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keelywolfeInterlude #6
Ironhide; Restless
Interlude #1: Twins; Creation Myth
Interlude #2: Ratchet; Internal Whispers
Interlude #3: Bumblebee; Human Protocols
Interlude #4: Prowl; Safekeeping
Interlude #5 Sam; Dreamscape
Notes: Probably my last Interlude before we go back to the actual storyline, but hey, it was fun and this one actually hints towards the plot of the next chapter. ^_^
~~*~~
Technically, Ironhide was off-duty. Had been for hours. He'd passed off Sunstreaker onto Prime without a hitch, not that he had too much trouble with the kid. Yeah, sure, he was crazy as a tin bone collector, but frankly, Ironhide had known worse. Probably was worse, from time to time.
But yeah, off-duty, except his processors never could relax enough for him to recharge unless he did a quick recon of an area. Call it habit, a fixation, call it fucking OCD, didn't matter, only he'd just as soon not waste time trying to coax himself into recharge when he could alleviate the problem with a quick patrol of the city. Wasn't like it would take long.
Some of the younger 'bots viewed their new home dismally, he knew, not that any of them dared express that opinion to him, since past experience had taught them that Ironhide would just tell 'em exactly how far they should cram it up their tailpipes. At least they had their ramshackle little base; he'd lived in far far worse, and just what were the whiny little princesses expecting, red carpets and shining thrones? Cybertron had been the result of millions of years of creation and work, they weren't about to recreate that in a few months with steel beams and aluminum siding on some backwater little planet that hadn't even managed to make housing for all the native humans yet.
Anyone he heard bitching about accommodations got a boot up their backsides and an extra work shift. Ironhide was always happy to give a 'bot something real to whine about.
The streets were fairly quiet, most of the Autobots followed the human time schedules and recharged at night. Ironhide cruised silently through the stillness. He didn't bother venturing into the human side. Not that he disliked the humans, just that their quarters were far enough away not to be in his mental perimeter. Their own personal humans on the other hand, even Lennox who kept his quarters close to the Autobot sector, were well within his parameters and he charted a course to take him past each one, his sensor pulse inspecting each one.
Sam's quarters were too reinforced for him to get any readings but it didn't take any kind of perverse telepath to know what those two were doing, medical orders be damned. Ironhide had gotten an audial full of them plenty of times before medical interfacing had become a necessity.
He drove on, past the rickety quarters that belonged to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker...both were inside, according to his scanners. Not that they'd had much occasion to be separated. Trust Optimus to actually let the twins work together when they were supposed to be on separate duty.
Prime was too damned soft sometimes.
Ironhide slowed briefly, checking his scans with a wince before speeding away. Their quarters were practically bathed in hot scent of ionized plasma, the sign of a well-abused holoform. Didn't take three guesses to figure out what they were doing either.
The little human Mikaela's quarters were further down the road and with a growing sense of expectant horror, Ironhide let his olfactory sensors scan the area, keeping his distance this time. He still reeled with the flood of sensual data over his transduction sensors. By sweet bareheaded Primus, was there anyone on this base who wasn't three cycles to or from an overload? It was kinda surprising that they all weren't wading knee deep in organic fluids and lubricants by now.
To hell with this, patrol was supposed to be helping him relax his processors so that he could recharge, not overstimulate them. He was too damned old to be tooling around with his circuits overheated.
He transformed, hoping that the walk back to his quarters would let him get a little fresh air in his vents. Taller standing, he noticed that the lights in the Infirmary were still blazing and Ironhide frowned, weighing possibilities. He'd grudgingly promised Optimus to let Ratchet alone about their personal issues...for now.
But he and Ratchet had been friends for a long, long time, and the weight of their disagreement was heavy in his processors. Not that he regretted telling Ratchet what he'd damn well needed to hear, but...eh, it was Ratchet. Asking him to not be stubborn was like asking the laws of gravity if they wouldn't mind taking a day off, would ya please. Besides, Ratchet usually had a stash of high-grade energon hidden away and Ironhide was of a mind to beg for a drink, anything to get his processors off the nightly porn rendition that his allies were engaging in.
At best, he and Ratchet could have a little chat and at worst, he'd get a wrench lodged up his tailpipe.
Eh, he'd had worse.
Decision made, Ironhide went to the infirmary. Maybe he could persuade the old rustbucket into taking a break, at least, get some of that high-grade and relax for a change. It could happen.
Ironhide already had a hand on the door handle when a thin, high wail came from inside, and he halted abruptly, straining his audio sensors.
No. It couldn't be.
It could. Oh, jumping one-legged Primus, he had to see this.
In perfect silence, Ironhide pushed open the door just enough to peer inside, scanning with his optics until he caught sight of the writhing pile of metal in the corner. Ratchet's paint was brilliant gloss under the high intensity infirmary lights but the contrast of Optimus against him clashed horribly, blue and red against neon green and Ironhide cycled his optics, narrowing them.
Half the infirmary and several medical berths were between them but for all that, it was still one hell of a view, the two of them on the floor and Ratchet in Optimus's lap, his head tipped back and mouth open. Whatever the hell they were doing, it wasn't a normal pleasurable interface. Ironhide enhanced his vision, trying, and failing, to get a decent view. Figured. It was always the old ones who got kinky and Ironhide would bet a dozen cubes of pure energon that Ratchet had a brutally creative imagination.
Optimus gasped, arching up with a squeal of scraping metal, then moaned at an impressively high pitch and the sudden wash of overload pheromones over Ironhide was enough to make him scuttle backwards, letting the door swing shut as he shuddered, his own circuits whining into redline heat.
Well, fuck. Or rather, no fucking, not for him. Didn't look like recharge was going on his schedule anytime soon, either.
Grumpily, he stomped away, uncaring if the heavy tread woke half the city. Seemed like they were all awake anyway, Primus damned sex fiends.
Soft steps came from behind him and Ironhide stiffened, swinging towards the footsteps. The human thought he was being quiet.
"'Hide? What are you doing still up?" A familiar voice spoke up, just as Ironhide's sensors confirmed identity.
Lennox. Ironhide relaxed.
"Could ask you the same thing," Ironhide grumbled, but he sank down the ground with a groan of depressurizing hydraulics.
"I was on my way to my quarters when I saw you stomping around," Lennox smiled, his gaze slightly quizzical. "Anything wrong? I thought Jolt and Arcee were on patrol tonight."
There was a mental image. Three on one, a myriad of colors writhing together, and Ironhide shivered.
Lennox's gaze sharpened. That human was entirely too clever for his own good.
Ironhide finally muttered. "Just restless tonight."
"Yeah, I hear you. You can come back to my quarters, if you want. Hang out a while."
Ironhide shuttered his optics once, twice, and gave his human friend a speculative look. Could he possibly...Ironhide snorted aloud, reeled his wayward processors back in. Ridiculous, the human wasn't putting off even a hint of sexual arousal; he was only offering to spend a little time with a comrade-in-arms.
"All right," Ironhide agreed, warily. He'd come to enjoy spending time with the humans and this one in particular. Lennox was one of their strongest supporters on this planet, had proven with his own blood and sweat to be a brother to them and Ironhide was no hypocrite; organic friends were no different than any other and since Lennox had dissolved his partnership to his bonded, their friendship had only grown. It would be no different than hanging out with Ratchet, with the exception of the high-grade.
With a tired grunt, he stood and then transformed before forming a holo, not that he'd settled on an appearance for his yet. He'd liked the last one well enough, particularly the nervous glances from the other humans, but it had still itched at him, not quite a good fit. Ironhide had given that one up as a bad job and formed his latest attempt, frowning when Lennox's heart literally skipped a beat.
"What?" Ironhide frowned, looking down at his form. It had been Arcee who had suggested that he expand his test parameters and this one had seemed like a good choice; he'd found the movie endlessly amusing, and modeling his new form after the Sarah Conner had seemed both a reasonable attempt and a humorous one. Perhaps he'd misjudged the breast size?
"Nothing," Lennox choked out but his gaze was suddenly keener and the tickle of human pheromones rising was unmistakable.
Well, now.
"Let's go, then," Ironhide said, pitching his modified voice into something a little huskier. Bee wasn't the only one who could play with the humans, he thought triumphantly, slinging an innocently friendly arm around Lennox's shoulders.
After all, there were better ways to relax into recharge than patrol.
-finis-
Next Chapter
Ironhide; Restless
Interlude #1: Twins; Creation Myth
Interlude #2: Ratchet; Internal Whispers
Interlude #3: Bumblebee; Human Protocols
Interlude #4: Prowl; Safekeeping
Interlude #5 Sam; Dreamscape
Notes: Probably my last Interlude before we go back to the actual storyline, but hey, it was fun and this one actually hints towards the plot of the next chapter. ^_^
~~*~~
Technically, Ironhide was off-duty. Had been for hours. He'd passed off Sunstreaker onto Prime without a hitch, not that he had too much trouble with the kid. Yeah, sure, he was crazy as a tin bone collector, but frankly, Ironhide had known worse. Probably was worse, from time to time.
But yeah, off-duty, except his processors never could relax enough for him to recharge unless he did a quick recon of an area. Call it habit, a fixation, call it fucking OCD, didn't matter, only he'd just as soon not waste time trying to coax himself into recharge when he could alleviate the problem with a quick patrol of the city. Wasn't like it would take long.
Some of the younger 'bots viewed their new home dismally, he knew, not that any of them dared express that opinion to him, since past experience had taught them that Ironhide would just tell 'em exactly how far they should cram it up their tailpipes. At least they had their ramshackle little base; he'd lived in far far worse, and just what were the whiny little princesses expecting, red carpets and shining thrones? Cybertron had been the result of millions of years of creation and work, they weren't about to recreate that in a few months with steel beams and aluminum siding on some backwater little planet that hadn't even managed to make housing for all the native humans yet.
Anyone he heard bitching about accommodations got a boot up their backsides and an extra work shift. Ironhide was always happy to give a 'bot something real to whine about.
The streets were fairly quiet, most of the Autobots followed the human time schedules and recharged at night. Ironhide cruised silently through the stillness. He didn't bother venturing into the human side. Not that he disliked the humans, just that their quarters were far enough away not to be in his mental perimeter. Their own personal humans on the other hand, even Lennox who kept his quarters close to the Autobot sector, were well within his parameters and he charted a course to take him past each one, his sensor pulse inspecting each one.
Sam's quarters were too reinforced for him to get any readings but it didn't take any kind of perverse telepath to know what those two were doing, medical orders be damned. Ironhide had gotten an audial full of them plenty of times before medical interfacing had become a necessity.
He drove on, past the rickety quarters that belonged to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker...both were inside, according to his scanners. Not that they'd had much occasion to be separated. Trust Optimus to actually let the twins work together when they were supposed to be on separate duty.
Prime was too damned soft sometimes.
Ironhide slowed briefly, checking his scans with a wince before speeding away. Their quarters were practically bathed in hot scent of ionized plasma, the sign of a well-abused holoform. Didn't take three guesses to figure out what they were doing either.
The little human Mikaela's quarters were further down the road and with a growing sense of expectant horror, Ironhide let his olfactory sensors scan the area, keeping his distance this time. He still reeled with the flood of sensual data over his transduction sensors. By sweet bareheaded Primus, was there anyone on this base who wasn't three cycles to or from an overload? It was kinda surprising that they all weren't wading knee deep in organic fluids and lubricants by now.
To hell with this, patrol was supposed to be helping him relax his processors so that he could recharge, not overstimulate them. He was too damned old to be tooling around with his circuits overheated.
He transformed, hoping that the walk back to his quarters would let him get a little fresh air in his vents. Taller standing, he noticed that the lights in the Infirmary were still blazing and Ironhide frowned, weighing possibilities. He'd grudgingly promised Optimus to let Ratchet alone about their personal issues...for now.
But he and Ratchet had been friends for a long, long time, and the weight of their disagreement was heavy in his processors. Not that he regretted telling Ratchet what he'd damn well needed to hear, but...eh, it was Ratchet. Asking him to not be stubborn was like asking the laws of gravity if they wouldn't mind taking a day off, would ya please. Besides, Ratchet usually had a stash of high-grade energon hidden away and Ironhide was of a mind to beg for a drink, anything to get his processors off the nightly porn rendition that his allies were engaging in.
At best, he and Ratchet could have a little chat and at worst, he'd get a wrench lodged up his tailpipe.
Eh, he'd had worse.
Decision made, Ironhide went to the infirmary. Maybe he could persuade the old rustbucket into taking a break, at least, get some of that high-grade and relax for a change. It could happen.
Ironhide already had a hand on the door handle when a thin, high wail came from inside, and he halted abruptly, straining his audio sensors.
No. It couldn't be.
It could. Oh, jumping one-legged Primus, he had to see this.
In perfect silence, Ironhide pushed open the door just enough to peer inside, scanning with his optics until he caught sight of the writhing pile of metal in the corner. Ratchet's paint was brilliant gloss under the high intensity infirmary lights but the contrast of Optimus against him clashed horribly, blue and red against neon green and Ironhide cycled his optics, narrowing them.
Half the infirmary and several medical berths were between them but for all that, it was still one hell of a view, the two of them on the floor and Ratchet in Optimus's lap, his head tipped back and mouth open. Whatever the hell they were doing, it wasn't a normal pleasurable interface. Ironhide enhanced his vision, trying, and failing, to get a decent view. Figured. It was always the old ones who got kinky and Ironhide would bet a dozen cubes of pure energon that Ratchet had a brutally creative imagination.
Optimus gasped, arching up with a squeal of scraping metal, then moaned at an impressively high pitch and the sudden wash of overload pheromones over Ironhide was enough to make him scuttle backwards, letting the door swing shut as he shuddered, his own circuits whining into redline heat.
Well, fuck. Or rather, no fucking, not for him. Didn't look like recharge was going on his schedule anytime soon, either.
Grumpily, he stomped away, uncaring if the heavy tread woke half the city. Seemed like they were all awake anyway, Primus damned sex fiends.
Soft steps came from behind him and Ironhide stiffened, swinging towards the footsteps. The human thought he was being quiet.
"'Hide? What are you doing still up?" A familiar voice spoke up, just as Ironhide's sensors confirmed identity.
Lennox. Ironhide relaxed.
"Could ask you the same thing," Ironhide grumbled, but he sank down the ground with a groan of depressurizing hydraulics.
"I was on my way to my quarters when I saw you stomping around," Lennox smiled, his gaze slightly quizzical. "Anything wrong? I thought Jolt and Arcee were on patrol tonight."
There was a mental image. Three on one, a myriad of colors writhing together, and Ironhide shivered.
Lennox's gaze sharpened. That human was entirely too clever for his own good.
Ironhide finally muttered. "Just restless tonight."
"Yeah, I hear you. You can come back to my quarters, if you want. Hang out a while."
Ironhide shuttered his optics once, twice, and gave his human friend a speculative look. Could he possibly...Ironhide snorted aloud, reeled his wayward processors back in. Ridiculous, the human wasn't putting off even a hint of sexual arousal; he was only offering to spend a little time with a comrade-in-arms.
"All right," Ironhide agreed, warily. He'd come to enjoy spending time with the humans and this one in particular. Lennox was one of their strongest supporters on this planet, had proven with his own blood and sweat to be a brother to them and Ironhide was no hypocrite; organic friends were no different than any other and since Lennox had dissolved his partnership to his bonded, their friendship had only grown. It would be no different than hanging out with Ratchet, with the exception of the high-grade.
With a tired grunt, he stood and then transformed before forming a holo, not that he'd settled on an appearance for his yet. He'd liked the last one well enough, particularly the nervous glances from the other humans, but it had still itched at him, not quite a good fit. Ironhide had given that one up as a bad job and formed his latest attempt, frowning when Lennox's heart literally skipped a beat.
"What?" Ironhide frowned, looking down at his form. It had been Arcee who had suggested that he expand his test parameters and this one had seemed like a good choice; he'd found the movie endlessly amusing, and modeling his new form after the Sarah Conner had seemed both a reasonable attempt and a humorous one. Perhaps he'd misjudged the breast size?
"Nothing," Lennox choked out but his gaze was suddenly keener and the tickle of human pheromones rising was unmistakable.
Well, now.
"Let's go, then," Ironhide said, pitching his modified voice into something a little huskier. Bee wasn't the only one who could play with the humans, he thought triumphantly, slinging an innocently friendly arm around Lennox's shoulders.
After all, there were better ways to relax into recharge than patrol.
-finis-
Next Chapter
