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ajremixSo, continuity-wise, this feels like it could fit best in the cartoon canon, but- obviously –it wouldn’t actually be able to FIT in the timeline. But I guess that’s not important. What is, I guess, is the question: porn to ensue?
Title: Everyone’s a Winner
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1050
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hook, Scrapper
Summary: Hook gets awarded. Scrapper makes sure it doesn’t go to his head.
“I can’t believe it.”
Wheeljack resisted the urge to shake his head as Ratchet’s litany made another round for the umpteenth time.
“I can’t slagging believe it.”
“C’mon, Ratch. It’s had time to sink in by now.”
The CMO gave Wheeljack an incredulous look. “Are you serious, Jack? How is this not completely blowing your circuits? The first Cybertronian to be honored with the humans’ Nobel Prize is a fragging Decepticon!”
“Former Decepticon.” He corrected. “The war’s been over for a while-“
“Thirty years doesn’t erase several million of warfare.”
“-and you know the humans were never able to keep track of who was in which faction. Hook’s published some astounding biomedical research that’s really helped to bolster the humans’ development. It’s not impossible for someone to change, ya know.”
Ratchet made a ‘pfft!’ noise, crossing his arms and leaning back in the over-large seats that the Nobel Prize committee had set up for their large guests. “Have you ever even spoken to him? The mech’s a complete egotistical aft! I can’t believe we were invited to honor him!”
So very put-upon dealing with Ratchet’s complaining (not completely unwarranted, Wheeljack knew) the engineer’s optics curled in a humored smile and he patted the red hand next to him. “Just sit back and let it happen, Ratchet. After this is over, you won’t have to sit through it again.” Unless Hook was awarded again, but Wheeljack felt it prudent to keep that part to himself.
Ratchet eyed the two Constructicons that were showed to their seats on the opposite side of the concert hall from the former Autobots. He stared at the front stage in a dark glower and chose to end the conversation with a’ hmph!’
~*~*~*~
This was very possibly the most boring thing Scrapper had ever been subjected to. Even between all the downtime trapped in a ship underwater, traveling to distant planets and humoring Scavenger by letting the shovel gush about whatever inane thing he found this time, sitting there and listening to some humans prattling on about historical medical achievements was by far the. Most. Boring. Not to mention the fact that they were going on about the great discoveries made by his already too-arrogant teammate. Scrapper wondered, not for the fiftieth time, why he agreed to come.
Across the way the other two Cybertronians didn’t seem anymore enthralled than Scrapper did. Even Hook- who had been bragging about the award since the announcement (even though he kept saying the fact that it was from humans sullied the honor, but at least he was being recognized) –looked to be bored out of his processors.
To make matters worse, Hook had an acceptance speech. Scrapper heard this speech. Several dozen times. Asides from being longwinded and full of Hook’s normal egotism, he’s heard it several dozen times. Scrapper would die a happy, happy mech if he didn’t have to hear it again.
He unfolded his arms from where they were crossed over his chest and rested a hand on the seat’s provided armrest. And on top of Hook’s already resting hand. Scrapper felt the crane twitch slightly under him, but neither moved.
Until Scrapper began rubbing his thumb over the joints of Hook’s knuckles.
That got a nice little jolt. ‘What are you doing?’ The surgeon hissed over their tightlink.
‘Nothing.’
‘Then stop that.’
In reply, Scrapper twined his fingers around Hook’s, sliding them enticingly over the thin plates. There was nothing about Hook’s hands that Scrapper didn’t know intimately well. He knew all the little areas that made shivers shoot across Hook’s frame, the exact pressure against the precise seams to make the sensors in his palm go hypersensitive.
Next to him Hook shuddered. He kept from moaning softly out loud, but Scrapper heard it over their tightlink, felt it resonating through their gestalt link. He stroked those deft fingers long, slow, with just enough pressure that Hook couldn’t stop himself from turning his hand over to grip back. His sensors begged to feel along Scrapper’s palm, drink in the sensation and texture of his hand and wrist and to run over armor. Hook’s other hand gripped its armrest so hard it was a surprise he didn’t rip it off.
He gave his teammate a half-sparked glare, unsure if he wanted to payloader to stop or not. Why Hook thought he could take Scrapper anywhere, he had no idea.
~*~*~*~
When they finally announced the award and receiver, Ratchet shook himself back to awareness. Then recalled who it was being awarded and grumbled to himself, settling down for a looooong speech. A nudging from Wheeljack earned a low growl. He was nudged again and Wheeljack tilted his head towards the stage. Hook had made his way to the front but Ratchet couldn’t help recycling his optics. He zoomed his gaze in, making sure he was seeing correctly.
Hook was shaking. Very, very slightly, imperceptibly to humans and probably most Cybertronians, but Ratchet’s sharp optics could catch it. Not only was he shaking, but Ratchet’s sensors picked up the spike in internal temperature and electrical signals.
The crane knelt by the stage as two men lifted an enlarged version of the Nobel Prize medal and diploma into Hook’s waiting hand. If Ratchet hadn’t been watching intently, he would’ve missed the shudder that passed through the green mech’s frame as the objects dropped in his palm. Hook allowed the man on stage to shake a finger and he turned to regard the crowd and give the speech he had prepared.
Except his gaze kept straying to his teammate in the back and every time it did another fine shiver trembled through him. Finally Hook opened his mouth and said, “Your acknowledgement is appreciated and well deserved.” He stood and strode purposefully back to his companion.
There was silence for a moment before Wheeljack started clapping. Ratchet followed suit with an amused smirk and the humans hesitantly followed their lead. The speaker, off-balanced at this turn of events, made his way back to the podium. Hook stopped long enough to drag an incredibly smug Scrapper out of his seat and out the back.
‘Well,’ Ratchet said over their tightlink, ‘I think I found a Decepticon I actually like!’
Wheeljack didn’t bother to correct him and just tittered to himself.
Title: Everyone’s a Winner
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1050
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hook, Scrapper
Summary: Hook gets awarded. Scrapper makes sure it doesn’t go to his head.
“I can’t believe it.”
Wheeljack resisted the urge to shake his head as Ratchet’s litany made another round for the umpteenth time.
“I can’t slagging believe it.”
“C’mon, Ratch. It’s had time to sink in by now.”
The CMO gave Wheeljack an incredulous look. “Are you serious, Jack? How is this not completely blowing your circuits? The first Cybertronian to be honored with the humans’ Nobel Prize is a fragging Decepticon!”
“Former Decepticon.” He corrected. “The war’s been over for a while-“
“Thirty years doesn’t erase several million of warfare.”
“-and you know the humans were never able to keep track of who was in which faction. Hook’s published some astounding biomedical research that’s really helped to bolster the humans’ development. It’s not impossible for someone to change, ya know.”
Ratchet made a ‘pfft!’ noise, crossing his arms and leaning back in the over-large seats that the Nobel Prize committee had set up for their large guests. “Have you ever even spoken to him? The mech’s a complete egotistical aft! I can’t believe we were invited to honor him!”
So very put-upon dealing with Ratchet’s complaining (not completely unwarranted, Wheeljack knew) the engineer’s optics curled in a humored smile and he patted the red hand next to him. “Just sit back and let it happen, Ratchet. After this is over, you won’t have to sit through it again.” Unless Hook was awarded again, but Wheeljack felt it prudent to keep that part to himself.
Ratchet eyed the two Constructicons that were showed to their seats on the opposite side of the concert hall from the former Autobots. He stared at the front stage in a dark glower and chose to end the conversation with a’ hmph!’
~*~*~*~
This was very possibly the most boring thing Scrapper had ever been subjected to. Even between all the downtime trapped in a ship underwater, traveling to distant planets and humoring Scavenger by letting the shovel gush about whatever inane thing he found this time, sitting there and listening to some humans prattling on about historical medical achievements was by far the. Most. Boring. Not to mention the fact that they were going on about the great discoveries made by his already too-arrogant teammate. Scrapper wondered, not for the fiftieth time, why he agreed to come.
Across the way the other two Cybertronians didn’t seem anymore enthralled than Scrapper did. Even Hook- who had been bragging about the award since the announcement (even though he kept saying the fact that it was from humans sullied the honor, but at least he was being recognized) –looked to be bored out of his processors.
To make matters worse, Hook had an acceptance speech. Scrapper heard this speech. Several dozen times. Asides from being longwinded and full of Hook’s normal egotism, he’s heard it several dozen times. Scrapper would die a happy, happy mech if he didn’t have to hear it again.
He unfolded his arms from where they were crossed over his chest and rested a hand on the seat’s provided armrest. And on top of Hook’s already resting hand. Scrapper felt the crane twitch slightly under him, but neither moved.
Until Scrapper began rubbing his thumb over the joints of Hook’s knuckles.
That got a nice little jolt. ‘What are you doing?’ The surgeon hissed over their tightlink.
‘Nothing.’
‘Then stop that.’
In reply, Scrapper twined his fingers around Hook’s, sliding them enticingly over the thin plates. There was nothing about Hook’s hands that Scrapper didn’t know intimately well. He knew all the little areas that made shivers shoot across Hook’s frame, the exact pressure against the precise seams to make the sensors in his palm go hypersensitive.
Next to him Hook shuddered. He kept from moaning softly out loud, but Scrapper heard it over their tightlink, felt it resonating through their gestalt link. He stroked those deft fingers long, slow, with just enough pressure that Hook couldn’t stop himself from turning his hand over to grip back. His sensors begged to feel along Scrapper’s palm, drink in the sensation and texture of his hand and wrist and to run over armor. Hook’s other hand gripped its armrest so hard it was a surprise he didn’t rip it off.
He gave his teammate a half-sparked glare, unsure if he wanted to payloader to stop or not. Why Hook thought he could take Scrapper anywhere, he had no idea.
~*~*~*~
When they finally announced the award and receiver, Ratchet shook himself back to awareness. Then recalled who it was being awarded and grumbled to himself, settling down for a looooong speech. A nudging from Wheeljack earned a low growl. He was nudged again and Wheeljack tilted his head towards the stage. Hook had made his way to the front but Ratchet couldn’t help recycling his optics. He zoomed his gaze in, making sure he was seeing correctly.
Hook was shaking. Very, very slightly, imperceptibly to humans and probably most Cybertronians, but Ratchet’s sharp optics could catch it. Not only was he shaking, but Ratchet’s sensors picked up the spike in internal temperature and electrical signals.
The crane knelt by the stage as two men lifted an enlarged version of the Nobel Prize medal and diploma into Hook’s waiting hand. If Ratchet hadn’t been watching intently, he would’ve missed the shudder that passed through the green mech’s frame as the objects dropped in his palm. Hook allowed the man on stage to shake a finger and he turned to regard the crowd and give the speech he had prepared.
Except his gaze kept straying to his teammate in the back and every time it did another fine shiver trembled through him. Finally Hook opened his mouth and said, “Your acknowledgement is appreciated and well deserved.” He stood and strode purposefully back to his companion.
There was silence for a moment before Wheeljack started clapping. Ratchet followed suit with an amused smirk and the humans hesitantly followed their lead. The speaker, off-balanced at this turn of events, made his way back to the podium. Hook stopped long enough to drag an incredibly smug Scrapper out of his seat and out the back.
‘Well,’ Ratchet said over their tightlink, ‘I think I found a Decepticon I actually like!’
Wheeljack didn’t bother to correct him and just tittered to himself.
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Date: 2008-07-28 03:54 am (UTC)Well done!
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