#roddratchet

They get revealed during a really boring safety meeting. He was having a hard time recharging at night so it made it harder to stay awake in the day. Megatron and Minimus knew this so when he started falling in and out of recharge they didn’t say anything.

Rodratch (with some Roddratchet mixed in for pleasure)

Ratchet never thought he'd miss the splash of bright yellow on Rodimus's back, but the grey mottled metal of the speedster's damaged spoiler gave his spark a sickening twist. 

"Rodimus, can you please start thinking before you go and get all your kibble ripped off?" Ratchet complained as he carefully prodded the healing wounds for any cracks or warps in the metal. "Does this hurt?" he asked as he pressed a little more firmly on the edge of the joints.

"No," the orange speedster grunted sleepily into the pillow. He'd been recovering for the last two days. "Feels good, actually. Do it some more?"

Ratchet rolled his optics at the speedster's nonchalance, but he did feel bad for his sparkmate. He got hurt protecting Brainstorm from an angry alien, throwing himself in the middle of danger for his crew.

Once he thought the idiotic mech simply didn't understand how much danger he was in. He injured himself on a near constant basis, seemingly putting himself in harm's way whenever he got the chance. 

Now Ratchet knew the Prime (and Drift, too) had a martyr complex a mile and a half wide. 

He definitely had a type. 

He gave one of the spoiler tips a rough pinch in revenge.

"Aye! E-easy, Ratch, they're still pretty sensitive." 

"Sorry, just a test to make sure the protoform's healing okay." He answered, only half a lie. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad was it?"

"I mean, it wasn't really painful, they're justsensitive."

Ratchet categorized his curiosity as purely medical. Of course he wanted to know what kind of sensitivity Rodimus was feeling to make sure there wasn't any lasting nerve damage. But he also wanted to take care of Rodimus, after all, so what harm would a light massage do?

"How about here? Sensitive?" Ratchet asked as he let his thumbs rub slowly down the side of the spoiler joints.

"Yess…" Rodimus moaned as he relaxed. "Very."

"And here?" Ratchet asked again, letting his servos gently grip the undersides of the spoilers and knead into the metal. 

"Ratch." Rodimus sighed, turning his head to cock a suspicious optic up at his mate. "Are you doctoring or are you just trying to get me worked up?"

Ratchet snorted at the accusation. Elevated sparkrate, slightly raised temperature, varying ventilations… Rodimus was already worked up. It never took much to get the speedster excited. 

Instead of answering, the medic climbed onto the berth and straddled Rodimus's back. The speedster grunted a complaint, but Ratchet quieted him with a squeeze of his thighs around the Prime's own. "Hush. You wanted me to keep going a minute ago. Just… tell me if anything hurts, alright?." He added gently before he started massaging the Prime's spoiler.

Rodimus bristled at the first, but it was clear the sensation was more than just pleasant— Rodimus was always weak to teasing, but after just a few minutes of tweaking and massaging the Prime was practically panting, mouth open as he gripped the pillow under his helm. 

Ratchet leaned forward and dragged his glossa across the metal wing, tightening his legs to keep the mech pinned as he tried to buck. 

"Ratchet, please, frag me! Frag me, frag me, Ratty, please!" He keened. 

Ratchet let his frame splay across the Prime's back, chest-to-spoiler as he let his chin rest on Rodimus's shoulder so he could reach his audials. 

"All worked up from just a little kibble play, Captain?" He teased, letting his hips grind slowly against Rodimus's aft. "Come on, I've always wanted to make you overload just from your spoilers. I know you can do it, Captain. You love being good for me, don't you?"

Rodimus desperately moved back against him, nodding and gasping as Ratchet took a much firmer hold of his spoilers and squeezed.

"Ratty!" He cried, bucking his hips again. Ratchet didn't need to hear the mech's modesty panel snap open to know he was close, but it thrilled him nonetheless. 

"Come on, Captain," he urged, using the title that he knew drove the Prime wild as he let his servos run circles around transformation seams of the spoiler wings, "I can feel how close you are. I'll frag you as soon as you overload, won't even let you turn around. I'm going to keep my hands on your spoiler all night."

He leaned down and sharply bit the tip of the wing– not hard enough to leave dents, but enough to sting. It went against all his medical coding, but the keening wail that ripped from Rodimus's vocalizer as he overloaded and his transfluid splashed onto the berth was plenty reward.

"So good for me, Captain," he cooed, letting his servos reach down for the soaked valve. "Don't worry, I'm going to take good care of you."

"And so am I," Drift stated, sidling onto the berth beside them and pulling Rodimus into a rough kiss. "Primus, I love when you two get started without me." He said breathlessly as he pulled away.

"It's Ratchet's fault this time. He jumped me, Drift! And I'm injured!" 

"Guess I'll have to make it up to you, sweetspark," Ratchet teased as he immediately slipped two servos into the Prime's valve. 

"Good idea, Ratty. I think the captain deserves a little pampering. Don't you, Roddy?" Drift asked with a smile.

Rodimus immediately perks up when he spots drift, instantaneously beginning to beg and whine, pleasing for Drift to touch him. Drift goes for Rodimus' panels only to find that they were locked. So that's what Ratchet meant.