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Title: Business as Usual
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Challenge: A through Z
Theme: C is for "Crash Landing"
Fandom: Transformers/Beast Wars
Pairing: Ratchet/Rose
Genres: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing Transformers and I don't own Rose Connelly.
Warnings: N/A
Themes:
A is for "Autumn Days"
B is for "Beating Up the Witness"
---
You should get out more often, he says. Take a break, he says. Act like you have a soul and have fun, he says!
Freezing his aft off was not what he thought Sam had in mind.
"S- Slagging Primus, boy, when am I g- going to experience this fun you k- keep going on about?" he shouted angrily, his breath blasting out into the cold air in abrupt clouds of escaped body heat. His agitation grew hotter at the uncontrolled stuttering of his words.
The tall, lanky boy in question turned toward him, grinning behind his thick, fluffy scarf, his own breath coming out in visible puffs as he spoke. "Aw, chill out, Ratchet! This is the fun!"
He growled, his lips pulling into a tight line as he took a moment to glare at the 'fun' surrounding him.
Feet of flawless-white snow was suffocating the ground, weighing down the branches of towering pine trees, and soaking his jean-clad aft as he sat in it. The wind was cold and biting, and he cursed every single person around him who smiled and laughed and giggled as they threw snowballs, built snowmen, and did what he refused to keep doing: ice skate.
He'd lost feeling in his nose and his ears. His teeth were near to splintering from the constant chattering. His gloves did nothing to keep his fingers from feeling frostbitten. His aft felt bruised from falling on it several times. And there was still an uncomfortable twinge in his ankle after having twisted it slightly an hour prior.
"This is ridiculous," he snapped, glaring sourly at Sam and the humanized Bumblebee as they began approaching him, their snow boots making scrunching sounds as they moved through the several thick layers of compiled ice crystals.
"Come on, Ratchet. It's not that bad," Bumblebee said, grinning while he reached a hand toward him, offering to help him up.
He angrily smacked the offending appendage away. "Leave me be, you cretins. I wish to contract hypothermia in peace."
"Dude, just need to loosen up a little," Sam laughed, his grin identical to the scout's.
He gritted his teeth, tightening his reins on the pent up frustration, humiliation, exhaustion, and aching soreness that had been building for the past three hours.
"I will loosen your head if you do not get away from me!" he barked, thoroughly fed up with the two. His bad mood only darkened when they continued to grin; however, instead of teasing him more, he was relieved to see them finally shrug their shoulders and leave him there in the snow.
Closing his eyes, he heaved a sigh and tiredly rubbed a gloved hand over his face. Well, I suppose I should get back to the base . . . The last thing I want is to truly come down with hypoth-
"Doctor Ratchet? Is, um . . . that you? Why are you . . . sitting in the snow?"
Pulling his hand away, he glanced up at the newcomer, frowning slightly . . . and immediately recognized the young woman standing over him, her soft features expressing confusion as she stared down at him. He felt his irritation drain away, if only a little bit, at the amusing sight of her bundled up so warmly in a large, thick sweater, a knitted cap, and a puffy scarf that practically swallowed her neck and face.
"Ah . . . Miss Connelly, correct?" he said, smiling politely. She just blinked her light blue eyes and tugged her scarf down from her face with a mitten-wrapped hand.
"Are you all right?" she asked, traces of concern in her voice as her brows knitted together. He quickly waved a dismissing hand and diverted his gaze elsewhere, an odd sense of warmth rising into his cheeks. How embarrassing he must look, sitting in the snow and looking like a spoiled sparkling . . .
His bad mood reared its hideous head at that thought and he had to clamp down on it, not wanting to snap at the innocent woman.
"Oh, I'm quite all right. I've been . . . ice skating. I'm just taking a break." Before I break my aft instead, he thought sourly. He couldn't stop a dark scowl from surfacing.
She started laughing.
He cut his eyes at her, a stung glare rising up into them. Was she laughing at him? By Primus, she better not be! He was not going to tolerate anymore merriment at his expense.
"I fail to see what it is I said that you find so humorous," he groused, glancing at her irritably.
Her laugh slowly quieted into a grin. It lit up her pinkly-flushed features, making her appear adorable and sweet. Everything, of which, he was not at the moment. No, he felt satisfyingly ugly and mean.
"No, no. It's just . . . It was the way you looked just now when you said that. You looked so much like my dad when I tried to teach him how to play Egyptian Rat Screw."
What the slag is that . . .? he thought, but instead spoke dryly, "Is that so?"
He was beginning to grow uncomfortable under that amused, pitying look in her eyes. Trying to distract himself, he went about dusting off his knees and shins before braving an attempt to get back on his feet . . . or ice skates to be exact. He silently sent a prayer to Primus, pleading for him to keep him upright and not fall flat on his aft again. He just wanted to get back to the comforting warmth of the base, lock himself in his quarters, and drink a steaming, hot mug of black coffee, which he had delightfully discovered was something equivalent to very low-grade energon.
Small, mittened hands gently grabbed onto one of his larger, leather-sheathed ones. He dropped a startled gaze on the small femme and she just smiled innocently up at him. For a moment . . . time seemed to slow down. He became . . . so captivated by those large, sky-blue orbs that he didn't realize he was being lured out onto the ice.
A skating couple flew by them, laughing and giggling, startling him out of his trance.
He looked around . . . and his eyes widened. Dawning horror washed over him like ice water and he immediately grabbed onto Rose's slender arms, his balance abandoning him in that second as if it, too, realized that he was back out on the solidified lake.
"Relax, relax! It's okay, I've got you!" Rose quickly said, trying to reassure him even as she grinned at him encouragingly. He gawked at her incredulously, his heart pounding in his chest with every wobble and tilt.
"Primus forbid, you better!" he all but shouted, but his voice lacked any anger as he stared down at his booted feet, the steel blades of his skates gliding fluidly over the ice as he was pulled. But panic consumed him when his weight started to shift to the left and his feet drew closer to one another.
"Widen your stance to balance your weight!" she hurriedly ordered, noticing his feet as well, her hands gripping his forearms tightly.
But he was already doomed before the words ever left her mouth.
"SLAGGIT!"
The harsh curse flew from his mouth as his body went forward when his skates clipped one another, and then he pitched his weight backwards in a failed attempt to regain his balance. His arms flailed wildly in the air, a subconscious reflex to grab onto something, anything. His world flipped upward, the cloudy sky filling is vision, when his feet kicked up and Earth's gravity body slammed him down against the unyielding ice; square on his back. The impact against his lungs forced all his breath from them, leaving him winded.
"Oh, crap! Oh crap! Oh, my God, are you okay?!" he heard Rose shriek and then felt her presence next to him, her hands going to chest and sliding up under his head. He groaned softly, eyes squeezed shut. Pain arched along his spine and between his shoulder blades as she gently pulled him up onto his elbows. He brought a hand to his throbbing head as it protested vehemently at the sudden jostle.
He slowly opened an eye and immediately locked it on the brown-haired femme kneeling beside him, her light blue eyes wide with stark worry. His gaze sharpened into a glower.
"I thought you said you 'had me'?" he demanded through clenched teeth, a muscle in his jaw giving an aggravated twitch. He felt a sense of grim satisfaction in seeing an embarrassed blush rise up into her cheeks. She didn't say anything; just gave him an utmost pitiful, apologetic look he'd ever seen in his life.
He looked away. Sighing, he patted the hand resting on his chest, offering her silent reassurance, before then pushing himself into a sitting position, murmuring, "It's quite all right, my dear. Just . . . help me up."
Smiling a little, she jumped to her feet and stood with such steady, firm balance that he could only gape up at her. She offered him her hands, grinning sheepishly.
He eyed her small hands, contemplating if taking them would be a smart idea. Deciding he didn't have any other choice – except perhaps crawling back to land, though his dignity howled in outrage at the very thought of it – he slipped his bigger, gloved hands into hers. Her grip was strong and he held on for dear life as she struggled to pull him back onto his feet.
"Hang on, this isn't working," she finally said, exasperated, her soft, British accent seemingly deepening with her frustration. "You're too heavy. Here, let's do it this way."
He tensed when she released his hands and wound her forearms around his, her hands then firmly gripping his triceps as she brought herself uncomfortable close to him. He stared up at her, his throat suddenly dry as he unconsciously wrapped his long fingers around her own triceps.
Locked together.
She smiled confidently, her breath forming tiny puffs of clouds in the cold air. "I'm going to yank you up, okay? Or, well, at least try to, anyway. To get your balance, just keep your feet apart and sort of bend your knees, okay?"
Her words seemed foreign to his mind, unable to sink in fast enough. He supposed he could blame the long hours exposed to California's winter for the cause of it.
He blinked when her plan finally filtered through.
"What? No, wait -- !" he shouted, eyes widening. Get his balance? Had she not figured it out yet that he didn't possess any balance?!
She suddenly threw all of her weight backwards. The momentum reached along their entangled arms and grabbed a hold of his body, jerking him up.
And the results following shouldn't have surprised him in the least.
The momentum, not stopping once he made it onto the blades of his skates, continued to pull him forward until he crashed, full-body, into the small femme, his muscled weight taking them right back down to the ice, her squeak of surprise shooting into the air.
They landed with a hard thud and muffled 'oof's'.
He grimace, his body throbbing painfully, thoroughly upset with all the abuse it had been dealt in the last few hours. A soft moan reached his ears and he froze, becoming aware of Rose's softer body pinned beneath his heavier one.
He cursed and rose to his elbows, his worried gaze roaming over the pale, feminine face twisted up in discomfort.
"Primus; are you all right? Are you hurt?" he demanded, quickly brushing a hand over her forehead, pushing back the long, thick strands of brown hair from her face, her cap having flown off from the fall.
"Bloody hell . . . " she softly cursed. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting up at him and stared at him for one, long moment . . .
. . . and then broke out in a light giggling fit.
"Why are you laughing?" he growled, put off and confused, his cheeks warming.
"I . . ." she paused to clear her throat, smiling dazedly as her bright blue eyes glittered with mirth. "I didn't . . . realize you were this hopeless . . ."
. . . He should have been offended; indignant. He should have responded with something along the lines of "If you had just left me alone, we wouldn't be in this mess."
But he couldn't.
Instead, he just close his eyes and drop his head tiredly, a gentle chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. He couldn't help himself.
Sighing, he lifted his gaze . . . and became painstakingly aware of things: her soft, feminine figure pressed flush against his harder one. Her body heat radiating around him through her thick layers of clothing. The faint scent of strawberries in her soft, richly brown hair. Their faces so close that their breaths mixed together in tiny puffs . . .
Primus, her eyes are beautiful, he absently thought, entranced by the starbursts of various, light hues of blue in her irises. Time seemed to shut down around him . . .
Until she blinked those stunning eyes, her dark, dark lashes sharply contrasting against the powder-white of her skin, and whispered, "Doctor Ratchet . . .?"
"Ratchet," he murmured idly, gradually rising out of his stupor. "Just . . . Ratchet, if you please."
"Okay . . . Ratchet," she breathed, her accent giving his name a certain silky, smoky caress, and he could of sworn that his heart skipped a beat when he watched a small, shy smile tilt up the corners of her lips. "Would you . . . like to get some hot chocolate?"
He felt his spirits soar at the gracious opportunity. More for the excuse to get off the loathsome ice . . . but the idea of spending a bit more time in Rose's company felt curiously enlightening as well.
His breath expanded into a tuff of warm air and smiled gratefully. "I would be delighted, my dear."
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Challenge: A through Z
Theme: C is for "Crash Landing"
Fandom: Transformers/Beast Wars
Pairing: Ratchet/Rose
Genres: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing Transformers and I don't own Rose Connelly.
Warnings: N/A
Themes:
A is for "Autumn Days"
B is for "Beating Up the Witness"
---
You should get out more often, he says. Take a break, he says. Act like you have a soul and have fun, he says!
Freezing his aft off was not what he thought Sam had in mind.
"S- Slagging Primus, boy, when am I g- going to experience this fun you k- keep going on about?" he shouted angrily, his breath blasting out into the cold air in abrupt clouds of escaped body heat. His agitation grew hotter at the uncontrolled stuttering of his words.
The tall, lanky boy in question turned toward him, grinning behind his thick, fluffy scarf, his own breath coming out in visible puffs as he spoke. "Aw, chill out, Ratchet! This is the fun!"
He growled, his lips pulling into a tight line as he took a moment to glare at the 'fun' surrounding him.
Feet of flawless-white snow was suffocating the ground, weighing down the branches of towering pine trees, and soaking his jean-clad aft as he sat in it. The wind was cold and biting, and he cursed every single person around him who smiled and laughed and giggled as they threw snowballs, built snowmen, and did what he refused to keep doing: ice skate.
He'd lost feeling in his nose and his ears. His teeth were near to splintering from the constant chattering. His gloves did nothing to keep his fingers from feeling frostbitten. His aft felt bruised from falling on it several times. And there was still an uncomfortable twinge in his ankle after having twisted it slightly an hour prior.
"This is ridiculous," he snapped, glaring sourly at Sam and the humanized Bumblebee as they began approaching him, their snow boots making scrunching sounds as they moved through the several thick layers of compiled ice crystals.
"Come on, Ratchet. It's not that bad," Bumblebee said, grinning while he reached a hand toward him, offering to help him up.
He angrily smacked the offending appendage away. "Leave me be, you cretins. I wish to contract hypothermia in peace."
"Dude, just need to loosen up a little," Sam laughed, his grin identical to the scout's.
He gritted his teeth, tightening his reins on the pent up frustration, humiliation, exhaustion, and aching soreness that had been building for the past three hours.
"I will loosen your head if you do not get away from me!" he barked, thoroughly fed up with the two. His bad mood only darkened when they continued to grin; however, instead of teasing him more, he was relieved to see them finally shrug their shoulders and leave him there in the snow.
Closing his eyes, he heaved a sigh and tiredly rubbed a gloved hand over his face. Well, I suppose I should get back to the base . . . The last thing I want is to truly come down with hypoth-
"Doctor Ratchet? Is, um . . . that you? Why are you . . . sitting in the snow?"
Pulling his hand away, he glanced up at the newcomer, frowning slightly . . . and immediately recognized the young woman standing over him, her soft features expressing confusion as she stared down at him. He felt his irritation drain away, if only a little bit, at the amusing sight of her bundled up so warmly in a large, thick sweater, a knitted cap, and a puffy scarf that practically swallowed her neck and face.
"Ah . . . Miss Connelly, correct?" he said, smiling politely. She just blinked her light blue eyes and tugged her scarf down from her face with a mitten-wrapped hand.
"Are you all right?" she asked, traces of concern in her voice as her brows knitted together. He quickly waved a dismissing hand and diverted his gaze elsewhere, an odd sense of warmth rising into his cheeks. How embarrassing he must look, sitting in the snow and looking like a spoiled sparkling . . .
His bad mood reared its hideous head at that thought and he had to clamp down on it, not wanting to snap at the innocent woman.
"Oh, I'm quite all right. I've been . . . ice skating. I'm just taking a break." Before I break my aft instead, he thought sourly. He couldn't stop a dark scowl from surfacing.
She started laughing.
He cut his eyes at her, a stung glare rising up into them. Was she laughing at him? By Primus, she better not be! He was not going to tolerate anymore merriment at his expense.
"I fail to see what it is I said that you find so humorous," he groused, glancing at her irritably.
Her laugh slowly quieted into a grin. It lit up her pinkly-flushed features, making her appear adorable and sweet. Everything, of which, he was not at the moment. No, he felt satisfyingly ugly and mean.
"No, no. It's just . . . It was the way you looked just now when you said that. You looked so much like my dad when I tried to teach him how to play Egyptian Rat Screw."
What the slag is that . . .? he thought, but instead spoke dryly, "Is that so?"
He was beginning to grow uncomfortable under that amused, pitying look in her eyes. Trying to distract himself, he went about dusting off his knees and shins before braving an attempt to get back on his feet . . . or ice skates to be exact. He silently sent a prayer to Primus, pleading for him to keep him upright and not fall flat on his aft again. He just wanted to get back to the comforting warmth of the base, lock himself in his quarters, and drink a steaming, hot mug of black coffee, which he had delightfully discovered was something equivalent to very low-grade energon.
Small, mittened hands gently grabbed onto one of his larger, leather-sheathed ones. He dropped a startled gaze on the small femme and she just smiled innocently up at him. For a moment . . . time seemed to slow down. He became . . . so captivated by those large, sky-blue orbs that he didn't realize he was being lured out onto the ice.
A skating couple flew by them, laughing and giggling, startling him out of his trance.
He looked around . . . and his eyes widened. Dawning horror washed over him like ice water and he immediately grabbed onto Rose's slender arms, his balance abandoning him in that second as if it, too, realized that he was back out on the solidified lake.
"Relax, relax! It's okay, I've got you!" Rose quickly said, trying to reassure him even as she grinned at him encouragingly. He gawked at her incredulously, his heart pounding in his chest with every wobble and tilt.
"Primus forbid, you better!" he all but shouted, but his voice lacked any anger as he stared down at his booted feet, the steel blades of his skates gliding fluidly over the ice as he was pulled. But panic consumed him when his weight started to shift to the left and his feet drew closer to one another.
"Widen your stance to balance your weight!" she hurriedly ordered, noticing his feet as well, her hands gripping his forearms tightly.
But he was already doomed before the words ever left her mouth.
"SLAGGIT!"
The harsh curse flew from his mouth as his body went forward when his skates clipped one another, and then he pitched his weight backwards in a failed attempt to regain his balance. His arms flailed wildly in the air, a subconscious reflex to grab onto something, anything. His world flipped upward, the cloudy sky filling is vision, when his feet kicked up and Earth's gravity body slammed him down against the unyielding ice; square on his back. The impact against his lungs forced all his breath from them, leaving him winded.
"Oh, crap! Oh crap! Oh, my God, are you okay?!" he heard Rose shriek and then felt her presence next to him, her hands going to chest and sliding up under his head. He groaned softly, eyes squeezed shut. Pain arched along his spine and between his shoulder blades as she gently pulled him up onto his elbows. He brought a hand to his throbbing head as it protested vehemently at the sudden jostle.
He slowly opened an eye and immediately locked it on the brown-haired femme kneeling beside him, her light blue eyes wide with stark worry. His gaze sharpened into a glower.
"I thought you said you 'had me'?" he demanded through clenched teeth, a muscle in his jaw giving an aggravated twitch. He felt a sense of grim satisfaction in seeing an embarrassed blush rise up into her cheeks. She didn't say anything; just gave him an utmost pitiful, apologetic look he'd ever seen in his life.
He looked away. Sighing, he patted the hand resting on his chest, offering her silent reassurance, before then pushing himself into a sitting position, murmuring, "It's quite all right, my dear. Just . . . help me up."
Smiling a little, she jumped to her feet and stood with such steady, firm balance that he could only gape up at her. She offered him her hands, grinning sheepishly.
He eyed her small hands, contemplating if taking them would be a smart idea. Deciding he didn't have any other choice – except perhaps crawling back to land, though his dignity howled in outrage at the very thought of it – he slipped his bigger, gloved hands into hers. Her grip was strong and he held on for dear life as she struggled to pull him back onto his feet.
"Hang on, this isn't working," she finally said, exasperated, her soft, British accent seemingly deepening with her frustration. "You're too heavy. Here, let's do it this way."
He tensed when she released his hands and wound her forearms around his, her hands then firmly gripping his triceps as she brought herself uncomfortable close to him. He stared up at her, his throat suddenly dry as he unconsciously wrapped his long fingers around her own triceps.
Locked together.
She smiled confidently, her breath forming tiny puffs of clouds in the cold air. "I'm going to yank you up, okay? Or, well, at least try to, anyway. To get your balance, just keep your feet apart and sort of bend your knees, okay?"
Her words seemed foreign to his mind, unable to sink in fast enough. He supposed he could blame the long hours exposed to California's winter for the cause of it.
He blinked when her plan finally filtered through.
"What? No, wait -- !" he shouted, eyes widening. Get his balance? Had she not figured it out yet that he didn't possess any balance?!
She suddenly threw all of her weight backwards. The momentum reached along their entangled arms and grabbed a hold of his body, jerking him up.
And the results following shouldn't have surprised him in the least.
The momentum, not stopping once he made it onto the blades of his skates, continued to pull him forward until he crashed, full-body, into the small femme, his muscled weight taking them right back down to the ice, her squeak of surprise shooting into the air.
They landed with a hard thud and muffled 'oof's'.
He grimace, his body throbbing painfully, thoroughly upset with all the abuse it had been dealt in the last few hours. A soft moan reached his ears and he froze, becoming aware of Rose's softer body pinned beneath his heavier one.
He cursed and rose to his elbows, his worried gaze roaming over the pale, feminine face twisted up in discomfort.
"Primus; are you all right? Are you hurt?" he demanded, quickly brushing a hand over her forehead, pushing back the long, thick strands of brown hair from her face, her cap having flown off from the fall.
"Bloody hell . . . " she softly cursed. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting up at him and stared at him for one, long moment . . .
. . . and then broke out in a light giggling fit.
"Why are you laughing?" he growled, put off and confused, his cheeks warming.
"I . . ." she paused to clear her throat, smiling dazedly as her bright blue eyes glittered with mirth. "I didn't . . . realize you were this hopeless . . ."
. . . He should have been offended; indignant. He should have responded with something along the lines of "If you had just left me alone, we wouldn't be in this mess."
But he couldn't.
Instead, he just close his eyes and drop his head tiredly, a gentle chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. He couldn't help himself.
Sighing, he lifted his gaze . . . and became painstakingly aware of things: her soft, feminine figure pressed flush against his harder one. Her body heat radiating around him through her thick layers of clothing. The faint scent of strawberries in her soft, richly brown hair. Their faces so close that their breaths mixed together in tiny puffs . . .
Primus, her eyes are beautiful, he absently thought, entranced by the starbursts of various, light hues of blue in her irises. Time seemed to shut down around him . . .
Until she blinked those stunning eyes, her dark, dark lashes sharply contrasting against the powder-white of her skin, and whispered, "Doctor Ratchet . . .?"
"Ratchet," he murmured idly, gradually rising out of his stupor. "Just . . . Ratchet, if you please."
"Okay . . . Ratchet," she breathed, her accent giving his name a certain silky, smoky caress, and he could of sworn that his heart skipped a beat when he watched a small, shy smile tilt up the corners of her lips. "Would you . . . like to get some hot chocolate?"
He felt his spirits soar at the gracious opportunity. More for the excuse to get off the loathsome ice . . . but the idea of spending a bit more time in Rose's company felt curiously enlightening as well.
His breath expanded into a tuff of warm air and smiled gratefully. "I would be delighted, my dear."
Mood: 
awake
awakeMusic: "Human Metal" - Rage
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