A/N: Ok, this is just something that my crazy mind came up with and just wouldn't let go, so here's the first Ratchet/Lambotwin fic I've ever seen.
I'm a twisted, twisted person.
Ratchet was pretty sure he was losing his mind.
The thought came to him sometime after midnight as he lay on his recharge pad, a sudden epiphany that caused him to frown. It was more than his usual 'You guys are going to drive me crazy' rant that he went into when his fellow 'Bots came limping into his medbay expecting him to put them back together again—after all, how the frag else could he have managed to get himself into this situation?
He jumped and nearly cried out when a clever-fingered hand slipped under his chest plating and stroked the sensitive cabling there, startling him out of his musings. He gasped a little at the sensation, before realization sent him into full-blown panic mode. "'The frag're you doing!?" he yelped before he could stop himself. The hand never halted its exploration and he squirmed a little under the caress.
"What d'you think I'm doing?" The owner of the hand murmured in his audios, not yet noticing his discomfort. The slender fingers slid lower on his frame, and he couldn't hold back a soft noise of pleasure.
"This shouldn't be happening," Ratchet panted, trying to draw away from this mech who had been his lover. "We shouldn't be doing this!"
The other 'Bot sat up abruptly, apparently just becoming aware of the tenseness vibrating through the medic's body. "What's wrong? Ratch?" he asked softly, peering down at the smaller mech. He reached out to gather the CMO up in his arms—perhaps as a comforting gesture—and Ratchet flipped.
"Don't touch me!" he cried, and scrambled to extricate himself from the tangle of mechs on the 'charge pad, waking the third member of their little ménage a trois with a groggy "Wha-?" and stood trembling as the two others watched him, one with optics wide and concerned, one groggy and confused.
"Ratchet, what-?" was all that the newly-awakened one got out before the CMO blurted, "I have to go," and bolted out the door.
When he realized where he was and calmed down somewhat, he was standing in the medbay, staring aimlessly at one of the tables with its rack of gleaming tools and wondering what the frag had happened to professionalism and not getting involved.
"What now, Ratchet?" he murmured despairingly, burying his face in his hands.
Back in the medic's quarters, two mechs stared at the door in astonishment.
"What did you say to him?" Sunstreaker demanded, still trying to focus optics blurred from recharge.
"He just freaked," Sideswipe replied absently. "I swear!" he added, rubbing where the golden twin had cuffed him and glaring. Sunstreaker lay back down, frowning up at the ceiling.
"Told you this was a bad idea," he grumbled.