Work Text:
“Cyclonus!” Said Whirl Jr. as the door opened, beaming, “It’s good to see you!”
“Good to see you too, Whirl. Who’s this?” He asked, peaking at the little red and yellow bot behind her. He ushered them inside.
“Oh, this is my classmate, Hot Shot! He heard Rodimus was going to be at the party and begged to come along.”
“I did not beg ,” he scoffed, looking embarrassed, “But, uh, yeah, I mean, I hope that’s okay, Mr. Cyclonus, sir. I’ve always wanted to meet him.”
“He named himself after him,” Whirl added with a sly smile, “But he thought he was being clever basing it on his pre-matrix name. But I knew.”
“Hey!”
Cyclonus snorted a breathy half chuckle, “Absolutely fine. I am sure Rodimus will be delighted to meet a fan.”
“Is Dad still out?” Whirl asked.
“Yes, I’ve set him up with Tailgate for most of the day, running some errands. We have plenty of time to get everything ready. Why don’t you go leave your things in the living room and we can head out.”
Hot Shot trailed behind Whirl as she dropped her things on the couch, with the uncertainty of most first time house guests, before they left back out the front.
“I was planning on flying, but I can send you ground directions, Hot Shot,” Cyclonus said, locking the door behind him, “We’re going to an establishment called Maccadam’s New Old Oil House.”
“Oh, that’s okay sir, I’ve got a flight alt mode, I can follow.”
“He’s sort of a triple changer,” Whirl explained. Cyclonus squinted at his textbook speedster frame, and shrugged.
The flight was longer than Hot Shot, a fairly recent flier, was used to beside his far more experienced flight partners, but he managed well enough, and was deeply relieved when they finally passed into Iacon and landed in the lower east quadrant.
“Wow,” said Hot Shot, “You know, I’ve seen pictures of the old one, before it got destroyed, but, this place is huge. How did you get the owner to let you use it for a whole night?”
“You’re quite young, I presume,” said Cyclonus, to which Hot Shot huffed indignantly, “But when you become as old as most of the Cybes you’ll meet this evening, everyone tends to know everyone, and everyone owes everyone a favour.” Hot shot seemed unsatisfied by the answer, so he continued, “I called Drift, Drift called Bumblebee, Bumblebee called Windblade, and Windblade called- Waspinator, good to see you!”
Waspinator pushed open the front doors, wearing a comically undersized party hat on top of his head, “Welcome, friendz of friendz! You are not firzt onez here.”
"As long as we arrive before the birthday bot, we aren't late," said Whirl cheerfully as she passed him by, walking inside the bar. She noted the oversized heroic mural of the athlete Blurr she had been told was the bar's previous owner taking up the majority of one wall- she'd never met him, but she had certainly heard of him.
"True, true, true," chirped Waspinator, shutting the door behind them, "you are zcraplet girl, yez?"
"Yup," she confirmed, and his odd four way mouth squeezed upward in a way she interpreted as a beaming smile.
"Fantaztic! Can you do the thing?”
Whirl snorted and rolled her eyes before she destabilized her colony and pulled it back together until she was an identical match to the Predacon, only with a more appropriately sized hat.
“Ack!” said Hot Shot, startled, stumbling away as Waspinator clapped giddily, obviously delighted.
“Does this form make my butt look big?” she asked, folding her arms, and turning to look at the striped thorax jutting out behind her. Waspinator giggled incessantly.
“Yez,” he confirmed, “It doez.” She snapped back to her normal shape with a laugh and Hot Shot stood stock still, optics darting around as if he were confused no one else was as alarmed as he was.
“Ah, Drift, early as always!” Cyclonus said, wandering away, “Tell me, how have you been doing!”
“Since when could you do that?” Hot Shot asked as the bar’s new owner turned and scrabbled over the bar to the other side, knocking glasses onto the floor, “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Well, I don’t like to do it on Earth,” she said primly, “It’s unladylike.”
“What?” he balked, “What does that even mean?”
“It just means it’s kind of embarrassing,” she admitted, “I like it when people think I’m a normal Cybertronian and that kind of upsets that. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Well, yeah, of course,” he said, “You don’t need to be embarrassed though, it’s cool.”
She smiled sheepishly, “Thanks.”
“Where’s my favourite criminal!” shrieked a new voice as the front door slammed open.
“He’s not here yet!” called Drift, still standing with Cyclonus, “You’re early!”
“Ah,” said the newcomer, deflating, “Too bad, he would have loved that.”
“Yes, he would have,” said another bot, purple, stepping in beside him. Whirl abandoned Hot Shot, who immediately looked panicked and went to greet them.
“Hey!” she said, waving, “Brainstorm, right? I remember you.”
“Ah, Whirl’s little scrapper! Last time I saw you, you couldn’t stay in one shape for more than a few minutes without getting fuzzy. How are you doing? Give me some numbers,” he said.
“I don’t ever get fuzzy anymore,” she said, proudly, “I can stay like this for as long as I want.”
“Amazing,” he said, “I’d really love to compare some of your output data to the last set of readings I took.”
“Later,” she said, “we’re decorating now. Or trying to, at least.”
“Excellent,” commented the purple Cybe, “Who has streamers?” She asked a bit louder, walking past them.
“Wazpinator doez!” called the bartender, reemerging from behind the bar and waving a roll of streamers wildly, “Alwayz keep ztreamerz on hand.”
“Hey, Nauts, hold up!” Called Brainstorm, “Hey, Whirl, good on you setting this up for your dad. He loves these weird old Earth parties. You’re a good kid.” He jogged off after her, catching a roll of streamers Waspinator beamed him with from behind the counter.
Whirl was just about to head away from the door when there was another knock, and she opened the door.
“Hey, kiddo,” said Rodimus, wearily, rubbing the top of her helm as if he were ruffing hair, “Long time no see.”
“Hi, Rodimus,” she said, running her servo over her finials to smooth them back in place, “You’re surprisingly early.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, “My ride picked me up at the docks.” He pointed one thumb behind him at Chromedome, who waved. Behind Whirl, Hot Shot gasped, flailing his little arms about.
“Oh, right,” she said, stepping out of the way to let them enter, “this is my classmate, Hot sh-”
“I’m Hot Shot, sir!” Hot Shot interrupted, tripping over himself to run up to Rodimus and forcefully shake his servo, “I’ve read all about you! You’re totally the coolest!”
“What?” Rodimus asked, startled, and for a moment he looked like he wanted to punt him through a window in confusion before he recovered and his expression slid back into an old coolness Whirl hadn’t seen in a long time. “Hey, it’s always good to meet a fan. You’re uh, Whirl’s classmate, huh? On Earth?”
“Yessir!” He confirmed, “A rescue bot, all the way through! Uh, I’m also a pretty good Cube player.”
“He’s being modest,” Whirl said, rolling her optics, “He’s like, a pro. He’s got sponsorships and everything.”
“ Had sponsorships,” Hot Shot mumbled, visibly embarrassed.
“That’s awesome!” said Rodimus, who seemed genuinely impressed, “You know, sometimes I think I might have been a cube player if it wasn’t for the war.”
“Really?” said Hot Shot, optics so wide they might actually explode, “That is so cool. You are so cool.”
Whirl, finally satisfied she wasn’t abandoning her classmate, wandered off to go make sure everything was in order. She opened up a datapad on her wrist, checking through her prep list. The bar was certainly open, and, sort of decorated. She looked up at Brainstorm and his friend as they balanced on a table, stringing streamers across the rafters. There was a box of undersized party hats sitting on the floor by the bar that she briefly considered distributing, before resolving to leave them where they were. Alcohol, check. A variety of guests, though she didn’t expect all of them to appear. There was certainly enough so far to impress, at least. She checked the door as Cop-tur leaned in, looked around and then waved at her.
She was glad to see him especially, she had skimmed a lot of old databanks to find pre-war aerial corps records, not wanting her party to exclusively be attended by old Lost Light crewmates, but she had gotten a resounding list of “no” or “dead”s from his old wrecker pals, and beyond that, she found it difficult to track down anyone who didn’t kind of want to shoot him.
“What do you look so stressed about?” Cyclonus asked, and she jumped, startled, clicking off her datapad and turning with a quickly put on smile.
“Nothing!” She said, “I’m not stressed at all.”
“Good,” he said, “You shouldn’t be. You did a good job putting everything together.”
She counted quickly on her servos, “Well, I got nine people to show up,” she sighed, “I guess I should be happy with that.”
“Ten, technically,” Cyclonus corrected, “Rewind is with Chromedome.”
“Oh,” she said, “Right, I forgot about that. Alright, ten, double digits. I guess that’s not bad.”
“Better to have a good few friends than many enemies,” Cyclonus said, patting her shoulder, “You are too hard on yourself.”
“You always say that,” She sighed, “But I still feel like I could have done better.”
“Little one, I do not think Primus himself could have done a better job. You even got Rodimus to show up to something.”
“He’s only here because Drift is here,” She commented dryly.
“Well then,” Cyclonus mused, “It’s a good thing you got Drift to show up, then.”
“What about me?” Interjected Drift, “Oh, hey, is that Rodimus? Sorry, give me a klik.” Whirl waited politely until he was out of earshot to laugh.
“Tailgate commed me a moment ago,” Cyclonus told her, “He’s going to be bringing Whirl soon.”
“Great,” she said, looking back at the box of tiny hats, reconsidering them. “Hey, do you think we should-” She was interrupted by a beep from her commline.
“Hey, uh, is this Whirl? The little one?”
“Yes, that’s me,” she confirmed.
“This is Heinrad. I ain’t too late yet for the shindig, am I?”
“No!” She beamed, “He’s on his way, but it’s okay to get here after him!”
“Nah, I’m outside,” Heinrad said, “Just wanted to make sure I’m still supposed to show up is all.”
“Absolutely!” she chirped, “Thank you so, so much for coming! Dad always gushes about how much he enjoys spending time at your watch shop, I practically feel like we’ve already met.”
“Heh, well, he’s a fun ol’ codger,” Heinrad snorted, “You tell him I brought the good stuff, huh?”
The door opened and a beastformer stepped in, dragging a cart full of jugs of something that looked of uncertain legality behind him.
“Eleven,” said Cyclonus, amusedly, “Twelve, if you count Waspinator.”
“Wazpinator count Wazpinator,” said Waspinator, poking his head up from behind the bar, “Did zcraplet girl zee tiny hats Wazpinator brought?”
“Oh,” she said, looking back at the hats, “Yes, thank you.”
“Hey, everybody hush!” called Rodimus, cupping his hands against the glass of the front door, “Drift, get the lights, he’s coming!” The lights shuttered off and everyone quickly shuffled into position, the air brimming with excitement.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Cyclonus whispered, “You did good.”
“Ready…!” Rodimus stage whispered in the silent bar.
“Thanks,” she said, her rotors twitching with anticipation, “And thanks for all the help.”
The door opened, and Drift slammed the lights back on, as the tidy little party hurrahed a great big, “ Surprise! ”