Chapter Text
Ratchet had scrubbed a hand over his face when he saw the two sitting in the waiting room. Only Optimus was scheduled for an exam, but no doubt Ironhide had tagged along to double-team the weary medic.
They’d been working in tandem for months to bed him.
It was endearing in its own way, the effort they went through to seduce a man who thought himself past his prime and unworthy of anything long-term. He was married to his job, as his colleagues put it, but he couldn’t deny he was beginning to long for a pair of arms to fall into at the end of the day. Or perhaps, two pairs.
For now though, he’d make the two work for it a bit longer if for no other reason than deep down he was a bit of a tease.
“’I like your sweater’? Ironhide, I don’t know how, but you’re getting worse at this.” Ratchet turned to the Prime seated on his exam table and pointed an otoscope accusingly at him. “Don’t laugh, Optimus. Your flirtatious attempts aren’t much better. Why did you have to bring him anyway?”
“No other reason than it’s been a while, doctor. I had to cancel my last few physicals due to work complications, and Ironhide has, surprisingly, kept himself in good shape.”
‘Good shape, yes,’ Ratchet thought, letting his gaze sweep over the career soldier and linger just a little too long on the arm muscles hugged snuggly by his t-shirt and the defined collar bone that peeked out.
“Like what you see, doc?” Ironhide grinned, catching the medic’s eyes. Ratchet scoffed and turned back to his real patient, continuing the initial check-up. “Cause I’m liking what I see. I’m not joking about the sweater, by the way. Not everyone can pull off chartreuse.”
“Thanks,” Ratchet muttered, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. “I started wearing it as a deterrent to all those young punks saying my lab coat would look best on their bedroom floor,” he lied.
“How rude! I would at least have the decency to hang it up for you.”
Optimus chuckled.
“I know I’m your patient, but you wouldn’t happen to have a cure for his libido by any chance?”
“Unfortunately, no. The cure for a case this bad is known in the medical field as a miracle.”
Ratchet took another look at the chart: persistent cough, sore throat. Ratchet sighed. Optimus probably needed something as simple as an over-the-counter suppressant, but again had used it as an excuse to come see him.
“Let’s give your lungs a listen.” Ratchet hitched the Prime’s shirt up a bit and placed the stethoscope against his back. It was a feat of focus, trying his damnedest to pay attention to the slight rasp in the lungs and not lose train of thought at the toned back muscles his fingers brushed against. He couldn’t ignore Optimus’s shaky exhale as his fingers swept across the broad expanse, or the almost disappointed fall of his shoulders when the medic pulled away.
“Well, sounds like you’re getting over the hump of whatever was afflicting you. I can suggest some cough suppressants or prescribe an anti-inflammatory if you prefer.”
“Anything you want to prescribe me, doctor?” Ironhide chimed in.
“I’m sorry to say, Ironhide, but as I mentioned earlier, you’re incurable,” Ratchet said, but with a little smirk for Ironhide’s benefit. “Honestly, Optimus. How do you put up with him?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, though, I wish there was someone more…experienced in our lives to balance him out.”
Optimus was smiling that big, warm smile of his and he reached for Ironhide’s hand, who eagerly took it. They both looked at Ratchet warmly. There it was, an offer to become more than himself- to become a part of “us”.
Ratchet looked down and away, not rejecting them, but contemplating.
“Experienced…see Ironhide, that’s how you compliment someone.” Ratchet met their eyes again. “Keep complimenting me, see what happens.”
Ironhide and Optimus spoke up in unison.
"Sex."
"Dinner."
“Well, I was thinking more like giving Optimus that missed physical free of additional charge, but I won’t turn down one of those offers.”