reaching for Bumblebee with grabby, eager hands, only to reach right through him. Ew, okay, that was just a little creepy and now he was sweaty inside his clothes and sticky at the crotch and probably looked, and smelled, like someone who'd just gotten a hummer in an upstairs closet.
If it weren't for the fact he'd probably die or something without it, Bumblebee would so be sleeping on the couch tonight. Garage. What the hell ever, there were going to be words said the next time he saw a certain 'bot and not all of them were going to be yes and more this time.
To his credit, if Optimus had any idea what had been going on right over his head- and Sam was going to cling to the fantasy that he didn't for as long as he could- he didn't say a word. He looked up at Sam when he came downstairs with that same bland expression he'd worn earlier.
"I hope you're satisfied with the upstairs facilities," Optimus said, with perfect sincerity, his blue eyes innocent of any shimmer of humor.
"Yeah, they're great," Sam strangled out roughly, looking just about anywhere but at the leader of the Autobots who totally knew he'd been upstairs doing dirty, dirty things.
"If you'd like, you can use the rest of your work detail today to start moving your belongings." Optimus leaned against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest in a casually sexy way but Sam was more than a little relieved that it didn't stir anything inappropriate.
"Actually, I'd rather go back to the infirmary," Sam said, almost absently, "I can move on my own time." He was sure he could guilt Bee into helping him pack and maybe Mikaela wouldn't mind giving them a hand. Not that the soldier boys wouldn't be willing but Sam wasn't sure he wanted strangers poking through his stuff.
Optimus was silent and Sam realized belatedly that he might have hurt his feelings. He'd been offering Sam an opportunity to ditch his work release program for the day and Sam had brushed him off. Not exactly grateful there, was he.
"Very well," Optimus said, finally. "I'll return you now." He didn't sound upset, just sort of neutral and Sam winced.
"Sorry, it's just, I'm supposed to be working—"
"Sam, if half the mechs in the Autobot army had your work ethic, I would call it a miracle," Optimus said wryly. "While all of them demonstrate remarkable ability in battle, they become strangely reluctant when faced with more domestic activities."
"If you're going, would you two hurry up and do it," Sunstreaker snapped out waspishly, his brush flicking with impatient little strokes. "I happen to be trying to work."
"Of course, Sunstreaker," Optimus said immediately. "And I appreciate you putting your talents towards this project. Your work is exceptional, as always."
Silence. Sunstreaker didn't even glance their way and Optimus didn't wait for a response, only turned back towards the door. Sam followed, giving Sideswipe a little wave before jogging after Optimus and up the stairs.
"Not much for a thank you, is he," Sam muttered under his breath. Mostly.
Not enough to keep Optimus from hearing him and he resigned himself to the knowledge that at least three mechs had heard him getting busy today. It wasn't worth cost to his dignity to think about how many of the rest of them had gotten an audio sample on any other day.
"He has never expressed any form of gratitude to me, or to my knowledge, anyone," Optimus said calmly. He stopped next to his semi-form, leaning against the wheel well. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't express mine."
"I guess not," Sam mumbled. Optimus was looking at him almost curiously, probably wondering why Sam wasn't climbing inside, but Sam hesitated. Standing here at a rare moment when he could actually look Optimus in the eyes made him want to ask a question or two, and once he was inside the cab, surrounded in that awkward reverence, he wasn't sure he could do it. Get it over with, coward, he scolded himself. He was going back to the infirmary, and Ratchet, and if he was going to deal with more of that, he wanted to know at least a little of what the problem was. And, you know, maybe give himself a little time to let the smell of sex wear off. Ratchet probably didn't want a noseful of freshly-sexed up Sam hanging around.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Sam asked, hesitantly. It wasn't like he and Optimus were the kind of friends who had went out for a beer and bitch about their other halves and there was a disturbing image.
Optimus's response was immediate and certain. "You saved my life, Sam. There are very few questions I would consider too personal for you to ask."
Ouch.
"Okay." Took a deep breath, this was just epic levels of weird. "So what's going on with you and Ratchet?"
Long silence. Okay, then, maybe he'd found one of the too personal questions.
"He spoke of it to you?" Optimus asked, curiously. He didn't sound mad.
"He didn't really have to," Sam admitted. "He just—" Sam hesitated. He didn't know what they were fighting about, but damn it, Ratchet was in a bad way, didn't Optimus even see that? And personal issues aside, he was Ratchet's boss, didn't he need to know this stuff?
"It's just that Ratchet is way overworked, he's exhausted, and now you guys are fighting and Ironhide is yelling at him," Sam bit that off because dammit, he wasn't trying to tattle but Ratchet had seemed so…vulnerable. "He needs help and he needs some time off, and I don't understand why you don't do something about it."
"I have tried."
That caught Sam out, "You have?"
A sigh and Optimus ran a frustrated hand through his hair in a gesture that was almost disturbingly human. "Several times now. I have offered Ratchet assistants, which he has refused, I have begged, cajoled, and ordered him to get some rest, which he has ignored. I surreptitiously asked Ironhide to set up a combat training schedule with him that would at least get him to leave the infirmary that has had limited success. My only true accomplishment was insisting that he take you on for your work detail and that is simply because I took advantage of his concern for you."
"If you had to trick him into taking me on, then why did you pull me away today?"
Hesitation and for the first time Optimus looked away from Sam. "Ratchet can be, at times….abrasive," Optimus said delicately. "Much as I wanted to give him some much needed assistance, I also wanted to make sure he wasn't taking out his frustrations on you. You've suffered enough from our actions, Sam."
"I'm fine. Seriously. So, you've been trying to help him? And he's not cooperating is what you're saying."
"Worse," Optimus replied darkly, a flicker of inhuman light in his eyes. "He took on extra work when he volunteered his medical services to the humans. It was, and is, an excellent idea. You yourself took advantage of some of the benefits of our technology."
Sam rubbed his arm thoughtfully, "Yeah, a little bit."
"And we are happy to share it. We want to help your people, but Ratchet took on this extra responsibility at the expense of his own wellbeing."
"Well, crap," Sam mumbled. He wasn't sure what he'd been hoping to accomplish by talking to Optimus, but this wasn't it.
"Indeed," Optimus said, and now he sounded tired, slouching back against his own wheel. "I'm afraid I haven't helped him in either a personal or a professional capacity. I had hoped he would allow me to relieve some of the burden he carries. That plan was less successful than most."
"He said that he was having some personal issues," Sam ventured. He kind of hoped he wasn't betraying any confidence but it wasn't as if Ratchet had told him anything.
The smile that curved Optimus's mouth was anything but amused, "I believe the human vernacular would be that he dumped me."
"He broke up with you?" Sam said, disbelieving. What the hell? Then why was Ratchet so…so…
"Insofar as much as he could, considering our level of commitment," Optimus rubbed between his eyes wearily. It made him wonder just how well Optimus was dealing with this, he was the guy who'd gotten dumped, after all. If Ratchet was as torn up about it as he seemed to be, Optimus couldn't be doing all that great and here he was, carrying Sam around, going on with his duties. That little tingle of guilt Sam had felt earlier levered up a notch but, really, what else could Optimus do? Hang around and cry on someone's shoulder? Get drunk and pass out in the main courtyard? Being leader sounded like it sucked.
And yet Optimus only looked faintly tired as he said, gravely, "Sam, I would prefer that we keep this conversation between ourselves. For all that Ratchet has no issues discussing physical intimacy, when he comes to his emotional status, he does not like to be the subject of discussion."
"Gotcha. I won't say anything to him," Said agreed, a little too eagerly. There was no way in hell he wanted to chat with Ratchet about this.
"Thank you," Optimus smiled, okay, he was still pretty hot. What was Ratchet thinking? "And thank you for assisting him."
"I like Ratchet. He's my friend," Sam said, firmly. He meant it. From the sounds of it, Ratchet needed a good friend and if he was the only one Ratchet was willing to accept help from, then Sam would give it.
"And that is just what he needs. It’s getting Ratchet to accept what he needs that is the challenge."
"Well, I can tell you that he doesn't need Ironhide to be yelling at him," Sam muttered. He was still a little pissed about that.
"I have already spoken to Ironhide. He has agreed to leave Ratchet alone. On this subject, anyway," Optimus amended.
"What's up with you two, anyway? Ratchet seems like he's really upset by all of this, so why did he do it?"
Optimus made a noncommittal noise, like maybe Sam was getting to the edge of his willingness to talk about it. "It's not my place to say. Although all things considered, one would hope Ratchet is at least fond of me," he added, wryly.
"What about you? I mean--" Okay, this was getting to the edge of Sam's willingness to chat about it. It was also the middle of the day and they were standing outside in the sweltering heat. Maybe his reverence for Optimus's cab wasn't that sacred, he did have great air conditioning...
"Am I fond of him?" Optimus asked, a little dryly. "No. I can say decisively that I am not fond of Ratchet."
Ok, ouch. That was a little harsh.
But Optimus wasn't finished. "I love him and more than that, I adore him. If I thought he'd allow it, I'd raise him up to the level of my partner and let him enjoy the few benefits our kind still enjoy with that privilege. What is in my power to give him, I would, if he'd let me. He is the friend and the mate I have always and never known, and I would offer him my spark, my soul, if I thought he would accept it. Fond is far too pale a word for what I feel."
Damn. Hot and he had a way with words, didn't he. Seriously, what was Ratchet's deal?
"If he'd let you is the trouble there, isn't it," Sam asked, shrewdly.
"Ratchet rarely allows anyone to make a choice for him," Optimus moved to catch the door handle, opening the driver's side in a not very subtle hint for Sam to climb inside. Cool air washed over him pleasantly and Sam sighed happily, leaning back against the leather seat. Optimus shut the door before dissolving his holo and his next words came through the speaker, faintly tinny and thankfully a lot less sexy. "It's rarer still for him to change his mind when he's made a choice."
A choice like, say, dumping the mech who was professing his undying love. Kee-rist, and Sam had thought his life was a loaded clusterfuck.
"I'm sorry," Sam said with quiet sincerity, resting his hands lightly on the wheel.
"Your sympathies are appreciated but unnecessary," Optimus said, with his same calmness. Much calmer than Sam would be if Bumblebee handed him his walking papers. "He may yet change his mind. As I recently said to Ironhide, I have time. I can wait."
Wait and see if the mech he loved would agree to love him back. Forget fighting skills, Optimus obviously had deeper strengths than Sam could ever hope to have in anything, and now they were driving back for another round of awkward mincing around only this time, Sam knew what it was about.
Okay, then, he'd deal with this and he'd help Ratchet out any way that he could. Optimus might think that they owed Sam for life saving and all that, but what Optimus couldn't seem to get was that Sam owed them, so much, because without them he'd wouldn't have Decepticons trying to kill him, true, but he also wouldn't have Bumblebee, he wouldn't have his cool new place, his friends here, he wouldn't have any of this.
Helping out Ratchet? Yeah, he could do that. Forget owing anybody anything, forget that savior crap. Sam was calling them even.
-finis-