come on ratch

Ratchet reunites with the twins on the Lost Light, and they have /words/ about this new mech he’s ‘bonded’ to.
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“Bonded?”

Sideswipe scoffed, and eyed him suspiciously,
“You’re- /you/, you’re bonded?”

Ratchet rolled his optics, E.M field thrumming irritation as he sorted through medical tools; even if he was secretly glad to see the two.

Not that he, or the twins for that matter, would ever openly show it.

“Not yet, but I suppose, one day, /maybe/.. yes, it’s a possibility.”

“A possibility?”

Ratchet ignored them, “Whoever let you two on board is going to sorely regret it in, what, one breem?”

Sideswipe grinned proudly, and wrapped an arm around the medic, “Aw, but you’re glad to see us. Come on, we haven’t talked in eons.”

“Much too short, in my opinion,” Ratchet grumbled, but he still leaned into the touch, ignoring Sideswipe’s delighted beam.

“So?” Sunstreaker questioned, arms crossed defensively as he scowled at the medic.

“What?”

“So, who are you bonded to?” Sideswipe finished, optics scouting the room as if he hoped to see the mech.

For Drifts own sake, he hoped he stayed away.

“A mech,” Ratchet answered shortly, shrugging off Sideswipe’s arm so he could shove a box of bolts under a gurney.

“Just a mech? Come on, Ratch. He has to be special. Special enough to worm his way under the Hatchet’s plating and into that cold, cold spark,” Sideswipe crooned, cackling as he skillfully ducked the fist that was thrown at his head.

“You’re a foul git, Sideswipe.”

“Ah, but you love me.”

Ratchet huffed, “It doesn’t matter who I’ve.. met. There’s more important things to discuss.”

Sunstreaker rolled his optics, “Are you embarrassed, Ratchet? Who’d you marry, a junkion?”

Sideswipe snickered, “Did Wreck-Gar catch your fancy?”

“Slag off, the both of you.”

Ratchet turned, fiddling with a broken scanner as his cheeks flushed red.

There was silence behind him, before Sideswipe gasped, and Ratchet scowled.

“Sunny, he’s in /love/.”

Another scoff, “He is not.”

“Look at him, he’s in love! Absolutely smitten.”

There was a disappointed cluck of the glossa, and Ratchet could see Sideswipe shaking his head.

“We thought we taught you better!”

Ratchet scoffed, “The only thing you taught me was how to lose my temper in less than point five seconds.”

Sideswipe grinned, “Ah, but you love us for it.”

“I do not.”

Sunstreaker shifted on the berth, and even Ratchet could see the small grin working its way onto his face, “Come on, Ratch, everyone knows you show care through throttling anger and a good yelling.”

Sideswipe hummed his agreement, optics dazed with memories. Violent, but loving memories.

“Whoever it is, he must really test your patience.”

Ratchet didn’t reply, too busy fiddling with tools that really didn’t need to be fiddled with, while Sideswipe’s grin grew all the more wider.

“He does, doesn’t he? And you /love/ him!”

Ratchet scowled, digits itching for a wrench. Or anything he could throw at the red menace’s big helm.

Sideswipe just beamed, and mingled his field with Ratchet’s own steaming one, “See! Pure anger. You love him!”