#just springs a nearly year-late 2k of fic on u out of nowhere

[xivu-arath]

a tess and whirl fic for @rorykillmore! this was meant to be a gift fic but then life happened and I couldn’t write for most of the year,,, I’ve been picking at it in bits since then, because what I’d gotten done had been good and this is a rp dynamic I’m still very fond of, so I wanted to give them a good, shared reunion!

In this moment, as much as he’s ever wanted anything, he wants to seem cool and put together and... not quite the bot she remembers from that other, messed up Earth.

“What do you think, Whirl?” Cyclonus asks, in his slow and brooding way. Typical Cyclonus – there’s Meaning there. They trail behind Tailgate for a moment, and Cyclonus shoots him a stern look, one that would pin lesser bots (and ones that didn’t know he was such a softy) in their tracks.

Whirl tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Eh?”

Ahead of them, the official is still droning on about building layouts and regulations, so Whirl feels pretty safe in ignoring him completely. Between being guided by someone who clearly thinks that as robots, they have to enjoy precise and exacting details and the tension itching under his plating, he hasn’t exactly been trying to pay attention. If Cyclonus and Tailgate guess that he’s struggling to not make terrible and impulsive decisions, they don’t say anything about it, and Tailgate’s more than happy to play tourist anyways. After all the fuss about this Cybertronian sanctuary on a figuratively new Earth, it only makes sense to actually go and check it out, but something about it makes Whirl twitchy.

Well, not something. He’s got a pretty good idea of what it is, and he’s not exactly up for talking about his feelings today, not with these two. There’s a balance here and it’s precious and important – more important than his problems. He’s not going to disrupt it just for the sake of being less sharp-edged and jittery.

Sure, there are no fights to pick and no people to antagonize (unless he goes looking for Megatron, and he’s not that desperate just yet) but he’s had practice being the nice Autobot who doesn’t blow people up for looking at him wrong, lately. He can handle a few days of... this.

This being what so many Cybertronians would be eager for. A place they can call their own – kind of – without all the messes and scars of what they’ve done – sort of – and a lot of people paying attention in case someone snaps and starts making superweapons or trying to cyberform the planet. It’s a place for ‘bots that have nowhere else, with just scorched ground behind them. In theory, it’s great.

“Whirl,” Cyclonus says again, and he pulls ahead a little, to make up for being caught thinking.

“I mean... it’s nice, in a settle down and retire kind of way. It makes sense, you two starting to feel your age,” he chirps, trying to get in a dig before they really think something’s up. “But settling down, playing nice... it’s just not me, you know? Anyways, I bet they don’t even allow–” He casts around for something more interesting than the humourless agents overseeing the sanctuary’s opening, just in case there’s something he can deflect to – or better yet, distract Tailgate with, which would in turn distract Cyclonus, a tactic that’s as useful as it is absolutely sweet – and his optic passes over a small group of humans following yet another agent, adorably small against the Cybertronian-sized hallway.

Is that...? He stops walking completely and Cyclonus takes a few steps only to turn back with a quiet grunt. Whirl ignores him, optic narrowing as he leans forward. The sharp current of not belonging here stays, an itch at the back of his spark, but it’s now sharing room with something else, just as prickly but much brighter.

“Is there a problem?” he hears their guide say, stiff and careful, and Tailgate adds another question but it might as well have been static for all he’s listening by now. Without quite meaning to, he moves, transforming to rush towards the group and then drop back to the ground. He hooks a claw onto the wall as he lands, partly to steady such a fast transition and partly for style points.

Most of the group stumbles back, leaving Tess standing alone, looking up at him with open, obvious surprise.

In this moment, as much as he’s ever wanted anything, he wants to seem cool and put together and... not quite the bot she remembers from that other, messed up Earth. Not that it’ll matter. She’s always been a bit too good at seeing through that kind of mask.

“Well, I never!” he sings out. “It is you.”

“Whirl?”

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

The DEO agent, after complaining extensively about how he has a job to do and things are chaotic enough without Cybertronians going off-course to have sudden reunions – Whirl doesn’t bother telling him that he should wait to see what Cybertronian reunions are like! – does show them to a cozy little lounge.

Tess looks about as composed as someone can be when shorter than all the furniture surrounding her. Even the way she stands there, head up and arms folded, is familiar, sparking all sorts of fond feelings of relief and delight that Whirl would really much rather ignore. He doesn’t know what to do with them, after all.

Less fond is the way Cyclonus is frowning sternly at her, but he frowns sternly at everything, so that’s okay.

“So,” he says. “The two of you knew each other when you were both trapped in this alternate Earth.”

“That’s right.” She pauses, eyeing him and Tailgate – who’s perched on a minibot sized chair, and is just a little over her head. “Which you both seem to be taking pretty well.”

“It’s not that different from everything else we’ve been through, honestly,” Tailgate says, ticking off on his fingers. “How many alternate things have we visited by now? There was that quantum jump, that terrible Functionist Cybertron, Swearth of course....”

“...Should I even ask?”

“Best don’t,” Whirl tells her, taking some weird pride in how quickly Tess’s expression changes to bemused weariness. Even compared to... rift-Earth, the Lost Light and the trouble it found will always be something else. “It takes even longer to explain Swearth than the others, and we’d need months at least to go into the actual quest.” Which seems less appealing by the second. That trip to the past, that horrific what-if of Cybertron, all the Matrix stuff... it cuts too close to the spark. Best not to get into it.

“What little of it there was,” Cyclonus says, all grumbling scorn, and returns to glowering into the wall behind her.

It’s Tess’s turn to eye him, raising an eyebrow. “And the two of you are also part of the crew –”

“We’re his friends!” Tailgate breaks in, and Whirl hurriedly looks away, but not before he catches surprise flickering across her face again.

“A Cybertronian refuge without the shadow of the war or its factions, holds some interest for us.” He’s not looking but he can feel Cyclonus’s gaze on him now, and his plating bristles up defensively. So yeah, he has friends and they spend all their time being up in his business. It’s hardly fair. “Whirl was... keeping us company.”

“Because I owe them for a few dozen rescues, back on the Lost Light,” he says airily, waving a claw. “And besides, I like playing the annoying third wheel.”

“Of course,” Tess says, lips tugging into a faint smile. “It’s... a pleasure to meet you both, regardless.”

“You too!” Tailgate says, optics brightening, and then slides off of his seat. “Why don’t we let you two catch up? We can keep looking around – you can comm us when you’re done.”

It only takes a few more polite pleasantries (and one open threat to tear up the room) before they walk off hand in hand and Whirl’s left to fiddle with his claws, sneaking looks down at Tess and suddenly out of anything to say. Should he ask how she’s been? But that’s so polite, and then she’ll know he’s feeling weird about this, and ughhhh.

Happy reunions aren’t supposed to happen to him. He doesn’t know how to deal with them.

It’s virtually impossible for him to be quiet for too long, though, so he seizes on the first thing he can think of. “So! You’re still doing the whole corporate empire thing? Going to take over the world, capitalist-style?”

Tess grimaces at him – admittedly a carefully restrained one – and with that he feels a little less overwhelmed. “Yes, exactly,” she says, voice dry. “LuthorCorp might become a sponsor for the sanctuary, actually. I’m here on an introductory tour.” She pauses, probably mulling something over. “I first considered it because of you, actually.”

“Don’t just say things like that! I’ll start to think you actually care.” It’s... sweet that she thought of him, but he has to at least make some effort to push it aside.

For all that it’s been so long – years for both of them, he’d guess – she catches on all the same. “And we can’t have that,” she replies, sardonic without missing a beat. It drains back out of her voice just as quickly. “It is good to see you, Whirl. And it’s good to see that... things have changed.” He tilts his head, optic narrowing in surprise, and Tess doesn’t bother to mince words. “You used to tell me that most of the crew wanted you dead.”

He had, hadn’t he? And he’d been right, then.

“They did! Right up until... some of them didn’t. They changed their minds without even consulting me about it.”

She smiles, the expression distant. “I think I might know the feeling.”

That’s all the sincere reconnecting he can take, and he leans forward, doing that obnoxious looming thing that freaks out anyone underfoot. Not Tess, of course. She’d become immune to it after a month of knowing him. “Well, I’m not going to stay, but at least now it was worth dragging my aft out here –”

“You won’t?” Her expression is so openly surprised and troubled that he lets her interrupt, and his vocalizer stutters. Not good. He needs to find something outrageous to say, fast.

“As if a ‘bot like me deserves to end up here,” he says, meaning it in several ways and knowing she’ll catch all of them.

Tess frowns up at him, not quite sad and not quite stern. It’s the kind of look that just sits wrong, like it shouldn’t be directed at him in the first place. “Will Cyclonus and Tailgate be staying here?”

“They like it,” he mutters, optic narrowing. “I don’t know. Maybe. For a while.”

She lets that hang in the air for a second, so at least he can brace himself before she starts briskly hitting him with facts. “They seemed happy enough to have you with them. Even as a... dedicated third wheel.”

“You met them for ten minutes.” Whirl doesn’t bother trying to stifle the synthetic whine in his voice. Let him sound annoyed and plaintive. Maybe it’ll get this over with faster.

“They admitted to being your friends in that time,” she reminds him, and there’s nothing he can say to that. Sure, he’s nearly killed them before, and they’ll probably risk it again trying to do friendly things like helping with his problems, and that’s just... life, now! Like the war being truly over, or Megatron developing a sense of guilt, just another thing that feels like exposed circuitry sparking up when he’s least expecting it.

Whirl pinches his claws together and rocks his weight back, folding up like one of those Earth birds that’s all legs and neck and beak.

“You know,” Tess says, suddenly thoughtful in a way that sounds like the leadup to a terrible idea, “I’m sure if there were Cybertronians causing trouble regularly and LutherCorp did become a sponsor, I’d have to pay a visit. To make sure our views align with that of the sanctuary and its image, of course.” Her smile is tucked away and downright conspiratorial. “Just something to think about.”

“That’s a bribe!” he says, delighted and flattered. “Tess Mercer, bribing me to hang out on Earth. Imagine that.”

“I’m a lot busier, nowadays. I had to make sure we have some way of catching up.” She hesitates. “And to give you another reason that might be... easier.”

Whirl’s had enough experience now with the whole people not wanting him to go and die to not say or do anything stupid in response, but it’s a close thing. He still has to reset his vocalizer a few times and clear it with a big buzz of static before he can trust his voice to sound anywhere close to how he wants it to.

“Well, if you’re going to go to all the trouble of making business decisions just so I can piss people off for a few months... sure, count me in.” He crouches down and leans in close, his optic hovering only a bit above her head. “And you know, we might be doing this whole peace and healing thing now, but if you ever need anyone stepped on or shot up....” It’s probably half a joke.

Maybe.

“I’ll know where to find you,” she says, unconcerned and unflappable because it’s Tess.

They shake on it like it’s a proper deal, her hand wrapped around the very tip of one claw. By the time Cyclonus and Tailgate wander back in – late as usual, the saps – the stinging ache of not being right is just a little closer to an echo.

It’s enough, for now.