Title: As Far As Days Go
Author: akisawana
Genre: Beast Wars Dinobot/Rattrap porn. Of the "gee, spies are real ticklish" variety.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: Severe non-graphic whumping. Dinobot Gambling That This Is How We Make Rats Scream.
Notes: Totally set in ianam1983's (or Thing With No Talent's, depending where you're reading this) 'verse. Set in a fuzzy time period in which they haven't quite gotten past first base yet. Dinobot has issues. I suppose you don't have to go read her fic, but it would help. Also, is much better. Less yams and she's a hell of a lot nicer to Rattrap.
Summary: Rattrap is stuck in beastmode. Dinobot is assigned his babysitter. Neither of them are complaining.

As far as days went, it wasn't the worst day of Rattrap's life, but it was in the running for the longest. He probably should have been overjoyed, or something, at finally seeing the Axalon after walking so far with Air Razor on his back, but he was too tired to care. It wasn't like that meant he could stretch out properly soon or anything.

Primal or Dinobot must have seen them coming; the lift was already lowered. Rhinox more or less collapsed on it and Rattrap had to jump it unassisted. With a giant bird on his back. He was going to kill Inferno so dead they'd have to hold his funeral twice.

Inside the ship, Primal was waiting to unstrap Air Razor and carry her to a CR chamber. Rhinox transformed and followed him. "You ain't even gonna try to help me, big guy?" Rattrap whined, trotting at his heels.

Rhinox stopped and picked the rat up by the scruff of his neck, and glared at him. "I am injured. You are inconvenienced. It can wait." He dropped Rattrap to the ground, hard, and shut himself in the last available CR chamber, next to Cheetor.

If Primal noticed, he probably understood and let it pass without comment. "Alright," he said. "I'll keep trying to contact Tigatron. Dinobot, take Rattrap and make sure the cleaning drones don't get him. Please."

"And why would the vermin need protection from them?" Dinobot asked. "He certainly has no problem with keeping them out of his quarters."

"Megatron rebuilt the transformation lock lens," Primal said. "It was…easier to destroy this time."

"Hmph," was all Dinobot said to that, but he did scoop Rattrap up as if there was a cleaning drone lurking around the corner. Gently, too, though he managed to make it look accidental. "The arachnids came, as you thought they might," Dinobot reported. "And left." His tone left no doubt as to what condition the Predacons left in.

"I knew leaving you here was the right choice," Primal said approvingly. "I'll watch the monitors and try to find our missing scout. Perhaps you could try giving Rattrap a bath?"

Rattrap muttered something vaguely threatening in Primal's direction, and Dinobot laughed. "I like my optics right where they are. You want him bathed, you can do it yourself." Primal even grinned at that, and Dinobot left the command center.

Once he was sure Primal couldn't see and therefore Dinobot wouldn't be embarrassed, Rattrap snuggled against Dinobot's chest, and thought about sleeping. Or getting really overcharged and then passing out. Yeah, that sounded good.

"What happened to the stasis pod?" Dinobot asked after an uncharacteristically long five cycles of silence.

"Inferno."

"So the Predacons reached it first?"

"No." When Rattrap didn't elaborate, Dinobot scratched behind his ear gently.

Rattrap tilted his head and sighed. "Cheetor got there first. Rhinox talked him through bringing it online. And then Inferno blew it up." He made a tiny rat fist, but stopped himself from actually taking his frustration out on Dinobot.

"The furball made it back alive," Dinobot prompted.

"Yeah, well, Inferno didn't leave enough of her to bury."

"Her?"

"'S what Cheetor said anyways. 'Sweet! Another babe!' That was, oh, right after Terrorsaur bit Air Razor's wing clean off." Rattrap paused for a minute, and added, "Grapeface didn't pull out the lens until we were close enough that it didn't matter. Hit her first. Tried to hit Rhinox, but Rhinox shot it up pretty good."

"And when exactly did you get hit?"

Rattrap turned his head so Dinobot could get at his other ear. It also conviently kept him from having to look at Dinobot. "Queen Megs ain't no sniper, if ya know what I mean."

"Did Rhinox use you as a shield?" Dinobot asked, voice hard and cold as steel. Again hung unspoken in the air between them.

"Are you ever gonna let that go? Primus above, you'd think he carries me around just for that, the way you hang on to that ONE time."

"It was … dishonorable," Dinobot rumbled, but Rattrap just rolled right over him.

"No, sonovacompactor just got lucky. Might have had something to do with the mad race we were running." The fight mostly went out of Rattrap at that, and he allowed Dinobot to pet him into something resembling calm. "The Universe just hates me."

"Not as much as it hates me. After all, I am saddled with you and your deathwish."

"You wanna talk about deathwishes, Lizard-lips, who was it that went up against two of the eight-legged freaks by himself?"

"I was defending the base." Dinobot punched in the code to his door. It wasn't the first time Rattrap had been in there, but it certainly was the first time Dinobot hadn't threatened him horribly if he touched anything. They spent most of their time together outside, where Dinobot usually was, or in the bowels of the ship, where Rattrap had to fix things often.

Dinobot set Rattrap down on the berth and walked away. "Spiders, Choppaface, spiders. And you weren't defending no base either. You went out and fought them. I know what kind of scorch marks you make and what kind the base guns make."

"Tarantulas has not been a threat to me in a very long time." Dinobot came back with a yam and sat cross-legged on the berth. Rattrap missed the warmth, but didn't press the issue. Whatever you wanted to call what was between them, it battered against Dinobot's comfort zone at almost every turn –and Rattrap had a feeling it just might be worth all the work.

And judging by the way Dinobot would grit his teeth and meet Rattrap halfway at every turn through sheer force of will, he thought so, too.

"What about the man-eater?" Rattrap asked. "Can't say she ain't dangerous. She-devil's deadlier than all the other Preds put together." Dinobot didn't say anything, just started to delicately slice pieces off the yam with his claws. "It's 'cause she's a Maximal underneath, y'know." Dinobot didn't rise to the bait, just kept cutting the yam. "Wouldn't bet against her in a fight."

"She reminds me of you," Dinobot said, deceptively mildly.

"Well, I suppose she is almost as good looking as I am."

"And almost as much as of a coward." Dinobot pushed his small pile of rat-sized yam pieces towards Rattrap.

"Hey!" the spy protested. "I resemble that remark!" Dinobot gave him a startled look. Point to Rattrap. "An'anyways, nothing wrong with a healthy sense of self-preservation. Which, I might add," he said, shaking a finger at Dinobot, "you most definitely lack."

"As do you. Eat the yam."

"Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do if I don't, Needlemouth? "

"I will do nothing. And I will continue to do nothing as you fall into stasis lock. Unless you would prefer some energon, but I do believe it's a bit early for your annual bath."

Well, that pretty well gave Dinobot the match. "You smell," was all Rattrap could think to say as he hunkered down to eat the yam Dinobot had so carefully cut for him. It was a helluva lot easier to eat this way than trying to gnaw at the whole root. He'd even peeled the skin off. Not that Rattrap wouldn't have eaten it, but it was nice to enjoy a yam without having to eat dirt.

Dinobot didn't say anything while Rattrap ate, just sat and watched, shredding what was left of the yam.

"Service here is great," Rattrap said around a mouthful, winking at Dinobot. "Food's almost as good too." He swallowed, and held the last piece out to Dinobot. "Ever have yam?"

Dinobot took it, but didn't eat it. Instead, he dumped it and his little mountain of shredded yam on his desk. "I prefer meat, vermin." He did that thing he did with the word, rolled it around his mouth and drew it out until Rattrap's joints stopped working and he was glad he was already sitting. And completely missed whatever it was that Dinobot said next.

Apparently it was important, because Dinobot suddenly looked nervous. This being Dinobot, anyone else would have thought he was frustrated to the boiling point, but Rattrap knew the difference. Carefully, Rattrap dropped to all fours and stretched towards Dinobot, as casually as he could, and waited for Dinobot to take the lead. He hoped it wouldn't end in Dinobot deciding he needed to think alone –that was kind of understandable, but more frustrating than a rusted bolt. And if Dinobot decided he needed to think alone and that he couldn't leave Rattrap while the spy was stuck in beastmode…

Well, that would lead to a long awkward night, slaggit all, and they weren't supposed to have those anymore! That little bit had been hard-won, and Rattrap had a list of people to kill for making it so difficult (Megatron appeared on it no less than four times), and it should just. Not. Happen.

Finally, Dinobot choked out, "You've got feathers stuck to you."

"I do?" Rattrap twisted around as best he could. "I don't see any."

"They're there. Come here and I'll get them for you."

Rattrap walked tentatively toward Dinobot, not knowing what was wrong, but having a sinking feeling that it was his fault somehow. When he was in reach, Dinobot carefully scooped him up and set him in his lap. Rattrap held very still, and Dinobot plucked the single feather out of his back and showed it to him.

"See?" he said, combing through Rattrap's fur with his other hand. "Feather."

Rattrap thought about saying something snarky, but he was in Dinobot's lap and getting petted, which was the best he could reasonably expect from the universe at the moment, so he should probably shut up and enjoy it while it lasted. "Very good, Scalebelly. That is, in fact, a feather."

Dinobot just snorted, and kept stroking his back. Little by little, Rattrap relaxed under his hands. Slowly, because he hadn't had much chance to practice before meeting Dinobot, but still quicker than, say, Rhinox would think, because hey, Dinobot. What could possibly hurt him when he was this close to the warrior, in a veritable fort of shin guards?

Nothing.

Dinobot scratched lightly at the back of Rattrap's neck, and he dropped his head to rest it on a muscular thigh. The warrior rewarded him by scratching up his neck, around his ears, and all the way down his spine to the base of his tail. "Mmmrph," he said, quite intelligently, and shamelessly pressed against Dinobot's fingers. Dinobot walked them up his spine to start the whole process again, and under his hands, so carefully controlled, Rattrap forgot about the day, forgot about Air Razor and Cheetor mostly-dead in CR, forgot about Tigatron and Inferno and who he wanted to kill more, forgot about the poor femme killed today before she was properly born. He was vaguely aware that his vocalizer was running without his consent, saying things like "there, oh, right there," and "If you stop, I think I'm going to have to hurt you," but most of his processor was taken up with making sure that he wiggled all the right spots under Dinobot's clever fingers. After a while, Rattrap was reduced to a shivering mass of melted moaning rat, and he was pretty damn sure that this was as good as he ever was going to get.

That's when Dinobot started running his claws ever-so-lightly down Rattrap's sides.

Rattrap squeaked, and his limbs started to work again, and he pressed against Dinobot's claws, not caring about ripping his skin. Dinobot, damn him and his hands to the Pit, refused to co-operate, and kept his clawtips dancing across whatever part of Rattrap he could reach, kept Rattrap wriggling and moaning for "more, slag, you teasing lizard!"

Dinobot was smirking, Rattrap just knew, and he kept up with the erratic little swirls across Rattrap's skin, and refused to give him what he was shamelessly begging for. He twisted and rolled on his back to glare Dinobot into submission or something, but all that did was give the raptor fresh sensors to ignite, even more sensitive than the ones on his back, and oh dear sweet Primus under his chin. He whined and arched his back, electricity cracking across his circuits in that familiar way, and it had been long, oh so long…

"Stop," Rattrap gasped, grabbing frantically at Dinobot's hands, forcing back overload by force of will. Dinobot snatched them back as if burned, smirk wiped from his face. "Too good," Rattrap forced out, "gonna make me –"

Dinobot's smirk returned. "Isn't that the point?" he asked, and stinking slagsucking exhaust port that he was, he cradled Rattrap against his chest with one hand, Rattrap's head on his shoulder, and started seeking out all the transformation seams and other sensitive spots he had found before with his free hand. And once he had a good tight grip that Rattrap couldn't break or hurt himself, he lowered his mouth and starting nipping with needle-sharp teeth, all controlled, all careful, completely focused on making Rattrap chirp and whimper and squeak and writhe, past all begging or coherent thought at all, until the electricity was jumping from circuit to circuit and he could swear it was jumping all through his very fur and then Dinobot put his mouth there and breathed and it was all Rattrap could do to press his mouth against the side of Dinobot's neck to muffle the shriek as he overloaded and collapsed into mindless bliss.

Eventually, he came back to himself, still held firmly again Dinobot's chest. Dinobot's free hand was stroking him again, soothing this time, reaching up to rub behind his ears occasionally. He looked dangerously close to being happy.

Slaggit, if the lizard would do that, he'd have to live with a little cuddling. "You," he informed Dinobot, choosing his words carefully, "are entirely too talented at that." He didn't have to move too much to find a comfortable position between Dinobot's chest plate and ribs, and Dinobot didn't seem to mind him cuddling –he even shifted his grip so Rattrap was no longer straddling his arm.

"A warrior knows how to use his hands, spy."

"I'm going to get you back for this. Someday."

"Probably," Dinobot agreed, too smug to even bicker. "You will at least try, I'm sure."

"I'll do it," Rattrap insisted, yawning and curling a claw around the edge of Dinobot's armour. "I've got plenty of experience to draw on."

"And yet it seems to have deserted you tonight, along with your stamina. And dignity."

"Yeah, well," Rattrap fought to get it out, to get the last word, "we'll see how well you do, Choppaface."

"Better than you, I'm sure. Now shut up and recharge, rodent."

And Rattrap was feeling just too good and too safe to do anything but that.

Primal did not see Rhinox almost drop-kick Rattrap across the room. You can bet your sweet butt that if he had, this story would have gone in an entirely different direction.

Yes. They call it a yam. Do you really think they're speaking English? No. Ergo, I gloss. Anyone who asks why Dinobot has a yam in his room will be taken out back and shot.

The difference between what Rattrap thinks he's saying and what actually comes out of his mouth is huge. I hope you all appreciate the translation I did here. My God in Heaven. Has he declared war on the soft consonants or what?

Dinobot has muscular thighs. Deal.

Where do you think he put his mouth? Get your mind out of the gutter!

And then tomorrow massive amounts of rocks fell on everyone but hey, at least Rattrap got some actual, decent sleep.