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wyntir_knightTitle: Desperately Seeking Blue
Pairing(s): Smokescreen/Wheeljack, Prowl/Ratchet
Species (if applicable): Cybertronians
Summary: Wheeljack turns to Ratchet for advice on relationships, and how to deal with his confused feelings for Smokescreen.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash
Author's Note: A huge thank you to BitterEloquence for helping me get over my writer's block with this fic and giving it the once over. Without her, this story would still be collecting virtual dust at the bottom of my laptop.
Author's Note, Part 2: This story is an immediate sequel to "Take a Chance on Me" and makes mention of "Bad Day".
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
“Hey Ratch?” Wheeljack asked hesitantly as he leaned on the doorframe of the med bay. “You got a moment?
“Yeah, sure Jack,” Ratchet said never looking up from the tools he was meticulously cleaning. “What’s up?”
“Actually, uhm, can we go somewhere private?” Wheeljack asked, turning his gaze to the bustling medbay where First Aid, Skydive, and Swoop were cleaning and putting supplies away.
“What’s the matter, Jack?” Ratchet’s question died in his vocalizer as he looked up and saw the nervous and preoccupied look in his friend’s optics.
“Can we talk in private?” Wheeljack repeated nervously. “I mean where we won’t be interrupted?”
“Yeah, sure,” Ratchet said, ushering the inventor into his office. “The rest of you, keep cleaning. Aid you’re in charge. I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.” With that he shut the door to the office behind him and took a seat at his desk, motioning for Wheeljack to sit in one of the guest chairs.
Wheeljack looked at the chair, moved to sit, then began to pace the small space. Ratchet watched him intently. Something was obviously bothering the normally jovial inventor but Ratchet knew enough not to push.
Finally Wheeljack stopped pacing and turned to face Ratchet.
"Why's Skydive out there?" Wheeljack asked.
Ratchet considered his friend before responding. This was obviously a stalling tactic, but if Wheeljack needed time to gather himself, then Ratchet was happy to provide it.
"I want each team to have someone trained in field medicine. It was something we left out of both the Dinobots' and the Aerialbots' programming, so I've decided to use good old fashioned hands-on training," Ratchet replied.
"Oh," Wheeljack said dumbly. "But, uhm, isn't Skydive a bit ... bookish for field repairs?"
"I'd prefer someone who'll grasp the theory, even if the practical comes a bit slower," Ratchet said, leaning back in his chair and watching his friend carefully.
"Besides," he added when Wheeljack didn't say anything, "Skydive is the only logical choice. All the others are completely inappropriate for the job. I might have considered Silverbolt, but he already has enough on his plate as it is."
"Yeah, I guess," Wheeljack said as he sank down into the guest chair.
"Now I'm pretty sure you didn't want to discuss my choice of student," Ratchet said. "So what's up? And no more hedging."
“Well, see the thing is, I, uhm, I need some advice,” Wheeljack said hesitantly after a long pause. “Relationship advice.”
“Relation- About leaking time, Jack! Who is it?” Ratchet asked with a smile. It had been vorns since the Lancia had been in anything resembling a relationship.
“That’s just it, I’m not sure,” Wheeljack replied as he stood and began to pace again. “I mean I know who he is, but I don’t -- if that makes any sense. And I just have no idea what to do about it. It just came completely out of the blue ...” He trailed off as he stopped pacing and sat down heavily.
“Jack, what are you talking about?” Ratchet asked. He stood and pulled a cube of energon from the cupboard and pressed it into his friend’s hand. “Drink that and then tell me what’s wrong. You’re starting to sound like Bluestreak.”
Wheeljack took a long swig of the energon. He shuttered his optics and leaned back in the chair, remaining silent for a long time. Finally he sat up and looked at Ratchet.
“I have a problem that I need to talk out,” he said. “I need someone to tell me that I’m not completely losing my mind.”
“I’m here for you, buddy,” Ratchet said, his voice full of concern while he looked at his friend. “But are you sure you want to talk to me? Maybe Smokescreen might be the best person to talk to.”
That set off another round of pacing.
“No!” Wheeljack exclaimed. “I do not want to see him. At least I don’t think I want to see him. ... Primus I’m just so confused!” He sat heavily in the chair again.
“All right, look,” Ratchet said soothingly. “Just start at the beginning and tell me what’s wrong. But remember, I’m a physician, not a psychiatrist. I only downloaded what psych I needed to do my job.”
“I ... Okay,” Wheeljack said, leaning back in the chair. “All right. Do you remember that time when we were transporting my energon converter to Iacon and we got pinned down in the Dead Zone by those Seekers? You remember how we got caught by that Neutral?”
“Argent,” Ratchet growled bitterly. “I wish I didn’t but I do. What about it?”
“Do you remember that mech who helped us to escape?”
“Yeah, vaguely. What about him?”
“Well after we got away ... after he got us to Iacon - he said that if I ever got tired of wait- I mean, if I ever wanted to look him up he’d be around.”
Ratchet dropped his head and stared down at his hands. When he spoke his voice was barely a whisper. “You mean he said that if you ever got tired of waiting for-”
Wheeljack cut Ratchet off by placing his hand over the medic’s and squeezing gently.
“That was a long time ago and you know I wouldn’t change our relationship for anything,” he said.
Ratchet smiled in understanding and agreement at his oldest friend
“Besides,” Wheeljack said with a grin, “you’re like a brother to me now and I don’t know about you, but incest has never been one of my kinks.” Wheeljack gave one final squeeze to Ratchet’s hand before withdrawing, ignoring Ratchet’s amused snort.
“Well that’s certainly a way to change the mood,” Ratchet said as he stood and moved to take two more energon cubes from the cupboard.
“Hey, Ratch, any chance of getting something a bit harder?” Wheeljack asked.
Ratchet gave his friend an appraising look before returning the cubes to their place. He closed the cupboard and moving to a low drawer.
“You don’t know these are here, okay,” Ratchet said as he pulled out two cubes of high grade. “This is some of Smokescreen’s winnings. He owed me and Prowl big time after that stunt you two pulled.”
“Funny,” Wheeljack said as he accepted a proffered cube, “I would have figured that getting you together would have covered that debt nicely.”
“True. But I’m not about to pass up Khalisian high grade,” Ratchet said with a grin. He sat back down in his chair and swirled the energon it its cube lightly. “So, tell me, what’s all this about?”
“It’s about … well, I think that I have feelings for Smokescreen and I really don’t know how to go about dealing with them.”
“Smokescreen? I thought we were talking about that other mech … Uhm, Blue, I think?” Ratchet asked.
"That's why I need advice.” Wheeljack broke off and looked nervously down at his hands. “Smokescreen is Blue,” he said firmly as he looked Ratchet square in the optics.
“But how’s that possible?” Ratchet asked, sitting back in his chair and looking intently at his friend. “Back on Cybertron Smokescreen was an Autobot and a psychologist. Whereas Blue refused to join us and he was a Neutral … something. Whatever he was, I doubt that Argent had much use for psychology,” Ratchet said darkly.
“I don’t know. Maybe there was more to Blue than we realized. Maybe he changed his mind and decided to take us up on our offer. … I just know that this Smokescreen is that Blue.”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
“He said almost the same thing that Blue said. And it wasn’t just what he said. It was how he said it too …,” Wheeljack trailed off with a shrug, looking down at his hands.
“What exactly did he say? I mean is it possible that he just happened to say something vaguely similar to what Blue said?” Ratchet asked, trying to find the logic in the situation.
“It wasn’t vaguely similar, it was the same thing!” Wheeljack protested. Then, seeing Ratchet’s disbelieving look, he continued. “When we got away from Argent, Blue said: ‘if you ever get tired of waiting for the doc to come around, let me know; I’ll be nearby’. And Smokescreen said: ‘now that you’re done waiting for the doc, remember that I’m still nearby’. I mean, it’s the same thing!”
“Okay, I’ll admit it’s similar, but there’s got to be a more logical explanation for this,” Ratchet said.
“Fine Prowl,” Wheeljack asked sarcastically, “what do you figure is a more logical explanation than they’re the same mech?”
Ratchet shot Wheeljack an unamused look in response. Recognizing the look, Wheeljack changed gears.
“Okay, so let’s ask this. How did you know with Prowl?” Wheeljack asked, averting his gaze to his hands.
“How did I know what?” Ratchet asked, taking a sip of his energon.
“How did you know that it was right? I mean, there've been others but you haven’t been really serious with anyone since Arclight. How did you know that-”
“You locked us together in a cell remember?” Ratchet interrupted with a grin.
“I’m serious, Ratch,” Wheeljack said with mock sternness.
“Yeah, I know, and I apologize. I don’t know how I knew. He just …,” Ratchet broke off and looked down at his hands, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “It sounds like a bad cliché, but my spark lifts when I see him.”
“And here I am just confused when I see Smokescreen,” Wheeljack grumbled.
“Well, how did you feel about him before you knew he was Blue?” Ratchet asked.
“I … I don’t know. I never really thought about it,” Wheeljack replied.
“Yeah, right. And Tracks never really thinks about his finish,” Ratchet snorted.
“All right, all right,” Wheeljack said, leaning back in his chair.
“Okay, look,” Ratchet said after a long pause. “How did you feel about him when he was Blue? And more important, how will you feel if he turns out not to be Blue?”
“I, uhm. I don’t know?” Wheeljack replied.
“Bullshit,” Ratchet spat. “Try again.”
Wheeljack didn’t answer and Ratchet sighed in exasperation.
“Look. You know I love you but I don’t have time for this. Just kiss him and see how it feels,” he growled. “And don’t you dare tell me you don’t have a mouth under there because I’ve seen it, remember?” he added as he motioned to Wheeljack’s battle mask.
“Yeah, But I-”
“No buts. Just go!” Ratchet ordered, stabbing a finger toward the door. “And don’t come back until you’ve kissed him!”
Wheeljack shot Ratchet a pathetic look and stood hesitantly.
“Go!” Ratchet roared.
He stood and opened the door to his office, leaving no doubts in Wheeljack’s mind that Ratchet would kick him out on his aft if he didn’t move.
“All right. Fine,” Wheeljack grumbled.
“And I want full details,” Ratchet ordered imperiously. “And remember,” he added softly, taking his friend by the shoulders and looking him in the optics, “this is Smokescreen we’re talking about. I’m not saying that the rumours are true, but I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re too important to me. And I will reprogram him into a toaster if he breaks your spark. You let him know that, okay?”
Wheeljack gave his best friend a look of mixed confusion, apprehension, and thankfulness before nodding and walking out of the medbay acutely aware of First Aid, Swoop, and Skydive’s thinly veiled looks of curiosity.
He heard Ratchet turn on his three students as he walked out. “And you three! That was doctor-patient confidentiality! If I hear of even a hint of this getting out I will -”
Wheeljack didn’t hear how the threat continued as the door slid shut behind him.
Smokescreen stepped into his office, a cube of energon in one hand, a data pad in the other. He almost missed Wheeljack already sitting on his couch.
“Oh, Jack … did we have an appointment?” he asked, trying to fight back the slight flutter in his tank.
“No,” Wheeljack replied as he stood. “I just … I mean I … aw slag it!”
He nervously reached up and removed his battle mask, revealing the lower half of his face. In two short steps he had crossed the room and swept Smokescreen up into a tight embrace, kissing him soundly.
It took Smokescreen less than a beat to start returning the affection, kissing Wheeljack expertly, his hands moving carefully across the inventor’s back, and over his short wings. Wheeljack found himself melting into the embrace, exploring Smokescreen’s back and wings carefully. It was better than he had ever expected. And for a moment, the only thought that popped into his processor was the question of why he had even questioned doing this.
Finally, after what seemed like a wonderful forever, Wheeljack pulled away and looked the tactician in the optics. For a long moment he just stood there, holding Smokescreen close and looking at him, as if trying to see something that was no longer there.
“So … uhm … are you Blue?” Wheeljack asked, a flutter of dread turning in his tank.
“I told you once that names cost. How much are you willing to pay to find out?” Smokescreen asked coyly.
Wheeljack’s ears flashed a bright and joyful fuchsia that matched the huge grin on his face as he leaned back in to kiss Smokescreen again.
Pairing(s): Smokescreen/Wheeljack, Prowl/Ratchet
Species (if applicable): Cybertronians
Summary: Wheeljack turns to Ratchet for advice on relationships, and how to deal with his confused feelings for Smokescreen.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash
Author's Note: A huge thank you to BitterEloquence for helping me get over my writer's block with this fic and giving it the once over. Without her, this story would still be collecting virtual dust at the bottom of my laptop.
Author's Note, Part 2: This story is an immediate sequel to "Take a Chance on Me" and makes mention of "Bad Day".
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
“Hey Ratch?” Wheeljack asked hesitantly as he leaned on the doorframe of the med bay. “You got a moment?
“Yeah, sure Jack,” Ratchet said never looking up from the tools he was meticulously cleaning. “What’s up?”
“Actually, uhm, can we go somewhere private?” Wheeljack asked, turning his gaze to the bustling medbay where First Aid, Skydive, and Swoop were cleaning and putting supplies away.
“What’s the matter, Jack?” Ratchet’s question died in his vocalizer as he looked up and saw the nervous and preoccupied look in his friend’s optics.
“Can we talk in private?” Wheeljack repeated nervously. “I mean where we won’t be interrupted?”
“Yeah, sure,” Ratchet said, ushering the inventor into his office. “The rest of you, keep cleaning. Aid you’re in charge. I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.” With that he shut the door to the office behind him and took a seat at his desk, motioning for Wheeljack to sit in one of the guest chairs.
Wheeljack looked at the chair, moved to sit, then began to pace the small space. Ratchet watched him intently. Something was obviously bothering the normally jovial inventor but Ratchet knew enough not to push.
Finally Wheeljack stopped pacing and turned to face Ratchet.
"Why's Skydive out there?" Wheeljack asked.
Ratchet considered his friend before responding. This was obviously a stalling tactic, but if Wheeljack needed time to gather himself, then Ratchet was happy to provide it.
"I want each team to have someone trained in field medicine. It was something we left out of both the Dinobots' and the Aerialbots' programming, so I've decided to use good old fashioned hands-on training," Ratchet replied.
"Oh," Wheeljack said dumbly. "But, uhm, isn't Skydive a bit ... bookish for field repairs?"
"I'd prefer someone who'll grasp the theory, even if the practical comes a bit slower," Ratchet said, leaning back in his chair and watching his friend carefully.
"Besides," he added when Wheeljack didn't say anything, "Skydive is the only logical choice. All the others are completely inappropriate for the job. I might have considered Silverbolt, but he already has enough on his plate as it is."
"Yeah, I guess," Wheeljack said as he sank down into the guest chair.
"Now I'm pretty sure you didn't want to discuss my choice of student," Ratchet said. "So what's up? And no more hedging."
“Well, see the thing is, I, uhm, I need some advice,” Wheeljack said hesitantly after a long pause. “Relationship advice.”
“Relation- About leaking time, Jack! Who is it?” Ratchet asked with a smile. It had been vorns since the Lancia had been in anything resembling a relationship.
“That’s just it, I’m not sure,” Wheeljack replied as he stood and began to pace again. “I mean I know who he is, but I don’t -- if that makes any sense. And I just have no idea what to do about it. It just came completely out of the blue ...” He trailed off as he stopped pacing and sat down heavily.
“Jack, what are you talking about?” Ratchet asked. He stood and pulled a cube of energon from the cupboard and pressed it into his friend’s hand. “Drink that and then tell me what’s wrong. You’re starting to sound like Bluestreak.”
Wheeljack took a long swig of the energon. He shuttered his optics and leaned back in the chair, remaining silent for a long time. Finally he sat up and looked at Ratchet.
“I have a problem that I need to talk out,” he said. “I need someone to tell me that I’m not completely losing my mind.”
“I’m here for you, buddy,” Ratchet said, his voice full of concern while he looked at his friend. “But are you sure you want to talk to me? Maybe Smokescreen might be the best person to talk to.”
That set off another round of pacing.
“No!” Wheeljack exclaimed. “I do not want to see him. At least I don’t think I want to see him. ... Primus I’m just so confused!” He sat heavily in the chair again.
“All right, look,” Ratchet said soothingly. “Just start at the beginning and tell me what’s wrong. But remember, I’m a physician, not a psychiatrist. I only downloaded what psych I needed to do my job.”
“I ... Okay,” Wheeljack said, leaning back in the chair. “All right. Do you remember that time when we were transporting my energon converter to Iacon and we got pinned down in the Dead Zone by those Seekers? You remember how we got caught by that Neutral?”
“Argent,” Ratchet growled bitterly. “I wish I didn’t but I do. What about it?”
“Do you remember that mech who helped us to escape?”
“Yeah, vaguely. What about him?”
“Well after we got away ... after he got us to Iacon - he said that if I ever got tired of wait- I mean, if I ever wanted to look him up he’d be around.”
Ratchet dropped his head and stared down at his hands. When he spoke his voice was barely a whisper. “You mean he said that if you ever got tired of waiting for-”
Wheeljack cut Ratchet off by placing his hand over the medic’s and squeezing gently.
“That was a long time ago and you know I wouldn’t change our relationship for anything,” he said.
Ratchet smiled in understanding and agreement at his oldest friend
“Besides,” Wheeljack said with a grin, “you’re like a brother to me now and I don’t know about you, but incest has never been one of my kinks.” Wheeljack gave one final squeeze to Ratchet’s hand before withdrawing, ignoring Ratchet’s amused snort.
“Well that’s certainly a way to change the mood,” Ratchet said as he stood and moved to take two more energon cubes from the cupboard.
“Hey, Ratch, any chance of getting something a bit harder?” Wheeljack asked.
Ratchet gave his friend an appraising look before returning the cubes to their place. He closed the cupboard and moving to a low drawer.
“You don’t know these are here, okay,” Ratchet said as he pulled out two cubes of high grade. “This is some of Smokescreen’s winnings. He owed me and Prowl big time after that stunt you two pulled.”
“Funny,” Wheeljack said as he accepted a proffered cube, “I would have figured that getting you together would have covered that debt nicely.”
“True. But I’m not about to pass up Khalisian high grade,” Ratchet said with a grin. He sat back down in his chair and swirled the energon it its cube lightly. “So, tell me, what’s all this about?”
“It’s about … well, I think that I have feelings for Smokescreen and I really don’t know how to go about dealing with them.”
“Smokescreen? I thought we were talking about that other mech … Uhm, Blue, I think?” Ratchet asked.
"That's why I need advice.” Wheeljack broke off and looked nervously down at his hands. “Smokescreen is Blue,” he said firmly as he looked Ratchet square in the optics.
“But how’s that possible?” Ratchet asked, sitting back in his chair and looking intently at his friend. “Back on Cybertron Smokescreen was an Autobot and a psychologist. Whereas Blue refused to join us and he was a Neutral … something. Whatever he was, I doubt that Argent had much use for psychology,” Ratchet said darkly.
“I don’t know. Maybe there was more to Blue than we realized. Maybe he changed his mind and decided to take us up on our offer. … I just know that this Smokescreen is that Blue.”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
“He said almost the same thing that Blue said. And it wasn’t just what he said. It was how he said it too …,” Wheeljack trailed off with a shrug, looking down at his hands.
“What exactly did he say? I mean is it possible that he just happened to say something vaguely similar to what Blue said?” Ratchet asked, trying to find the logic in the situation.
“It wasn’t vaguely similar, it was the same thing!” Wheeljack protested. Then, seeing Ratchet’s disbelieving look, he continued. “When we got away from Argent, Blue said: ‘if you ever get tired of waiting for the doc to come around, let me know; I’ll be nearby’. And Smokescreen said: ‘now that you’re done waiting for the doc, remember that I’m still nearby’. I mean, it’s the same thing!”
“Okay, I’ll admit it’s similar, but there’s got to be a more logical explanation for this,” Ratchet said.
“Fine Prowl,” Wheeljack asked sarcastically, “what do you figure is a more logical explanation than they’re the same mech?”
Ratchet shot Wheeljack an unamused look in response. Recognizing the look, Wheeljack changed gears.
“Okay, so let’s ask this. How did you know with Prowl?” Wheeljack asked, averting his gaze to his hands.
“How did I know what?” Ratchet asked, taking a sip of his energon.
“How did you know that it was right? I mean, there've been others but you haven’t been really serious with anyone since Arclight. How did you know that-”
“You locked us together in a cell remember?” Ratchet interrupted with a grin.
“I’m serious, Ratch,” Wheeljack said with mock sternness.
“Yeah, I know, and I apologize. I don’t know how I knew. He just …,” Ratchet broke off and looked down at his hands, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “It sounds like a bad cliché, but my spark lifts when I see him.”
“And here I am just confused when I see Smokescreen,” Wheeljack grumbled.
“Well, how did you feel about him before you knew he was Blue?” Ratchet asked.
“I … I don’t know. I never really thought about it,” Wheeljack replied.
“Yeah, right. And Tracks never really thinks about his finish,” Ratchet snorted.
“All right, all right,” Wheeljack said, leaning back in his chair.
“Okay, look,” Ratchet said after a long pause. “How did you feel about him when he was Blue? And more important, how will you feel if he turns out not to be Blue?”
“I, uhm. I don’t know?” Wheeljack replied.
“Bullshit,” Ratchet spat. “Try again.”
Wheeljack didn’t answer and Ratchet sighed in exasperation.
“Look. You know I love you but I don’t have time for this. Just kiss him and see how it feels,” he growled. “And don’t you dare tell me you don’t have a mouth under there because I’ve seen it, remember?” he added as he motioned to Wheeljack’s battle mask.
“Yeah, But I-”
“No buts. Just go!” Ratchet ordered, stabbing a finger toward the door. “And don’t come back until you’ve kissed him!”
Wheeljack shot Ratchet a pathetic look and stood hesitantly.
“Go!” Ratchet roared.
He stood and opened the door to his office, leaving no doubts in Wheeljack’s mind that Ratchet would kick him out on his aft if he didn’t move.
“All right. Fine,” Wheeljack grumbled.
“And I want full details,” Ratchet ordered imperiously. “And remember,” he added softly, taking his friend by the shoulders and looking him in the optics, “this is Smokescreen we’re talking about. I’m not saying that the rumours are true, but I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re too important to me. And I will reprogram him into a toaster if he breaks your spark. You let him know that, okay?”
Wheeljack gave his best friend a look of mixed confusion, apprehension, and thankfulness before nodding and walking out of the medbay acutely aware of First Aid, Swoop, and Skydive’s thinly veiled looks of curiosity.
He heard Ratchet turn on his three students as he walked out. “And you three! That was doctor-patient confidentiality! If I hear of even a hint of this getting out I will -”
Wheeljack didn’t hear how the threat continued as the door slid shut behind him.
Smokescreen stepped into his office, a cube of energon in one hand, a data pad in the other. He almost missed Wheeljack already sitting on his couch.
“Oh, Jack … did we have an appointment?” he asked, trying to fight back the slight flutter in his tank.
“No,” Wheeljack replied as he stood. “I just … I mean I … aw slag it!”
He nervously reached up and removed his battle mask, revealing the lower half of his face. In two short steps he had crossed the room and swept Smokescreen up into a tight embrace, kissing him soundly.
It took Smokescreen less than a beat to start returning the affection, kissing Wheeljack expertly, his hands moving carefully across the inventor’s back, and over his short wings. Wheeljack found himself melting into the embrace, exploring Smokescreen’s back and wings carefully. It was better than he had ever expected. And for a moment, the only thought that popped into his processor was the question of why he had even questioned doing this.
Finally, after what seemed like a wonderful forever, Wheeljack pulled away and looked the tactician in the optics. For a long moment he just stood there, holding Smokescreen close and looking at him, as if trying to see something that was no longer there.
“So … uhm … are you Blue?” Wheeljack asked, a flutter of dread turning in his tank.
“I told you once that names cost. How much are you willing to pay to find out?” Smokescreen asked coyly.
Wheeljack’s ears flashed a bright and joyful fuchsia that matched the huge grin on his face as he leaned back in to kiss Smokescreen again.
