A/N: This is for mature readers only! Contains explicit descriptions of sticky! smex. You have been warned.

Listen younglings and listen well for this is the end of my story. Beware the nightwalker that in the light refuse to bow to Primus' might. Beware the fey that can make the broken whole, for what was mended and redone the broken whole, the two halves made one can be rebroken the healing undone. But of them all beware the most, the love of those not mortal. For when they are faced with eternity they will long outlast the kingdoms known as unshakable to you and me.

Ratchet sighed, weary and frustrated as he signed off on the last of the repairs to the construction crew. Thirty mechs had been terminated in the catacombs when the underground passage collapsed. Fifty others were horribly damaged. The timing sucked, coming at the end of his first week back in rotation at the collegium as a teacher and working evenings in the medical ward. The days were long, he was always on call, but all the healers here pooled together to ensure that no single healer was unduly over worked.

Except, he was the only healer in residence with the ability to heal darklings; that was the first thing he would work on after his break. He had earned two whole - friggin' joy - days reprieve from the medical ward after being stuck healing the worst of the mortal injuries only his fey gifts could touch and the darklings who had integrated themselves within the city.

He turned down the hall, seeking his too-small, too hard, cot in the dorm. The halls were silent, echoing his steps as he wearily moved with a slow tread. Only, the dorms were crowded this night where usually only Master Healers were quartered here, students and journeymen scurried with fearful expressions until Ratchet appeared. Then they froze, optics wide with terror.

"It wasn't us! We swear, Grand Master." Several students and journeymen pleaded unexpectedly forcing Ratchet to stop uncertainly in the hall.

"What, 'wasn't you'?" Ratchet asked wearily, pushing past the crowd to his room only to find the door open widely and his small room empty and sterile. "The slag?" He stepped in warily as if expecting the emptiness to reveal a creature of nightmare and darkness to attack. Instinctively he slipped steaks now strapped to his forearms under his tunic into his hands gripping them tightly as he imbued them with barely visible green healing light. Instead, the emptiness remained. Shelves set into the wall were empty and polished. A small armoire on the wall hung open, the many small trinkets and baubles collected on his rotations in the field missing with not even dust left behind.

Fury mounting Ratchet moved to turn on those behind him when a shimmer of light flickered from the window sill. There, sitting innocuously on the pristine sill sat a perfect rose encased in glass. Only, it was impossible that this thing of beauty could ever have been alive. The stem shimmered, sparkling silver from its golden depths. The delicate stem lead to three perfect leaves, topped by a blood red bud that shimmered with flecks of obsidian. Barely open, the bud held in its dark crimson center a perfect opal of shimmering white hued with flecks of lightest green that seemed to glimmer from endless depths.

Ratchet swallowed tightly, throat and intakes frozen in awe of this epitome of beauty. He absently slipped the steaks back up into their holders and held the rectangular case in careful fingers, unable to set it down and simultaneously terrified of dropping the exquisite creation. He settled himself back against the windowsill staring enraptured at the rose, spark trembling at its magnificent artistry.

"Whoa, Grand Master Ratchet was given a gelled rose." One of the students breathed in awe, breaking the spell about Ratchet. Cycling his optics, Ratchet looked up with a sigh.

"What did you call this thing?" He asked with his usual grouse, affirming to all that the Grand Master held no spark.

"Sir, gels are super-condensed, mineral enriched energon poured into molds and made solid. I've never seen one that big before though." The collegium's principal looked Ratchet over, noting the healer's withdrawn expression. "It was them, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Ratchet pulled a soft cloth from the satchel across his shoulder and wrapped the delicate case with gentle hands. "I'm off to slag a couple of idiots." Ratchet rose from the window sill and stalked with lethal intent towards the main entrance and the city beyond.

"Should we prep the ward, sir?" A student asked their principal, earning dark snickers from the other master healers.

"No, Ratchet will not do irreparable harm to his intended targets. Go to your dorms." The principal nodded towards the back door leading to the student dorms, leaving the hall silent and everyone realized their Masters' dorm would never be the same with Ratchet permanently gone.

Ratchet strode down the main thoroughfare from the collegium to the shops his lovers had opened three blocks away. The awe of the rose left in his emptied out dorm room had already mostly faded, leaving behind his strut deep exhaustion, and aching weariness. There was no question of who left the rose. The colors of the gel screamed their identity.

Still, despite their token of devotion he was going to slag them. He was tired, Pit take it all. He had expected to make the trek to see them in the morning, not drag his dirty, worn out chassis through the city just this side of midnight. He sighed tiredly, stumbling over his peds and found his lovers standing in the darkness, in brooding silence that made all others keep their distance. "What are you two doing here?"

Ratchet gulped as his voice rasped from exhaustion, mentally cringing as two sets of blue optics locked onto him. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, once more clad in their guise of youthful mortals, stalked to Ratchet, optics devouring him as they approached. Ratchet tensed, drawing inwards with each flicker of Sunstreaker's optics as the vain nightwalker noticed dulled plating, stained robes, scratched hands and optics dim from too much work.

"Let's go home," Sideswipe smiled once he stood before Ratchet, his light manner throwing the healer off as Ratchet expected a tirade for not taking better care of himself. Forgotten was his ire at them when faced with their combined intensity. His lovers each claimed one of his hands, Sideswipe gently stealing the heavy healer's tote from his shoulder and entwined their fingers, thumb gently tracing several new deep scratches along the back of Ratchet's hand.

"Home?" Ratchet asked bewildered looking first to Sunstreaker then Sideswipe and wondering what had happened since he last stepped outside of the collegium nearly a week prior. "In case you two forgot we don't have one. The inn kicked us out when my creators returned to the palace. Hide and Chromia don't have space for us, and your stores only have the one back room which has barely enough room for your cots."

Sunstreaker finally smiled a faint, mysterious smile down on Ratchet, "Not anymore."

"Not anymore what?" Ratchet demanded, stumbling over his own pedes once more as weariness and confusion conspired to force him into recharge safely ensconced between his lovers despite being in the middle of the street.

Sunstreaker only smiled. Then they turned the corner and Ratchet could only gasp. The blank store fronts that had marked Sunstreaker's art gallery and Sideswipe's energon brewery were gone. Now Sunstreaker's store was fronted with magnificent works of art, most of them by other mechs. Inside racks of art supplies and canvases filled the front of the store, and in the back an old femme taught younglings to paint.

"Art lessons?" Ratchet asked, surprised and touched that Sunstreaker, vain creature that he was, would allow younglings in his store at all. "This late?"

"Willow Moon produces most of the supplies I sell. If I want a good price, she gets to teach. It keeps the younglings from messing up my store." Sunstreaker grinned hugely, waving at several of the students who pointed and waved as if he were a celebrity. Ratchet mentally huffed, noticing a few breathtaking paintings near the younglings that were Sunstreaker's works, perhaps he was.

"Their creators work nights, so they take on their creators' schedules. No one wants to be left asleep in a dark home since the grays." Sideswipe murmured, "They've even made night schools and night-time day care."

Ratchet leaned his helm against Sunstreaker's shoulder for a moment, allowing his processors to take in Sunstreaker's smile and his obvious fondness of the younglings despite the circumstances that placed the younglings in that store this late. Part of Ratchet's spark hoped that one orn it would be their child painting in that room, learning its creator's trade.

"My store's way better." Sideswipe grinned, nudging Ratchet excitedly – much like a youngling – before pulling him and in turn Sunstreaker through their tangled hands to the opposite side of the block. There Sideswipe's brewery sat with doors open while light, laughter and music spilled out. Mechs and femmes of all ages crammed the many chairs and bar stools along the main floor. In one corner minstrels played a lively reel as others danced. Servers brought cubes and plates of goodies to the diners, flirted shamelessly and ensured everyone had a full cube and a smile.

In the back workers dressed in vibrant orange smocks mixed ingredients for goodies or poured energon from massive barrels. Behind the hustle of the pub and serving area the brewery stretched on filling the massive building's ground level. Tanks hummed, massive paddles mixed, steam driven gears turned and drove pistons to churn raw ingredients into a simmering froth. Sheer glass columns rose to the ceiling channeling energon in various rainbow hues to their respective bottling lines where scores of workers stood in an assembly line filling kegs, casks, growlers and storage cubes then prepared them for transport.

Behind the center of the serving counter, holding a place of prominence stood a glass display case holding highly detailed molded gels. Ratchet looked to the case through the hustle of the pub, noting that despite the beauty of the gel creations, none came close to rivaling the beauty of the rose in his satchel.

"How did you get all this done in a week?" Ratchet asked in amazement. His trip here just before he took on his teaching duties had shown a massive, empty, disgustingly filthy warehouse. Scraplets had infested the walls, strange residues coated the floors and despite the building having four floors, no doors nor stairs leading up could be found.

"Nightwalker." Sideswipe singsonged and grinned hugely, showing off the perfectly straight denta his mortal guise possessed. "We don't need to sleep, but if you're around I won't complain." He waggled optic ridges at Ratchet, pulling the healer in tight against him for a deep kiss, earning a chorus of cheers and cat calls from the many servers and patrons of his brewery.

"Sideswipe!" Ratchet hissed embarrassedly as he buried his face in the red twin's chest. "I will be laughed out of the healing ward!"

"I doubt that." Sunstreaker purred, pulling Ratchet with infinite care from Sideswipe's embrace into a light kiss. The mechs of the pub 'ooh'ed' and cackled. "They all wish they had you, the lone mech who stole both our sparks."

"Humph," Ratchet smirked back happily, despite his embarrassment, "there was only ever one spark to steal. I just had to gain both halves."

"True, but they don't know that." Sideswipe leered openly at Ratchet, Sunstreaker wearing an identical expression that was all the more lascivious for his hungered gaze.

Ratchet swallowed tightly, interface array heating excitedly for the public attention he was being bestowed by his lovers. "I think I want to go home now." He murmured huskily, absently licking his lips in anticipation. The twins grinned hungrily, and towed him past the brewery and its cajoling mechs to the back of the block that held only their stores, and opened a door that seemed to appear out of nowhere along the back wall just before the rear alley.

"Do you trust us?" Sunstreaker asked softly just inside the door that immediately led up a flight of stairs.

"Yes," Ratchet confirmed immediately then paused, glaring at them suspiciously, "Why?"

Sideswipe reached over Ratchet's shoulder, dangling a strip of dark cloth, "It's a surprise. Lights out." He cajoled the last as he placed the strip over Ratchet's optics with infinite care, and tied the cloth securely behind Ratchet's helm.

Sunstreaker smiled indolently as he led Ratchet by the hands, Sideswipe just behind their lover, gently guiding the strong shoulders up the narrow stairs. Sunstreaker glanced at his twin, optics gleaming excitedly. They had waited for this day since their stores had opened and they stumbled upon the hidden staircase leading up to abandoned apartments that filled the top three floors of the block. Anxious, they led Ratchet blindfolded up three flights of stairs, into the waiting space and paused.

"Now can I look?" Ratchet asked gruff voice unable to mask his excitement, exhaustion and trepidation. His swallowed a gasp as his lovers' hands caressed along his frame, tracing along the thin sleeves of his lighter spring healers robes, igniting the desire for them that never seemed to fade.

"Now," Sunstreaker breathed huskily against Ratchet's audio, gently unveiling Ratchet's optics to reveal the new space to the healer. "Do you like it?"

Ratchet stared in awe at the massive, cozy home spread before him. He stood in the entry hall, and spotted a family sitting area in front of a hearth to one side with a hall stretching back towards the far rear of the building. To the other side of the entry spread a massive kitchen complete with dual energon stills, the glass columns showed one brew of magenta and another of mech-blood alternative blue, while a stone hearth for baking goodies sat along the back wall. Another hall led off from the kitchen leading to several rooms that stood open, doors wide. Ratchet moved to the hall off of the family room, glancing into each open door and increasingly overjoyed at what he saw. The first one held a wide berth flanked by weapons racks, the one opposite it held another wide berth flanked by work tables.

Ratchet felt his spark constrict and melt simultaneously. His lovers had made a home for them, with room for Hide, Chromia, Jack and Bluestreak to stay with them when needed. That generosity, that warmth of spark they never showed demonstrably in public radiated with these extravagant gestures. Ratchet moved on once he knew his love-weakened knees wouldn't collapse under him, and moved on to the other rooms that continued down the hall, most set up as empty rooms to be moved into as needed.

He turned spotting his lovers leaning against the entry to the hall, small smiles playing about their features as they watched him dotingly as he paused to look once more in each room. Ratchet could not trust his voice to stay steady, instead he only smiled at them, kissing them gently before grasping each of them by the hand and pulling them to the next hall. He left them at the entrance, letting them follow as they pleased. The first room was filled with paints, canvases and supplies for Sunstreaker's art. The second held ores and minerals complete with sorting trays and scales' for Side's constant tinkering in brewing new energon blends.

Ratchet gasped as he stepped before the next room down. It was a nursery. They had given him a nursery with a basinet waiting for a new spark. A chest of nutrient blends sat to one side, a custom energon dispenser with drawers for adding the nutrients younglings had to have in their energon. Ratchet's processors nearly crashed from the sudden near tangible epiphany that, yes, these two wanted younglings as much as he did. Ratchet swallowed tightly, optics shuttering as he barely restrained a keening sob of his overwhelming joy. He forced his intakes to cycle, made himself continue his silent, self-guided tour with his lovers behind him, undetected by any normal sense, but he knew he could reach back and touch them if he so desired.

Their presence allowed Ratchet to keep cycling vents that continually attempted to close. He looked to the room across the hall from the nursery, taking in the massive office lined with tomes and tools from Ratchet's dorm in the Healers' Collegia – the dorm room Ratchet had been kept from for one reason or another for the last two orns. For a very slight moment his weariness returned with the reminder that he had not slept in a normal berth for two orns while dealing with emergency repairs several mech's required following a collapse in the catacombs beneath the city.

With the many thousands of grays having raised from the dead the catacombs had been rendered too dangerous to approach, and now a massive reconstruction effort was underway to shore the underground from collapsing and taking the whole of the business district with it.

"Do you like it Ratch?" Sideswipe asked once more from behind, the red twin's voice filled with uncertainty at the prolonged silence.

Ratchet huffed and shook his head as he turned around, pulling the glass encased gelled rose. With a hesitant finger he traced the outline of the rose on the glass surface as doubts new and old filled his spark before finally looking up at his lovers. "I should turn the two of you into scrap for making me come all this way this late after two straight orns in the bay."

"Oh," Sunstreaker looked down at his hands, rubbing his arm uncomfortably, "No one would tell us where you were. They – they didn't know about us."

"Ratch, according to them, we were just – fans." Sideswipe looked to Ratchet miserably. "Why does – why aren't we worthy of anyone knowing who we are?"

Ratchet sighed, setting the rose on the massive desk. "I was afraid to tell anyone about us except for the collegium leaders. You two have been awake for less than a full season, you've only known me as the traveling healer. What if, after you see me working too hard, cussing everyone out, yelling at my students, and bringing my temper home, you decide I'm not good enough?"

The question had been plaguing him since he had started his rotation. He worked long hours, left sometimes for days. He returned filthy, exhausted and cranky. He had yelled at most of his staff already within his first week, what would happen when his temper turned on them?

"Living in darkness for so long before our imprisonment let us know when we found someone perfect." Sunstreaker muttered darkly. "We know what we're asking for!"

Ratchet shook his head, dragging his lovers from his office, across the hall to the nursery that sat silent and empty just waiting for a newspark. "Is this an empty promise?" He gestured to the scalloped bassinet, "Did you put these in here to make me believe you want sparklings? Or do you want younlings as much as I do?"

"Heh, we did everything for you, Ratch. When you and Chromia spoke of younglings, we wanted that, to see Ironhide play war-horsie with littles and Chromia behave like a giddy youngling herself with her first grand-spark." Sideswipe sighed and leaned against the door, optics downcast and dark.

"So," Ratchet looked to them forlornly, "How does an overly self-conscious, insensitive slagger say he's sorry?"

"He says sorry." Sunstreaker bit the words savagely, optics dark with hidden emotions.

Ratchet dropped his guise, letting his self recriminating, exhausted green optics meet their masked blue evenly. "I was afraid, I figured in this big city you two would have no trouble realizing you made a mistake when you chose me. I love you both, I always will. But, what if you didn't really love me? If you two had said that I wasn't good enough I wouldn't have been surprised."

Sideswipe rolled his optics to the ceiling just as Sunstreaker's hand slapped over his optics in exasperated disbelief, shaking his helm slowly. "Did you really think we berthed you out there all those times just to let you go now?" Sunstreaker demanded gesturing out the window to the no longer visible tree line, "Primus Ratch, we went over this in Crystal Spire. We love you. Us," he gestured with a finger between him and Sideswipe, "we love you. It's not the affects of some forsaken curse, not some load of slag we cooked up to keep you from letting us die! We love you!"

The last, nearly howled with desperation finally goaded Ratchet into action. Knowing words had failed him, he turned to the only options he had left. With a mental shove, he pushed at the section of his mind where he felt the nightwalkers' presence forcing his under demonstrated affection for them to shine like a beacon and drew Sunstreaker in for a deep, searing, demanding kiss.

Sideswipe was suddenly behind him, laving kisses along the back of Ratchet's neck pushing the healer as Sunstreaker pulled out of the nursery to the final door at the end of the hall. Reaching blindly behind him Sunstreaker opened the door letting the honey hued wood play in the flickering candle light. Ratchet startled from their heated encounter, froze, optics instead devouring the massive rooms that lay before him.

He found himself staring at a sitting room, several chairs facing a large hearth and a desk sat closest to the door, a wash room opened to one side with a massive tub and shower. Ratchet looked the room over, then spotted the enormous berth room appointed with a huge berth, several standing wardrobes and a small bookshelf empty save few a few knickknacks Ratchet had kept above his cot in the dorms. All this he took in one startled instant then once more pulled at the twins, drawing them towards the massive berth desperately needing to be broken in.

"Wait," Sunstreaker breathed, intakes hitching as he fought down his consuming desire for Ratchet. "Love, Ratchet?" He and Sideswipe each fell to one knee, each suddenly holding a small open box in their open left hands. In unison they spoke, each holding Ratchet's gaze intensely, "Bond with me? With us?"

Ratchet stared, breathless despite his impassioned panting as he looked at the ring each brother held. Sideswipe held a ring of palest silvery-white metal one side smooth and even, the other worked into spiraling filigree. Sunstreaker's was whitish-blue, nearly identical to the one in Sideswipe's grasp, and Ratchet gasped as his processors fitted the filigreed edges together making the two rings into one. He looked from one brother to the other, then to their rings and finally to look through the open door behind them to the massive home they had made for him here in his city.

They were silent, patient, optics bright and steady. Ratchet was grateful for their silence as he contemplated the consequences of saying no – and suddenly smiled a huge, massive smile as he remembered the harrowing days when his belief the pair had berthed him for bragging rights and left him to wake alone in a sticky berth came back. His belief that they had used him caused him to doubt his budding affections for them and nearly destroyed the hybrid nightwalker pair. "Yes," Ratchet finally accepted ecstatically, "Primus yes."

"We knew you would never leave us." Sideswipe stood fluidly, effortlessly rising to his peds as he slipped his silver ring onto Ratchet's right ring finger. Sunstreaker stood a moment after, slipping his ring on Ratchet's finger as well, interlinking their filigreed edges, making the two rings into one.

"Two halves of one spark." Ratchet smiled at the narrow band, before reaching out to the pair with lust-filled optics dark with desire. Yes, his spark was imperfect, filled with doubts and fears for what the future held. Yes, he held a silent kernel of angst that one orn they would be freed of the ancient curse and leave him for his imperfections. But, he also had this tiny, timid, fragile symbol that they would stay with him regardless. "I love this place. I love you both, but I am not bonding with you for at least a vorn."

"Please tell us that doesn't mean we have to be chaste with you now." Sunstreaker panted, optics darkly violent and seething with his desperate need for the healer.

"Frag no!" Ratchet clutched at the pair, glossa tangling with Sunstreaker's in a brief, intense kiss as his hands pulled at Sideswipe's tunic. "It just means that you have one vorn to make sure you're not signing up for the biggest mistake of your long lives. Because, trust me on this, Ironhide will not let you divorce me. It's either bond for life, or die and if he can't kill you, he'll banish you."

The twins smiled salaciously, optics flaring with desire, their hands stripping Ratchet then themselves, "That's not an issue." They spoke as one, their combined voice that strange tone that belonged to neither yet sounded like one mech speaking from two frames. Hearing their desire in that strange spark-voice that spoke for both of them as their chilly exvents gusted over him, Ratchet suddenly pulled Sideswipe into a strut-melting kiss, devouring the other's chill mouth as they tumbled onto the berth.

Sunstreaker watched his lover and brother for a few moments, relishing feeling Ratchet's affects on Sideswipe through their bond. The pair entwined interface arrays grinding desperately as their mouths devoured each other. Frames of white and red writhed together, Sideswipe laving his glossa along sensitive seams along Ratchet's frame as he slowly teased his way to the healer's interface plate.

As Sideswipe worked his glossa lower Ratchet writhed one hand clutching desperately at the thick bedding while the other reached out longingly to Sunstreaker, optics locked on the golden nightwalker, pleading the dark violet optics to join him. A hungry smirk spread across Sunstreaker's perfect features, the golden form stalking to Ratchet's side to claim the healer's perfect mouth.

Ratchet panted, thrashing in ecstasy as fingers rough and smooth pressed up inside his valve, stretching him with maddening slowness. He had lost track of his lovers, one sucked his spike, sending jolts of desire to thrum through his entire being. The other pressed light kisses and gentle fanged nips along his chassis, repeatedly biting and growling over his spark possessively.

"More," Ratchet pressed against the seeking fingers and near frigid mouth, needing something hotter, larger to bring him to completion. Around him, his lovers stilled before both sets of doting optics hovered over him.

"As you command," Sideswipe murmured huskily, kissing Ratchet with a cold, tender intensity as the many fingers in the healer's valve withdrew with exquisite slowness making Ratchet mewl and shiver into Sideswipe's mouth. Only to gasp as Sunstreaker slowly sank into the searing heat of the soaking, clutching channel.

Sunstreaker pressed himself intimately along Ratchet's back, placing chilled open mouth kisses along his shimmering hot neck as Sides slowly entered Ratchet, chest pressed impossibly close to the healer's. Panting, entwined, they held still letting Ratchet acclimate to their combined girth. Shuddering, pulling his lovers closer Ratchet suckled along Sideswipe's neck, his pelvis into his lovers urging them to move. Valve clenching, his lovers groaning in appreciation for the tight feel, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe slowly pulled out, making Ratchet writhe. Pausing, anticipating the brothers held perfectly still with just the heads of their spikes held barely within Ratchet throbbing valve, until their lover snarled for them to move, his optics bleeding a dark, dangerous green.

With Ratchet snarling at them, his guise of mortality finally fallen, Sunstreaker pistoned his hips back into Ratchet, his pace swift and brutal. Sideswipe smirked at his brother's impatience and moved slowly back within Ratchet, his movements a fluid glide that would slowly drive Ratchet into desperate desire. The pair bestowed kisses on Ratchet's plating as they moved, their hands stimulating his over-sensitive palms until the healer was heedless of anything but the burning heat that poured off of him and devoured his lovers.

Ratchet keened as their movements countered one another, his lovers always drove him to desperation once they discovered this, his impure weakness. Sunstreaker pistoning with delicious friction against the back wall of his valve while Sideswipe pulled slowly in and out against the front as they built slowly towards climax and keeping Ratchet from toppling through his. They countered each other perfectly. Ratchet keened, mewled and moaned peppering Sideswipe with kisses and nips urging him, begging him to speed up, to give him more of that intense friction he so desperately needed.

Ratchet could feel his overload building that exquisite precipice approaching too slowly. He knew what he needed, wanted and so did his lovers. They kept him shackled just at the edge making him threaten, plead, beg and whine until Sideswipe finally giving in sped up matching Sunstreaker's movements so that they moved in tandem.

"Yes," Ratchet hissed, back struts arching against Sunstreaker as the twin spikes within him finally felt like one. Thrusting harder, faster they drove the healer to climax, Ratchet shrieking his overload while his lovers continued to press desperately into him until they reached their own completion.

"Heh, he really was exhausted." Sideswipe smiled adoringly down on Ratchet's slack, slumbering face. Feeling sated and complete, Sunstreaker withdrew from Ratchet's still sopping and clenching valve only to cuddle closer to the white frame as Sideswipe did the same. Curled possessively around their lover – their betrothed – the brothers held him tightly, knowing they would not sleep this night as their hands entwined with his right one, black and golden fingers entwining with cherry red as they stared enraptured at the ring on his finger.

They did not need to sleep, and as the hours ticked away until sunrise they knew they could do this – holding Ratchet as he slept through the night – for all eternity. Behind their headboard, the window above them slowly brightened with dawn's first light. They watched Ratchet first shift, then snuggle tighter against them before his optics finally lit that hazy pale green they adored so much. As his groggy optics finally settled on them and lit affectionately the brothers knew they would lie here holding him for the rest of their long lives. Their entwined hands tightened around their lover's each smiling adoringly.

"We never did have that steamy shower scene." Sideswipe murmured as he nuzzled Ratchet tenderly.

Ratchet smiled sleepily, his optics tracking to their hands and the ring settled there, "It's time we fixed that." He rasped, "Later," and fell back to sleep.

The End