Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

No Particular Reference
By : LeavesofMyself
Category: Transformers > G1
Views: 2509 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer in Chapter 1
Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
LeavesofMyself: Wow… I didn’t think it has been a year since I last updated… a few months maybe but a year?! Yikes. I apologize for long, impromptu hiatus; that was so not my intention.
Chapter Warning(s): Cybertronian swearing, mentions of abortion, mentions of Mpreg, sexually explicit material, and very mild violence.
Chapter Rating: MA+
Pairing(s): Ratchet/Sentinel, Grimlock/Megatron

Units of Time
Astrosecond = ~.273 seconds
Kilk = 1.2 minutes
Breem = 8.3 minutes
Solar Cycle: 1 day
Orn = 13 days
Groon: ~1 hour
Stellar Cycle: ~7.5 months or 1 year
Vorns: 83 years

Italics = Emotes/Thoughts/Emphasis
Bold = Comm. links

Ratchet massaged his aching helm, the processer ache having grown over the past solar cycle when, true to his word, Sentinel had barged into Ultra Magnus’s office, snarling venomous accusations with his servo pointed straight at Ratchet… He was at fault. At least, that is what Sentinel had nearly screamed in audio-shattering decibels, loud enough that Ratchet could have sworn all of Cybertron had heard the seething words. Needless to say, in an effort to sooth the fire burning through the young Prime’s systems, the Magnus had comm’ed him, requesting his presence for an account of what had occurred between himself and the Prime.

This is where he was heading to at the moment, optics hardened and helm held straight, despite the curious and pitying glances cast from his own team members… Scathing optics followed his seemingly walk of shame as Sentinel watched his approach, lips sneering in absolute rage and disgust as he locked optics with the medic. Ratchet steeled his reserve, thanking every deity he knew of that he had long since been practiced in shutting down his emotional hardware, leaving his face a blank mask of indifference.
Ratchet reached up to ping the command consol that hid the large Magnus, but before he had the chance to press the chime, Sentinel shoulder him aside and punched in the access code, all-the-while keeping his tense frame angled to the medic’s own, as if, in the young Prime’s own mind, Ratchet would jump him at any sign of vulnerability. Ratchet simply snorted at the display of distrust and arrogance before entering the private office behind Sentinel, his own white frame tensing even more under the scrutiny of the larger mech’s vacant gaze.
“Sir,” Ratchet gritted out through his tight vocal processor as he saluted the mech before him, flinching a bit when the Magnus frowned at his behavior.
“At ease,” Ultra Magnus then point to the empty chairs before his desk, indicating he wished for the medic to be seated. He then look towards Sentinel, who stood towards the back of his commander’s office, his face twisted into a biting frown, his optics bleeding into indigo the longer he allowed them to stay locked onto the medic’s frame, “Sentinel, I think it would be more beneficial if you waited out in the corridor.”
Sentinel’s optics snapped to Ultra Magnus’ own before brazenly walking forward and plopping himself down in the empty chair beside Ratchet, taking both elder mechs by surprise.
“I’ll be staying.”
Ultra Magnus sighed and shook his head, though whether in frustration or defeat, Ratchet hadn’t a clue.
“Ratchet, I am sure you are aware of the reason I have requested your presence here in my office,” Ultra Magnus began and when Ratchet tilted his head slightly to signal he understood, the large mech continued, “Sentinel came to me with grave accusations against your person in which I must investigate fully…”
“Just get on with it Magnus,” Ratchet started in, his blue optics narrowed in annoyance as he watched his old friend dance around the subject.
“Very well,” Magnus sighed, “Sentinel Prime has accused you of rape and infringement on his personal rights.”
“I’m very aware of what the little fragger is accusing me off,” Ratchet growled, slightly relishing in the scoff of indignation coming from his left.
“Ratchet, please refrain from speaking out of turn,” Ultra Magus ordered as he watched Sentinel bare his sharp denta at his advisory, his servos balling into fists on his lap as he glowered at the medic with a burning rage he had not seen on the young Prime’s face in vorns, “How do you plea to the accusation of rape?”
“Not guilty,” Ratchet growled out, his own anger flaring at the audacity of the arrogant Prime seated next to him. Ultra Magnus signaled for him to continue and, given the chance to defend himself, Ratchet barreled onward, “He came to me; I was minding my own when he came stumbling into my med-bay, that had been tripled locked, mind you. He was in heat…”

Ultra Magnus raised a servo, pausing the medic for a moment as he looked up from the stylus he had been taking notes on, “Are you sure Sentinel was in heat?”
Ratchet scoffed at the indignity of the mech before barking out, “Of course I’m sure! I’m a medic for Primus sake!”
“Hold your tongue Ratchet, old friend; I am merely trying to best understand the proceedings of the past three solar cycles. You are aware that, if found guilty, I would have no choice but to strip you of your Chief Medical Officer status and place you in the stockades. Now, please, continue.”
Ratchet sighed, resisting the urge to ask for a cube of high grade, pressed on, “I tried to get him to leave, to seek out anyone else but he’s even more stubborn and hard-headed when he’s under the influence of his heat cycle.”

Sentinel growled dangerously low in his vocalizer, his narrowed, indigo optics piercing the medic’s own when he had glanced over to the source of the noise, “I most certainly did not seek you out! Nor did you attempt to push me away! You took what you wanted and…”
“Sentinel!” Ultra Magnus bellowed, his own narrowed optics zeroing in on the nearly shaking Prime, “Calm yourself or leave. I will not tolerate your outbursts.” Sentinel snarled before going quiet, though he refused to stop murdering the medic with his optics.
Ratchet, mildly miffed, turned to the young mech next to him, completing ignoring Ultra Magnus’ order to refrain from antagonizing Sentinel, as he put it, “I never accused you of seeking me out, youngling. I am, however, stating that you did stumble into my med-bay by overriding three security-locks, ones that are only in place during an attack from Decepticons, mind you,” Ratchet explained, his tone soft and cold as his darkening optics bore into Sentinel, who looked as if he was ready to jump across the space between them and finish what he had started in the med-bay, “And yes, I did attempt to push you away. I even directed you to Ultra Magnus, but you refused to leave.”
Sentinel startled, caught unexpected by Ratchet’s word, his face darkening with a growing blush. Ultra Magnus, while also startled by this new information, held himself well, only barely squirming in his seat. He chose this moment to cut Ratchet’s little rant off.
“Ratchet, please, control yourself,” the large mech asked, waiting several kilks for the medic to collect himself before he continued, “After your attempt at pushing Sentinel away, did you interface with him?”
“Yes. I couldn’t resist his scent any longer.”
Ultra Magnus nodded his head grimly, before turning to Sentinel with sorrowful optics, “After carefully considering the information gathered by both parties, Sentinel, I am sorry, but I cannot hold Ratchet at fault; he is cleared from his charge of rape.”
Sentinel snarled, his optics burning red as he leapt from his seat, his servo slamming down with enough force onto the Magnus’ desk to crack the surface, “So it’s my fault!”
“No!” the commander protested, his optics widening in shock at the accusation, “No one is at fault Sentinel!”
“Liar!”
“Sentinel, please, calm yourself! Think of the sparkling!”
“Frag the sparkling! Your seriously going to let this fragger get away with raping me?!”
“Sentinel, please, understand what I am saying. I cannot find fault in Ratchet as he was clearly under the influence of your heat cycle…”
“So that makes it alright?! That fragger stole my mech-hood! He stole me seal!”
Ultra Magnus flinched as Sentinel neared deafening decibels, “You were in heat, Sentinel, please, understand that I cannot hold any party accountable for their actions when under the influence of the heat aroma. I understand that the situation was not favorable in your opinion, but there is nothing I can do.”
The room went quiet, Sentinel’s raging vents the only noise present for several breems before Sentinel finally spoke, his voice soft and anguished as he did so, “It’s not fair.”
Ratchet finally allowed himself to flinch; a white servo raising itself in an attempt to comfort the despairing youngling before he stopped himself, realizing that, in this particular moment, Sentinel would refuse any sort of connection Ratchet attempted to make with him. So, instead, the medic settled with a simple, “I’m sorry.”
Sentinel growled, anger, while lessened, still lacing through the sound before the blue and orange Prime turned and hastened from the room, clearly distressed at the verdict handed down by Magnus.
Ratchet’s tired gaze turned to Magnus’ own, “What of the second charge?”
Magnus sighed, his large shoulder shagging under the weight of guilt and pity for his young Second-in-Command, “How do you plea?”
Ratchet thought about it for a moment, his processor going over any reason to fight the charge, but a haze of guilt and exhaustion, accompanied with his ever-growing processor ache, found no reason to argue away the second charge, “Guilty.”
Magnus nodded, writing down the plea on the stylus before turning serious, albeit fatigued, optics on the defeated medic, “While I understand your reasons for wanting to fight Sentinel’s reasoning for wanting to abort the sparkling, it is not only improper but fully against the law to infringe on any sentient beings rights and liberties, even if such threats were made, clearly, in a fit of anger and desperation. And while I may agree that being asked to abort your own sparkling is a harsh thing to process, I must find in favor of Sentinel. Let it be known that any and all further decisions regarding the sparkling Sentinel is carrying shall fall under Sentinel’s, and only Sentinel’s, jurisdiction.”
Ratchet visibly flinched, as if Magnus had struck him physically, “Please, do not ask me to…”
As if knowing what the medic was going to plea, Magnus lifted his servo once more to interrupt him, his own optics softening in pity, “I am not asking you of that. I will talk to Sentinel and, whatever decision he may come to, I will request that he go to Red Alert for any further medical care.”
Ratchet nodded as he brought his helm to rest in his servos, delicate fingers gently massaged his ache as a forlorn sigh left his lips, his wide frame the very picture of distress and over-emotional taxation.
“I’ve wanted a sparkling for vorns now…When I finally get the chance…” Ratchet trailed off, his vocalizer thickening with emotion he had no idea how to express to his long-time friend. A servo rested itself on his large shoulder plating.
“I know,” came the soft reply, “While I will not fault you in trying to explain yourself to Sentinel, you must understand that any decision he comes to, he must not pressured into.”
“I know,” Ratchet answered, his optics turning upwards to meet Magnus’ own. He nearly turned away when he noticed the clear, unyielding empathy swimming in the other’s optics.
Magnus patted Ratchet’s should plating before nodding towards the door with a soft ‘dismiss’ escaping his lips. Ratchet rose, carrying his frame as proudly as he could muster in that moment of utter defeat before stopping and turning back to his commanding officer, “Care to share a cube of high grade? I could use the company.”

While it was Magnus’ own policy to generally refrain from drinking with his crew and underlings, he could clearly see his old friend was desperately reaching out for some comfort, an action he hadn’t seen the medic do since he lost Arcee to the Decepticons. Magnus indicated for the medic to lead the way and together they retreated toward the sanctity of the med-bay, the trip primarily quiet, each bogged down with their own inner turmoil.

Megatron snarled, his large grey frame pacing the clearing of Dinobot Island as his narrowed crimson optics focused on the current bane of his existence. The dinobot, despite being the target of the Warlord’s wrath and increasingly aggressive behavior (as his frame bore evidence of the latest of Megatron’s displeasure in the form of a large, black scorch mark bestowed upon him by the Warlord’s fusion cannon), looked every bit un-phased by the dangerous growls escaping the irate mech. In fact, Grimlock merely watched with bored optics as the Decepticon wore a trench into the soft earth, though he did refrain, albeit barely, from allowing the smirk of amusement to stretch across his face.

“Sparked!” Megatron roared, his servos clenching and unclenching in rage as he starred down the partially responsible mech for the mess he was in, “Sparked! By an incompetent buffoon no less!”
Grimlock frowned but bore the anger in ‘humbled’ silence, having been subjected to much harsher treatment all-around when he had awoken from the Warlord’s punishing close-ranged blast after first finding out about the sparkling nestled within his frame. Megatron continued pacing for nearly a breem before he stormed up to Grimlock, who, despite worrying for his well-being, stood firm and refused to flinch away from his mate’s form. A fusion cannon powering up in his face nearly made him rethink his desire to stay.
“I ought to rip this thing out of me and crush it with my own servos…” Megatron began, his crimson optics positively burning with contempt.
A deep and dark growl erupted from Grimlock, his own visor narrowing on the Warlord’s slightly smaller frame, “You Megatron do no such thing!”
Megatron merely huffed as he shoved his fusion cannon further into the dinobot’s face, the deep purple casting an eerie glow to the raging tyrannosaurs’ face as lips pulled away into a snarl of his own to reveal the sharp denta beneath.
“You no harm sparkling!” Grimlock gnarled as he fisted his own large servos causing the grey mech to simply lift an optic ridge, beckoning the bumbling fool to make the first move; the reaction only served to fuel Grimlock’s growing ire.
After a tense moment, Megatron powered down his fusion cannon before dropping his arm to rest at his side, his face a mask of decisive interest, “Calm yourself. While I may not like the donor, I will not abort this sparkling. After all, I do need an heir to the Decepticon throne.”
Grimlock, completely overlooking Megatron’s reasoning for wanting to keep said sparkling, smiled like a fool and he crushed the mech against his body, pushing his face into the crook of the other mech’s neck before inhaling the scent found there. Megatron snarled and decided to go through with his former plan of blasting the dinobot into oblivion.
Grimlock skidded back on the pads of his pedes from the blast to his abdominal plating, though, much to Megatron’s chagrin, still wholly functional and online. Grimlock, despite the unexpected attack, refused to retaliate and, instead, settled for tilting his head to the side in confusion.
“Why you Megatron attack me?”
The Decepticon Commanding Officer rolled his optics at the mech’s ignorance, “Do not touch me.”
Instead of clearing things up for the dinobot, the poor thing looked even more confused, “Why Grimlock no allowed touching? You Grimlock’s mate. Should touch all the time.”
“I am not your mate,” Megatron snarled, his frame going rigged at the other’s suggestion. Deciding he had had enough of the buffoon’s stupidity to last him several stellar cycles, Megatron turned to leave, desiring, instead, to check back in with his fellow Decepticons to ensure that A) Starscream had not run the place into the ground and B) to see if they were all still functioning (after all, what good was a pile of useless mechs for an army?).
Megatron prided himself on making it out of the clearing before Grimlock pounced, he’s usually only allowed to take several steps before the behemoth stops him one way or another; this particular time, Megatron found himself quickly spun around and slammed into the earth below, the force of the impact enough to make his vents seize for a few seconds. Grimlock settled himself in-between the Warlord’s spread thighs, his large servos holding Megatron’s own at bay.
“What in Primus’ name do you think you’re do-oh,” Megatron started but was cut off went Grimlock rocked his wide hips into Megatron’s own as he nipped and licked at his neck cables. Megatron, caught off-guard by the action, did all he could do to not recuperate the affection, even has Grimlock ground down into his valve cover, causing another surprised gasp to escape him unwillingly.
Grimlock reached underneath the Warlord with one servo and arched the mech’s back, forcing the angle to change to where Megatron’s valve met Grimlock’s spike housing perfectly. Petty moans left Megatron’s vocalizer, despite his best effort to keep them quiet.
“See… Me Grimlock make you Megatron moan. Me Grimlock please you, make you me Grimlock’s mate,” Grimlock claimed as he continued to assault the mech beneath him.
“Grim-oh-lock… Stop-Primus-this at oh-nce…” Megatron gasped, his frame shuddering under the ministrations, his frame clearly remembering the pleasure from earlier interfacing and deciding, against his processor’s opinion, that it clearly wanted more.
“Let me Grimlock love you…” Grimlock stated as he let go of Megatron’s servos in favor of reaching down and massaging the plating hiding Megatron’s leaking valve. Megatron’s helm fell back, his body arching of its own accord as it sought more of the pleasure the idiot was more than willing to give, “Let me Grimlock in.”

Megatron warred within himself: on one side, he rejected the mechs affections and wanted nothing more to blow his helm clean from his frame but, on the other side, the mech knew that, in order to sustain the sparkling, he was going to need a donor’s transfluid. Megatron decided.

“Grim-lock,” Megatron panted as he opened his valve covering and, no sooner than he had, Grimlock shoved three claws deep into his aching port, forcing a deep, lustful moan to penetrate the air. Grimlock’s own frame shuddered at the beautiful sound; in an effort to extract more noises, he began to move his servo, slowly at first, though he wasted no time in building a steady tempo that had the Warlord rocking his frame back onto the digits.
“Primus… Grimlock,” Megatron groaned, his frame shuddering and the digits pounded his valve, lubricant gushing out every time the other’s servo withdrew, some it trickling down the other’s arm while the rest of it dripped to the ground to form a puddle. Megatron, on the brink of an impending overload, reached down with his own servo and grasped Grimlock’s own, forcing the other’s claws deeper into his valve as he ground his own palm against the outer node. Within seconds, Megatron came with a long, drawn-out moan that made Grimlock growl in desire.
Grimlock pulled his fingers free of the other’s soaked valve before opening his spike housing and, without allowing the other to fully come down from his high, he plunged in. Megatron, whose valve was still twitching from his overload, gasped at the dinobot’s quick entrance.
“Oh… Yes… Grimlock, Primus…” Megatron whimpered, his valve stretched wide over Grimlock’s spike. Grimlock, in turn, tried to press deeper, loving the way the Warlord’s mouth fell open in a mute moan.
“You Megatron still so tight,” Grimlock growled before he pulled his length nearly free, watching in rapture as Megatron’s face twisted into a mix of displeasure and need, before he, slowly but firmly, re-immersed his spike in the hot, wet valve of his mate.
Grimlock kept the tempo slow but firm, his wide hips rolling into the ones below with precision and a patience that Megatron did not know the dinobot could posses. The tempo was beginning to both un-nerve the commander and drive him insane… It was too gentle, to foreign to him and yet, at the same time, so deliciously addicting that he didn’t want it to stop. Megatron was helpless as Grimlock played his frame as if he had been pleasuring the Warlord for vorns, each push back into his valve forced his thighs wider and the spike deeper, the head pressing firmly against his recessive node, sending wave after wave of intoxicating pleasure washing through his frame while at the same time never bringing him the end he was beginning to ache for.
Megatron fought within himself, unsure of how to react to this new interfacing; he had grown so use to Grimlock’s fast and brutal rhythm over the past few solar cycles that this new experience was throwing him for a loop. Should he beg for the mech to pound into him? To frag him harder? Deeper? Did he even want the tempo to change? Primus it felt amazing… but what should he do with his servos? Usually he would claw at Grimlock’s plating in recuperation but that seemed far too rough for what was happening now… what the buffoon was doing to him now.
Primus he’s staring at me now… Megatron shuddered at Grimlock’s unyielding yet gentle gaze, his visor alight with emotions the Decepticon was entirely unfamiliar with. Primus he had to stop thinking, it was beginning to dampen his pleasure and make him uncertain. The conflict within Megatron’s mind must have shown on his face, as Grimlock pressed chassis to chassis before kissing Megatron, taking time to tease the Warlord’s lips with his glossa before pressing forward, enticing Megatron’s own glossa in a hesitant dance that had the mech keening in pleasure.
“You mech relax, let me Grimlock make you feel good,” Grimlock whispered into Megatron’s audios when he pulled away from the kiss. Megatron shivered as the words caressed his processor before whining as Grimlock sped up his tempo just enough to clear Megatron’s thoughts but still nowhere near the pace Megatron had grown use to.
Megatron, unable to stand the soft gaze Grimlock watched him with, shuttered his optics in a last ditch effort to fully push away his insecure thoughts and immerse himself in the pleasure. Apparently, however, Grimlock disliked being shut out as he seated his spike as deep as he could go and held himself there, causing Megatron to shudder and keen loudly, the shutters springing open as he starred at the mech above him.
“Grimlock…no…” Megatron hissed, unsure of what he was even protesting to, “No…”
Grimlock simply moved one his servos to the narrow black hips and pulled the Decepticon even closer, gyrating his spike within the trembling valve. Megatron sobbed in pleasure, frustration, and something even he wasn’t sure of as he turned his helm into the other arm in which Grimlock had placed all of his weight on, trying, desperately, to muffle his cries.
“Please…” Megatron sobbed out as Grimlock continued his actions; the Warlord unable to handle the intensity, simply begged, for what, he still couldn’t decipher, “Grimlock… Primus, please.”
It would seem that even if Megatron himself didn’t know what it was that he wanted, the buffoon somehow did, and, much to Megatron’s relief, Grimlock continued to rock into Megatron at a steady and firm pace, each shove of his hips into the Megatron’s creating a symphony of lewd, wet noises, soft, rolling whines and long, broken keens of pleasure, all of which Grimlock responded to with pleased purrs and soft growls.
Megatron, finally sick of not knowing what to do with his servos, pressed them flat underneath him before shoving up into the other mech, forcing Grimlock to pause for a moment as he readjusted their position so that the Decepticon sat primarily in his lap, though his frame reclined to rest all of his weight on his arms. Grimlock circled one of his own arms around Megatron’s waist and arched the other’s frame into his while his free servo rested lightly on narrow black hips.
The pace remained steady but Megatron was able to force himself harder onto the other’s spike, moans spilling freely from his vocalizer as the head of the spike hammered into his recessive node.
“Pri-mus... Hu-oh…” Megatron whimpered, overload coming ever-closer. Grimlock purred in answer, his servo helping to roll Megatron’s hips into his own, watching in satisfaction as the mech lost himself in a haze of gratification.
“Me Grimlock want to watch you Megatron come,” the dinobot purred as Megatron’s frame began to tense from an impending overload. Megatron panted, his helm falling back, as his valve began to ripple.
“Grimlock,” Megatron moaned, in which the behemoth answered with a questioned ‘hum’ as he continued to snap his hips upwards, relishing the feel of Megatron riding his spike, “Oh Primus, yes. Yes… Oh, frag yes…”
“What you Megatron need?” Grimlock hissed, his spike slowly being squeezed by the other’s ever-tightening valve.
“Make me come…” Megatron keened, catching the larger mech by surprise, but only for a moment before Grimlock growled out his dominance over his mate as he slammed Megatron on his back and pounded his spike into the other. Completely caught off-guard, Megatron could only scrabble for purchase on Grimlock’s frame as his valve was brutalized in a way he had come to know.
Within seconds, Megatron overloaded, his frame arching perfectly into the other, his mouth falling open in a silent moan as his valve rippled, lubricant trickling from where it could escape. Grimlock followed not far behind, his spike slamming home a few more times, drawing out Megatron’s own overload, before seating deep and flooding the Warlord’s gestation chamber with transfluid.
Breems past by as the mechs collected themselves, vents humming loudly as they sought to cool internal temperatures.
“Primus,” was all Megatron managed to get out of his static-laced vocalizer, his dim optics watching the vegetation above him swaying in a gentle dance with the light breeze. Grimlock, from his resting position on the frame below him, hummed in agreement before pushing up and kissing his mate, an action Megatron was too exhausted to fight off. When the post-overload haze lifted, Grimlock pulled free of Megatron’s tight valve before standing and promptly froze, a whimper of concern and guilt flaring out of his own vocalizer.
“We go see med-bot now!” Grimlock cried, reaching down and lifting the confused Decepticon to his pedes.
“What on earth are you whining about?” Megatron questioned, his patience wearing thin when, after Grimlock had sealed his spike in its housing and he had closed his own valve cover, the dinobot forcefully pulled his over-taxed frame with him towards the shower-line of Dinobot Island.
“Me Grimlock sorry, Grimlock no want to hurt him mate.”
“What?” Megatron question, his confusing growing. What injury was idiot going on about?
Grimlock spun around and point at the grey mech’s chest plates, causing the mech to look down. Crimson optics widen in surprise as he starred at the rather large and somewhat deep dent adoring his frame. Optics narrowed, his processor racking over the past groon and a half, searching when such an injury could have possibly taken place. A kilk later, it clicked… The impact from when Grimlock slammed him down just before they overloaded… He hadn’t been aware that the other’s frame had slammed down into his own.

Snorting his irritation, Megatron allowed himself to be pulled to the water’s edge. While, on normal occasions, he wouldn’t have even bothered with the dent, seeing how he had been through much graver wounds, he now had to consider whether or not the shock of the impact had traveled through to his spark-casing and, consequently, to the developing sparkling. Refusing to allow himself to feel concern for the thing, Megatron simply opted for preparing to transformer when Grimlock hastened over and scooped him into his arms. Megatron snarled in anger at being handled so delicately, in which Grimlock snarled back, his vocalizer barking out a warning of dominance before he took off towards the Autobot’s base.

Ratchet and Ultra Magnus were nearing the main hanger of the Earth bound team when a venomous snarl punctured the silence followed by a low, rumbling growl. Ratchet caught Magnus’ perplexed stare.

“That sounded like Sentinel… and almost like…”
“What is he doing here?”
“Primus…” Ratchet mumbled, his optics going wide in shock before he took off down the corridor, Ultra Magnus hot on his heels. Both mechs arrived and Ratchet cursed aloud as his suspensions were confirmed. Standing in the center of the main hanger was Sentinel Prime, his Skyboom shield and energon sword held at ready, his optics narrowing in on the grey mech standing behind Grimlock, who had transformed into his T-Rex form, snarls of warning washing over the tense atmosphere, the mech’s optics honed to every move the young Prime made. Optimus, Bumblebee, and the others, excluding Jazz (who was currently torn between assisting Sentinel or listening to the gentle coaxing from Prowl, who was busy pulling the spy-bot toward the back of the crowd), stood where they were, having been interrupted from their activities, optics dancing between the two, tense with apprehension of what could possible happen.
Sentinel had apparently moved far too close for Grimlock’s comfort, as the T-Rex reared back, his snout filling with flames. Just as he opened his snout to unleash on Sentinel, his mouth was filled with Ratchet’s electromagnetic pulse generator, the medic’s own optics starring heatedly back at the other.

“Don’t…” Ratchet hissed.

LeavesofMyself: And… cliffy! :)
…..
What?
…..
Okay, okay… You’ve been patient enough. A little bit more won’t hurt… I guess…
….

Except my fingers maybe…

Grimlock and Ratchet stood in a stalemate, each a hair-trigger away from unleashing their weapons against one another. Just as Ultra Magnus was about to step in and demand answers, he caught Optimus’ optics and was confused when the young frantically shook his head in the negative.
“Don’t interfere.”
Ultra Magnus was floored. Here was Megatron, the most wanted Decepticon in the universe standing at their doorstep looking both intrigued and annoyed, which baffled him, and Optimus, who had apparently been battling the Warlord alone for some time now, has requested… Demanded that he not take any actions. His confusion must have been written across his expression as Optimus decided to elaborate.
“Their protocols are going haywire right now. One wrong move and it could instigate a very serious conflict.”
Having known Optimus for the majority of his function, Magnus could tell when the young Prime was skirting around the truth without outright lying, “What do you mean, protocols?”
Optimus visibly sighed at the exact moment Jazz’s jaw hinges dropped, his expression one of utter disbelief as he waved a single digit between Megatron and Grimlock, his mouth working to form words but so far seemed to be failing…miserably.
“Creator protocols.”
It took Magnus all of a kilk to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. To say he was shocked would have been an understatement though he refused to allow his bewilderment to show, unlike Jazz, who still looked like a ‘fish out of water’ as the native species said.
“Is that the reason for the sudden spread of sympathetic heat cycles?”
From his position, Magnus could see Optimus nod in agreement, “We were only in his presence for a short time but it would seem that that had been enough to induce our own cycles. I’m only guessing that Megatron sparked, though. Grimlock usually charges in without a second thought but he’s hesitating at the moment. Plus, why would he bring Megatron here, to our base, unless it was an emergency… and judging by the look of his chest plates…” Optimus trailed off, his gaze switching back to Ratchet and Grimlock, still locked in their stalemate; the flames Grimlock’s snout was being continuously supplied with billowed out of the sides while Ratchet’s EMP hummed a clear warning to the T-Rex.
Several breems past before Grimlock pulled away and transformed, his narrowed visor wearily watching the tense and baffled Prime behind the medic, who, while still having Skyboom shield at ready, had lowered his sword somewhat during the standoff.
“Tell him-bot back down!” Grimlock snarled, brazenly baring his denta at the blue and orange Prime. Sentinel bristled in agitation but the deep, ominous growl from Grimlock and a firm servo on his shoulder plating had him pause in a moment of hesitant.
“Stand down, Sentinel,” Ultra Magnus whispered into the others audios, having inched closer slowly (so as not to bring any attention to himself) toward Sentinel during the intense standoff, his optics trained on Grimlock. Sentinel fought with himself, his processor screaming that Megatron was within reach, when Magnus spoke again, “That’s an order, soldier.”
Sentinel dissipated his Skyboom shield and sword though he frame stayed tensed, his attention solely fixed on Megatron, who stood almost nonchalantly behind the still snarling T-Rex. In seeing that Sentinel was ‘surrendering’, Grimlock relaxed and, in turn, Ratchet dropped his own weapon.
Ultra Magnus was the one who broke the still strained atmosphere, “Why have you come here?”
Grimlock, seemingly coming back to his senses, whined in distress, a sound that perplexed everyone in the room, seeing how it came from the same bot that was, moments before, snarling like a wild animal caught in a hunter’s trap.
“You med-bot help him Megatron.”
Ratchet shifted his focus to the grey mech behind the towering bot and swore once more, his trained optics taking in the damage to the Warlord’s frame. His gaze snapped back to Grimlock, a look of pure exasperation crossing his features, “What in Primus’ name did you do?”
Grimlock wilted under the medic’s wrath and whimpered, “Fix him.”
Ratchet snorted before gesturing for Grimlock to escort his ‘mate’ to his med-bay. As the duo exited the room, Sentinel turned to his commanding officer, a demand for answers on his lips but before he could get it out, Ratchet placed a servo on his arm, which he promptly shook off and, instead, turned his ire towards the medic.
“Come on, princess. I might as well give you an examination while I’m at it.”
Both Sentinel and Magnus looked ready to protest before Ratchet raised a servo, “I only want to make sure you didn’t over-tax your systems. Nothing else, medic’s honor.”
Sentinel snorted in indignation but Magnus consented and allowed Ratchet to drag the struggling Prime off before he turned to the Earth bound bots and eyed them suspiciously.

“So, care to explain how you know Sentinel was sparked?” Ultra Magnus questioned, his optics zeroing in on Bumblebee who started to chirr a tune and refused to look him in the optics. The large mech sighed, rubbing his temples at an oncoming processor ache. Primus he could’ve used that cube of high grade.

Once in the med-bay, Ratchet shoved the still protesting Prime on the only other available table before turning to the Warlord.
“What happened?”
Megatron raised and optic ridge in response before he pointedly looked at Grimlock, who, if possible, wilted even further from the guilt.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a separator for the two berths, so we’re going to have to improvise. Grimlock stand between the two berths… Face the other way!” Ratchet grumbled as he moved to Megatron’s side, “Alright, open up.”
Megatron hesitated for a moment before opening his chest plates, the hatches releasing with a soft hiss of pressurized air. Ratchet’s examined the spark chamber carefully, looking for even the smallest of cracks before, being satisfied that there wasn’t any damage to the spark casing, moved on to carefully examine the Warlord’s spark. Other than looking slightly engorged, nothing appeared out the ordinary. He then moved onto the sparkling, examining the tendril of energy that connected carrier to creation, noting that the tendril appeared strong and that the little spark bobbed gently to its carrier’s sparkbeat. Smiling, Ratchet nodded for Megatron to close his chest plates before he proceeded over to his array of instruments and picked up a scanner before he walked back over to the Warlord and Grimlock, who, after hearing the locks to Megatron’s chassis click into place, had immediately turned around, his apprehension present as ever on his face.
Sentinel, who was still perplexed about what was going on, looked at the duo with suspicion and an inkling of interest.
Ratchet held up his scanner, “Would you like to see your creation?”
Grimlock look positively thrilled at the notion while Megatron only looked mildly interested. Sentinel made a chocking sound from his section but was ignored by the group, except for the quick glance Ratchet gave him to see if he was alright (if only to calm his screaming protocols). With Megatron’s permission, Ratchet aimed the scanner and waited a moment before a holographic image projected itself about the device. Grimlock purred as he watched his creation bob up and down, his optics wide with wonder and pride at the small spark. Megatron only analyzed it, his optics taking in the size of the spark, the thickness of the tendril attaching it to his spark (the thicker the tendril, the stronger (healthier) the sparkling). Megatron’s indifferent mask broke for but a moment when his creation paused in its bobbing to pull close to his own spark and nestle it, the fluttering sensation exploding over his spark, and, at the same time, a small smile pulled at his lips as he raised a servo to where the sensation had originated from. The small sparkling bounced enthusiastically, as if pleased by its carrier’s reaction, before it settled and continued its rhythmic bobbing.
Ratchet, far too soon in Grimlock’s opinion, shut down the device and questioned Megatron whether or not he would like assistance in banging out the dents from his chassis. At Megatron’s negative answer, he assured them the sparkling was growing well and was un-phased by their ‘activities’ of late. He then started on Grimlock, who withered even further under the medic’s ire, before downright pouting when he learned Ratchet would not be repairing his broken visor for at least an orn, as punishment for injuring Megatron and carelessly endangering their creation.
Once the duo had escaped the med-bay, Ratchet’s fatigued gaze focused on Sentinel, who appeared far less hostile at the moment.
“Megatron’s sparked?” The question was no more than a soft whisper, so low that Ratchet nearly missed it.
“Yes,” Ratchet sighed, “He’s the reason for all of the sympathetic heat cycles.”
Sentinel was going to say more but Ratchet cut him off, “Get some rest, Sentinel.” Sentinel looked ready to protest but Ratchet would hear none of it, “Please, for my protocols sake, get some rest.”
Sentinel begrudgingly complied, waiting until Ratchet had dimmed the med-bay lights and just about to exit before he spoke again.
“Is he keeping it?”
Ratchet froze in his steps, his spark twisting in on itself as he compared Grimlock’s situation to his own, “I don’t know.”

“Oh…” was all Sentinel said before he powered down into recharge. Ratchet sighed and retreated to his quarters for some much needed high grade, his spark aching the entire way.

LeavesofMyself: Okay… now I’m done.
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No Particular Reference	By : LeavesofMyself Category: Transformers > G1 Views: 2509 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer in Chapter 1

No Particular Reference