|raisedbymoogles (raisedbymoogles) wrote in kinkfest,|
@ 2008-11-07 15:10:00
Advance Guard, Crossover: FFXII/Transformers Movie (Balthier & Ratchet)
Title: Advance Guard
Warnings: Ratchet's grumpy.
Prompt: Crossover: FFXII/Transformers - Balthier: a noble thief - "Balthier likes to tinker, and this beast of metal is right up his sticky-fingered alley."
Word count: 749
Summary: A chance meeting between two worlds leaves Balthier with a friend that may rattle even his composure.
"Stop that," said the massive beast of metal, and sat up.
Balthier snatched his hands out from a nest of wiring and jumped back, stars in his eyes as the inarticulate mass of machinery took on form and life. Of course the beast was humanoid, it had just been too huge for his mind to encompass! There the arms, there the torso, and looming above a robotic face that somehow managed to convey irritation. "Your species is entirely too presumptive," he grumbled, giving his body a clamorous shake. "If there are smudges on my circuit boards I will not be happy."
In the absence of anything intelligent to say, Balthier resorted to courtesy. He dropped an elegant bow, holding it while the metal being shifted and grumbled. "I beg your pardon," he offered. "I hadn't any idea you were a living being."
"Hm. I suppose I've only myself to blame for that." The metal golem's glowing eyes tracked across the hangar Balthier had 'borrowed' for the purpose of examining his prize. "But how did I come to be here?"
"Ah. That." Balthier straightened and cleared his throat. "I may have... won you in a Triple Triad tournament."
Leading men did not run and hide from the almighty wrath of their acquisitions; the most Balthier would admit to was a flinch. "He told me you were a bin of spare parts, and I needed some for my ship!"
That didn't help. The golem bristled impressively - very impressively, actually, looming over him like a scuffed chartreuse thundercloud. "Then 'he' has made a grievous error, hasn't he? I am Ratchet, Autobot medical officer, not 'spare parts' yet, despite Starscream's best efforts, thank-you-very-much."
"Clearly," Balthier offered weakly. "Again, my deepest and most abject apologies." He bowed again, and though the beast rumbled with displeasure, he refrained from killing Balthier, which was quite magnanimous of him all things considered.
"We're keeping him," Fran informed him flatly, after Ratchet fixed their ship without the aid of the spare parts Balthier had failed to bring in.
"Yes, Fran," he acquiesced gracefully. "Would you take the pilot's chair? I ought to see to our guest." The Viera nodded and dismissed him with a confident gesture as she slid into the chair and plunged the craft over the top of a cloud bank. Balthier grinned boyishly - when she flew, Fran could express an exuberance that didn't come naturally to her any other way - and left her to her work while he made his way to the aft section.
Ratchet sat in the cargo hold, dormant to all appearances until Balthier approached. Then he stirred and lifted his head, eyes glowing wine-red in the darkness. "I've been reading your logs," the mech said without preamble. "It seems I've fallen in with some disreputable company."
"Ratchet, I'm hurt," Balthier pouted.
"Hmph. It wouldn't be the first time," Ratchet muttered, shifting his shoulders. "Would you mind working my back assembly array loose? It's been dented and jams easily."
Balthier hesitated, remembering how welcome his hands had been under the behemoth's plating before. "Are you certain you don't mind, Ratchet?"
"If I did, I wouldn't ask," Ratchet snapped, then sighed and leaned forward, lifting up a plate on his back a few degrees. "You'll see it just a few inches in." His tone was only a bit less gruff, and Balthier knew that was the closest thing to an apology he was likely to get.
Gracefully accepting his current fate, Balthier approached and quickly found the dented assembly against his fingers. "This does feel out of sorts," he commented. "You'll have to get it repaired soon."
"As soon as I find someone on this planet who's qualified," Ratchet answered, leaning further forward and forcing Balthier to follow. "Hmm, a bit higher."
Balthier obediently stretched up and grasped the metal strut, jiggling it firmly. "Are there others of your kind, then?" he asked offhandedly.
"Oh, yes," Ratchet sighed. "I'm sure you'll meet them sooner than you want. And I do hope these indications of your folk being able to throw lightning are true-" His voice broke off in a gasp as the strut came loose with a triumphant ping. "Ah," the alien visitor sighed.
"Better?" Balthier smiled, filing away Ratchet's remarks.
"Not bad," Ratchet conceded, shifting his shoulder, and Balthier bowed. "Of course," the metal beast added, "your compatriot Fran was much better."
Balthier's bow wobbled and he sat down hard, the dignity of the leading man forgotten.