[G1] Of Hidden Talents
May. 20th, 2015 06:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Randomly inspired to write this pairing because I wanted to write about my Wheeljack headcanon. SFW! Enjoy!
Title: Of Hidden Talents
Universe: G1
Characters: RatchetxWheeljack
Rating: K+
Warning: Fluff, Cuteness, sorta humor
Description: Ratchet hears a noise and goes to investigate.
What in Unicron's rusted undergarments was that noise?
Ratchet frowned, set aside his datapad, and rose from the berth. It sounded like someone was mating a trash compactor with a salvage grinder. It was offensive to the audials.
It was coming from elsewhere in the apartment.
Ratchet's frown deepened. He stalked out of the berthroom, determined to hunt down the poor machine and kill it. He had surgery tomorrow, frag it.
The caterwauling got louder. It was coming from his partner's workshop.
Was Wheeljack under attack?
It wouldn't be the first time thieves had broken in, searching for valuables amid the laboratory equipment.
Ratchet's optics cycled down. He groped for a weapon and snatched that hideous sculpture Ironhide gave them last decaorn. It was a gag gift, right? And it was steel, heavy, and sharp. It would do.
Ratchet braced himself and slammed the door panel, leaping into Wheeljack's lab with a loud yell. He brandished his sculpture.
“Drop it!” Ratchet growled.
The noise vanished with a tiny squeak. Wheeljack stared back at him, indicators a pale pink. His optics were wide. His hands froze mid-motion.
“Uh. Drop what?”
Ratchet peered around suspiciously. “No thieves?”
“Um... no.” Wheeljack eyed the sculpture. “Didn't Ironhide give us that?”
“I needed a weapon.”
“For the thieves?”
Ratchet slumped at his partner's incredulous tone and lowered his makeshift weapon. Be concerned for your partner's welfare and see what it got you? Harrumph.
“I heard a noise,” Ratchet said and set the sculpture down on the nearest spot of clean table. He had to take several steps to get there. Wheeljack wasn't a big believer in organization.
Mess, he claimed, was his biggest inspiration.
“Noise?”
“You didn't hear it? A sort of... dying noise?”
Wheeljack's indicators darkened in hue. His hands fiddled harder with whatever he was working on. “Oh... that.” His winglets fluttered. “Yeah, the Reflexians are an acquired taste.”
Ratchet blinked. “What?”
“Music,” Wheeljack clarified. “I was, um, singing.” He shuffled his pedes. “The song was from Reflexa.”
“Well, that's... different.” Ratchet inched closer to his partner, reading the embarrassment in Wheeljack's field.
It was adorable.
“Sorry, I woke you,” Wheeljack said and he stared so hard at the item in his hands Ratchet thought it might spontaneously combust. His winglets fluttered again.
“Wasn't recharging yet.” There was a stack of datatracks nearby. Ratchet picked up the top one, reading the title. He recognized the artist, one made popular by their romantic ballads.
In fact... Ratchet skimmed the other titles. All of these here were romantic ballads, a good portion from Cybertron, but others from other planets. Some of the languages he recognized, others he didn't. But it was a fair bet that they were ballads, too.
Wheeljack liked romantic ballads. More than that, he liked singing along with them. That was... well, it was adorable, that's what it was.
Ratchet cocked his helm and looked at his partner, who was pretending full interest in his project and trying to hide the embarrassed flutter in his field.
“You're cute,” Ratchet said, and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to Wheeljack's helm, just above his audial. He made it a point to direct a puff of heated air down into Wheeljack's collar fairing. “And if you're inclined to put that down, you can join me in the berth. I'll show you just how much.”
Wheeljack shivered. His project clattered to the top of the desk. He turned his helm and nuzzled against Ratchet's.
“Thank you for not laughing,” he said, indicators flashing a gentle pale ocher.
Ratchet allowed affection to seep into his field. “Never,” he said, and took Wheeljack's hand, squeezing it. “But for the sake of my poor audials, do warn me the next time you get the urge.”
Wheeljack laughed. “I'll try.”
“Or at least save it for a time when I'm not about to recharge,” Ratchet added.
“Deal.”
***
a/n: Ahhh, these two are so cute together. And once upon a time, I didn't even like this pairing. Go figure. :D
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Title: Of Hidden Talents
Universe: G1
Characters: RatchetxWheeljack
Rating: K+
Warning: Fluff, Cuteness, sorta humor
Description: Ratchet hears a noise and goes to investigate.
What in Unicron's rusted undergarments was that noise?
Ratchet frowned, set aside his datapad, and rose from the berth. It sounded like someone was mating a trash compactor with a salvage grinder. It was offensive to the audials.
It was coming from elsewhere in the apartment.
Ratchet's frown deepened. He stalked out of the berthroom, determined to hunt down the poor machine and kill it. He had surgery tomorrow, frag it.
The caterwauling got louder. It was coming from his partner's workshop.
Was Wheeljack under attack?
It wouldn't be the first time thieves had broken in, searching for valuables amid the laboratory equipment.
Ratchet's optics cycled down. He groped for a weapon and snatched that hideous sculpture Ironhide gave them last decaorn. It was a gag gift, right? And it was steel, heavy, and sharp. It would do.
Ratchet braced himself and slammed the door panel, leaping into Wheeljack's lab with a loud yell. He brandished his sculpture.
“Drop it!” Ratchet growled.
The noise vanished with a tiny squeak. Wheeljack stared back at him, indicators a pale pink. His optics were wide. His hands froze mid-motion.
“Uh. Drop what?”
Ratchet peered around suspiciously. “No thieves?”
“Um... no.” Wheeljack eyed the sculpture. “Didn't Ironhide give us that?”
“I needed a weapon.”
“For the thieves?”
Ratchet slumped at his partner's incredulous tone and lowered his makeshift weapon. Be concerned for your partner's welfare and see what it got you? Harrumph.
“I heard a noise,” Ratchet said and set the sculpture down on the nearest spot of clean table. He had to take several steps to get there. Wheeljack wasn't a big believer in organization.
Mess, he claimed, was his biggest inspiration.
“Noise?”
“You didn't hear it? A sort of... dying noise?”
Wheeljack's indicators darkened in hue. His hands fiddled harder with whatever he was working on. “Oh... that.” His winglets fluttered. “Yeah, the Reflexians are an acquired taste.”
Ratchet blinked. “What?”
“Music,” Wheeljack clarified. “I was, um, singing.” He shuffled his pedes. “The song was from Reflexa.”
“Well, that's... different.” Ratchet inched closer to his partner, reading the embarrassment in Wheeljack's field.
It was adorable.
“Sorry, I woke you,” Wheeljack said and he stared so hard at the item in his hands Ratchet thought it might spontaneously combust. His winglets fluttered again.
“Wasn't recharging yet.” There was a stack of datatracks nearby. Ratchet picked up the top one, reading the title. He recognized the artist, one made popular by their romantic ballads.
In fact... Ratchet skimmed the other titles. All of these here were romantic ballads, a good portion from Cybertron, but others from other planets. Some of the languages he recognized, others he didn't. But it was a fair bet that they were ballads, too.
Wheeljack liked romantic ballads. More than that, he liked singing along with them. That was... well, it was adorable, that's what it was.
Ratchet cocked his helm and looked at his partner, who was pretending full interest in his project and trying to hide the embarrassed flutter in his field.
“You're cute,” Ratchet said, and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to Wheeljack's helm, just above his audial. He made it a point to direct a puff of heated air down into Wheeljack's collar fairing. “And if you're inclined to put that down, you can join me in the berth. I'll show you just how much.”
Wheeljack shivered. His project clattered to the top of the desk. He turned his helm and nuzzled against Ratchet's.
“Thank you for not laughing,” he said, indicators flashing a gentle pale ocher.
Ratchet allowed affection to seep into his field. “Never,” he said, and took Wheeljack's hand, squeezing it. “But for the sake of my poor audials, do warn me the next time you get the urge.”
Wheeljack laughed. “I'll try.”
“Or at least save it for a time when I'm not about to recharge,” Ratchet added.
“Deal.”
a/n: Ahhh, these two are so cute together. And once upon a time, I didn't even like this pairing. Go figure. :D
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
