Work Text:
How many hours had he worked on this report? He checked the clock and sighed heavily, rubbing his optics. 36 hours. 36 harrowing, frustratingly boring hours.
Ratchet wanted to put it down and recharge, but he knew if he stopped, he'd never finish it. Having to take the time to make redundant explanations of something almost no one would read was next to torture on his processor. He hated having to make summaries of his research, and he could imagine every other doctor and scientist felt the same way. Everything was interesting and even fun up until a summary had to be written on the findings of the research. Then it became the worst task he could ever put himself through, by sheer mind-numbing boredom.
And he'd normally call in Drift to be his supporter (and distraction, when he needed a break), but Drift was on a mission with a few others, inspecting a distress call from a rather troubling and notorious battlefield location. The last anyone knew of the place, it was wrecked to hell by the Decepticons and the DJD, so an unexpected call for help was questionable at best. It wasn't that he thought Drift couldn't handle it, he knew he could. But he'd rather have him here, for is own comfort, and for the pleasant company.
Fortunately, at least he wasn't the only one having to do this. Brainstorm, Perceptor, First Aid and even Rung had to report their own findings on the research they'd conducted together. And then work together to make an even longer, more excessively redundant one, for the medical archives on Cybertron. And he was NOT looking forward to it.
His phone buzzed again and he glanced at the lit screen. A ping from First Aid. When Swerve had set up the social media connection for the Lost Light's members to use, he'd placed a simple, surprisingly useful ability to it: Pinging. If someone needed another's attention, or just wanted to make sure they were okay (or in dire cases, alive), they could send a ping, which was a wordless message that only consisted of the sender's identification and the phrase "(this person) is pinging you." You had the option to ping back, or ignore it. For the past day or so, he and the others on the project had been using the pings as a silent cry of agony they all mutually shared, as well as encouraging each other they'd get through this stupid task together.
Ratchet grabbed his phone and selected the option to ping back. Somehow, that one ping could express in more words how he felt about all this than he could come up with. As he placed his phone back on the desk a knock rapped on his door. Only one person on the whole ship knocked to a silly rhythm like that - Iris.
Pleasant company. Maybe he could afford a bit of a break, if just for a while. "Come in."
The door slid open and Iris waved with a goofy grin. Ratchet huffed in amusement and shook his head. One side of his mouth pulled up in a smile.
"Did Drift tell you to give me a visit?" he asked as she walked in.
"Yep," she confirmed. The femme moved to stand next to the doctor, looking at the lit screen in front of him. "Is this that report you were talking about the other night at the bar?"
Ratchet sighed and groaned a little in misery. "Yes," he answered, glaring at the screen. "And I'm only halfway done."
"Halfway?" She looked at him with surprise and concern. "It's been what, two days?"
"Just about." He rubbed his optics again. "I don't know what's keeping me awake, spite or desperation to get this damn thing done."
Her optics looked worried. "Why haven't you taken a break? You can't force yourself to work on something like this nonstop."
"You have clearly never had to do a 48-hour surgical operation." He didn't mean it rudely. "Nah, sweetie, I'm used to it. I just know if I stop I'm not going to want to touch it again. I'll end up putting it off until someone forces me down and makes me do it. So I have to keep working on it until I'm done."
"Ugh. Gross." She sat on the table, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on her palms. "So no breaks then. Not even to eat?"
"Hell no, I've been eating, I don't hate myself that much." He gestured to the mini-refrigerator in the corner of the office room.
She shook her head, smiling a little. "Frozen energon snacks aren't food, Ratch."
"You see me giving a damn?" he grinned, giving her a look.
"Nope." She returned the smile. "Still. You should at least let yourself take a short break. A small distraction would probably help you get more steam to keep going."
"Nah, I don't want to risk it."
"If you make it quick enough it should be fine."
He looked at her. "And what do you suggest would be 'short enough' to not make me lose motivation?"
"I got at least one idea," she said.
Ratchet slid away from his desk in his chair, arms open. "I'm all audials, darling," he told her.
Her smile got a little mischievous and her head tilted a little. She stood up and moved to him, stepping and leaning forward to straddle the doctor's lap with both legs on either side of his thighs. Her wrists rested on his shoulders and she rested her wings over the sides of the chair. Ratchet was surprised, hands up around her waist but not touching her.
"Not sure about this kind of distraction," he said.
"Come on," she whined a little. "I know you prefer this kind of 'distraction' with Drift. And I won't go that far. I didn't come here for that. If I'd wanted that from you I would have waited until you were done."
Ratchet raised a brow. "You've had those ideas in your head there before, sweetspark?"
"Don't flatter yourself," she smirked kindly. "You'd be the last to find out about it."
He hesitated to touch her still, as much as the idea of this kind of 'distraction' appealed to him right now. "I don't know sweetspark," he said with a soft voice. "I would hate to make Drift jealous."
She shook her head. "Please. It was Drift who suggested it."
Flirtatious bastard. "Sure he did." Drift _would_ suggest something like this. Iris had been doing well to keep the doctor company lately, giving him someone to talk to about his more personal transgressions and unraveling his more confusing emotions for him. Drift loved him, and he loved Drift back, but the poor mech couldn't understand his mind as well as Iris seemed to. She could make sense of even his most clouded thoughts. And he was beginning to feel himself falling for her a little for it too, though he'd rather not acknowledge those feelings yet.
She shrugged. "You can tell me to leave," she told him.
"You know I won't," he responded, now slowly letting his hands fall a little by her sides. He was still reluctant to go forward. He wasn't worried about cheating on Drift, that wasn't the problem. Drift was already conjunx with him, and was sparkmates with Iris and Rodimus both. The doc stopped trying to wrap his head around that. It just made him bitter and troubled. And it was absolutely Drift's style to send one of the two other bots to come give him a visit - he just didn't know if he was in the mood for it. Or wanted it.
Her servo stroked over his jaw. "Then let me give you a distraction for a little bit?" she purred. "It'll be quick. I promise. And then you can shoo me out."
A smirk answered her. "If you really think you can work it well enough, I'll give you a chance."
She tilted her head, optics half-lidded and playful. "Doctor, have more faith in a lady."
During his response, she leaned forward, nuzzling against his left cheek. Her lips pressed delicate pecks on the cables of his neck, giving slow progress up to his jawline. Halfway through his answer, he lost his composure, the kisses pulling all coolness from his frame. "Hah, I don't know Iris, I've never seen yo--oh--ooohhh..." His hands slowly fell, moving to rest on the edges of the chair by her calves. His optics closed and his head leaned slightly to one side as he caved from the soothing sensations on his neck. Drift must've told her that was a sensitive spot of his...
Her optics were closed as she tilted, placing kisses along the bottom of the doctor's jaw where the cables attached to the hinges. His head rolled back against the back of the seat, another soft groan of pleasure coming from his lips. He moved his servos to rest on the armrests, but she gently reached and took his right hand in her own, pulling it down and dragging it up her thigh to encourage him. He answered by placing both hands on her thighs, running them up to her hips and back down. He spent time to feel the smooth metal of her legs and the curves of her waist while she worked at his throat, soft lips pressed to the cables and kissing tenderly along their length.
Stress melted away quickly under her affections. Ratchet slid his servos up each side of her waist to the seam of her chestplate, then wrapped them around her back to stroke just under each wing. She breathed hard on his neck and her back shivered. He knew a lot of things thanks to his millions of years as a medic and one of those things was this: Fliers had real sensitive wing joints. His fingers trailed up either one, tracing the inside closest to her spine. She shuddered and and stiffened, whimpering quietly into his neck. He chuckled quietly. _Two can play this game,_ he almost said.
Iris moved to the other side, drawing another groan from him. His hands traveled down, rolling over her hips and gripping at her aft. She jumped a little and rolled into his touch, grinding over his lap and arching her back forward. Her own hands started to move, sliding up his torso. They slowed over his chestplate, stroking the metal and making his face tighten in pleasure.
Damn, girl, he said mentally. He tucked her closer by pushing on her hips and she complied, scooting up so their waists and chests touched. She pressed herself against him and he leaned back in the seat. The chair listed back a little but caught, unable to lean any further. Now he had her comfortably in his lap, and his servos roamed over her frame, taking in her body and memorizing every groove and surface. After one last peck to his neck, she intensified her actions, suckling on the wire and making small markings on the sensitive cable. Ratchet's voice hitched and he felt heat build up under his plating.
"Iris..." he whispered into her audial. She didn't show it, but she was proud of herself for getting him this worked up over so little. Drift really had given her some good pointers earlier before she walked in. Her left hand moved from his chestplate, fingers pointing down as she slid her palm down over his abdominal plating. He started breathing harder the lower she went, until she stopped just over his front pelvic plating and switching to stroke around his hip. Her other hand cupped and gripped at his chest plating, prompting the smallest moan out of him.
This was a good distraction, he admitted. No, this was a wonderful distraction. She was good at this, to his surprise. Then again she was close with Drift just as he was - and his conjunx had probably spilled about his arousing spots to her. Naughty fragger. He started to kiss along her shoulder and the crook of her neck, lips pressing across her armor. She gave a particularly hard suck on the cable and made him catch, stopping to pant against her.
Then she nipped gently on his neck, denta barely pressing down. It was still enough to make his hands grab her hard and his voice catch. Her lower hand gripped his hip plating and he thrust forward instinctively up into her. She gasped, reciprocating the action and making him silently curse. "Damn..."
Oh he hadn't had any idea he needed this so badly. She was toying with him so gently, barely much effort, and he was falling right into it, pleasure building up. One servo grabbed her aft again and pressed her harder against him. She whined into his audial, which made him smile. Suddenly she was casually grinding into him and he caught a moan before it could leave his voice. Naughty girl.
Was she sure she hadn't been thinking about him? He began to doubt her words; her body was saying something completely different. Both his servos gripped her hips and she straightened her back. Small dark circles lined up the side of his neck from where she'd suckled, hickies that would probably be more obvious than they should be. She gave him a loving look then leaned her head forward to take his lips with hers. The kiss started slow, gradual and affectionate, still lazily grinding on him. Ratchet moved his left hand up to stroke along the line of her wing joint and she opened her mouth, inhaling sharply. He jumped at the chance, glossa sliding into her mouth and stroking down hers. She moaned, muffled by his mouth, shivering against him and licking over his glossa in return. Now she was aroused, maybe even desiring him, but she knew why she came here - and it wasn't for that kind of distraction. Perhaps another time. But not right now.
The kiss slowed down and her gentle grinding gradually faded. Both of them eventually calmed their desire until tension left their bodies. The kiss became lazy, slow and loving, before stopping altogether. Iris slid her palms down to his waist and relaxed, pressing her helm to his and breathing a little hard. Ratchet had to ignore the heat in his wires and placed his hands back on her hips, tracing circles with his thumbs.
"That was a damn good distraction," he murmured to her. She smiled back.
They didn't move for a few minutes, enjoying the soothing quiet and each other's warmth before she leaned away. Her wrists rested on his shoulders, head tilted and smiling. Her optics gave him a warm, caring look, and he returned it in kind. This had definitely changed his opinion - and emotions - for her, that was for sure to him.
"I'm glad I could satisfy," she said in a quiet voice. She gave him one last slow kiss, before hugging him close and nuzzling his cheek. Ratchet's smile didn't fade and lingered the entire time that she stayed, from her getting up and giving him a peck on the cheek until she exited with a wink. As she walked out of the med bay, he sighed and shook his head, the side of his lips still quirked. He turned to the screen, where he'd left off on his text, and had to think for a moment. What was he saying when he stopped typing...?
It took a couple minutes but he did eventually get back into the work. Her visit had paid off; he had more energy and now, was more relaxed, and able to tolerate the work a little more. During her stay First Aid and Perceptor had both pinged him, but he didn't hear or notice. On her walk back to her habsuite, Iris's phone buzzed and she pulled it from her thigh compartment to read.
[Did it work?] a text read. Drift. She smiled and stopped her pace to answer.
[Just like you said.]
[Excellent. I knew it would.]
She shook her head. [Get back to work, Drift.]
[Nothing's happening. We're just sitting here. Whirl and I stayed behind while Megs and Lotty checked the med bay and Nautica and Nightbeat checked the mess hall. Cyclonus and Magnus are checking the bunks. No sign of anything.]
[Which is still a sign. And not a good one.]
[We've got it.]
[I don't doubt it. Good luck Drift.]
[Thanks for helping with Ratchet. I knew he needed the stress relief.]
[No problem.]
She closed her phone and headed to the habsuite she shared with Rodimus, still smirking a little. No, she really hadn't thought of the doctor like that...but she wouldn't mind if she started to.