Damn you plot bunnies!

I can't help it. When something eats away at my head I have to put it down or it will drive me crazy.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Never will. Plot's mine.


"I love the beach," Sideswipe sighed whimsically.

"I hate the beach," Sunstreaker grunted perturbed.

"How can you hate the beach? This is one of the best places on this dirtball!" Sideswipe whipped his head in his twin's direction and gave him an astonished look.

"Easy. The sand scrapes, the salt corrodes, the sun bleaches and the water rusts. And don't get me started on those flying rats…" Sunstreaker groused.

"Seagulls, Sunny. They're called seagulls."

"Well, whatever they are, they need to keep their excrements to themselves. If those beady eyed, squishy turkeys even dare to think of flying overhead of me I will gun them all down." Sunstreaker glowered at the offending white and grey birds. One squawked and circled a little to close to the gold mech for comfort, and he fingered where his rifle was.

The red mech eyed his brother's sudden, tense movement. "I don't think Beachcomber would appreciate you using his little feathered buddies as target practice. Remember that squirrel?"

"Okay, that was completely not my fault. The stupid, suicidal fuzzy was the one that hurled itself in front of me while I was driving."

"You would've run over it too if it hadn't been for 'Comber running you off the road. For a Dune Buggy he packs a punch in vehicle mode doesn't he?"

"He dinged my door!" Sunstreaker snarled at the memory.

"Yeah, but he saved you from getting a new hood paintjob via organic guts."

Sunstreaker twisted his face in disgust. "Ok. Ew. Let's change the subject. I don't want to think of organic innards thank you…and, Primus, those beagles are staring at me again."

"They're seagulls, and no they're not."

"They better not be. My poor abused chassis. Haven't I suffered enough already today?"

"Nope. The universe decided you haven't filled your angst quota for the day so it sent its demonic flock of Earth birdies to torture you further," Sideswipe quipped mockingly.



"Pit spawn."

"Why thank you!" An unpleasant crunching noise emitted from Sideswipe's arm as he moved it, making him wince "…ouch, I have sand in my arm joints."

"Told you the beach is crummy," Sunstreaker responded flatly.

"Tape it to a brick and shove it up your exhaust pipe... and help me get the sand out. It's really grinding in there." Sideswipe grimaced as he heard the screeching of crushed sediment scrape inside his elbow.

"Do it yourself," Sunstreaker snapped haughtily.

"…" Sideswipe replied by giving his brother a rather unkind look.

Understanding dawned on Sunstreaker. "Oh right. I forgot."

"How did you forget? My freakin-" Sideswipe was cut off sharply by his brother.

"Look you want help or not? I just gotta get over there… my poor paintjob." Sunstreaker dragged himself over to his twin and took a look at his arm, "You're buying me a new canister of polish later."

"I'm feeling generous, and since you're my loving bro I'll sweeten the deal and take you to a car wash too. I'll even get you your favorite: the deluxe wash, extra buffing, with a towel dry and a hold on the cheesy, smelly pine tree ornament. I'll pay for everything." the red mech flashed a crooked smile as Sunstreaker got to work on removing the sand.

"Of course you will. That's because we never pay for them anyway. It goes to the Autobot's tab." Sunstreaker kept his optics fixed on his brother's elbow.

"Well, then you can thank Prowl for it. He's the one in charge of our mullah – Ouch! Careful! There's delicate circuitry in there," he whined.

"Shut up. What, do you have another freaking beach in your elbow? How is all of this sand in there?"

"Must've been the landing. That wasn't one of our most impressive displays of action was it?" Sideswipe flinched again when Sunstreaker hit a sensitive spot.

"Nope. None of that battle turned out that great actually." The gold mech worked diligently on digging all of the sand out of his brother's joints, letting the fine grains spill into an ever growing pile bellow. After he removed as much of the coarse substance as he could, he flicked his gaze over to the sea.

It really was a pretty sight. The sparkling black waters reflected the reds, golds, oranges and purples of twilight. It was a beautiful merging of colors that all seemed to flow together like watercolors on canvas. Sunstreaker, despite his vehement rant of hating the beach, could appreciate the scenery as an artist. The soft reds and pale purples really did compliment each other nicely…

He shook the thought out of his head as soon as it came; replacing it with one of how the colors were an ugly clash.

Purple was a Decepticon color. Red was an Autobot color. It was like oil and water; fire and gas. The two would never truly be able to merge.

"Hey, Sunny?" Sideswipe lazily lolled his head against his brother's shoulder.

"What?" came the gruff reply.

"I'm getting pretty tired. My energy intakes are pretty low. I think the leakage was worse then we thought." Sunstreaker went silent at his brother's words.

"Mine are too," he admitted after the brief quiet. "Our beacon is still on right?"

"Yup. Since we sent it out nearly an hour ago they should be finding us pretty soon. I'm kinda relieved too, cuz as much as I like the beach here in Venezuela, I would like to be getting home." Sideswipe flexed his arm experimentally, before dropping it to his side and letting his hand rest on the soft sand.

"You should recharge," Sunstreaker said it as more of a command then a suggestion.

"Awww. Is my big ol' ray of sunshine concerned?" Sideswipe tilted his head back and gave a lopsided, tired grin.

"You need to save energy. You lost a lot because -"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Mom," Sideswipe grumbled as he snuggled back closer to his brother. "You're not in a much better condition you know."

"But I still am in a better condition then you," Sunstreaker pointed out.

"I guess I will just offline my optics for an astrosec." Sideswipe's bright blue optics dimmed ever so slightly.

Sunstreaker listened to the soft whirring and humming of his twin's systems as they slowed down to the less demanding recharge mode. Sunstreaker didn't let it show, but he was slightly concerned with their situation.

His thoughts didn't linger on it though. They would be ok.

"Hey, Sunny?" Sideswipe's voice began sleepily.

"Yeah, Sides?"

"Ratchet is gonna be pissed at us," Sideswipe smirked. "Actually, he's probably already furious."

"Furious? He is going to kill us later," Sunstreaker moaned.

"I bet he's already ordering the grave plots," Sideswipe sniggered darkly at the thought.

"What makes you think he'll give us graves? He'll probably dump us into some obscure ravine to hide the evidence."

"More likely, he'll rebuild our lifeless bodies as alarm clocks and sell us to a dime store."

"Says you," Sunstreaker growled. "As the soon to be most beautiful alarm clock on Earth, I will be worth much more then ten cents."

Both of them chuckled. They could barely keep track of all of the things Ratchet threatened to turn them into. They continued to reminisce their favorite death threats from the medic until Sideswipe succumbed to fatigue and fell into a much needed recharge.

Sunstreaker glanced down at his sleeping twins and threw an arm around his brother's shoulder pulling him a little closer. He was worried. He was very worried even though he didn't let it show. But everything would be ok.

Ratchet would fix them. Ratchet always fixed them. They would be ok.

Sunstreaker himself began falling into a state of recharge. He didn't even notice that a seagull dared to venture into his personal bubble by landing, and sitting, on his shoulder.

It was only a few minutes after he began to recharge as well that Skyfire landed on the beach. Prowl, Tracks, and Skids jumped out of the large flyer and instantly located the two warriors. Prowl was the first to reach them and he grimaced when he did.

Not only were the twins riddled with scrapes, gashes, dings and various nicks, Sideswipe had gotten his left arm blown off from his shoulder and Sunstreaker lost his left leg from below the knee.


To say that Ratchet was pissed was severe understatement.

He was livid.

He had heard everything that had happened in the battle.

The Decepticons had attacked a huge hydroelectric power plant in Itaipu, Brazil. Skyfire and his passengers, Prowl, Tracks, Skids, Warpath and the twins were sent to thwart Megatron's domination plan of the week. They had reached near the end of Central America when they were intercepted and attacked by the seekers.

Skyfire could have easily out run them since he was faster and had a more powerful engine. They could have easily sped by the jets with no conflicts or skirmishes and would've been able to get to their objective faster.

Alas, things did not go that way. The twins always acted before their thoughts could catch up.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker ignored Prowl's vehement ranting that was against any brash or foolhardy actions from them, jumped out of Skyfire, and attempted to kamikaze the jets.

Since the situation in Itaipu was reaching a critical point, Skyfire did not have time to stop and turn around to go after Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and none of the autobots inside of him could follow the twins either because of the height they were at. They could only hope that the two did not get shot up too badly and look for them later.

So they had to leave them behind until further notice.

After they had beaten Megatron and his cronies, they were able to detect a distress beacon that the two had sent out. When they found them, they both looked like they had gotten chewed up by a garbage disposal and were spat back out. There was enough superficial damage on them both to put them in slightly grave states, and their destroyed limbs added onto that greatly.

So, when the twins were dragged into the medical bay by Prowl and Warpath, while he was severely pissed off by the event, Ratchet was not all that surprised to see them in such a state.

There were so many times where the twins could have easily avoided injury if they had just thought about where they were doing. So many times where they threw themselves haphazardly into battle with out thinking of the repercussions of their acts. And when they fragged themselves beyond recognition, it was Ratchet who was left to pick up the pieces (literally sometimes).

Perhaps that was why they kept doing it. Because they knew no matter what state they got themselves into, Ratchet would fix them. Ratchet would always fix them. No matter how injured they would get themselves, even if they were nearly on deaths door, they could depend on good ol' Ratchet the hatchet to bring them back to see another day.

Another day to live and enjoy life's simple pleasures. Another day to laugh, joke and wreak havoc on the Ark. Another day to get medical equipment pitched at their heads. In their optics, Ratchet could fix anything, and the CMO would not let anyone die while he was around.

The ugly truth, however, was that Ratchet was not infallible, and sometimes he was afraid there would come a time that he wouldn't be able to bring someone back. After all, a good portion of the medical field was sheer dumb luck.

And out of all of the 'bots in the Ark, Ratchet feared it would be the twins who where under his care when lady luck finally decided to turn her head away from him.

They both, after all, had the undisputed record of most hours being reconstructed and fixed. They almost spent more time in the infirmary then Ratchet did.

Sometimes, Ratchet thought of just deactivating them himself just to get it over with.

But he couldn't do it. He knew he couldn't do it. Somehow, over the years, the twin terrors had managed to worm their slimy, evil, little glitchy selves into his Spark. He was ensnared by them which led to something he had tried so hard to avoid.

He cared. He cared too much.

That was why the thought of losing them scared him.

As he looked down at Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's bodies on the medical tables he feared his luck may have just run out.

"You stupid, fragging morons. I warned you. I warned you all that we are running severely low on medical supplies right now," He didn't have enough equipment and spare parts to fix them both. Sunstreaker needed a severe casing, and armor repair, and Sideswipe needed an almost full body revamp, but between the two of them, Ratchet only had enough material and equipment to construct less then half a mech.

He had made an announcement to all of the Autobots to be extra careful in battle because the supplies run wouldn't be for another week. He told them all that they only had a little that they needed to stretch and make last. Yet it went through one audio processor and out the other, and the twins did not take the warning seriously. They went and did what they always did, and had gotten unnecessarily injured.

It was because in their minds, Ratchet could fix them. He could always fix them. But Ratchet might not be able to fix them now.

Ratchet covered his optics with his hands and thought. Even if he managed to repair them both, and screamed at them until his vocalizer was hoarse about how stupid and reckless they were in battle, the lesson would not be driven home. The twins would cringe, and nod in an attempt to speed Ratchet's rant up, but then they would go into battle again and act the same exact way. They would end up getting seriously hurt with injuries they could have easily avoided had they been a touch more careful, and Ratchet would then be stressing over their repairs again.

They needed a lesson, a real lesson that would drive Ratchet's point home.

It was at that moment that Ratchet was hit by a stroke of genius, and a wondrous solution planted itself into his mind. One that would not only save the twins lives, but would also finally drill a much needed lesson into their thick helmets. A wicked grin crossed the medic's features as he stared down at the unconscious and unsuspecting forms of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

'This'll teach those slaggin brats to think before they act,' He activated his comlink, "Autobot Ratchet to Prowl."

"Ratchet? How are the twins?" Prowls voice held up its professional air, but Ratchet knew he was also somewhat worried for the two. Prowl was another victim, like himself, that was ensnared by the twins charm.

"The glitches are still royally fragged. I want you to get me Sparkplug on the line."

"…Sparkplug?" Prowl asked uncertainly.

"Yes, and do it now. We don't have much time on our hands."

Oh yes. Ratchet would teach the two horrors a lesson, and he would enjoy every minute of it.


First chapter done. I'm not entirely sure what direction this story is going to take. I'm sort of winging it at the moment. That's what happens when the plot bunnies of doom hit, but I figure I'll go with the flow.

Reviews are loved, CC appreciated, and flames used to toast marshmallows.