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wizardwisenmore · 6 years ago

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First Aid Gives Rodimus Hell

@alyonian a fic based on those posts about thunderclash asking first aid to write fanfiction for him

i put the final touches on this at like 4am so it might be a bit wonky, will look at it with a more awake mind later

The purple datapad that goes with First Aid everywhere is, supposedly, a personal journal for keeping track of schedules and random ideas to look at later. Which, in fact, isn’t completely incorrect but those schedules happen to be for in-person or online meetings with his clients and those little ideas he writes are for said clients. Well, now, “client” sounds a bit risque but what he’s doing is perfectly legitimate in First Aid’s opinion. He ignores the several helpful reminders from Ambulon that he writes literal porn sometimes, some of it far raunchier than one would initially think the medibot capable of. Hey, all that built up tension daydreaming about the Wreckers had to go somewhere right? So, whenever Ambulon does feel like reminding him, First Aid just in turn reminds of that nice, new, adjustable, and expensive berth he was able to buy him because of his “smutty money” which tends to shut him up pretty fast. First Aid is a bit loathe to admit how bad his far more, ahem, specialized stories are even to Ambulon. He supposes his willingness to write these kinds of stories is what got him his four regulars as well as his latest request from an anonymous individual that- Okay, no, First Aid knows exactly who it is. It’s so painfully obvious but he just doesn’t have the heart to tell Thunderclash that he knows it’s him. That big, soft-hearted lug is just so hopeless when it comes to hiding his identity, just, Primus, First Aid is having a field day with this one. The names of the main characters alone are enough to practically shout that his latest client is none other than the Greatest Autobot of All Time.

The content that’s been requested is more of a surprise than the fact that Thunderclash of all bots is commissioning a personalized story (fantasy) from him. He’s requested a story with two bots the heroic Lightningclash and the charming, beautiful, charismatic, kind, (the list goes on) Radius who find themselves (gasp) stuck on a planet alone together with no immediate way of contacting their ship. Lightningclash and Radius are then put through several perilous situations in which they save each other thus becoming closer and better people through their shared experiences (First Aid had rolled his optics at the cheesiness of it all but this is Thunderclash after all and he’s paying very well so, who cares?). While these initial interactions started out innocent enough, Thunderclash had become a bit bolder and requested a particularly saucy scene that takes place in a cave full of bioluminescent plants. First Aid doesn’t know if he should be ashamed or proud that he only hesitated for a split second before agreeing to write self-insert smut for Thunderclash with Rodimus or “Radius” as he’s being called in this specific rendition. He only hopes he can manage to write it without making it too obvious he knows and still be able to look Rodimus in the eye.

Ambulon shakes his head as First Aid taps the send button that makes a characteristic “woosh” sound as Thunderclash’ smut gets sent away to be consumed by the poor pining bot. He tries not to let it weigh too heavily on his mind as he goes about his work and even almost forgets about it entirely until Ambulon speaks up.

“Hey, First Aid?” Ambulon says over his shoulder while studying a datapad.

“Yeah?” First Aid looks over to him, medkit in hand.

“It’s a good thing that account of yours is anonymous,” Ambulon pulls a pained smirk and flips his datapad over to reveal the screen to First Aid, “because you just sent your smut to the entirety of the Lost Light.”

First Aid is definitely proud to say he didn’t faint then and there.

Thunderclash is just relaxing in his habsuite when a message pings in on his hud and he see that the story he requested from “NotaPrime” has been completed and opens it with no small amount of excitement. Another glance at the message has him frowning though. It seems that for some reason the message was sent to all of the Lost Light for whatever reason. Thunderclash worries for a moment that something might be up but puts it off for the time being in favor of his commissioned piece. A part of him cringes as he begins to read, the part of him that tells him that indulging in his fantasies this way is unhealthy and even creepy. If he was honest with himself he knows that this is just because he knows he could never be with someone like Rodimus, especially not when it seems as though he’s done something to upset the mech. All of that is forgotten, however, when he lands upon the scene where Lightningclash and Radius take shelter in a cave and things heat up.

His immediate reaction is damage control. He’s automatically sending Thunderclash an apology while rushing to call in a favor with Perceptor to delete the story from everyone’s accounts. The questions that surely will come with it he can handle, exposing himself to Perceptor is a small price to pay to maintain some semblance of dignity in the eyes of the rest of the crew. Anyone who reads it will know just who the smut is about. At this point it’s just a matter of beating the clock, a thought that urges him on, running through the halls ignoring anyone who tries to wave him down. Thankfully most people just get out of his way. Ah, the perks of being a medical officer. As he turns one corner just before the labs he spots Nautica looking over a datapad, giggling. He’s just about to put it off as paranoia until-

“Pfft, Lightningclash? Really?” Nautica chuckles as she consumes the little surprise gift that popped up in her messages.

First Aid doesn’t think he’s run this fast since before the war was over. Ragged and panicky, he makes it to the lab door just as a message pings in from Thunderclash’s anonymous account. It’s enough to make First Aid freeze in confusion and complete astonishment. The message reads:

“Oh! Yes, I saw that! But no worries! I was a little confused and concerned at first but you’re explanation clears that right up. I don’t mind other people seeing my commission. I’m sure nothing bad will come of it. Thank you for clearing that up and for the story. What I’ve read so far is wonderful!

-sent from Thorguy”

First Aid feels a crawling beneath his plates as if his circuits were doing a low-level defrag as he just stares at the door panel to the lab. Did he think he’d feel regret? Did he really think that flamboyant , energetic Thunderclash would feel shame? Apparently First Aid didn’t know him at all. Well, he did commission blatant and explicit porn so, perhaps First Aid underestimated the durability of his pride. These thoughts flicker through his processor until one very key factor filters through the calming thoughts. Thunderclash doesn’t know First Aid knows it’s him or how he knows it’s him. Thunderclash thinks he’s secure. Thunderclash thinks no one will know who the story is about.

“That idiot,” First Aid rests his helm against the lab door.

The door panel slides open to reveal a very confused Brainstorm with various pieces of tech bundled in his arms making First Aid jump back, startling him out of his dark reverie. Tension bounces between the two mechs both trying to decide what to say.

“Uh, I was picking up some spare parts from Percy,” Brainstorm jostles the odd bits and ends as an indication of what he’s referring to.

“Right, yeah, sure,” First Aid backs up to let him pass, “I just, uh, was hoping to ask Perceptor for a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure something’s wrong with my spam filter. I’ve tried everything but I just can’t set it up properly.”

“Oh, right, mundane stuff. Yeah, more his thing.”

They fumble a little as Brainstorm makes his leave and First Aid walks into Perceptor’s lab, exventing heavily after all the stress begins to ebb away. When he takes a look around the lab the dimness and slight mess strikes First Aid as a little unusual for the normally tidy scientist. When he spots Perceptor he can’t help but feel a little concerned at how tired he looks with his shoulders sagging as he leans back up against a counter and his fully exposed optics shuttering lazily every so often. First Aid makes his way to Perceptor’s side startling the bedraggled microscope and begins to do an impromptu preliminary check up.

“Ah, First Aid, wh- what can I help you with?” Perceptor manages to say after getting over his initial shock.

“First, you can tell me what you were doing that taxed your systems this much,” First Aid remarks, shaking his head at the results of his scan.

“Brainstorm and I pulled an all-nighter and I neglected to refuel,” Perceptor looks away in shame.

“You know that’s not good for you but even if you did that that still wouldn’t have been enough to make you this tired.”

“Yes, well, it was a long night.”

“It certainly must have been.”

Perceptor doesn’t say anything while keeping his optics anywhere but towards First Aid only succeeding in making the beginnings of serious worry bubble up in the medibot.

“Perceptor, be honest with me,” First Aid levels himself so that he’s face-to-face with Perceptor, “What’s going on with you and Brainstorm?”

The effect of that statement is instant and Perceptor struggles to find his voice in an awkward cluster of broken syllables. Eventually he gives up and exvents.

“I probably should have gone to see you about it earlier. I noticed that it wore me out quite a bit before but didn’t feel it was anything to worry about. This particular bout was especially tiring though. I try to reassure Brainstorm but it’s gotten to a point where I think I can’t just blow it off as nothing anymore,” Perceptor seems to have gathered himself more, managing to explain himself more thoroughly and honestly.

“Wait, so you mean…”

“Brainstorm and I have initiated an intimate and sexual relationship. Our sessions together leave me lethargic and I often have to recharge for a longer period in order to make up for it.”

“Oh!” First Aid brightens and begins a more thorough check of his systems, paying close attention to the power systems linked up with his interfacing array.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything seems to check out. I don’t understand why you would be experiencing such heavy energy withdrawal.”

“Then why…?”

“Uh, this may seem a bit intrusive…”

“No, it’s alright.”

“How are your sessions normally? Is there anything you can think of that may relate to this?”

“Well,” Perceptor retracts into himself again, “Brainstorm is rather energetic. He never seems to get tired.”

“So you try to keep up with him,” First Aid sighs and shakes his head, “You shouldn’t push yourself like that. That or you should allow yourself more breaks. If you don’t tell him you’re wearing down he won’t be able to take that into consideration.”

Perceptor holds his face in his hands and nods.

“If you want Rung-”

“No,” Perceptor looks up, “I can take care of this. Thank you, I had wondered after all and you provided an answer. I should have realized…”

“Well, I can understand with a good partner it can be easy to get carried away,” First Aid relishes the bashful side of Perceptor he’s seeing now, “You should get some rest now to make up for you latest ‘session’ though.”

After a brief episode of mortification, Perceptor returns the light levels of his lab to normal and buts is monocle back on. He looks for all the world that he hadn’t just been absolutely ravished by his lab partner just minutes ago. The weight of his exhaustion still lingers but he looks more like his professional self.

“So,” Perceptor clears his intake, “did you need something.”

Everything he’d meant to talk to Perceptor about suddenly rushes back to First Aid making him feel a bit dizzy. All that had transpired just pours out of First Aid and Perceptor patiently listens to him then pulls out a datapad before First Aid is finished. At the end of the panicked explanation, First Aid watches Perceptor as he hums thoughtfully over the screen revealing the activity history of the accounts of the Lost Light Crew. First Aid begins to fidget as more and more time passes with Perceptor just analyzing the datapad.

“I have good news and I have bad news,” Perceptor finally tears his attention from the pad.

“Bad news first.”

“It seems as though that not only have many of the crew members opened the email but have actually taken the time to read it.”

First Aid slumps at this new information, “And the good news?”

“It seems as though Rodimus has yet to open the message.”

“Thank goodness for his lack of work ethic but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t found out about it.”

“Doesn’t mean he has either.”

In another part of the ship Drift sees a strange message appear on his hud and he opens it to find fanfiction that is very thinly disguised Thunderclash and Rodimus slash fic. As he reads it he has to take several breaks to laugh for a good minute and when he reaches the scene with the cave he chokes on air which causes Ratchet to find him in the middle of a coughing fit.

“Drift, are you alright?” Ratchet comes over, concern written on his face.

Drift nods and when his coughing finally dies down he says, “Yeah, just got to point in this story that really caught me off guard.”

“What story?” Ratchet looks at the datapad Drift is holding.

“It looks like someone has written a piece with our captain and Thunderclash having an adventure together,” Drift turns the datapad so Ratchet can see it better.

“Who would want to read something like that?” Ratchet looks over the story some more, “Rodimus doesn’t even like the guy.”

“I don’t know,” Drift shakes his helm, “but whoever wrote this is one kinky bastard.”

First Aid rests his helm against a desk, slumped over in a chair thinking about how he can handle this situation. His break down of it essentially comes down to Thunderclash not knowing he’s the author, the story is obviously about him and Rodimus but it can’t be immediately traced back to Thunderclash, and so long as Rodimus remains oblivious things shouldn’t get out of hand.

“First Aid,” Perceptor leans against the desk he’s sulking on, “I take it that it would be an issue for Rodimus to find out and not Thunderclash is because Thunderclash is your commissioner.”

“Yup.”

“I would have never suspected him having feelings for Rodimus if it weren’t for this slip up. However, with this realization and further reflection I can recall several occasions that are now painfully obvious as acts of endearment on Thunderclash’s part.”

“Right? If you have the time you should actually read the story. All his little requests and the details he leans on make it all the more obvious just how hopeless he is,” First Aid leans back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Then perhaps this is a blessing in disguise,” Perceptor puts his chin in his hand and First Aid looks at him as though he installed a second head, “I know that sounds a little ridiculous but think about it. Thunderclash clearly wants to express his feelings to Rodimus but Rodimus has put up not-so-subtle barriers that prevent that from happening. If manipulated in the right way it could ease the situation and make it possible for Thunderclash to overcome those barriers and/or encourage Rodimus to tear them down all together.”

“You want me to hook up Thunderclash and Rodimus with smutty fanfiction.”

“Don’t you?” Perceptor leaves First Aid alone to contemplate that after stating that he feels the need to have that conversation with Brainstorm sooner rather than later.

First Aid winds up going back to the medbay to an annoyed Ratchet and inquisitive Ambulon who are both very interested in what he was up to. He waves them off claiming he’s had a very long morning and will tell them about it later. Ratchet huffs, clearly agitated but lets it drop, however, Ambulon doesn’t let go so easily and is only satisfied when First Aid pulls him aside to explain it had been too late by the time he and Perceptor got to assessing the damage.

“The entire crew has read it?!” Ambulon stumbles a bit in his surprise and nearly drops his tools.

“Most of the crew has read it,” First Aid clarifies, exasperated, “Rodimus, thankfully isn’t really in the habit of checking his messages.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I am very grateful for it. Can you imagine what he’d do if he found out?”

“When he finds out.”

“Right… yeah…”

They continue working like they aren’t waiting for the inevitable shitstorm that’s brewing on the horizon. First AId rests in a state of emotional lapse now having his panic forcibly ripped from him in the wake of Thunderclash’s response and Perceptor’s view on the matter at hand. He mulls in the space between screaming endlessly into the void and the vast hollowness that can only come from making a mistake as bad as the sheer hell that First Aid has unleashed. Humming along to the panicked rhythm that begins to rise within him almost has Ratchet coming over to ask him if he’s alright. Through his new bout of nerves the start of a plan forms which eases some of his distress and what Perceptor said inspires him to take advantage of this disaster. He could get Rodimus to at least acknowledge his unfair distaste for Thunderclash, maybe even convince him it is unfair. Then a devious thought crosses his mind that brings him out of his self-sentenced personal hell by realizing how much chaos he could actually cause. Forget pride and reputation for that has been all but lost, while he has a stylus in his hand he can write the world into a frenzy and make all good-hearted souls wheep. He will bring about a reckoning that will lead the crew into madness and he will delight in the absurdity of it all instead of letting it sweep him away. This is probably not what Perceptor had in mind but any semblance of a calm and rational take on this has already been thrown out of the airlock. He has the power, he shall see that big goofball get his mech even if it gets him kicked off this ship.

“Aid?” Ambulon turns to him, a sudden thought striking him, “Did Megatron read it?”

“...slag.”

Megatron had just gone through his normal morning routine when the surprise message popped up, the contents of which surprised and appalled him. Anyone willing to go into that much detail on Rodimus’s spike or “Radius’s”rather is a depraved individual the likes of which he has only known during the war among certain circles of the Decepticons. He had powered through mostly due to immense boredom and sheer morbid curiosity. The reasoning for sending it to the entire crew puzzled him for if it was meant to be a prank it wasn’t very well executed for anyone who knew Rodimus for even a day would know he doesn’t check his messages. So, that means it had to have been a mistake and this thing about a “commission” detailed at the beginning would mean that not only was it a mistake but a very severe one. Megatron finds himself pitying whoever the writer was. In his opinion the story is solid if a little off in the dialogue and the plot is engaging making it one of the better things he’s read on this ship in the past few years. He just can’t fathom why anyone would want such a story enough to pay for it unless…

“Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Ultra Magnus who had been going over the daily reports turns to Megatron.

“I think that Thunderclash might be enamored with our captain,” Megatron muses.

“What? What makes you say that?” Ultra Magnus lowers his his servos from his work putting his full attention on Megatron.

“Have you received that strange message with a story attached to it? I think it was probably commissioned by Thunderclash.”

“It… that would make sense,” Ultra Magnus looks off in thought, “That poor mech.”

“Indeed.”

It doesn’t take too long for the entire ship to become all abuzz with the fanfiction which means everyone in Swerve’s is talking about it. Tailgate is chatting excitedly with Swerve and Rewind who nod along to his rapid-fire analysis of the story. Nautica seems to be just as enthused by the epic of Lightningclash and Radius while also having recruited Brainstorm to hold Nightbeat back from telling Rodimus what’s going on and explaining the entire mishap. First Aid is pretty sure he also knows that he wrote it but has been kind enough not to tell anyone. It also seems as though everyone has silently agreed not to tell Thunderclash that they know the story is about him and those few that suspect him as the mysterious commissioner have neglected to say anything as well. First Aid couldn’t have dreamed of a better reaction than this. He mentally gives himself a pat on the back as he looks around the bar and Ambulon rolls his optics, undoubtedly noticing his fellow medibot’s smugness. First Aid ignores him in favor of watching a happy Thunderclash excitedly going over a particularly dramatic scene where Lightningclash is being tended to by a distraught Radius with a particularly patient Perceptor who looks equally endeared and distressed.

“This line here ‘With Thunderclash’s helm in his servos and those dimly glowing red optics looking softly and lovingly up at him, Radius knew that no one else would go further or fight harder for him than his Lightningclash.’ Don’t you think that it just so wonderfully expresses the building undefined something between Lightningclash and Radius?” Thunderclash reads from a datapad and emits a dreamy sigh.

Perceptor takes a moment to steady himself before calmly turning to Thunderclash, “It is a solidly written line that clearly portrays Radius’s revelation. I think it’s the definite turning point in their relationship.”

First Aid stifles maniacal laughter as he watches Perceptor flub through a very detailed in-depth reading of the story and swears he can see Perceptor’s life force slowly leave his body. Ambulon gives him a look that lets him know that he’s enjoying this far too much but he can’t find it within himself to care. He’s sure that sooner rather than later he’ll have to face the consequences for his actions so he’s deciding to enjoy what he can while he can. The clincher to his ever-elevating mood is a little ping that notifies him of a very enthusiastic message from Thorguy A.K.A Thunderclash A.K.A Lightningclash. He excuses himself and heads back to his habsuite because, right now, he has a story to write and this time he has explicit permission to share it with the crew so all the better really.

Okay, so, Ratchet knows now but that’s something that’s been coming for a while now because of the glimpses he’s caught on Aid’s infamous purple datapad. First Aid thinks he takes it rather well seeing as how he faces minimum yelling but, unfortunately, Ratchet does wind up outing him to the others. This only succeeds in causing a hoard of the unexpected fans to pester him about the next story and for Thunderclash to confess that he had been the one to commission the first two stories. The lack of surprise from his peers is palpable making him retreat to a table in Perceptor’s lab to contemplate his apparent lack of subtlety. First Aid notes how Ratchet isn’t disappointed by the lack of backlash and notes how he didn’t include Rodimus in this suedo-intervention, not to mention the yelling devolved into critique of his latest story, the sequel to the first one everyone’s started calling “Cave Escapades.” This exposure has brought on a new problem, though. Everyone seems to have gotten very invested in the story of Lightningclash and Radius so they’ve all really started to get on his case about the update. First Aid had hoped to make this a more gradual thing but that clearly wasn’t going to happen now. Poor Thunderclash is too mortified to ask and pay for a third story which is Aid’s only defense in the face of his crew’s inquiries so, Nautica, Nightbeat, surprisingly Whirl, and a few others all pitch in for the next one.

Ambulon is rather unsympathetic when he retells what happened and all but straight up tells him he deserves the sudden pressure.First Aid stares at a blank datapad for a solid three hours before eventually giving up and heading to Swerve’s in hopes that giving his mind a break will clear his sudden and severe writer’s block. In his latest story, Lightningclash and Radius managed to get back in contact with their ship allowing them to reunite with their crew to then go to the next galaxy over to a good planet for refueling and resupplying. They were also checking a lead that might help them find the missing ally ship that had gone dark just months ago. Now he just didn’t know where to take the story. Lightningclash’s and Radius’s interactions had all been filled with the new question “what are we?” creating a lot of tension between them that is just fit to burst but how should it be done? First Aid just doesn’t know what he should do. Thankfully, before he can get too deep into his funk a very happy Drift plops down in the booth right across from him pulling him away from his thoughts.

“So, you’re the one that wrote the best thing I’ve read in the past thousand years,” Drift chuckles as he doctors his drink slowly.

“I’m glad you like it,” First Aid huffs, “It may be awhile before you get the next part though. I just can’t seem to get myself to write.”

“Well then,” Drift gives him a smirk that can only mean he has something mischievous in mind, “would you take a request then?”

First Aid mulls over it for a moment then remembering how many people are waiting for his story decides to throw caution to the wind yet again, “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“Well, you know, I think it’s about time that rodimus found out about these stories. So, I was thinking that it would be great that if when he reads them he got to a point where Rodimus reveals that he’s the next in line to declare the Primacy. I mean you haven’t built up a lot of lore for your stories but it’s clear it isn’t the same as our culture exactly. So, my idea is because he has to take on the Primacy he has all these responsibilities including not being able to take on anyone as his conjunx without like a ton of pomp and circumstance.”

“You mean like a really over-the-top mushy scene where Radius essentially goes ‘I love you Lightningclash but we can’t be together because I’m meant to take on the Primacy’ in the most sappy way possible,” First Aid mimics his parody Rodimus and begins to feel like he could work with this.

“Yes, that and Lightningclash as the respectable bot he is goes ‘I understand, Radius, your responsibilities come first but, I beg of you, let me be by your side always.’ just hamming it up all the way.”

“This,” First Aid leans against his interwoven servos with a wicked glint in his optics, “could work very well.”

When the message pings in Drift quickly gets up from meditating and rushes to Rodimus’s habsuite, datapad in hand looking all the world like the cybercat that got the energon. Rodimus is still in recharge after the indulgent night he had at Swerve’s and isn’t very happy when Drift roughly wakes him up to show him the datapad. Rodimus blinks slowly a few times at the datapad, not really seeing what’s on it.

“Drift, I know you’re trying to show me something but my processor hasn’t caught up with my body yet,” Rodimus lets out a yawn, “wanna just tell me what’s so important?”

“Somebody wrote a story about you!” Drift exclaims all to pleased with the situation.

Rodimus wakes up much more at that and begins to read over the stories while Drift watches in delighted anticipation. The faces the captain makes are extremely varied and rapid in their transitions. Drift bursts out laughing at a particularly disgusted expression Rodimus makes when he probably reaches the cave scene that he admirably pushes through to read the rest of it. Then he gets to the third chapter and groans once he gets to the big confession.

“What the hell is this?” Rodimus asks, his words muffled by the servos covering his face.

“It’s clearly other you with other Thunderclash having the time of your lives,” Drift teases and Rodimus gives him a look.

“This is the worst thing I’ve read, ever,” Rodimus grumbles, “You really woke me up for this? It’s not even worth the data storage.”

“Well I think it’s fun,” Drift says earning another look of disgust from his amica.

“This can’t continue like this.”

“Well what do you want to do about it then?”

“I don’t know!” Rodimus throws his servos in the air exasperated, “I wish this story just didn’t exist! That would be much better.”

“If you’re really so upset with it, why not just change it?” Drift offers calming Rodimus down somewhat.

“What do you mean?”

“This story was commissioned right? Well what if you commissioned this author to write the story how you want it to go?”

“It’s not worth the shanix,” Rodimus waves off the idea easily and slides off his berth to get ready for the day.

“I’ll pay for it then,” Drift shrugs when Rodimus shoots him a surprised look, “I think it would be fun.”

“How many people have read this again?”

The result is almost instant when First Aid sends off the next part of what is slowly becoming a series. Messages filter back with praise and statements of varying degrees of incredulousness. Now, as much as he’s enjoying all of this, he would have backed off had Thunderclash asked him to and even hesitated somewhat but the short message from the bot that started it all clears away his worry. Thunderclash sent him a very short but clear show of approval of his latest and most melodramatic installment. Ambulon groans once he gets to the big confession as Ratchet bends over steadying himself on a medical berth, immobilized by laughter. Seeing as how not much more work was going to get done he decides to go see how everyone is reacting to the story in person. He’s rewarded with a Nautica who’s absolutely glued to her datapad, an attentive Perceptor who gives a few good suggestions, and Tailgate along with Rewind listening to Chromedome give an excellent dramatic reading that Rewind is undoubtedly recording. The icing on the cake is when he stumbles on to the bridge to find a distraught Rodimus.

“Who the hell wrote this?!” Rodimus gestures widely to the datapad in his servo as though it just insulted him.

“I don’t know, Rodimus,” Megatron sighs, “but clearly it’s just in good fun. They don’t seem like they mean to slander you.”

“What do you mean? It’s clearly slander! They’ve paired me up with Thunderclash!” Rodimus shouts, fuming at the lack of sympathy.

“An excellent member of Autobot society,” Ultra Magnus adds helpfully without looking up from his work.

“They make me the damsel in distress!”

“Sometimes they make Thunderclash the damsel,” Megatron points out making Rodimus scoff.

“They make us frag in a cave!”

“I admit that might have been a bit much but they do an excellent job of portraying proper consent and communication between partners,” Ultra Magnus concedes.

Rodimus growls in frustration before storming off of the bridge undoubtedly to take it out on First Aid if unknowingly so. Sure enough, a little while later a message appears on his hud to his not-so-anonymous-anymore account from Rodimus describing just how much he hates the story. However, Aid is surprised to find that Rodimus, instead of demanding an end to the series, is paying for his own continuation of the story “to set the record straight” and First Aid obliges him. Of course, he doesn’t it’ll have the effect Rodimus desires but that’s mostly just because he knows he’s gonna spin it in another direction. Ah, the beauty of interpretation. Rodimus want him to write a continuation where Lightningclash messes up terribly so that Radius becomes enraged with him, so much so that he stops talking to Lightningclash with no hint of possibly letting up. First Aid decides he’ll humor Rodimus for now and leave Lightningclash and Radius’s issue unsolved at the end which just so happens to create a cliffhanger. First Aid leans back in his chair and looks at his handy work, satisfied with it, and sends it off before heading off to his berth to recharge. His intention is to feed Rodimus’s need for there to be conflict between the two characters to then have said characters to resolve it in the next chapter which will undoubtedly frustrate his captain but maybe also give him a hint. Besides, how was Lightningclash supposed to know that one of the reasons Radius left Cybertron to explore the stars was to escape the heavy weight of responsibility that the Primacy put on him? With a sigh and aching servos, First Aid drifts into recharge.

When First Aid heads to the medbay he can’t help but feel as though something’s off. He doesn’t have too much time to ponder it since Ambulon all but drags him into the medbay and locks the door behind them. Okay, that wasn’t a good sign. Ratchet’s giving him a look that tells him he’s definitely messed up.

“What did you do?!” Ambulon hisses regaining Aid’s attention.

“What? I don’t know. What’s happened?” First Aid is definitely starting to panic now.

“Your fans are in an uproar over the latest chapter of that terrible fanfiction of yours,” Ratchet informs him busying himself with prepping the medbay as though he was expecting a lot of injured bots to come flooding in at any moment.

“What? How bad?”

“Bad enough that Whirl started a bar fight with Cyclonus of all people over whether or not Lightningclash and Radius are going to ever get together. They’ve both been put into the brig and thankfully didn’t injure each other too badly but this is getting ridiculous.”

“I’ll say,” First Aid nods weakly, “That old romantic really let it get away from him. I bet he was defending Lightningclash’s and Radius’s durability all the way.”

“Yes, it’s all very sweet,” Ratchet gralfs, “What you need to do now is sit down and write so we can fix this mess before it gets any worse. I’ll even pay for it if I have to.”

“That won’t be necessary. This one’s on the house,” First Aid snags a datapad and begins writing like faster than he ever has before.

Apparently the impending doom via complete crew meltdown is a very good motivator seeing as he’s able to pump out a complete chapter in a record time of three hours. First Aid collapses on a berth completely drained from the frantic writing and hopes that it will clear everything up. Within those three hours, Nautica and Perceptor (for some reason) were brought in beaten up and ragged. Ratchet is still patching up the last of Perceptor’s abrasions when First Aid sends out the chapter making both patients leap for their datapads. Blissful calm settles over the medbay as the mechs devour the the story. Watching Ratchet read the story just as avidly as the rest of them, First Aid feels a little cheated for being guilted into making the latest chapter for free but he’ll get that old bastard back for it. He might even add in a weary old medic called “Hatchet” that’s hopelessly helm over pedes for a certain swordsmech called… He’ll think of a good name later.

“Yes!” Nautica cries out in glee and falls back on to the berth she’s taken residency on startling First Aid out of his half-awake state.

“I’m guessing that means you find the latest chapter acceptable?” First Aid says while still lying down.

“Very! Oh, just how Lightningclash takes Radius into his arms and pushes away any doubts that he sees him as a capable and beautiful mech. Radius struggling with himself as to whether to give in and abandon his responsibilities or remain the next prime but the Lightningclash insists he should be true to himself and not abandon his destiny! It’s perfect!”

“I quite agree,” Perceptor gives him a weary but emphatic nod.

“Good maybe this’ll settle things.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Ratchet scoffs, “You’ve just given them all another taste and still no resolution. At this rate you’ll be at this for a while.”

“That’s true,” Ambulon puts a servo on First Aid’s shoulder, “If you want this to end you have to conclude the story.”

“I can’t just yet,” First Aid puts a servo over Ambulon’s, “This is supposed to mediate Thunderclash’s inevitable confession to Rodimus.”

“That’s what all of this is about?!” Ratchet gapes at his downed colleague.

“I think that’s wonderful! Do you need any help?” Nautica leaps up energy fully restored.

“Perceptor, tell me you at least don’t approve of this,” Ratchet turns to the person that has become his only hope.

“Do you really want First Aid to stop?” Perceptor retorts making Ratchet fumble searching for the right words to defend himself but comes up empty.

First Aid turns to Nautica, “You know, a co-writer would actually help a lot. I don’t think I can write as fast as I need to on my own.”

“This is going to be great!” Nautica hops up and bounces with excitement.

Rodimus is fuming on the bridge now, very upset that his piece of the story had been subverted by the next chapter and has made his displeasure very well known to everyone in earshot. Thunderclash looks at him sadly, guilt weighing heavily in his spark as he looks at the damage his personal indulgence has caused. If the story has managed to do anything so far, it’s made Rodimus dislike him even more even without knowing he’s the one that commissioned the story. He makes a decision then and there that he’s going to do something to fix this mess that he’s made and hopefully get Rodimus to dislike him less.

Later on after workshopping the rest of the story, Nautica and First Aid decide having the outline all flushed out at least deserves a drink. First Aid is greeted at Swerve’s with praise and distress at how he almost severed such a beautiful, blossoming relationship. It’s clear now more than ever that he’s in it for the long haul. At the very least it seems this has alleviated some of the prevalent boredom that had been plaguing the ship. For a moment First Aid worries about what’s to come after all of this. This is, in all honesty, fun. Everyone is following the story with an intensity he didn’t know they possessed and that feeling is is so addictive that he almost doesn’t want it to end but he knows it has to. A blatant reminder of it all needing to come to a close is Thunderclash looking very sullen heading his way. He can feel Nautica tense up beside him when she spots their source material. First Aid tries and fails to steady himself knowing he can’t avoid this interaction while fearing what is to come of it. The large bot settles carefully in the seat across from them and folds his servos on the table. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.

“Hey Thunderclash!” Swerve breaks the tension, “Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, just mid-grade please,” whatever cool Thunderclash had is broken and the nervousness he’d been concealing earlier breaks through.

“You got it!”

After Swerve leaves to get Thunderclash’s drink he can’t seem to meet First Aid’s or Nautica’s optics.

“What do you need, ‘Clash?” First Aid tries to ease the situation.

“I, uh,” Thunderclash clears his intake, “I’d to um… Okay, so, Rodimus is clearly unhappy about this story. He seemed especially unhappy when the next piece after that fiasco was released. He seemed happier when our parodies were fighting. I had no idea that he disliked me that much.”

First Aid feels his spark ache a little at that last statement knowing all too well what Rodimus might have had to say about it.

“So, what do you need me to do?”

“I feel that this may not be the last issue that he forces our other selves to face. I think -indirectly- Rodimus showed something he’s very self-conscious of. It’s likely he will do so again.”

“You mean you think Rodimus was projecting his insecurities of technically never being a true prime on to Radius and he might do more requests that reveal things like that,” Nautica jumps in excitedly.

“Uh, that’s a bit harsher than I would put it but yes.”

“So,” First Aid puts a hand on Nautica’s shoulder to get her to sit back down again, “What do you want to do about that?”

“I’d like all of Lightningclash’s words to be my own from now on. I want to reassure Rodimus myself.”

First Aid’s spark grows warm at that. He just cannot handle how in love this poor mech is with “flaming ego,” Rodimus Prime out of everyone he could have given his spark to. Boy, if that didn’t just make him want to redouble his efforts.

“Radius!” the faint murmurs of conversation suddenly die down as Riptide shouts out in the middle of the bar while clasping Drift’s servo with a datapad in his other servo, “Please don’t misunderstand my formality as being a joke or in spite. I could never see you as anything other than a mech that deserves the world, the universe!”

“Just because you know I’m supposed to be prime now doesn’t mean you should treat me like some bauble on display,” Drift gives his best Rodimus impression but First Aid silently admits that his word choice probably wasn’t the most Rodimus-like, “I’m still Radius! I’m still the bot you called a friend! I’m still the bot that got overcharged and lost his credits to you on Hedonia! I’m still me!”

“I know you are!”

“Then why are you putting up this air of formality? Why are you treating me like a thing and not a person?”

“I can’t be with you, Radius,” Riptide recites in a hushed voice that has the audience of their impromptu performance gasping, “No matter how much I long to be with you, your position is too high for me to reach. I must steel my spark in the face of it. I must respect our traditions but I wish to remain useful to you. In order to do so I’ve had to put a barrier between myself and you. I am sorry. Please, don’t push me away.”

Drift A.K.A “Radius” looks down at Riptide A.K.A “Lightningclash” with a surprisingly convincing sad look in his optics.

“Then be my friend, Lightningclash,” “Radius” says, “because my spark won’t survive losing you.”

With the close, Riptide and Drift bow to the roaring crowd among which is even an amused Megatron. Rodimus sits in stunned silence as Drift wanders back to their booth where Ratchet is also dying of laughter. Rodimus looks at his amica in complete and utter betrayal but doesn’t even manage to dent Drift’s smugness. Out of everything First Aid had thought would come of his writing, miniature theater was not one of them. Across from him, Thunderclash looks over at Rodimus with longing, love, and hurt shining in perfect crimson. A message pings on First Aid’s hud and he knows he has work to do.

“I can’t believe you actually did that!” Rodimus shouts as he walks down the hall with Drift and Ratchet who are both laughing at his distress.

“What? Of course I did,” Drift nudges him gently, “I knew your reaction would be priceless.”

“I think he did a terrific job imitating you,” Ratchet adds making Rodimus scoff.

“See,” Drift loops his arm with Ratchet’s, “It’s all in good fun.”

“For everyone except me,” Rodimus grumbles.

“Details,” Ratchet shrugs.

“Well hopefully this time what I do will stick.”

“Hopefully,” Drift says wistfully obvious in his insincerity.

Nautica turns out to be First Aid’s saving grace as they continue writing the Epic of Lightningclash and Radius. They take turns typing what the other one says making the process much faster and before the day is out they have a chapter ready for editing. Thunderclash sits in and helps with word choice but for the most part just politely listens in quietly. First Aid is grateful to have him there as well because he really does help with dialogue, even making Radius sound more, well, Rodimus-y. God, this mech. The way he talks about Rodimus’s little quirks and the phrases he likes to use alone almost makes First Aid feel like he’s the one falling in love with Rodimus.

“You know, I always forget about his tendency to use Earth slang,” First Aid admits after sending off the chapter to Perceptor who had volunteered to edit the thing.

“His love for Earth and its people is incredibly endearing,” Thunderclash admits and looks into the distance, a sweet smile plastered on his face, “I’d never seen him so devoted to studying a culture before. He really has become a kind of expert on it.”

“How long have you had your eye on Rodimus?” Nautica bumps her elbow gently against Thunderclash.

“I-uh,” Thunderclash stutters and looks away, flustered.

“Don’t worry,” First Aid puts a servo on Thunderclash’s, “we’ll get him for you.”

Thunderclash smiles brightly but it quickly dims with sadness, “At this point, my hope is that I can at least salvage whatever happened for him to… detest me.”

“That’s not your fault!” Nautica slams her servos on the table startling both of them, “That’s just Rodimus being a jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true, Nautica,” Thunderclash puts up a consoling servo.

“I’m starting to think you’re right, Thunderclash. Something else is going on with him. Something he hasn’t let anyone see before,” First Aid hums and puts his helm in his servo contemplating their latest piece.

This new figure that Rodimus himself introduced into the story has been especially telling. This figure that can be none other than Optimus Prime’s doppelganger. So, Pinnamus Prime (so subtle) comes aboard the ship and pretty much takes control of everything to which the crew complies with completely because who would argue with a Prime? Lightningclash makes the mistake of agreeing with some of the current Prime’s criticisms causing tension to build yet again. When the pressure comes to a head, Radius gives a very deep confession that are the actual words of Rodimus. First Aid thinks that Rodimus didn’t realize how intense his offered bit of dialogue is, a confession of all the faults and missteps he knows are there that he feels are all people see when they look at him. He also talks about the sacrifices he’s made and the good he’s done but Pinnamus (Optimus) is just a walking reminder of what he’ll never be, Lightningclash (Thunderclash) is an example of what he could have become. It all struck First Aid a bit hard, making him realize that, perhaps, they have been a bit harsh on their captain. While childish at times and certainly impulsive, he cares about his crew and he is working on being better. Looking back on all they’ve been through, First Aid has to admit that Rodimus has actually been a rather good captain making quick decisions and being as fair as he can be. He hasn’t been a captain that would fit in during wartime but they’re not at war anymore. Oh, Primus, Rodimus had given up just as much as everyone else and then some to keep people safe, to keep the Autobots from falling. The fact that he can still smile, have fun, and then remind people they can still smile, that they still have hope is absolutely remarkable. Thunderclash is definitely starting to get to him.

The open ending they leave goes over about as well as First Aid expected which is to say not very well at all. They couldn’t think of any other way they could have done it. Thunderclash responded to Rodimus’s confession in his own words through Lightningclash then the chapter ends with him waiting for his response. The cliffhanger has everyone theorizing and arguing how it’s all going to end, the anticipation thick in the air. First Aid wades through the chaos dodging questions or giving ambiguous answers until he literally bumps into Rodimus. Before he can get too deep into his flurry of apologies a datapad is shoved into his servos. When he looks up at Rodimus he’s stunned to see his captain so serious, not angry, just serious. Without a single word, Rodimus leaves. After a moment of ogling the empty space Rodimus left behind, First Aid looks down at the proffered datapad and what he sees makes his optics flash in excitement. This would be the perfect end.

“I think this has gone on long enough,” Megatron says startling Drift who had been sharpening his swords.

“I’m sorry?”

“This entire back and forth with Rodimus and Thunderclash,” Megatron clarifies, “It needs to end.”

“I suppose we can’t tolerate too many more bar fights over something so trivial,” Drift concedes, “What do you have in mind.”

“I think Rodimus and Thunderclash need to confront each other on this matter.”

Drift looks up at ex-warlord skeptically and returns to sharpening his swords for a minute considering if what Megatron is suggesting is really a good idea. After dithering on it he turns back to the larger mech.

“Confront how?”

“I was quite inspired by your little performance the other day,” Megatron can’t hide his amusement when Drift coughs awkwardly, “I think they should read it together.”

“Oh yeah? How do you expect to get them to do that?” Drift raises an eye ridge.

“Everyone knows First Aid is the one that’s been writing this story and from what I can tell he seems quite eager to see this through. I’m sure I could convince him to help out.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with me?” Drift leans back looking up at Megatron.

“Your his amica, he spends time with you normally,” Megatron gestures nonchalantly, “Just make it so he’s in Swerve’s tomorrow evening.”

Drift looks him over for a moment but seemingly having made a decision just gives him a nod and goes back to his swords. Satisfied by this, Megatron leaves him be.

A very confused Thunderclash speeds along as he’s dragged down the hall to greet an equally baffled Nautica who gets the datapad First Aid had been given shoved into her servos. He then deposits Thunderclash into a chair, actually lifting the mech and seating him, surprising the poor mech with his hidden strength before sitting down to start writing. Nautica scans the datapad in record time and joins First Aid, newly invigorated. Thunderclash looks on with concern as they whisper over their datapad.

“Is everything alright?” Thunderclash breaks through the ominus haze.

First Aid and Nautica look back at him, smiling with wicked glints in theri optics.

“Perfect,” Nautica answers, her voice heavy with incredible, almost sadistic joy.

“How would you respond to something like, ‘Do I matter to you?’ from Rodimus?” First Aid asks, avoiding Thunderclash’s question.

“I’d tell him he means everything to me,” Thunderclash answers bashfully, “that… I’ll always be here for him.”

“Excellent, thank you,” with that First Aid goes back to writing with Nautica.

They continue like that for the remainder of the day, only asking Thunderclash seemingly random questions while not letting him read anything they’re writing. The pattern is eventually broken when the door panel slides open to reveal Megatron. For a moment they all just openly stare at each other until Megatron let’s himself in.

“I have a request,” Megatron breaks the silence and Nautica unabashedly gapes at him.

“Yeah?” First Aid’s voice breaks a little as he addresses the ex-warlord.

“This time when you release the story, only release it to Rodimus and Thunderclash at first,” Megatron says and sits down.

“Why?” Nautica crosses her arms, skeptical of Megatron’s plan.

“I think another reading of your story in Swerve’s is just what the crew needs,” Megatron says offhandedly, “except this time I think it should be done by your muses.”

“What?!” Thunderclash leaps up, “No, I can’t… Rodimus would surely… How would you even convince him to do that?”

“I don’t need to,” Megatron shrugs, “Drift will have him there tomorrow in the afternoon. The rest would have to be up to you.”

“Still-”

“I like that idea,” First Aid interrupts Thunderclash before he can go on a tirade.

“So do I,” Nautica smirks and pats Thunderclash on the shoulder, “It’s okay. You’re going to be great.”

Thunderclash looks helplessly around at the bots that seem very menacing now that plans for his grand performance were made.

Time flashes by and before he knew it, Thunderclash is being dragged once again by First Aid into Swerve’s where Rodimus sits drinking with Drift looking rather glum. Thunderclash’s spark aches as he sees his- as he sees Rodimus look so out of sorts because of him. In his moment of distraction he hadn’t First Aid bring him to the center of the bar and put a datpad in his servo. Looking back up from the datapad his tank drops as he sees Nautica quietly talking to Rodimus who nods at whatever she says to him and comes over to Thunderclash, arms crossed and body tensed while not meeting Thunderclash’s optics. Thunderclash’s intake goes dry and he can’t seem to just say something, anything. Then First Aid swoops in and gives Rodimus a datapad that he takes and scowls at it after reading the first few lines.

“Really?” Rodimus sighs, “This is what we’re doing?”

“So it would seem,” Thunderclash nods weakly.

“Might as well get this over with,” Rodimus rolls his optics, “I know Drift won’t let me back down from this.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Save it,” Rodimus bites out, then turns his attention to the datapad, “Lightningclash, I don’t believe you, I can’t believe you. What you’re saying… I don’t believe you.”

Thunderclash looks down for his lines and with more feeling than Rodimus’s deadpan recites, “How can I show you that I’m telling the truth? That I mean every word I say.”

“Nothing.”

“Why? Why are you so determined to believe that no one thinks you’re worthy? You’re going to make an excellent prime. You’re already a wonderful captain.”

“You keep saying that but you know it isn’t true!”

“It is true, all of it.”

“Then why does everyone else think I’m a failure? Why did Pinnamus Prime take command? Why did he shove his greatest enemy on me to watch like some glorified patrol officer? And I can’t even do that right! I made friends with him, hey, maybe even proved he’s not completely evil! That was a surprise for me too.”

“Prime sees too much of himself in you. So much so that he forgets that you are your own person and not a perfect reflection. Whatever he perceives as failure in you is nothing more than him projecting his own fears on you. I think he feels as though he has failed as a prime and doesn’t want you to be the same.”

Rodimus hesitates for a long moment, the quiet palpable as all the attendees looks on in awe at their performance.

“Even if that was true,” Rodimus takes a deep intake, “I’m still not as good as you.”

Thunderclash looks at Rodimus, his spark aching, wanting nothing more than to take him into his arms and push the rest of the universe away, the universe that let Rodimus believe this about himself.

“No,” Thunderclash decides to ditch the script, “You’re better. I could never do what you’ve done here on the Lost Light. You’ve given people that didn’t quite fit a home, a place where they can be themselves. I was able to lead people in the war, I’m a good soldier, a law-abiding citizen. When the war was over, that was it. I didn’t know what to do so I just did whatever came my way. I didn’t fit anymore. You know exactly what to do. Your amica found you a ship, you found the next big adventure. Along the way you’ve done so much good, helped so many people and shown them they don’t have to be soldiers anymore. That’s why I’m here, because of you. On this ship, piece by piece, I’ve been able to figure out who I am again.”

“You… really mean that,” Rodimus looks up at Thunderclash with wide optics.

“Of course I do, I love you,” Thunderclash drop the datapad and takes Rodimus’s servos in his own the other datapad having been already forgotten during Thunderclash’s speech, “I’ll follow you so long as you’ll lead me. I’ll go anywhere so long as you’ll have me. I’ll do anything to show you I really mean it when I say ‘I love you.’ Please, at least believe me when I say I don’t think you’re a failure.”

Rodimus doesn’t say anything, he just looks up at Thundeclash in complete disbelief, unable to process what just happened. Just when Thunderclash thinks he’s messed everything up and begins to pull away, he’s suddenly pulled down. He exclaims in surprise then Rodimus is kissing him and nothing else matters. He holds Rodimus close and sighs at the feeling of soft lip plates against his own, feeling dizzy from his surprise and amazement. He didn’t think it would happen but here Rodimus is: kissing him with servos on his helm and humming with content. A rumble erupts from his engines suddenly and embarrassingly making him pull away to look down at Rodimus apologetically due to his involuntary show of excitement. Rodimus just laughs and Thunderclash finally registers the deafening cheers that surround them. First Aid is giving him a thumbs up and Nautica looks on with a dreamy look in her optics.

“Thunderclash,” Rodimus pulls his focus from the crowd, “same.”

Now it’s Thunderclash’s turn to laugh as he pulls Rodimus in for hug, his Rodimus, his captain, his love.

First Aid looks on as Rodimus whispers something to Thunderclash that makes his optics go wide before pulling him along out of Swerve’s followed by whoops and wolf whistles. He shakes his helm and laughs, pleased by how much better it all went down than he was hoping. Ambulon bumps into his side affectionately catching his attention.

“Shame your big finally wasn’t actually read,” Ambulon teases.

“That was way better than anything I could have written and it was from the spark so all the better,” First Aid shrugs and sips his drink that he finally got from Swerve.

“Seems like they aren’t wasting anymore time.”

“No,” First Aid laughs, “They certainly aren’t. I don’t think we’ll see our captain anytime soon.”

Ambulon turns First Aid’s helm to look at him and leans up to press a chaste kiss to his lip plates before moving away only slightly.

“You know,” Ambulon says quietly, “I think you deserve a reward for getting those two idiots together.”

“Oh yeah?” First Aid plays along, “And what do you have in mind for my reward?”

“That new berth you bought for me still hasn’t been properly broken-in yet,” Ambulon says in a low tone and rubs a thumb along First Aid’s faceplate.

“We better take care of that,” First Aid leans in for another kiss.

“We better,” Ambulon agrees once they break apart.

#rodiclash #thunderrod #first aid #fanfiction #maccadam #tf #alyonian #rodimus #thunderclash

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anotherramblingfangirl · 7 years ago

Text

Pivotal of us

Summary:

In bad times, sometimes people think of better ones to cope. So in a very bad situation Pivot doesn't see any way out of, he finds himself thinking back to a very good one.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874631

Fic:

This was it!

It was almost time!

Pivot wasn't the bravest of individuals by a long shot. In fact, it could be guaranteed that he wasn't even in the rankings for brave individuals. Doing pointless bravery was just guaranteed to get yourself killed in some painful and pointless way in his opinion.

Something he'd very much like not to happen to him.

But this shouldn't be too bad. He could do this.

He could do it for Tumbler, a mech who made him feel very happy. Very, very happy.

He felt the corners of his mouth creeping up despite himself right now even thinking about the upcoming transmission!

It had been so, so long since they'd last been able to just talk, far too long since they'd been able to do more than the most basic of transmissions to let the other know they were even still alive.

But now, now...now it was going to happen! Now, in just a short period of time he would excuse himself and go off somewhere private, somewhere that their conversation wouldn't be overheard and put in some measures, so it wouldn't be intercepted and just...have an actual conversation! A full, real one with the mech he-

...Well...

...

...He was really looking forward to that transmission.

-------------------

He didn't want to look at it. He didn't. He didn't want to be forced to acknowledge how real all of this was but at the same time he couldn't help it.

He couldn’t even bring him to stop shaking either. Despite how even the tiniest bit of movement would set off a fresh bout of pain, and any attempt to not react, knowing such a thing would only make this even worse, would immediately fail.

He was far too much of a coward for any other possible result.

Always has been and always would....always...he...

...but there wasn't going to be any more "always", was there?

This was it.

-------------------

"I've got something I'd like to give you."

Looking back on it Pivot really wished his first response to that hadn’t been a flat “What.”

But Tumbler had for some reason seemed to thankfully find it more endearing than anything.

But Tumbler had also refused to disclose any more than that. He had something he wanted to give him. Something.

Which meant Pivot had another problem.

As in, how was he supposed to know what sort of thing to get to give the mech in return, if he didn't know what Tumbler was getting him in the first place?

Then there was also the matter of how both of them were supposed to meet without anyone else finding out.

These actual physical meetings were always the best and the worst sort because of that. Each time they did it he just had this feeling that was almost intoxicating but at the same time his self-preservation instincts, the entire reason he'd managed to survive this long in the war, would scream at him about how bad an idea this was.

You know what will happen if you get caught Pivot.

To both of you.

But Tumbler had promised a safe route would be sorted and he'd never let him down on something like that before. He'd just have to...

He’d just have to do his best to trust him.

-------------------

They were going to kill him, they were going to kill him, they were going to kill him, they were going to kill him!

That horrific, burning, terrifying truth that constricted his very spark had kept repeating over and over in his head from the moment he realised that no matter where or how he looked he couldn't see a way out.

No way to run. Nowhere to go even if he did. Not with where he was. Not in the condition he was in.

He wouldn't get far.

-------------------

He didn’t have far to go now!

He was almost there!

And he was looking forward to seeing Tumbler’s face when he saw what he’d brought for him

That way that, no matter the faceplate, you could just tell when he was smiling under it. You could hear it and you could see it in that way his optics shone just that bit brighter…

Although, really, he was looking forward to seeing that face at all when it came to it.

The smiling would just be a bonus.

And Pivot was sure he would be able to get one out of him with his gift.

He’d been practicing after all. Energon goodies weren’t easy to make, especially not with what he had to work with, but he thought that these ones…well…he knew these ones had turned out well. Had a nice taste to them.

…He’d had to test them somehow.

And he’d only had a few.

Wasn’t that bad.

Most would still make it to Tumbler.

And most was still a lot. No need to feel guilty about it. Why should the mech?

Tumbler would never even know.

…And it was still special. Specially made for him…For them.

As it was, here he was! The meet up place!

His pace quickened to make those final few steps as one of Pivot’s hands tightened on the box he was carrying. And when he did close those steps he excitedly raised one of those hands to knock-

“Good luck!”

Who…who was that? Who was that!?

That wasn’t Tumbler. That definitely wasn’t Tumbler. He’d know his voice immediately anywhere.

Somebody he didn’t recognise was inside.

No!

He needed to go now. He needed to move now. He could not be seen by this mech. He-

The door he had just been about to knock slid open.

And in front of Pivot stood the stranger. Masked face. Blue. Looked like a flyer. Red badge so an autobot. He-

“Oh! Hello! You must be Tumbler’s- “

“Brainstorm!” Tumbler himself quickly spoke out, either to chastise or to remind this Brainstorm of something. Or both.

“Sorry, sorry! Got to go! Bye!”

The very excited looking bot took off and Pivot, who had been frantically trying to decide how to react, was left wondering what exactly had just happened.

“Ah…what was that!?” He asked, as he stepped inside and shut the door of behind him.

Just in case anyone else turned up.

Tumbler let out an exasperated vent as he made his own steps forwards towards Pivot. “A friend.” He reached out a hand. “Don’t worry, he won’t say anything.”

Pivot took it with his own but didn’t entirely relax.

“He’s trustworthy?”

“…With this, yes.”

He supposed he’d have to take that and try continuing with what was supposed to be their date.

“I’ve got you something.” He continued, before leaning up to plant a kiss on Tumbler’s faceplate. He then held out the box, a box which Tumbler stared at, but made no move to take it.

“Energon goodies! I made it for- is something wrong?” He was acting weird.

“I can take it back. If you want.” Pivot tried not to sound dejected as he spoke.

“No! No, thank you it’s perfect. And nothing’s wrong, the opposite, actually.” By now Pivot was sure he knew his tones enough to tell it was sincere but…he still made no move to take it. His hands remained exactly where they were.

One holding his, the other…the other behind his back.

Ahh. “I’ve got something I’d like to give you.” He had a feeling he knew where that something was.

“What you got there?” Pivot tried to lean around the bigger mech to have a look.

Tumbler moved away instead to prevent that, dropping Pivot’s hand while he did.

He looked like he was trying to brace himself for something, rubbing the back of his helm, looking around, shuffling his pedes.

Then he seemed to resolve himself and reclosed the gap between him and Pivot.

“Pivot, my love…” Both of Tumbler’s hands closed around Pivot’s free one, and he could feel some sort of cylinder being pressed into it.

“You mean, everything to me. The time I spend with you, it’s the happiest I ever am, and I’ve been wanting to ask this for so long.” A deep vent from him as he slowly removed his hands from Pivot’s making sure he did not drop what it now contained.

Pivot looked down to see just what that was and…was that- ?!

“Do you want to be my conjunx endura?”

It was.

Thinking back on it, there were so many things Pivot could have said in response to the proposal. Good things that would have been good for such a big moment. Huge moment. Even a big speech about how he felt too and how much the mech standing in front of him meant to him, he could do speeches.

So many things he could have just done too.

Like kiss him.

But in the actual moment, the shock of it, the swirling emotions, that he’d brought Tumbler energon goodies when he’d brought him some of his own innermost energon and asked to be conjunx endura…

The first thing he did was look from the gift in one hand from Tumbler to that which was supposed to given to Tumbler, before blurting out a different sort of confession.

The wrong confession.

“I ate all the best ones!”

There was a mutually stunned klik of silence.

And then Tumbler burst out laughing.

-------------------

Tumbler…

He’d tried not thinking about it too much, he had.

But even now, in this terrifying mess he’d gotten himself, even now when the pain was so bad it was hard to think at all, he found himself falling into memories with him.

His conjunx who, damnit, despite everything that should have meant otherwise he had somehow loved and had somehow loved him in return.

His conjunx who he missed, the memories reopening the rawness of that.

It had been so long now since he’d been able to see him and…and so much stuff had happened that he probably thought him long offline.

And with the state he was in now…he had to think, even if he somehow got out of this, if he somehow got lucky and lived, if they somehow managed to see each other again… would Tumbler even be able to recognise him anymore?

-------------------

He was woken up by not a bang, not the sound of any steps, but the little click of a door closing.

Upon which he became painstakingly aware of the empty nature of the berth behind him.

Pivot tensed but stayed still, debating whether to online his optics as he tried to listen to whether this was his conjunx was leaving or returning

Conjunx.

Conjunx, conjunx, conjunx. It still felt weird to think about him as that. But a good weird. A fantastic weird.

But…this sneaking discovery wasn’t surprising. No. It was worrying.

The quiet footsteps were getting closer, so it seemed that Tumbler was sneaking back in rather than out.

Pivot had been hoping his suspicions had be wrong. Paranoia.

But since they’d started being able to spend more time together, steal away more moments before they had to go back to each of their own or risk getting caught…it had started with a knocked lid. A lid on a box of specially made energon treats knocked just a bit ajar.

The clues and concern had started adding up over time from there.

The subject of that concern had made his way back to the berth now and could be felt moving himself on in what was an obviously failed attempt to not disturb or wake him.

And again, Pivot had to decide if now he should online his optics and say something.

What are you doing Tumbler? Where are you going? Is everything okay? Is this injecting again? Am I going to wake up one day and find out you’re gone and never coming back?

Arms and legs wrapping around him from behind, helm tucking on top of his. First tense, but then he could feel him gently relaxing into him as he prepared to go back to into recharge.

And that just made it even harder.

It was tempting to just let that be that. To simply be happy with what he had, with this. To try ignore the issue and just drift back off into recharge too…it would be so easy…

…But they did enough of that already.

Even now Tumbler was doing it.

The exact same thing both of them kept doing, aware of it or not.

As if arms strategically placed to cover each other’s badges up, as if not allowing yourself to look at them for too long would change the fact that one was purple and the other was not.

That one was a decepticon and the other was not.

Ignoring that was one thing already, one big thing which could never be changed no matter how much they might want it to and was never going to go away no matter how much they tried to ignore it.

But this, where for all he knew Tumbler could be suffering or in some big danger, or both if he was going off to do risky injections…he could try fix this at least.

Not ignore it, or passively hope for the best

Because this was his conjunx and he was worried for him.

For the autobot he stupidly loved.

So no. No avoiding it. He would not avoid this.

They had to recognise this and they had to talk!

Pivot onlined his optics as he moved his hand to grab his conjunx’s, intertwining their digits together with a squeeze.

“Tumbler?”

-------------------

“Stop!”

Strange, he didn’t think he’d said anything out loud. But even so, he let himself hope that maybe, just maybe if he could keep his tormentor’s attention, it hadn’t worked before, but maybe this time if he was just disarming enough with what he said…

“Stop you gearhead! Turn it off! Haven’t you heard the orders?”

No. It wasn’t him talking.

But the wheel stopped all the same and he let out a sob of relief at that, not even able to bring himself to be ashamed at the sound.

He didn’t know why, but he was not going to question the reason for being spared! He was going to get to live! That’s what mattered! He was getting to survive! He was very big on that fact.

“What orders?” Demanded the one who had been operating the wheel.

“All executions have been cancelled. All prisoners are sent to be reformatted instead. Got a better use for the lot.”

The new entry turned to face him on the traitor’s wheel, after looking down at the datapad in their hand.

“Seems your re-assignment was delayed because we’ve got two names down for you here. Your old one and the one you used to run. Makes filing more difficult.” They grumbled.

“But today’s your lucky day. Now’s your chance to redeem yourself from your cowardice.”

…He didn’t like the look on that mech’s face.

“Welcome to K-class, Fulcrum.”

#Chromedome #Tumbler #Pivot #transformers #the lost light #lost light #ll #mtmte #more then meets the eye #the scavengers #scavengers #Fulcrum #I said I would write it #and I did #here's to hoping it's not terrible #writing #Brainstorm #post by me

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