Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It began as a regular Earth morning for Fixit.

And for Fixit, regular translated into a scheduled routine filled with much work to be done. Not that he minded having work to do.

He would first run the scanners and be alert for any new Decepticon signals. After a few hours with no results, Fixit would then begin to tidy and sort through pieces of equipment and tools from the Alchemor. There was still so much to organize from the salvaged pieces moved into Denny Clay's scrapyard.

Fixit had just finished grouping thin metal sheets of iron-coated alloy steel into a neat pile when a sudden pinging caught his audials. He perked up and raced away from the cluttered mess of sheet metal, quickly weaving his way through still unsorted materials towards the Alchemor's command center. With a few skillful press of the buttons, he accessed the long range scanner.

"Bumblebee, a Decepticon signal has appeared," Fixit called to the team's leader. He waved down the Autobots and pulled the location onscreen for them to see. "It's a bit of a drive. Possibly ten aisles--files--miles?" he added with his usual vocal sputtering.

Bumblebee nodded and folded his arms together as he studied the map. "I don't like the idea of leaving the scrapyard unprotected. Strongarm, Grimlock, you're with me."

"You're sticking me with junk-sitting duty?" Sideswipe whined, rolling his helm back dramatically. "Again?"

"Yes, Sideswipe," Bumblebee deadpanned. "Because we don't blackmail our teammates," he said pointedly and cocked a optic ridge at the smart-aleck. "And I'm sure Fixit needs help here at the base."

"Actually, I do!" Fixit pipped up eagerly and rolled down the ramp connecting the command center to ground level. As Bumblebee and the others walked off, preparing to depart, Fixit stared up at Sideswipe. "Want to help me sort through the sheet matierals? We could scrounge through the Alchemor's crash site again!"

Sideswipe groaned and waved a hand dismissively down at Fixit. "Sounds fun... but I just remembered that I promised Grimlock I would do a very important thing for him," Sideswipe quickly exclaimed and nodded several times. "Very important."

"You did?” Grimlock's gruff voice called out. The large mech had paused and turned to them when his name was mentioned.

"Yes," Sideswipe gritted out.

"Oh. Ok!" Grimlock replied simply and followed after Bumblebee and Strongarm, trudging slowly behind.

"Well, you can help waiter--freighter--later if you have time," Fixit said softly and tapped his servos together, slowly glancing down.

"Yeah, sure," Sideswipe commented stiffly and quickly slipped his Cybertronian-sized headset over his audials, music immediately blaring from them. He quickly turned on his peds and stalked away, frame jerking in sync with the overbearing music. His fingers snapped along to the rhythm.

Fixit tilted his helm and quickly blinked, looking ahead of Sideswipe's path. "Watch out for the—"

The sudden clang of metal tipping over and crashing to the ground cut Fixit off. Sideswipe continued walking, not seeming to realize—or caring—that he had bumped into and knocked over metal sheets. The very pile Fixit had just finished stacking.

With a soft sigh, Fixit turned away from mess and rolled back to the Alchemor's command console.

"Now, where did I leave that sonic stabilizer..." Fixit mumbled, carefully sorting his free tools. He lined them up side by side in perfect vertical lines, until he spotted something out of place. There were a few rivets scattered along with the tools. "Odd. Denny Clay must have been cooking--booking--looking through these and left them here by accident," he reasoned to himself and continued sorting on his work space.

He paused from his work and glanced out at the rows of scrap, spotting flashes of red from Sideswipe as he twirled and danced, head nodding back and forth to the beat of his music. Fixit wilted at the sight of his teammate and frowned. He stared down at the electric screwdriver in his servo and tightly clutched it as Bumblebee's words echoed in his mind.

Sideswipe might be taking advantage of you. ..

Fixit shook the overhanging sense of guilt away and resumed compiling the tools in a proper order.

"Ow!" he cried when he felt something drop on top of his helm. A clang shot into the air. Servos flying up, Fixit rubbed at the sore plating. He gazed at the ground, frowning when he spotted the sonic stabilizer on the metal flooring beside his wheels. He studied the tool for a short time and blinked quickly. Fixit then made a confused hum and slowly lifted his optics skyward; inclining his helm back to get a better look at the ceiling.

He froze. A tiny squeak creeped out of his mouth.

Hanging overhead on the ceiling, albeit upside-down to Fixit, was a very familiar purple and maroon spider bot: one of Chop Shop's gestalt components. It flashed a mischievous grin at Fixit.

Before he had the chance to activate him comm. channel or even flag Sideswipe down for help, the spider mech dropped down on top of Fixit. A large jolt of electricity seeped through his frame. Fixit arched in surprise and whined weakly, until he felt his optics roll back. Fixit sank under the heavy weight pinning him down and began to nod off.

Everything went dark.

Or...at least it seemed dark for a while. He felt like he was moving, but he was too much in a daze to move on his own. And he was almost sure that he heard someone speaking, but everything was a huge blur.

Fixit groaned as he struggled to regain consciousness.

"--ound now, ain't 'cha?"

Fixit blinked several times. He still felt weak, but as he opened his optics and glanced around, his sight slowly adjusted. His frame was groggy. It took several tries to turn over before he realized that he wasn't able to move. Something was holding Fixit; restraining him.

"Wha...?" Fixit hissed out and tried to sit up.

"I said that ya comin' around now, ain't 'cha?"

Fixit nodded slowly and blinked, mumbling an incoherent reply. He closed his optics, trying to relax. But realization dawned on him. Any weariness shot out of his frame as he cracked his optics open once more. He desperately tried to wiggle for freedom after seeing the odd synthetic material wrapped around him. It kept his arms pressed tightly against his sides.

He froze when he realized that four deep yellow optics were glued on him. He stared up at the looming form of Chop Shop, mouth gaping in disbelief.

"That'd be the handiwork of Lefty there," Chop Shop said with a deep chuckle, nodding at the synthetic fiber around Fixit.

"W-what do you flaunt--taunt--want?!" Fixit asked, watching the thief with wide optics. "How did you escape the stasis cell? I'm not going to let you use me a tool again!" he cried while resuming his struggles to free himself.

This could not be happening. Chop Shop had be caught. He had been returned to a stasis cell.

"Calm ya blubberin', shrimp,"he snapped, stepping forward. Chop Shop flexed his right arm and chuckled. "You 'Bots forgot about li'l ol' Righty here."

Fixit gulped as Chop Shop got closer and closer.

"Sore as we are about gettin' shoved back in a box, I ain't here for revenge and all that lovely stuff," Chop Shop said and leaned down. He was kneeling in a squatting position, eyeing Fixit intently. "When ya get put in a stasis cell, ya got plenty o' time to think. And we did plenty of thinkin'."

Fixit tried to shrink away. He glanced around for any means of escape, but from a quick look around their surroundings, he noted that they seemed to be in some sort of human factory. An abandoned one, judging from all the rust stains and cobwebs decorating the walls.

Chop Shop reached down for Fixit. He flinched back, shutting his optics tightly. He felt the synthetic material holding him cut away and quickly made a soft, relieved sigh. He scrambled up and wheeled himself back away from Chop Shop.

"And we think that we want you."

"P-pardon?" Fixit squeaked and stared up at the combiner.

"We want you to bond with us. Join our cozy li'l group."

Fixit swallowed and frowned. Chop Shop was seriously suggesting...

The mini-con's face flushed at the sheer implication of his words.

"Have to spell it out, do I?" Chop Shop asked with a purr. And then he reached for Fixit again.

Fixit did not appreciate the way Chop Shop was staring at him. Without a moment of hesitation, he tried to wheel around the larger mech, hoping to make a break for the nearest exit.

"Oi!" Chop Shop snapped as he snatched one of Fixit's arms and hoisted the mini-con in the air. "Do I look like the jokin' type to you? We're...impressed that 'cha managed to resist our control."

Fixit gasped and smacked his free hand against the giant one engulfing his entire arm. It was a feeble attempt, but he needed to do something; try anything. "You used me to hurt my friends. And you hurt me several times! Of course I plot--taught--fought you!"

Chop Shop smirked, but he didn't reply. He simply lifted Fixit up, moving one arm to support underneath the mini-con. Fingers traced along the rim of his tires while Chop Shop's other arm pressed against his back. Fixit squirmed and tried to push away from the mech, shoving at his chestplate.

"Wriggly bugger, aren't you?" Chop Shop asked.

Fixit continued his not-so-effective attempts of trying to get free from the Decepticon's grasp, but each movement only seemed to egg him on.

"Let's try this then," Chop Shop murmured and quickly pecked Fixit's face. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, but that didn't make the mini-con feel any better.

Fixit gasped loudly and suppressed a series of embarrassed squeaks. His servo converted into a miniature e.m.p. prod and he whacked it against Chop Shop's face several times. "No! I refuse!"

Chop Shop hissed in surprise, feeling mild irritation at most from the shocks, baring his fangs at Fixit. "Refuse?"

"Y-you can't force me to do this. I'll keep fighting you!"

Fixit yelped when he was suddenly dropped to the floor. He expected an angry outburst or to be smacked or kicked or something, but Chop Shop only chuckled. The longer Chop Shop stared down at him, the more his sense of dread increased.

"I knicked enough energon from the coppers to last me. I got time to wait," the Decepticon eventually said with a growing smirk.

Fixit steadied himself up, brushing off some of the debris from his frame. He folded his arms together and turned away. "Until they track your signal and come after you," he muttered in a huff.

"...Signal?" Chop Shop questioned with a suspicious tone. "Whaddaya mean?"

Servos flew to Fixit's mouth. His optics dilated. He rolled to the closest wall and huddled against it. "S-signal? Who said signal?" he sputtered with a nervous chuckle.

"So, that's how the coppers been followin' me!" Chop Shop exclaimed. He stepped up to Fixit and leaned down, his slit optics narrowed. "I'll ask nicely only once. Where's it hidin'?"

Fixit scowled and quickly glanced away. None of the others knew about Chop Shop or where he was being held captive—even Fixit had no idea where he was at the moment—and Fixit couldn't let that be taken away.

Chop Shop glared down at Fixit and stepped after him. He snagged the mini-con, engulfing both arms in one hand, and lifted him in the air again.

Fixit whimpered as he was held high above the ground.

"Still no answer?" Chop Shop questioned with a mocking tone. His other servo swarmed over Fixit's frame. It trailed up and down, back and forth, ghosting caresses in between plate seams.

Fixit's voice cracked.

There was a sudden pinching along his wheels.

His frame jerked and arched involuntarily.

"Ghhh! P-please!" Fixit whined, pulling his helm back.

"Where?" Chop Shop asked. The touches slide down Fixit's frame, moving further and further. Before he knew it, fingers brushed close against his interface array, on the flat surface of his underside. They moved back and forth along the connector port that was positioned in between his tires.

Fixit's optics shuttered and he squeaked when the port quickly slid apart, exposing the cover of his valve. He gasped when one of Chop Shop's fingers pushed through the port and pried at the soft, mesh metal.

"I'll tell! I'll tell!" Fixit cried, feeling at his limit with trying to keep his valve closed.

Chop Shop produced a loud snerk and stared expectantly at the mini-con.

Fixit gasped several shallow breaths and looked at the Decepticon insignia on the combiner's broad chest shakily. He nodded to it and swallowed. The mech followed Fixit's gaze and withdrew his hand, instead raking it across his plate in consideration.

"One place I'd never think of. Maybe ya 'Bots ain't so daft after all," Chop Shop murmured. He placed Fixit back on the ground, not dropping to the mini-con's surprise. "Awright boys! Disable 'em quick!"

The next few minutes passed in slow motion. The combiner split into his gestalt members, who all got to work. He wasn't sure exactly how, but each spider bot sent large electrical shocks at one another, aiming at the logo on oneanother's abdomen. But, Fixit stopped watching and stopped caring.

He was a mess.

His face was buried in his servos. He was trembling. He couldn't bear the shame of thinking how the others would react if they saw him like this. And if discovered the dirty knowledge that he secretly enjoyed Chop Shop's touches.

Fixit could only hope that the Autobots would find him soon.

Chapter Text

When Chop Shop reassembled his components together, Fixit remained glued to the wall behind him. His mouth pulled into a large frown as he watched the combiner stand up to his full height and stretch. He made a soft snarl as armor creaked and he rolled his head from side to side.

"Nothin' like a bit of juice pumpin' through ya," Chop Shop murmured as he popped knuckles.

Fixit swallowed, feeling tempted to steal a few glances at the other mech's frame. His spark fluttered underneath his chest at the mere thought from the events of just minutes ago; how flustered he still felt, how Chop Shop acted like it wasn't such a big deal. When Chop Shop turned his helm and locked optics with Fixit, the mini-con froze and quickly looked away to avoid his gaze.

Chop Shop made an amused chuckle and walked to the closest pile of rubble. He plopped down on a large and flat piece of concrete and smirked. "Why don't we have a li'l talk?" he asked smoothly, patting along his thigh, and winked two optics.

Fixit's faceplate flushed again when he noticed the suggestive behavior. He glared shortly up at Chop Shop before spinning around. He huffed softly and quickly diverted his attention to the pieces of rocks and rusted metal by his wheels.

"I don't want to flock--hawk--talk! It won't be too long before the Autobot's find me, anyway," Fixit reasoned and began to sort through the rubble. Rocks and concrete to his left, metals on the right, and other materials in front. Anything to keep him distracted.

Chop Shop laughed. "Think so, huh? Bet those 'Bots ain't gonna even notice ya ain't there," he said.

Fixit scowled down at his growing piles and continued rolling back and forth on his wheels, slowly rolling further and further to collect materials.

"That is, until they need to use ya," Chop Shop continued.

Fixit paused in his tracks and slowly turned to face the combiner. Chop Shop wasn't smirking or laughing. As he lounged against his makeshift seat, one leg crossed over the other, and supporting his left arm over his knees, his expression seemed...different.

"My team doesn't 'use' me. I'm a valuable member!" Fixit exclaimed. After all, Bumblebee had said that several times to assure Fixit. And it's not like Bumblebee told lies. He was great leader for their team.

Chop Shop suddenly guffawed and slapped his servos together, clapping loudly. "S'that what they been tellin' ya, yeah? Are ya that naive to jus' believe 'em? We've been watchin' and know that they only take advantage of ya."

Fixit frowned and made a confused expression. "Watching?" he repeated.

Chop Shop lifted up his right arm. 'Righty' disconnected from the combiner and stared down at Fixit, flashing a toothy grin and snickering. They shared a glance before Righty scuttled across the combiner's lap and dropped to the floor. "Don't matter if we ain't all together. Seen everythin' while we were cooped up in that teeny cell."

Fixit was almost fascinated by the explanation, but he was more preoccupied by the quickly approaching spider bot. He wheeled back a few feet as Righty trotted forward.

"Almost want to punch that red nimrod for a good laugh or two," Chop Shop commented casually.

Fixit watched, trying to keep distance from himself and Righty, as said spider approached the sorted piles of rubble. He suppressed the urge to shoo the spider away but flinched back; not desiring another shock to his systems.

"S-so what if you think that?" Fixit snapped, voice hitching up. "My team cares about me! And...and you have no right to talk about me being 'used'," Fixit added, moving his arms in a air quote motion, "considering what you forced me to do!"

Chop Shop only rolled his optics: all four in sync. "Ya do what ya can to save your skidplate."

"And look how well that turned out," Fixit replied with a loud 'humph!' and crossed his arms together. "Who's the bigger nimrod?" His bravado immediately dropped when the thumping footsteps caught his attention. He squeaked when Chop Shop stood up from his seat and sauntered over. Fixit ducked closer to the ground and shrank back.

"Well, well. Finally showin' some spunk," Chop Shop said with a growing smirk. "Keep it up and this'll be fun," he added and leaned down, mockingly patting Fixit's helm.

Fixit jerked at the sudden contact and glared up at the combiner. He bristled with a mixture of fear and aggravation, but he didn't say anything.

"Righty, keep the runt company," Chop Shop said to his component before turning away suddenly. "Gonna start settin' up."

Fixit sent a short, nervous glance towards the spider. Righty rubbed his forelegs together and cackled. He watched as Righty resumed examining the piles and lunged for the closest one. Fixit gasped as the spider grabbed piece after piece of rubble and began to toss them into the air. His cheeks puffed out, his servos clenched angrily.

He wheeled forward, ducking and skirting on his tires to avoid flying debris.

"I was courting--shorting--sorting those!" Fixit cried and made a 'shoo' motion at the spider.

Righty paused, allowing a large chunk of concrete to smack against the floor. He flared his abdomen up and hissed at Fixit. When the mini-con rolled forward, Righty's hiss only grew. He shot forward and shoved Fixit quickly.

Fixit meeped as his wheels skidded and he spun several times. "Just because you might like walking around in such a mess, doesn't mean I do. Or can!" Fixit explained, gesturing to his wheels. He and Righty shared a heated glare with each other for several seconds; which lead to minutes. Eventually, the mini-con flinched away again, afraid that Righty would decide to respond with another shock.

Righty smirked and moved his attention back to tossing the scrap up and down again.

Fixit sighed heavily and rolled back against the wall.

He sank down, barely hovering over the ground. With a pout, Fixit glanced around Chop Shop's hideout. The combiner's left arm had was disconnected as well; the spider component scrambled back and forth, carrying a large cable in its grasp. Chop Shop said something to the spider before he suddenly broke apart. They all scattered.

He watched as they worked in coordination. Two continued stretching the cable along the floor. The other two took began to examine the warehouse's machinery. Fixit perked up with interest as he observed them. It was...interesting how Chop Shop functioned. The Alchemor's manifest did not go into great detail about Chop Shop's gestalt bond, but it was very clear that the combiner was unique. He was intelligent enough as well—considering that he nearly completed an entire spaceship until the Autobots intervened. And it had been assembled in a very short time.

Chop Shop was literally a one-man team.

Fixit almost envied that; to have others that understood you in ways that words could never bescribe. Until, he remembered that Chop Shop wanted him to be a part of it.

The mini-con furrowed his optic brow and wiggled uncomfortably. He reasoned to himself that Chop Shop must have some ulterior motive for demanding such an intimate act. Information on the Autobots? To use Fixit as blackmail? It didn't make Fixit feel any better, but who could really say with such a threatening Decepticon keeping him hostage.

Before he knew it, something large and heavy hit against his helm. Fixit's mouth gaped open at the sudden painful impact, but no words came out. A large piece of concrete landed by his wheels. Fixit weakly glanced to Righty. The spider looked stunned and surprised, a touch of guilt maybe, and hesitantly inched towards Fixit.

Fixit was almost sure he heard Chop Shop say something, but before he knew it, he collapsed on his side and closed his optics.

The next thing he knew when he opened his optics again was that he was lightly swaying back and forth; he was hanging upside down and suspended. Fixit blinked several times in confusion before he reacted. And he panicked.

"N-no-no-no!" he cried.

"The li'l tool's awake," Chop Shop said, mockingly trailing a touch along the underside of Fixit's chin.

The mini-con pulled away from the touch and flailed his arms. Not again!

"Now, let's have us a li'l fun, pet," Chop Shop said with a deep growl. The combiner, Fixit included as his right arm, sat down with a loud thump. Chop Shop lifted Fixit up and smirked at his appendage

Fixit's arms froze at his sides. His optics quivered in fear. He couldn't move them. "Noooo! I'm not a tool."

"Oh, but ya are," Chop Shop retorted in a silky voice.

Fixit's jaw nearly dropped when he heard a loud click from below and watched with a horrified expression as Chop Shop's spike immediately emerged free. It was large and thick; so, so big. It shared the same plum and maroon coloring as Chop Shop, with dual grey and yellow bio-lights running along the ridges.

"Put tha' mouth ta good use," Chop Shop said as his optics flashed wicked glee.

Fixit squeaked as Chop Shop lowered him down on level with the spike. He shook his helm and tried to pull away. But he felt stiff and as lifeless as a rock.

"I-I can't!" Fixit stuttered when he realized the true implications of Chop Shop's request.

But something moved his body against his will. His arms shakily moved against his back and folded uncomfortably against it. His mouth opened and brushed against the spike head. Chop Shop quickly shoved Fixit forward; Fixit nearly gagged at the large obstruction.

"Nothin' but a li'l tool," Chop Shop said in a sickeningly sweet tone and barked in laughter.

Fixit couldn't do more then produce soft muffled groans of protest.

He wanted to scream.

Fixit quickly opened his optics and he scrambled back onto his wheels.

"Righty, ya git! I said watch 'im, not break," Chop Shop's irritated voice spoke from above. Fixit glanced up, breath hitching against his throat. The Combiner loomed over, gazing down at Fixit with narrowed slits. "Takin' a nap, were ya?" Chop Shop asked and nudged Fixit with a non-committed push from his pede.

The mini-con yelped and immediately backed away. He zoomed away from Chop Shop and Righty, moving much faster than he thought he could in his mini-con life and wedged himself between the wall and one of the warehouse's generators.

"Oi, wha's the glitch?" Chop Shop had called after him.

Fixit shook. He was safe. For the moment at least.

It wasn't real. He kept telling himself that. Not real.

And yet...despite that he knew it wasn't right or acceptable, Fixit's spark pounded in excitement.

Chop Shop watched, blinking his multiple optics in surprise, as the Autobot's mini-con retreated to hiding. He whisked his stare pointedly at Righty and scowled. His arm weakly giggled and shrugged innocently. Chop Shop growled and slapped his left servo against faceplate and dragged it down.

Without a word, Chop Shop beckoned Righty back. An uncontrollable shiver of electricity ran down his frame after he interlocked back in place.

T oo quick.

Chop Shop snarled and folded his arms together as he stared at the crevice where the mini-con had hidden.

"Quiet, Steps!" Chop Shop hissed in a quiet whisper.

They all began to flare to life. Chop Shop lost himself, standing still as a statue, as they all gave rushed feedback.

"Awright. Settle down," Chop Shop commanded, rubbing his optics. The overwhelming sensations begrudgingly simmered, but it was still present. Echoes that lingered on his spark.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to their work. The set up was nearly completed. They needed to focus; he reaffirmed it with a pulse from the spark. It got their attention and were sated. For now.

One last glance was sent towards the mini-con's hiding place before he approached their work area and divided into his components.

Fixit would be dealt with later.

Chapter Text

Fixit lost track of how much time had passed. Maybe it was only minutes. Maybe several hours. He hadn't even taken a chance to peak out from his hiding spot. And he didn't exactly want to either. His spark received some comfort in the fact that Chop Shop didn't try to chase him or drag him out. Yet.

Fixit's intakes had become shallow. His arms weren't shaking as much now.

Little by little, he grew calmer. Calm enough to budge.

The mini-con sighed nervously and inched back towards the entrance of his hiding hole. He clutched against rusted machinery and hesitantly tipped his helm forward. Fixit glanced around. He made a soft sigh of relief after spotting the combiner standing at the other side of the room, back turned to him.

“Come on, ya li'l scrap!” Chop Shop growled. He smacked the machine he hovered over.

Fixit blinked and carefully scooted out from his hiding place. His optics were glued on the strange machine. He stared at it with growing interest, but he eyed Chop Shop warily. Luckily, the combiner was distracted with his machine and didn't notice Fixit observing from the distance.

Chop Shop smacked the machine again, causing Fixit to jump in surprise. But, the combiner remained focused on his work. He didn't notice Fixit rolling closer and closer; inch by inch.

After several swears from the combiner and a few more sudden hits against the blocky equipment, it produced a loud beep. A soft blue trickle of liquid dripped down from the a dispenser-like nozzle. Fixit perked up, curiosity overwhelming, and moved even closer to watch.

“'Ere we go! Bloody. Brilliant.” Chop Shop ran a hand across the machine appreciatively.

Fixit watched as the four fingers carefully collected some of the falling liquid and pulled back up. Chop Shop gazed down at the thin coat and slipped his glossa out, tasting it experimentally.

Fixit fidgeted, feeling his tech-savvy side springing to life. With an awed expression, he wheeled over and tapped his servos together. “An energon dispenser?” he asked with a growing, excited tone.

Chop Shop blinked and paused, his thumb resting against his lip in mid-lick, as he shifted his gaze down at Fixit. He smirked and quickly licked the rest of the fluid away. “Even better, Widget,” Chop Shop answered and rested his servos against his hips. “Converter.”

Fixit gasped in excitement, temporarily forgetting how much Chop Shop frightened him. He brought his digits to his mouth and rolled around the obtuse machine, giving into the urges to examine it closely.

“Yep,” Chop Shop said quickly, dusting off his hands. “Finally can make use of all this organic crud and turn into somethin' useful.”

“But... you said you took energon. From us,” Fixit replied with a frown.

Chop Shop snorted and chuckled. “Energon only lasts so long. Ya gotta plan ahead,” he said, tapping his head in emphasis.

Fixit's mouth formed an 'o' and he nodded in understanding. He gazed up at the machine with a smile.

When he heard the sound of footsteps following, Fixit turned to see Chop Shop standing directly behind him. Fixit frowned and quickly tried to roll away, but the combiner was fast. He kneeled down and grabbed one of Fixit's arms easily.

“Hey!” Fixit cried and tried to pull away.

“Relax,” Chop Shop ordered. Oddly enough, he didn't yank Fixit's arm or lift him up in the air.

When Fixit felt a poke on the top of his helm, he hissed and shied away from the touch. But Chop Shop wrapped a hand around Fixit's head, effectively holding him in place. It wasn't unbearable pain, but it did sting.

“Dented,” Chop Shop mumbled. “More aesthetic damage than anythin'.”

Fixit winced and shut his optics tightly as the combiner tilted his head back and forth to survey its top.

“Wan' a kiss to make it feel better?” Chop Shop asked with a teasing purr.

“No!” Fixit cried and pulled against the combiner's hand. When Chop Shop opened his palm, Fixit quickly jerked away and glared up at him. “It must be really easy to just grab someone my size! Just because you can pick me up and m-manhandle me, doesn't mean you should!” Fixit's voice quivered.

Chop Shop did not immediately respond.

Fixit made a worried sound, but he did not break the stare between them. “I don't fike--hike--like it!” he added in a rushed explanation, arms flailing.

“Ahh. There it is,” Chop Shop replied softly and tilted his helm. He stared down at Fixit with a strange expression; mouth pursed and optics dim. “That Autobot morality. Mus' be conflictin'.” He reached out for Fixit, but he did not grab or pull him.

A blunt finger moved underneath Fixit's chin and lifted.

“You mini-cons. Always craving attention even if ya don't admit it.”

Fixit froze. He made a soft gasp of denial and winced again.

“And yet, there's no way to ever explain feelin' like that, right?” Chop Shop continued, lightly stroking Fixit's chin. “Especially not to those so-called teammates. They only see a second-class drone.”

Chop Shop moved his large servo to the side of Fixit's face and gently caressed it. Fixit closed his optics and slowly leaned into the touch, feeling too stunned at how quickly it relaxed him to react otherwise. Fixit made a soft whine, optics still closed, and pressed against the combiner's hand. The treading along his wheels vibrated. His tiny frame quickly heated up.

“I know a lot about you mini-cons. More then ya'd ever imagine,” Chop Shop murmured.

Fixit could hear the words, but his attention was focused more on the caressing. If Chop Shop moved his servo back and forth or up and down in subtle motions, he quickly closed the distance. Whatever it took to keep the gentle touches against him. It was maddening how...nice the gesture felt. It was the first time in his existence anyone had touched him in such a way—a way that could draw such a reaction from him.

“I bet part of ya is scared of what I'll do, hm?” Chop Shop asked, giving another soft stroke against the side of Fixit's face. “I might be a thief--a slaggin' good one--and I ain't afraid to scrap a mech,” he explained, running his other hand up and down the long ridge on his Fixit's helm, “but there are some things below even my skewed standards.”

Fixit blinked slowly. His optics felt heavy under the pleasant assault. But as quickly as it began, it disappeared. Fixit glanced up at Chop Shop in confusion when his daze ended, seeing that the combiner's arms were at his side. And he was now standing at his full height again.

Time passed, and they shared stares in silence.

Fixit's expression pure confusion, embarrassment, and a twinge of...arousal?

And Chop Shop's? Impassive.

Chop Shop was the first to turn away. He broke apart into his components, to Fixit's bewilderment. They scattered in several directions.

Fixit frowned and wheeled after the closest one, looking for a distraction.

“...Righty?” he asked, watching as the spider bot gathered materials. Fixit was met with a blank stare until the bot scuttled away, clutching its materials.

“Wastin' ya time,” Chop Shop's voice said from above. Fixit blinked and moved his attention back to the energon converter. Sitting on the top was one of the spiders. He was laying on it, resting his head on folded forelimbs. “None of the others talk. Or like doin' it anyway.”

“Then, you can't be Righty,” Fixit replied and wheeled back to get a better look at the spider bot.

“Right ya are. Ain't Righty,” he answered with a sarcastic tone.

Fixit made a curious hum and tapped his servos together. “Your components all have their own names then, Chop Shop?” he asked, curiosity creeping up on him.

“We're all Chop Shop,” the spider bot corrected. “At the same time, we're not when we ain't together.”

“Oh,” Fixit answered blankly, nodding and pretending to understand. But it seemed like such a foreign concept to him. One thing did stand out to him though, in hindsight. In the Alchemor's prisoner manifest, Chop Shop had no aliases listed; nothing about Righty was included. “Well, what is...your name then?”

The spider component simply chuckled and stood up. “Already want introductions, eh?” he asked with a smirk. “Pay attention then. Hate havin' to repeat things.”

Fixit nodded slowly.

“Ya already know Righty. Biggest pain in the aft to function!” the spider yelled, quickly casting a gaze on a certain bot that was smashing two old pieces of metal together. Said spider dropped what he was holding and glanced up, smiling and cackling innocently. “I told ya we need those parts, Righty!”

Righty quickly scurried away from sight.

Fixit heard a loud grumble from above and nearly smiled at the antics. It kind reminded Fixit of Strongarm and Sideswipe squabbling.

“Movin' on,” the talking spider grated out. “Lefty is Righty's partner in crime. Nothin' but trouble comin' from them. Then there's Steps and Kicker; both make the legs. Steps likes to do most of the work and Kicker helps 'im too. Kicker kicks. A lot.”

Now that he mentioned it, Fixit had vague flashbacks to Chop Shop relying on his right leg in his fight against the Autobots when he did deliver blows through kicks.

“And lastly, Brains,” the spider bot added.

“You?” Fixit asked and pointed towards him.

He nodded.

“I see. But how can I tell you all apart? Names only help so much,” Fixit questioned, frowning up at 'Brains'. They all looked identical.

The spider bot did not reply right away; instead moving towards the machine's edge and dropping down. Brains landed on his forelimbs with grace and stared at Fixit. “Easiest way would be ta jus' bond with us already,” he replied with a teasing tone. “Then ya'd know for sure.”

Fixit blinked in surprise and quickly glanced away. He wheeled back a few inches and folded his arms. His optic brows furrowed and he shook his head stubbornly. “Not. Happening.”

“Wha'ever ya say, Tur'ledove,” Brains replied in a smarmy tone and flashed a wink. The spider bot turned away, abdomen now facing Fixit, and slowly scuttled off.

“Wait!” Fixit called after him and wheeled closer. “Something you mentioned has been bothering me. You said that Righty was spying on us in our base. Yet...the Alchemor's scanners never picked up your--err--his signal. It doesn't make sense.”

Brains stared at Fixit. “Smart of ya to pick up, but we can't just kiss-and-tell with our li'l secrets. Maybe we'll explain it one day,” he answered with a grin. He then resumed his way, snickering softly.

Fixit sighed and watched as the seeming to be leader of the components scurried off to do his own work.

He resigned himself to his current position of watching the gestalt continuing their work. Wiring was beginning to run throughout the warehouse in a proper set up. The light's were now flickering overhead, as a generator wheezed to life. If Chop Shop could produce a near finished spaceship in mere hours, Fixit was amazed at the thought of what could be done to the warehouse in a matter of days. And so, he found himself entranced with watching them work so diligently.

More time passed.

After the sunlight shining through the factory's windows all but dimmed away, the spider bots dropped whatever task they had been working on and marched back down to ground level. They joined back together into Chop Shop. Fixit blinked several times and watched with growing apprehension as the combiner zeroed in on the mini-con.

“Awright, runt, time for stasis rest,” Chop Shop explained and stepped closer.

Fixit wheeled back. “I...I'm not tired! So, you can recharge without me?” he suggested in a nervous chuckle.

“I ain't askin' if ya want to,” Chop Shop replied, mouth pulling into a tight line.

When Righty disassembled himself from the combiner and climbed up to rest on Chop Shop's left shoulder, Fixit gasped and backed away.

“N-no!” he cried, his frame already shaking in fear.

“If I could trust ya, this wouldn't be a problem. But I ain't dumb,” Chop Shop replied and continued to approach with a slow and foreboding pace.

Fixit scrambled back and tried to speed away. Chop Shop was just as quick to grab Fixit by his waist. Fixit shrieked as he was lifted up in the air again and desperately banged stubby arms against Chop Shop's giant servo. Not that it made a difference.

“What?” Chop Shop asked with a snort. “Ya ain't never recharge or somethin'?”

The thoughts of his dream lingered over Fixit. He increased his flailing and wiggling and anything else he could think of to try and get free.

“Enough!” the combiner hissed and lifted Fixit up. In one fell swoop, Fixit was reattached to Chop Shop's shoulder.

He cried out at how painful the initial link up was. But, pain gave into panic. “P-please! I don't want to do this!” he begged.

Chop Shop muttered something about 'dramatics' and walked further. Fixit made several squeaks as he swayed back and forth from walking with the combiner. He hid his face behind his servos, softly hyperventilating.

After a few steps, Chop Shop sat down with a loud thump and leaned back . Fixit was quickly jerked up. He winced and tried to clamp his mouth shut as tightly as possible. When he was lowered down though, Fixit was surprised to find himself laying on something. He slowly peaked one optic open, finding himself supported against the combiner's broad chest. He wasn't laying exactly parallel to Chop Shop's body, it was too much of a strain at the angle he was connected. The position did catch Fixit off guard, but it was better than the alternative he dreaded. So much better.

Fixit eyed Chop Shop, but he didn't dare to move.

He thought about the others. Did they have any idea Fixit was missing yet? Were they somewhere, looking for him?

He froze when Chop Shop suddenly touched his back and rubbed along his back nubs in a soothing motion; any thoughts of the Autobots melted away. Fixit arched up immediately into the gentle touches and he closed his optics again, laying the flat side of his face against Chop Shop's chestplate. His arms were spread out on both sides. It was not as uncomfortable after Fixit settled and relaxed his frame.

For the short time Fixit remained awake, the combiner said nothing.

Fixit only listened to the beating thrum of Chop Shop's spark before he drifted away.

Chapter Text

When Fixit found himself finally stirring, he rubbed his optics with one arm. He glanced around slowly, feeling a bit groggy from coming online so suddenly. He was clutching against the plum plating underneath him. A large mass pressed directly beside him; it took Fixit moments to realize that Righty had settled against him. The spider bot must have laid down soon after Fixit fell into recharge. Fixit shuttered his optics several times until Righty twitched.

The spider bot lifted his head and stretched out all limbs at once. Righty made a low yawn and glanced at Fixit. He leaned over and nudged his head against the mini-con. Fixit blinked in surprise and watched as the spider pulled back and climbed off of Chop Shop.

Fixit nearly jumped when he felt a sudden touch to his back—specifically his nubs again.

“Up so soon?” Chop Shop asked quietly and rubbed the base of both nubs between two fingers, one at a time.

Fixit could only muster up a relaxed sigh and squirmed under the gentle touch.

However, the caressing didn't last for long. Chop Shop freed his connection port and grabbed Fixit by his waist. He was lifted up back onto the combiner's chest. Fixit made a soft sound of relief and stretched out. It was't an uncomfortable or painful feeling, but after being stuck in such an awkward position as Chop Shop's arm, it felt nice to straighten his frame out.

Chop Shop pressed Fixit into his chest as he pushed up from the ground and stood up at his full height.

Fixit quickly blinked into awakening and glanced nervously to the floor below. It felt odd to be so high up in the air.

The combiner grumbled and took a few steps, approaching Righty—who had collapsed back onto the floor and curled up, lightly snoring—and huffed. He casually pushed his component with his foot. “No ya don't. Up, lazy piece a' bolts.”

Righty growled and hid his face underneath forelegs.

“Awright then. No energon for useless arms,” Chop Shop grunted. He stepped over Righty easily.

Fixit blinked and stared ahead, unsure how to feel about being carried by the combiner. He watched as Chop Shop approached a large crate beside the energon converter that had been finished. Inside, Fixit could make out a few outlines of energon cubes. Chop Shop suddenly lowered Fixit by the crate and reached inside.

The mini-con rubbed against his optics again, only to find a cube held down towards him. He fidgeted and slowly reached for it. “I...have a hard time folding--molding--holding these,” Fixit admitted sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Chop Shop replied. He didn't shove the cube at Fixit or even release his grip on it when Fixit reached for it. He simply lowered it and nodded.

Fixit perked up, taking the hint. He quickly pressed his mouth against the side while Chop Shop carefully tilted it forward. Fixit idly drank the small continuing stream of blue fluid. He closed his optics, feeling too embarrassed at the idea of him needing assistance to meet Chop Shop's stare. By the time he felt content with the amount of energon taken in, Fixit had nearly finished a third of the container. Which made up for a lack of refueling the previous day.

“Thank you,” Fixit mumbled and rolled back on his wheels.

Chop Shop did not reply aside from grunting and simply lifted the cube to his face. Fixit was surprised by how easily he could lift the cube with one arm.

“You don't separate when you refuel?” Fixit asked curiously and peered up at the combiner as he fed.

Chop Shop paused mid-drink. “Nah. We all get an equal amount this way,” he explained. “'cept for the lazy ones who sleep through feedin',” he added, sending a glare at Righty's curled form.

Fixit snorted softly, but nodded in understanding.

Chop Shop eventually finished drinking from the cube, leaving barely a fraction of the blue liquid left, and placed it back on the ground.

“Back to the grind,” Chop Shop said before he split into his components.

Fixit watched as they went in separate directions. Machinery was moved. The spider bots quickly focused on their work. After a few minutes of staring, Fixit found himself quietly wheeling back towards Righty. He rang his servos awkwardly and glanced at the others until he was satisfied that they were too distracted by their work to pay attention.

“Righty...?” Fixit whispered, giving the spider bot a single poke. When he didn't respond, Fixit rubbed his optics again and carefully inched closer. He lowered on his wheels and leaned back on Righty. He almost prepared for Righty instantly waking up and shoving Fixit away, but the spider bot didn't. His frame merely twitched underneath the mini-con, but otherwise remained laying on ground undisturbed.

“I don't blame you,” Fixit muttered and closed his optics. The sun wasn't even up yet.

When Fixit woke up again, he was laying on his back. Righty had already moved. He was also greeted to a more organized area. The rusted metal ramps had been reinforced. The entire floor was clear of rubble and looked much easier for Fixit to traverse on now. There was even a large console seated near the energon converter. Fixit quickly balanced himself and moved forward, his gaping expression growing. It was amazing how different the warehouse looked.

After a brisk glance around, Fixit's spark beat with an impending sense of urgency. Chop Shop was nowhere in sight; components included. Without a second thought, he lifted a shaking arm to his helm, activating his comm.-link.

“Autobot base, come in!” Fixit hissed, glancing around nervously.

Static.

“Autobot base, please come in!” Fixit repeated, begging desperately. “It's me. Fixit!”

More static.

Suddenly a loud ringing hit his audials; so loud that his processor flared up. Fixit gasped in surprise and nearly collapsed on his wheels, wriggling in pain.

And then he noticed pedes approaching. Fixit glanced up with a whimper to Chop Shop. The combiner opened his mouth to say something, but Fixit could only hear the ringing.

“P-please! It's hurting!” Fixit screamed, trying to block the sound.

Chop Shop mouthed something to Fixit and tapped the side of his own helm, as if directing the mini-con.

Fixit quickly deactivated his comm. The ringing immediately stopped.

“Communication dampener. Figured ya'd try sooner or later,” Chop Shop said. In one a hand, he held a large brown, four-legged Earth animal. A very dead one.

Fixit frowned and rolled back, keeping distance between himself and Chop Shop. He watched as the combiner walked past. To the energon converter. Fixit wilted as he observed Chop Shop drop the creature into the converter's entrance. He winced at the sputtering sounds—loud grinding and hissing.

The mini-con's chest heaved and he closed his optics. He sank to the ground and leaned forward; resting his arms atop his wheels and burying his faceplate against them. Everything was starting to sink in. He was really trapped here with Chop Shop. Helpless and useless. The others had no idea where he was.

The worst part of the situation was that Fixit had no idea what to feel about the combiner. He was extremely capable and intelligent, but he scared Fixit and was very dangerous. And there were a few times where he almost seemed...decent.

Fixit spent the next several hours in a daze, avoiding looks from Chop Shop or acknowledging comments made by him.

Eventually Chop Shop moved directly in front of him. Fixit slowly lifted his head up and scowled at the combiner. Righty had detached from the shoulder socket and was perched on Chop Shop's left shoulder instead. They both hesitated as Fixit glared up at them and shared looks, almost seeming surprised. Righty silently rejoined, reattaching as the right arm.

“Time to sleep, bitlet,” Chop Shop murmured softly.

Fixit said nothing, but continued to glare as Chop Shop lifted him by his waist. Chop Shop cradled Fixit as he returned to the same spot from the previous night. Fixit turned onto his side as Chop Shop propped himself up in the same sleeping position.

When Fixit felt Chop Shop touch his helm, he froze. The combiner rubbed against it in a slow and gentle motion, but Fixit immediately jerked away from the soothing sensation and folded his arms. Chop Shop seemed to take the hint and instead let his arm sprawl across his chestplate, as well as Fixit.

It was another quiet night that Fixit closed his optics and easily fell into recharge to.

Another day passed; Fixit's anger slowly passed along with it. Chop Shop kept the same routine: refuel upon awakening, work for many hours while the sun was still up, and recharge again when it turned dark. What he was left with was a dull and growing boredom. It was very different from how he felt while managing the Alchemor.

Fixit had maintenance duties. He had to make sure that the stasis levels for each pod was enough to keep the prisoners asleep. He had daily inspections of the ship to make. But here? Fixit had nothing to do. He watched, refueled, and recharged on Chop Shop's whims.

Before he knew it, a whole week of local time had gone by.

Chapter Text

Fixit had counted thirty Earth days. Days that passed since Chop Shop first took him from their base; days since he last saw the other Autobots.  

Chapter Text

“Bloody messed up weather!” Chop Shop cursed and slumped down on the makeshift seat on the main floor: two large pieces of flat metal welded together, stacked on top of long pieces of concrete.

Fixit glanced over from the console and paused from his tinkering. Chop Shop had provided a ramp up to the large piece of equipment, but it still needed a lot of work: circuits, wiring, a new screen, a source of power. With limited supplies, Fixit could only do so much, but he was grateful it was something to work with at least.

He held off from making a smirk at the combiner's irritation and simply rolled down the ramp.

Fixit looked to the factory windows, noting the translucent frost building against it. Denny Clay had warned the Autobots of the constant changing climate of the planet. He just never expected it to happen so soon.

“The cold weather is bothering you?” he asked and rolled up to Chop Shop. While the temperature was noticeable to Fixit, it hadn't affected him negatively.

The combiner leaned back and gazed down at Fixit. “Feel stiff. I hate it!” he snapped and crossed his arms tightly.

Fixit smiled sympathetically and gestured up at Chop Shop. “Help me up,” he requested, holding his arms up.

Chop Shop blinked several times with a surprised expression. His fingers tapped against his arms until he hesitantly moved forward. Large servos slipped around Fixit's chest and he was gently lifted up. “First time ya actually wanted me to,” Chop Shop commented softly.

Fixit ignored his words as he was placed beside Chop Shop, even if said thief was right. “Lift your arm,” Fixit said and waited for the combiner to do just that. “Up like this,” he explained, moving his up arm to a perfect line in the air.

He couldn't tell if Chop Shop was suspicious or not, but seconds passed. Chop Shop frowned, but seemed to humor the mini-con. His closest arm raised high in the air and towered over Fixit. Fixit quickly moved closer and examined the joint, making soft hums of interest as he poked the area. He wheeled quietly across Chop Shop's lap and checked the other joint as well. Then he moved his attention to the hips, repeating the same process again.

Chop Shop hissed with each touch. He threw his helm back and winced.

“Ah,” Fixit murmured. “I believe I have a dilution--pollution--solution!” Fixit exclaimed, lightly beating an arm against his chestplate. “You're feeling strained because you are combined for lengthy periods without a break.”

Chop Shop glanced away as his four optics narrowed.

“Recharging so many continuous times while joined together isn't helping either,” Fixit added, arms dropping by his sides. “But...you know that, don't you?” Fixit asked when he noticed the change in Chop Shop's body language. He wasn't surprised or relieved to hear Fixit's diagnosis and glared at the floor.

The combiner didn't reply. He suddenly stood up. “I ain't rechargin' broken apart,” he hissed, turning his back to Fixit.

“But, you aren't broken?” Fixit argued and frowned. “You're Chop Shop and also all of you,” he said, gesturing to his entire frame. “You said so yourself.”

“I'm only me when we ain't apart,” Chop Shop snarled.

Fixit opened his mouth to reply, but he found himself at a loss for words. He barely understood the Decepticon. Even after spending so much time with him in his hideout. Were all combiners so complex?

The lighting overhead flashed several times. Fixit froze and gazed up; Chop Shop immediately took action and turned back to the mini-con.

“Perimeter alarm,” Chop Shop said. His left arm detached. Lefty jumped off and landed beside Fixit.

“W-what?” Fixit stammered, almost unsure if he heard correctly.

“Don' get ya hopes up,” Chop Shop snapped and scowled at Fixity. “Lefty, watch 'im.”

Fixit watched as he instantly turned away, stalking towards to warehouse's sealed entrance. His optics darted back and forth rapidly. He swallowed and quickly grabbed the edge of the metal. Lefty made a soft hiss and grabbed one of Fixit's arms in his mouth.

“Ack! L-Lefty! I just want to see who it is,” Fixit pleaded softly. He wiggled awkwardly, hanging partially over the edge of the seat and hovering just above the floor. “Please. You can shock or whatever if I try to run. But...please,” he begged, gazing up at the spider bot with sad optics. “I just need to know that they haven't forgotten me,” he whispered.

Lefty considered his words. Fixit felt the grip on his arm release and he dropped the few feet back on the floor.

Chop Shop felt an anxious tug from his spark as he peered out from the entrance of his hideout. His right servo flexed repeatedly, preparing himself for what would most likely be a skirmish. In his opinion, it was kind of pathetic that it had taken the Autobots this long to show up. But he wasn't surprised at the very least; it only showed how well Chop Shop had been with keeping his trail covered.

He peered out through the small crack between the steel door and the warehouse's opening. And he slowly pushed it open.

When he stepped out, he was greeted by a smooth voice.

“Well, hello, brother.”

Chop Shop's optics narrowed.

From the cover of the tree-lines, a familiar form stepped out. Chop Shop glared in recognition of the long-tailed, cobalt blue frame.

“What a surprise it is to find you here,” the mech who introduced himself Steeljaw murmured.

Chop Shop rolled his helm back and puffed his chest out. “I though' I made it extremely clear that I ain't int'rested.”

“Yes, I do recall how...vehemently you voiced your wishes,” Steeljaw replied, folding his arms behind his back. “Word traveled quickly of your endeavors after you declined my offer. A ship? It sounds like you were very close to getting off planet.”

He didn't trust the look in those yellow optics; how they pierced the air like daggers. Chop Shop placed his servo against his waist, unintimidated by their hidden threat.

“But I am most curious. The Autobots had captured you, correct?” Steeljaw's voice oozed in a smarmy tone. “Yet, here you are. Free.”

“Yeah,” Chop Shop replied dryly. “And?” he snapped, unimpressed with the other mech.

“I am simply here to extend my offer again, brother,” Steeljaw murmured with a very eerie grin, mouth pulling back to reveal sharp canines. “There are several others now. Your expertise would be most welcome.”

“I ain't no brother, pally,” Chop Shop quickly replied. “And I ain't joinin' up. I'm my own team.”

Steeljaw made a non-verbal hum of interest. His optics flickered brightly. His tail swayed behind him casually.

“So, turn tail and bugger off my turf, pup,” Chop Shop warned, taking a few steps forward to loom over the mech.

Chop Shop watched as Steeljaw's optic brows cocked in a high ridge.

“Very well,” Steeljaw replied and turned away with a smirk. He glanced over his shoulder at Chop Shop and then shifted his optics to the warehouse itself. “I must compliment your choice of housing. Hardly anyone would know that you're there.”

He growled as he watched Steeljaw leave and waited. Minutes passed. But he hadn't moved yet. He was too paranoid to return inside.

“Make sure that he's the only one,” Chop Shop hissed to himself while slamming the warehouse's door tightly. He disconnected into his spider bots. They scattered quickly.

Righty scoured the forest floor, checking the ground level. Steps and Kicker climbed up trees and jumped branch from branch quietly. Brains darted up the warehouse and perched on the roof, keeping a vigil out at the distant horizon.

They didn't trust other Decepticons. Other Decepticons were not good news.

Fixit heard it all.

When Chop Shop closed the warehouse door, unaware that Fixit had listened in one the conversation, the mini-con slowly rolled back to the console. Lefty made a confused chirp and followed behind him. Fixit's face scrunched up into a mess of sadness, disappoint, loneliness as he halfheartedly sorted through the consoles supplies.

He barely got single strand of wire set up by the time Chop Shop trudged back into the factory. Fixit weakly gazed back at the combiner and silently wheeled back down the ramp.

“Never liked that one,” Chop Shop grumbled. “Despise those smug, know-it-all types. 'Bout as trustworthy as a pack of scraplets.”

“You must be happy,” Fixit mumbled and kept his stare low to the ground. “It wasn't the Autobots.”

Chop Shop said nothing and paused mid-step.

“It wasn't the Autobots,” Fixit repeated and closed his optics. “You must be so happy,” he gritted out and sniffed. “It's so easy to just keep me here, right? I'm just a tiny, weak mini-con,” he whimpered out. His optics began to drip. Streams of lubricant fell down his cheeks before he could control himself.

When Fixit heard a few thumps of Chop Shop approaching, he held his servos up and glared.

“No! Leave me alone!” he snapped. “You're complaining because you can't be combined together--Every--Single--Minute. But, you don't know how lucky you are!” Fixit continued with a broken pitch to his voice. “A-and you're nothing but a coward who can't accept himself!”

Before he knew it, Fixit cringed away and darted back to the makeshift couch. He pressed his face against it, hugged it for a mocking sense of comfort, and let out a muffled sob. Everything hit him all at once. How lonely he felt. Loneliness of working aboard the Alchemor. Bumblebee's words. Chop Shop's words. Sideswipe using him to cover his work. Strongarm's reciting of an Autobot code about mini-cons. His spark throbbed in grief, sadness. His frame shook.

“They...haven't looked for me at all,” Fixit sobbed.

Fixit paused, stifling a loud sniffle, as Chop Shop sat down on the floor beside him. Silently, the combiner placed both servos on Fixit's shoulder—Lefty had already joined back on his shoulder—and gently guided Fixit lean against his plating. He didn't fight Chop Shop and increased his wailing, clutching maroon armor and hiding his faceplate against it. He couldn't help himself. He desperately needing someone—anyone—to cling to.

“Wrong about one thing,” Chop Shop muttered. “I ain't lucky.”

It was the only words Chop Shop said to him. Fixit's sobs continued on.

They both remained the next several hours on the floor, unmoving from their position even as night fell.

At the very least, the weather didn't seem as cold now.

The moon was high above Steeljaw as he sped along the lone dirt road. He skidded to a halt after the long hours of driving and pulled off when he noticed headlights flashing in the distance. The wolfen mech reverted to his bipedal mode and stalked forward, eyeing the red Lamborghini with a predatory gaze. He watched and waited as the vehicle flared its headlights once more and transformed.

“I came alone, Autobot. I hope you were smart enough to do so as well?” Steeljaw said with a smooth tone.

“Look, if this was a trap, do you really think I'd still be meeting you in secret? There'd just be an ambush waiting!” the Autobot hissed and took a few sneaking steps forward, carefully looking around. “Now, are you gonna tell me or what?”

Steeljaw held out one claw expectantly. “I think you need to fulfill your end of the bargain first.”

He groaned and rolled his optics. “Ugh. Fine,” he growled and reached into his subspace. He carefully pulled out the small stasis cube housing Minitron. The Autobot frowned as he stared down at the cube before begrudgingly handing it over. “He was the only one I could take, alright?”

Steeljaw stared down at the stasis pod and turned it over, examining it closely. “I suppose it's enough.”

“Well?” he pressed, folding his arms together and tapping one foot on the ground.

“I stumbled across your escaped convict,” Steeljaw confirmed, tail swaying behind him. “I can't say for sure if he had company. But...he was extremely defensive of his abode.”

He waved a servo in emphasis and clutched Minitron's stasis pod closer.

“Ok. So, where's he at?” the Autobot asked impatiently.

“How unassuming you are,” Steeljaw chuckled. “Why would I tell you that?”

“We had a deal!” he stated angrily, clenching his hands into shaking fists.

“Mmm. We did. But, Minitron?” Steeljaw asked, holding up the pod with a smirk. “Such a tiny gift is only worth a tiny smidgen of information. Now, if you included a bonus, such as that useful weapon you have there...”

“My Decepticon hunter? No way!”

“Then it seems we're done,” Steeljaw growled and quickly shifted back into vehicle mode. Without a moment to lose, the mech kicked up dirt with his treads and sped off; leaving a thick cloud of dust behind him.

Sideswipe slapped his servos against his face, dragging down against the plating. “Stupid, stupid!” he hissed and swatted at the dust.

An idea struck him and he snapped his fingers in excitement.

“Thank you, Strongarm,” he murmured, quickly activating his UV lighting. His mouth pulled into a very proud grin as soon as a trail of tracks lit up—Steeljaw's trail to be exact. “And thank you, muttface.”

Chapter Text

Fixit stirred from recharge and was greeted to warmth surrounding him. He opened his optics and found himself at the center of a pile of sleeping spider bots, to his surprise. Fixit didn't remember falling into recharge, but he had been so exhausted. It was the first time in a long time that his emotions had left him feeling drained. What made it worse was that he had gotten upset in front of Chop Shop.

The Combiner didn't say anything to Fixit the entire night, but Fixit couldn't help but to feel anxious. What if he was enjoying Fixit's torment? Was this Chop Shop's goal? To drive him down a spiral to the point of breaking down?

He closed his optics and leaned back. But the peace didn't last too long.

Suddenly his frame heated up. He was on fire. He squirmed uncomfortably. He shoved one arm against his mouth in an attempt to hide his confused pants.

His awkward wiggling seemed to be noticed as the spider bots all twitched. One by one, yellow optics opened and glanced around.

“Squishin' ya?” Brains asked while they sleepily broke apart.

“N-not at all,” Fixit stammered, trying to keep his composure. “I was just surprised that you aren't groined--coined--joined!”

“Well...it's cold,” Brains said softly with a sheepish expression. He lifted one of his limbs and wiped it against his mouth a few times. “'S easier ta stay warm anyway.”

“Oh,” Fixit muttered and winced as his frame shivered. He gently pushed two of the spider bots away—possibly Righty and Lefty, but he still had a hard time telling them apart—and he rolled to the makeshift lounger. “E-excuse me,” he groaned and struggled to keep himself balanced.

He could feel their stares. They were all watching.

“I need....I need...”

To be filled.

Fixit made a horrified squeak and nearly collapsed.

His spark flared with undesired arousal. His valve was clenching in yearning.

It was his cycle. Every Cybertronian had a cycle; an insatiable desire to interface. But, the last time he had one was even before the Alchemor crashed. It affected many in different ways: some could be content with a few overloads, others would have to interface several, several times to be sated. Some had shorter intervals between each one, some barely had any. For Fixit, it was a rare and extremely painful experience; he never had a partner to help. Being assigned alone on the Alchemor left him without the use of assisting supplies too.

When he heard a shuffling commotion, Fixit gazed at Chop Shop's components, venting huskily.

They stared at him with understanding expressions. He nearly cringed in embarrassment, if not for the gut wrenching pressure from his pulsing valve.

Each spider bot glanced to one another in consideration.

After what seemed to be an eternity of agonizing waiting, Fixit expected to be jumped. He felt so miserable, that he welcomed the idea at this point.

They then combined, leaving him confused.

Fixit made a soft whimper as he gazed up at Chop Shop. Chop Shop's fists flexed repeatedly as he stared down at him, but he remained silent. And he turned away.

“You're l-leaving?” Fixit hissed and tried to roll forward. He was caught off guard by another pang of lust and froze.

“Figured ya wanna take care of tha' in private,” he mumbled, back facing Fixit.

Fixit whined as he clutched his waist. “I thought...you...” His voice was shaky. “Thought you would want to,” he struggled to explain.

“I told ya tha' we ain't int'rested. At least, not with jus' forcin' ya.”

“But...you made me combine with you,” Fixit whispered. “Twice.”

Chop Shop paused. “...Ain't the same thing.”

“Then don't think of it as taking advantage of me,” Fixit reasoned. He hated it. There was no choice with a cycle happening, but at least Fixit had some choice with a partner—as dubious as it seemed at the moment. He had some relief with the fact that Chop Shop didn't just grab him and force him down, but at the same time, he craved the idea of being fragged into the ground.

He could just picture those strong servos picking him up and overtaking him.

Chop Shop turned back and stared down at Fixit. “Really that bad?” he asked, arms falling at his sides.

Fixit nodded, optics glazed over and panting once more. He struggled to open his mouth, but after a few attempts, he mustered the energy and whispered a single word: “Please.”

In the mere seconds after he begged the combiner, Fixit was whisked up and carried to the couch. Chop Shop placed him on top of his lap, facing out. He arched eagerly.

“Don' keep silent if ya get hurt, Widget,” Chop Shop murmured softly, while tilting Fixit's chin up. “Tell us as soon as it happens.”

Fixit nodded eagerly and leaned back against Chop Shop. It felt ironic, but he was relieved that his cycle was occurring now, away from the base and his teammates. He couldn't imagine asking any of the Autobots for help. At least Chop Shop seemed to understand mini-cons. Fixit could have comfort with that knowledge.

Chop Shop slipped an arm around Fixit's waist and it traveled down his frame. Fixit tilted back, pressing against the mech. He watched as thick, blunt fingers slid around to his underside. He expected it to feel the same way it did when Chop Shop first brought him to his hideout; how easy he teased him with threatening touches to his valve. But, Chop Shop didn't rush.

A few delicate strokes brushed against his connector port. Fixit couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of how quickly it snapped open. Chop Shop repeated the process for his valve cover.

Fixit wiggled in an attempt to grind against Chop Shop's arm as his valve barred open. Fluids began to trickle out. He gasped when Chop Shop brought his other servo down and wiped up a sample of it, lifting it up to examine the coating.

He shivered when he heard the sound of Chop Shop licking his fingers overhead.

“Awright,” Chop Shop spoke up suddenly.

Fixit could feel the tip of his finger hovering outside of his valve.

He nodded again and gasped when it began to push in.

Fixit moaned.

Chop Shop leaned closer and purred into his audials. His other hand was now brushing against Fixit's side, dipping along his plating until it stopped at his left tire. Slowly, it traced along the outside pattern of his wheel tread.

He could feel his valve pushing tightly against the intrusion as his frame heated up. Fixit braced himself against the combiner and whimpered wantonly. It was beginning to take the edge off and he was beginning to enjoy his cycle making him so needy. But, he needed so much more. He wasn't filled enough yet.

And then, Chop Shop's finger started to slowly swivel back and forth; testing how much Fixit's valve would clamp down with each movement.

Fixit made an inaudible sound when a second finger pushed in. It was getting tighter, but his valve wasn't satisfied. He yearned to be even fuller.

“M-more. Please more!” Fixit exclaimed and tried to thrust down on Chop Shop's fingers.

He could feel the chuckle from Chop Shop as the other mech's chest rose a few times behind him. “Ain't gonna fit me, especially since ya can't wait,” he explained. “But I got an idea.”

Chop Shop's fingers pulled out.

Fixit made a loud and indignant whine at the loss.

Until he realized that Chop Shop's arm broke off. Righty was now sharing lap space with Fixit and staring at him.

“Wha...?” Fixit stammered. His vision was slightly fuzzy. He felt so hot.

“Don' worry. Righty will be gentle,” Chop Shop replied, using his left arm to help Fixit angle back against his chest and show off his exposed valve for the spider bot.

Fixit couldn't bring himself to form proper words. He kneaded his pronged servos against Chop Shop's arm, sputtering in need.

He heard something click from Righty's direction and the spider bot was on him in an instant. Fixit's optics shuttered. Something spiny rubbed across his valve entrance a few times.

Fixit arched up, arms flying against his face. His pants were muffled.

Righty pressed closer to Fixit, effectively pining the mini-con between him and Chop Shop. It was an odd sensation being sandwiched between two of essentially the same mechs, but Fixit currently loved all the attention. The two shorter limbs on each side of Righty's helm carefully clamped against his circular shoulder joints, most likely another measure to keep him still. This caused Fixit to roll his head back and groan impatiently.

“See? We know how ta take care of ya,” Chop Shop said suddenly, massaging the bottom of Fixit's chin. “And we wouldn' hurt ya.”

Fixit followed the touches and leaned into his servo, silently begging for more.

But his attention was quickly drawn back to Righty, when he aligned with his valve entrance perfectly and gently pushed forward.

Fixit jerked in surprise, not pain, and moaned.

He couldn't put into words how the spike felt as it entered him. It wasn't so long as much as it was wider and it felt like it was covered in several dull spines. The perfect length for a mini-con's size.

Righty continued to push in.

Fixit shook as his valve clenched around the welcomed invasion. Finally, he felt full. Not painfully stuffed. Not lacking.

After it had carefully slid in, Fixit felt the oddly textured spike bump near his ceiling node. Through the threshold of his dazed mind, Fixit assumed that Righty must have been testing his valve out before making too sudden a movement. Righty made a soft snicker and leaned forward to nuzzle Fixit's face.

Fixit's mouth dropped as soon Righty began to thrust, grunting into Fixit's frame. Fixit quivered in excitement.

“Oooh,” he gasped. It felt better than he'd imagine. How the spike's texture left his valve pleasantly tingle every time it constricted. “Ah...Righ.....ty!”

The spider bot nuzzled his face once more as the thrusting quickened.

His first overload hit him hard. But, it felt amazing .

Fixit's frame arched up as fluids puddled out every time Righty pulled his spike back. He felt so calm, but he still craved more. One overload couldn't ebb his lusting.

“If only ya could hear all of us. If we were bonded, this could be so much more,” Chop Shop whispered.

Fixit nearly shrieked 'yes' then and there. Right now, he would agree to anything as long at it would keep such a pleasureful experience going.

Chop Shop gazed down at the aftermath: Fixit laying down on their makeshift seating, covered in messy fluids and passed out from the sheer intensity. Righty was laying beside him, rattled with exhaustion and barely awake. It had taken ten rounds in succession to put the mini-con at ease. They would have shared turns, but Chop Shop did not want to overwhelm the needy little thing. It had been extremely hard to retain self-control over himself and the rest of his gestalt as they watched.

Mistake .

Chop Shop snorted.

“Yeah? Wha' did ya want me ta do then, Steps?” he hissed and turned away.

He stalked to the console that Fixit had been been tinkering with. It lacked proper materials, but proper materials were nowhere to be found.

Their shelter was far from acceptable, but it was coming together. At the very least, the motion detectors were functional.

Make harder to convince.

“Ya doubt everything, Kicker,” he muttered.

No different than--

“Shut up!” Chop Shop snapped. His fingers creaked as he balled his left servo into a tight fist. He bristled in rage.

In turn, they were angry as well. Fear. Fury. It passed in multiple flashes.

Even Righty lifted his head and observed, sharing the experience between them all.

Chop Shop's lips pressed into a thin line as he sank to the ground. He pressed his servo to his helm, covering his face. His frame trembled. He sent a single glance back to Fixit, to assure himself that the mini-con was still sleeping in peace.

“Just...be quiet,” he ordered himself; to them.

Chapter Text

Chop Shop left Righty to watch over Fixit's resting form. The exhausted mini-con needed rest. And he would most likely want a chance to wash off. Chop Shop mused that they could just lick the mini-con clean...but he had a feeling that Fixit wouldn't accept that. He would probably be too ashamed to even face Chop Shop right now.

As the combiner trudged through the wooded area, his optics skimmed around. There had to be a water source close enough; one that would not be disturbed or discovered by the local organics. Even if it was just a mere river, it would work. They could bathe conjoined. Fixit would not need much water either. Finding water would be only the first step though. There was also the matter of a pipe network—pipes also long enough to reach the base from the water.

He wasn't deluded into thinking a working shower could be built in mere hours either. He didn't peg Fixit as the type who could handle being so sullied for a lengthy time. For now, Fixit could be brought there and washed off in the water.

Little pieces of organic filth crushed under each step.

"Wha' a mess," Chop Shop grumbled.

From the instant Fixit begged him for help, he knew it was a bad idea. He had just been so tempted. Fixit tried to reason that he wasn't taking advantage since he asked Chop Shop. But, Chop Shop wasn't even sure of himself now.

He could feel them wanting to speak up. Their energy flared against his spark.

Just like me, my pet.

Chop Shop froze. He glanced around wildly. He shook in violent tremors. His vision was blurred.

He shot forward and clawed at the nearest thing within reach: a large, bulky tree. He ripped the bark. He pummeled his fist against it. He screamed.

Chop Shop pulled back after hearing a loud crack and snap. He regained his composure slowly; his rage dripped away. He panted and gazed down at the forest floor. Wooden splinters littered the ground. He stood over the newly fallen tree, still visibly shaking.

With a final, sudden sigh, Chop Shop closed his optics and stepped over the tree. He dragged his servo down roughly across his face and continued on his search.

Water.

Fixit needed water.

"--xit!"

Fixit groaned. His frame ached.

"Fixit!" The hissing in his audials caught his attention.

He blinked and opened his optics. Sideswipe was leaning above him, staring down.

Fixit gasped and sat up. "S-Sideswipe?!"

"In the wax," the red mech replied back and crossed his arms.

It felt surreal. over time, Fixit began to accept that the Autobots wouldn't come. As each day had passed, staying with Chop Shop became...bearable. But now, Sideswipe was here. Standing right in front of him. Fixit's spark pounded in excitement. It felt too good to be true.

But, any happiness instantly melted away. He sat up in alert and looked around. "Sideswipe! You shouldn't be near--fear--here! Ch-Chop Shop will attack you!"

"Attack me?" Sideswipe replied and stared down at the mini-con. "What did he do to you? That sick freak!"

Fixit paused and glanced down to his frame. His optics flared brightly and he bowed his helm in embarrassment. His orange paint was covered in scuff marks. Fluids had dried on his abdomen.

"I-it's not what you think! Honest."

"Don't get your wires in a twist, Fixit," Sideswipe replied while he studied his surroundings, "I know he forced you. It's not like it'd be that hard for someone his size."

Fixit fidgeted. Would Sideswipe understand if he tried to explain that Chop Shop hadn't simply held him down and fragged him?

"Where's Lieutenant Bumblebee?" Fixit piped up with a hopeful tone, also looking to give Sideswipe a distraction. "And the others?"

"Well," Sideswipe began and crossed his arms behind his helm. He shrugged. "The others don't really know I'm here. We'll just say this is a secret rescue, ok?"

Fixit blinked as his mouth pulled back into a frown. "Then...how did you find me?"

"Let's just focus on getting you out of here."

Sideswipe was avoiding his question.

Fixit lowered his gaze.

He knew he should have felt relieved that he was finally being rescued. But, the other Autobots had no idea where he was. Were they even aware that Sideswipe wasn't at their base?

"Y-yes. Of course," Fixit replied quietly. He approached the edge of the seating and carefully dropped to the floor.

He tapped his servos together and nervously eyed the room. Where was Chop Shop? He wouldn't just leave Fixit alone. Not without at least one of his components to guard him.

"Sideswipe?" he wheeled closer to his teammate and glanced up at him. "You didn't see Chop Shop when you came in here? At all?"

Sideswipe snorted and waved his arm reassuringly in Fixit's direction. "Don't worry. I've been scouting this place for a few hours. All four of those little creepy crawlies ran out of the base to look for something. That's when I snuck in here."

Fixit froze and winced. He sent a single glance up to Sideswipe making a nervous hum. "You do realize he has five components, right?"

Sideswipe's arms fell to his sides. "Uh."

In a flash, something dropped down onto Sideswipe. Fixit squeaked in surprise and backed away. Sideswipe yelped as electrical shocks ran through his body. He fell to the ground, flailing and thrashing as one of Chop Shop's spider bots clung to him and stung several times.

Fixit gasped, arms shaking, and rolled forward. "Wait! Please don't hurt him!" he cried, with his chest rising up many times in panic.

The spider component gave Sideswipe one last sting before jumping off. He scrambled over to Fixit and hissed, harshly nudging to mini-con back. Fixit couldn't tell which one he was: Righty, Lefty, Steps, Kicker, or even Brains. But, he was just more concerned with helping Sideswipe.

His spark flared and pulsed anxiously.

"P-please stop!" he begged the spider, not fighting against the pushing.

Sideswipe recovered quickly enough, to Fixit's surprise. He was up off the ground and swiftly kicked at the spider. Fixit ducked away and went to hide beside the makeshift couch, peeking out with wide optics as he watched the sudden skirmish.

The spider bot hissed at Sideswipe and flared his abdomen when he regained his composure; the tips of his limbs clicked against the ground. They glared at each other intensely. Sideswipe readied his sword and snapped his battle mask on. He maneuvered back when the spider bot flew forward in another swipe and braced his sword closely. Sideswipe took advantage when the spider was recoiled by his blade and closed the distance between them with a tackle.

Fixit flinched when the spider shrieked in fury at being pinned on his back.

"Don't hurt him, Sideswipe!" Fixit cried and rolled out from his hiding place.

"Me hurt him?" Sideswipe hissed and sent a glare over his shoulder.

"He...just thinks you're going to take me away," Fixit reasoned softly.

"Well, I am! Remember? I'm rescuing you!" Sideswipe snapped back.

Another loud hiss erupted from the pinned spider mech.

"Shut up, bug breath!" Sideswipe growled.

"Funny. I was gonna say the same thing ta you, Au'obrat!" Chop Shop's voice boomed.

Fixit perked up in alert and looked to the warehouse's entrance. Said combiner was looming at the doorway, furiously glaring at Sideswipe; even with his right arm missing, he looked so intimidating. He stomped forward in a foreboding motion. Fixit cringed in fear and returned to his hiding place.

Without a word, Chop Shop charged forward. Sideswipe evaded the first punch thrown at him, but Chop Shop was quick to turn. Just like their first battle, Chop Shop pivoted on his left leg and gave a sudden kick against Sideswipe's chest--Sideswipe flew back from the sheer force of impact. Chop Shop preyed on the advantage of Sideswipe smacking against a steel beam and glanced to the spider mech Fixit now realized was Righty. Righty rolled over and jumped to meet Chop Shop, rejoining as his missing appendage.

Fixit kneaded his digits together, whimpering as he watched.

Sideswipe braced himself up with a loud grunt and readied his sword again. He leaped into the air, aiming a kick at the combiner's head. Chop Shop snarled as he caught Sideswipe's leg and slammed the red speedster on the ground. He tightened his grip on Sideswipe and lifted him up, smashing him against the concrete floor in a violent motion. But, the brutality was far from over.

Chop Shop shocked Sideswipe with both arms—for nearly an entire minute straight, Fixit counted—until he finally allowed him to fall to the floor. He crushed his right foot on top of Sideswipe's chestplate.

A raspy wheeze escaped Sideswipe's lips.

"What's tha'? Ya got more ya wanna say, punk?" Chop Shop growled and leaned closer.

Sideswipe waited until Chop Shop leaned even further and spat energon at his armor. "Eat...slag, c-creep."

Chop Shop guffawed.

He pressed his foot dangerously close to Sideswipe's sparkchamber. "Why don' I just put ya out of misery? Your's and mine, tha' is."

Fixit's intakes grew frantic. This was nightmare.

Without thinking, he rolled out from the couch and held his arms up. "C-Chop Shop! Wait! Please!" he begged. "I'll do it! Just...don't offline Sideswipe, please!"

Chop Shop paused, keeping Sideswipe pinned under his foot. He lifted his head to gaze at Fixit as his four optics narrowed. "Do what?" he demanded and crossed his arms.

Fixit glanced from Chop Shop to Sideswipe a few times. He shrinked at the sudden attention on him and closed his optics.

"I...I'll bond with you all," he answered meekly. "I know you're angry because Sideswipe's here. All I'm asking is that you let him go. Alive."

Both Sideswipe and Chop Shop wore surprised expressions: Sideswipe's more confused and concerned; Chop Shop's unexpected.

"What are you saying, Fixit?! He's taking advantage of you!" Sideswipe grabbed Chop Shop's leg and tried to push the combiner away.

"Shut up," Chop Shop hissed suddenly, snapping out of his quiet trance. He moved his leg away, but was quick to pick Sideswipe up with one arm. The combiner patted Sideswipe's armor, searching for something. With a smirk, he pulled a pair of stasis cuffs hidden in Sideswipe's undercarriage and slapped them on his wrists.

"I said yes, Chop Shop!" Fixit repeated and wheeled closer.

Chop Shop stared down at him in silence. Eventually, he replied in a calm tone, "I heard."

Fixit watched, mouth gaping, as Chop Shop hoisted the cuffed Sideswipe over his right shoulder. Lefty detached and landed on the ground beside the mini-con. Fixit almost wheeled himself after Chop Shop, but Lefty immediately blocked his path. The spider made a loud grunt and pushed him back.

"Please, don't hurt him again!" Fixit cried out.

Chop Shop didn't respond before he disappeared through the warehouse doors.

Fixit bowed his helm and turned back to the couch. He leaned against it and allowed himself to sink to the floor. Lefty approached him hesitantly. The spider hovered feet from him, pacing back and forth with uncertainty. Fixit smiled weakly and gestured to the space beside him with a single pat. "It's alright, Lefty."

Lefty cautiously slinked up to Fixit and settled on the ground beside him.

Fixit waited until the spider bot laid down. He moved towards him and leaned over his frame. He closed his optics again and distracted himself with stroking Lefty's legs.

"Please," he said aloud, with his voice cracking, "don't hurt Sideswipe."

He wiped the fluid welling up in his optics and hid his face against Lefty's armor.

Chop Shop lost track of how far he'd been carrying the Autobot after a few miles. Not that it helped that the little glitch wouldn't shut up.

"You're even more messed up than I thought!" Sideswipe, as Fixit called him, snarled, trying to fight the stasis cuffs. "You raped Fixit!"

Chop Shop's huffed at how the other mech's tone oozed with disgust. "And it here comes. You 'Bots assumin' the worst of every situation."

"Assuming?! Even I can put two and two together!" he snapped in response.

Chop Shop scanned the distant horizon. He paused when he spotted a circular formation above ground level and approached it with a smirk. "Well, it ain't what happened, chump."

"Like your word counts for anything, freak!" Sideswipe hissed back at him.

Chop Shop approached the well and studied it. The wells entrance was very large; easy enough for Chop Shop to climb down without it being too cramped. Its rocky wall had crumbled, a sign that it was practically abandoned. He glanced around, easily recognizing that there wasn't any form of local life nearby.

He kicked one of the rocks down the well and peered over the edge. It bounced against the inside a few times. He listened. Eventually, a distant splash echoed up. The drop had to be somewhere from fifty to sixty feet. Chop Shop nodded to himself, pleased with the results.

"You told Fixit you were going to let me go alive," the Autobot scoffed.

"But I am," Chop Shop retorted with a grin. "A li'l fall ain't gonna kill ya. Now, on the other hand, there ain't gonna be anyone that'll give ya energon."

He shifted his grasp on Sideswipe. The Autobot was dangling in Chop Shop's servo, directly over the well's opening.

"Starvation is deadly, I hear," Chop Shop added with a sobering tone.

The look in the Autobot's optics was wonderful to witness.

"You...dirty...sparked mech of a"—Chop Shop released his servo—"GLITCH!"

The Autobot shrieked as he plummeted down.

Chop Shop turned away, even before he heard the splash of water. It was going to be a long walk back.

Chapter Text

Fixit began to envision what a bonded life would entail after Chop Shop took Sideswipe away. He imagined that Chop Shop wouldn't be so cross towards him anymore after they joined together; that he would grow more comfortable around the combiner. Maybe he would even grow to love—

No.

Fixit moved his face even closer to Lefty's armor, keeping it hidden.

The spider bot made a confused sound, but he didn't move away from Fixit or try to push the mini-con off.

Fixit knew it wasn't right. He knew it was manipulative on Chop Shop's part. But, it some small way, he was saving Sideswipe. And just maybe...Chop Shop could be reformed. After they bonded, maybe Chop Shop would stop causing problems for the Autobots. They could live a private life alone. Not bothering anyone else. Perhaps Chop Shop would attempt to rebuild another space ship; Fixit wouldn't be surprised.

Fixit wasn't sure what kind of lifestyle Chop Shop planned for them, but he only wanted one thing: to feel wanted. If anything, it was something he grew to yearn for after staying so long with Chop Shop and his components. The Autobots were not bad. They were very caring teammates, but they lacked understanding about his kind. Fixit was able to acknowledge that now.

He could feel lubricant gathering at the corner of his optics. He wiped them again.

"I'm s-so-sorry, Lefty," he whispered.

If Lefty was annoyed or bothered by being cried on, he didn't show it.

He felt sad that he hadn't seen his human friends in so long and couldn't even imagine how worried they were about him. Fixit appreciated the fact that there was creatures closer to his height; how they didn't look down on him and how they intrigued him. Earth was indeed a curious planet.

Suddenly, Lefty shifted. He raised up on his legs and turned to face Fixit. He sprawled out on Fixit's lap and carefully licked his frame. Lefty's frame vibrated and gave off a wave of warmth. Fixit sighed and relaxed under the gentle grooming.

"Thank you, Lefty...I kind of forgot about that," he said softly and glanced down to his body. He was still embarrassed by the thought of Sideswipe seeing him in such an indecent state.

Fixit shivered while Lefty continued to lick him. It was beginning to feel more arousing than relaxing.

"Um...Lefty," Fixit whined and fidgeted under the spider bot.

The spider bot paused from his grooming and guided Fixit onto his back. He made a loud whine and climbed off of Fixit. They stared at one another for nearly an entire minute before Lefty broke his gaze first. He stroked his snout against Fixit's underside and glanced at Fixit again, emitting a grunt.

"A-are you asking if I want to?" Fixit asked, propping himself on his arms. He glanced away as his faceplate flushed. He couldn't but to sigh and smiling half-heartedly.

As...wrong as it was, it was more of a relief that Chop Shop hadn't just forced himself on Fixit. It gave him some illusion of choice.

Fixit nodded and leaned back, closing his optics.

Lefty was gentle when he moved back on top of the mini-con. Fixit's valve barred open the instant he felt the familiar spiny and thick member rub against his underside. His valve was still warm, oozing with fluids, and craving to be filled. Lefty had no problem sliding his spike in and pushing his abdomen down against Fixit. He jerked. Lefty purred and pressed down on him.

Lefty used his two forelimbs to grab and hold Fixit's arms over his head.

He continued to push until he was well seated in Fixit's valve.

Fixit moaned and threw his head back against the concrete floor.

And then, Lefty began to pull out and thrusted slowly.

Fixit arched up, raising his body to meet with each thrust.

Lefty rocked into his frame. Over and over.

Fixit squirmed eagerly and lolled his helm back and forth, begging for more; for Lefty to quicken his pace.

"Oh please, please, please!" Fixit whined.

Lefty made an odd sound—something between a hiss and a coo—and nuzzled his face against Fixit.

The thrusting continued, going faster and faster.

Fixit broke into hysteric moaning. It felt amazing, just to have someone closer to his size. He could forget about the Autobots and Decepticons and the Alchemor. Even if just for a short time.

He lost track of how much time had passed or how many thrusts Lefty managed, but Fixit didn't care. He shifted up and down to allow each thrust meet him full. His joints squeaked. Their bodies oozed with tingling heat. Fixit giggled at how wonderful it felt.

"So amazing," Fixit whispered in lusting pants. His servos clenched.

His body tensed up after rounds of thrusting from Lefty. He opened his mouth and gasped as heat overtook him. His valve flooded; his wheels spun rapidly; he closed his optics.

He squealed as the overload erupted.

Lefty came just as quickly and buried himself in Fixit's valve.

Fixit slumped on the ground. Lefty slumped on him. They both panted in exhaustion.

"I guess neither of us really has the stamina, huh?" Fixit asked and laugh.

When Lefty lowered his head and rested it on the mini-con's chestplate, Fixit stared up at him. Without a thought, he lifted his arms up and traced the tips of his digits against the spider bot's face, specifically the odd purple markings on both cheeks. His servos traveled down to the yellow rings on Lefty's neck; he tilted his head to get a better view of the bright markings.

As Fixit gazed at the component's frame, he began to make a mental list composed of questions he would ask Chop Shop. Questions about why he chose certain color choices for their frames, what objects he loved stealing the most, what non-stealing hobbies he had, what his favorite color was—Fixit still loved red the most. Just...simple questions a mech would ask to get to know someone else.

He blinked when Lefty sat up and glanced around. "What's wrong?"

Lefty made a single grunt and gently pulled his spike free. Fixit grimaced at the sudden emptiness and frowned.

The spider bot licked Fixit's face before he turned away. Legs tapped rhythmically on the floor as he made his way to the entrance door of the warehouse. Fixit heard a familiar thumping set of foot steps. Chop Shop quickly filled the door frame and studied the messy scene. Fixit froze and glanced away in embarrassment.

Chop Shop snorted and placed his only hand against his hips. "Lefty, ya greedy li'l thing."

Lefty flicked his glossa out and made a loud snicker, as if boasting, before he rejoined at Chop Shop's shoulder.

Fixit sat up, with his faceplate still flushed, and he tried to wipe away the messy fluids.

Chop Shop stared down at his left hand for a second, mouth pulling into an even line. His shoulders heaved as he shook his helm and sighed. He cleared his throat and glanced up at Fixit, taking a few steps closer. "I...We, uh, got ya some water. Figured ya'd want to get clean."

He blinked after hearing the combiner. "Oh. Y-yes, that sounds wonderful," he commented softly and pushed himself up. He felt so weak, but not in a painful way. He was simply taxed and so exhausted and already struggling to balance himself on his wheels. "I'm sure you don't want to bond with me looking so unkempt."

Chop Shop didn't reply. He did, however, walk forward and kneeled by Fixit, extending his arms down.

Fixit tapped his servos together uncertainly, but gave in and nodded, silently expressing permission to be picked up.

It was the first time Chop Shop didn't jerk him up or lift him up too quickly. The combiner positioned Fixit so he was resting against the crook of one broad arm. Fixit made a relaxed sigh and allowed himself to be carried without protest. Sometimes, being a mini-con had its advantages.

He was brought outside. Fixit gazed around with wide optics. It was the first time he saw the outside world after staying inside the warehouse for so long. He happily glanced all around, taking in the sights of the organic things all around. The air was significantly cooler than he remembered it being, but it was a welcome thing. His frame was still so heated from his session with Lefty.

He was surprised to see a long and metal bucket filled with water. Fixit perked up. Denny Clay had several in his scrapyard; he mentioned that they were called a smock or trock or something of that nature. Chop Shop walked him towards it and placed him on the ground.

"It ain't big enough to sit in," Chop Shop muttered. "Not really deep for a mini either."

"That's alright," Fixit replied and smiled. "Thank you for having me in consideration."

Chop Shop scratched his chin and smirked, but he remained quiet.

Fixit peered over the container's edge and tried to scoop a small handful out. But with his awkwardly pronged servos, it accomplished nothing. Fixit made an exasperated sigh.

Before he could process the next few moments, he was lifted up and placed in the water by Chop Shop. He was right when he mentioned that the water wouldn't be deep, stopping just above his tires, but it felt really nice on his underside. His valve certainly appreciated the sudden chill. Fixit couldn't help but to lean back and relax in the water.

Lazily, he turned his face back up to Chop Shop and stared at his right arm. "Is Righty alright? I hope Sideswipe didn't hurt him too much..."

Chop Shop nodded and dropped to the ground. He sat with his legs crossed in a circle and supported one side against the container. "He's fine."

Fixit pursed his mouth and closed his optics. "Thank you," he murmured and smiled. "For...you know. Betting--wetting--letting him leave."

When water was dumped on him from overhead, Fixit jerked and frowned at the smirking combiner.

"Firs' time ya had tha' li'l vocal problem in a while," Chop Shop purred, resting his chin across intertwined servos.

"S-so?" Fixit whined and sank even deeper in the water with a pout.

Chop Shop smirked again and moved his hands into the water. He casually stroked Fixit's arm and began to scrub the mini-con's frame. "Jus' teasing, Widget."

Fixit 'humphed', but any irritation melted away with each stroke from the combiner's hands. He relaxed and allowed Chop Shop to clean him off; he certainly didn't have to put the effort in.

Fixit felt at the center of a storm; in the presence in the so-called eye. It was the last few moments he had before Chop Shop bonded with him. He couldn't help what it would be like. Was it true that bondmates could see things through each other's optics? Or that one could control the other's movements?

"Better?" Chop Shop asked and pulled away.

"Yes." Fixit nodded and shivered. His frame was cooled down; he almost missed it being warmer.

The other mech nodded and hoisted Fixit out of the water. He wiped most of the water cascading down his frame before bringing the mini-con back into the warehouse. Fixit gave a crestfallen wave to the outside and sighed.

Chop Shop silently approached their makeshift couch and sat down.

Fixit swallowed. Any calmness he had been feeling was crumbling away.

"Easy." Chop Shop rubbed his shoulder nubs.

He whined and closed his optics. "Will it hurt?" he asked, too scared to meet the combiner's optics.

"Shouldn'."

Fixit could tell Chop Shop was just an unsure as he was. It was the first time the mech's voice had so much uncertainty hanging on every word.

"Can I see it?" Fixit asked and hesitantly tapped Chop Shop's chestplate.

Chop Shop remained silent after hearing Fixit's request. His optics darted back and forth over him. Eventually, he made a soft grunt and nodded. His chestplate parted. The covering for his spark chamber slid open. Fixit wasn't sure what to expect. A small, black sphere perhaps. It seemed like that was the appropriate type of spark for a Decepticon. But to his surprise, a bright and soft red light met his optics.

The spark was nearly the size of his own head.

Fixit felt mesmerized with how shyly it pulsed.

"It's beautiful," he whispered.

Chop Shop scoffed. "Nothin' special."

Fixit smiled and brushed his servo against it once.

"So...This will work for all of you at once?" Fixit asked and gazed up at the combiner. "I wouldn't have to bond individually if it's done this way?"

"Can't say with absolute certainty," Chop Shop answered honestly.

Fixit wasn't sure to make of that, but he still nodded.

He made one last reserved sigh before timidly opening his own spark chamber. His spark was only as big as his own servo and a boring shade of light blue.

Neither of them spoke. Fixit stared directly at the other spark; he could feel Chop Shop staring down at his as well. He was the first to tear his optics away and bowed his helm. To his surprise, Fixit was nudged back and Chop Shop leaned forward. He nuzzled Fixit's chest and kissed his spark. Chop Shop was so big enough to devour his spark in a single bit, and yet here he was nipping delicately. Fixit could only shudder. His vents overheated quickly.

Fixit giggled and quickly grabbed Chop Shop's helmcrest to brace himself.

"Beautiful," Chop Shop murmured, voice mirroring the same awe as Fixit's.

He pressed more kisses along his spark.

It sprang to life with crackles of energy.

Fixit could only continue to giggle.

When Chop Shop paused and pulled him back, Fixit couldn't stop laughing. It took several more chuckles before the tingling sensation left his spark. And then their optics finally met.

Fixit nodded.

They carefully pushed their sparks together.

It resulted in a huge crackle and snap that surged through them. It felt good and painful and wonderful and so powerful. He arched up as his optics nearly rolled entirely into his helm. He whined and closed his optics, welcoming the impending darkness.

He dropped the rusted tools at his feet and glanced around the messy lab. Datapads were scattered all around. There were several intricate anatomical charts plastered on the wall.

"He must be caught up in his work again," Fixit heard himself say. He observed his surroundings.

The doors snapped open behind him. He smiled and turned to face the mech that entered.

"Greetings, Master!" he piped up cheerily and quickly gathered the tools up in his arms.

"Yes, Trinket. Hello," a distracted voice greeted him.

The mech stalked past, arms folded behind him. He was a tall and lanky mech, with several limbs from what seemed to be an arachnid alt mode protruding from his back. The mech had an oddly colored bright purple and green paint job. His face was covered with a bright yellow visor and purple facial mask.

Fixit felt himself shake his head and step forward, still clutching the tools at his chest. "I found these abandoned in the scrap yard. Pffft. Don't know why! Tools are useful until they break, right?"

The 'Master' simply growled and flipped over the nearest bench he could find. "Curse the Science Division!"

He frowned and stepped closer. "They didn't let you speak in the conference?"

"Those cowards refuse to supply me with any more test subjects. They are starting to question the ethics in my experiments." The voice oozed venomously.

He frowned and silently gathered all the datapads that had spilled over on the ground.

"If their processors had a micron of intelligence, they would see the importance of my work! Sparks are the foundation of all Cybertronian life. And yet...we know nothing about them. Imagine, Trinket, if we could split one in two and let both halves inhabit separate bodies. Artificially created spark twins!"

Fixit grimaced and turned back to face him. "That would be something, Master."

"Imagine creating an immortal spark. It could never perish, even if the body were to rust and fade," he continued to ramble on. A fist slammed against table and he growled. "Then they would recognize my talents."

"I'm sorry, Master. Maybe they just need more time to reconsider."

He heard another growl. More items were thrown across the lab.

"Trinket!"

He perked up and immediately faced him. "Yes?"

"Fetch me the wiring out of the transwarp chamber."

He frowned, catching the anger in the other's voice but he still nodded. "Yes, Master!" He scrambled to the machine and paused it's glass door. Fixit could see from the reflection that he was not himself. There was a red, blocky mini-con, around the same height as he was, staring back in the reflection. His eyes were a deep golden color.

Without a word, he unlatched the chambers door and wandered in. The wiring was hidden by a thin panel on the ground.

When the door quickly slammed behind him, he jumped up in alert and banged against glass.

"Master?! The door closed! The machine could--"

A swift electrical charge surged through the machine. He shrieked and collapsed, paralyzed by the intense shock.

After the current died down from inside the machine, the door quickly opened. He was yanked by the arm and dragged to the closest medical table. He twitched and watched in horror as his limbs were strapped down.

"Trinket, my pet, you must be so confused," his Master's voice whispered into his audials. "But don't fret. I figured out where I went wrong with my last subject."

He watched, shaking, as his Master pulled out several large and frightening tools.

"You see, sparks are affected by energy. I simply have to adjust the weapons to output the exact same level and a spark should theoretically allow it."

A hand patted his cheek, mockingly. He heard the flicker of an energy saw. His chest plate was forced open.

"M-master. P-p-please. I don't--don't--want this," he begged. His voice was scratchy and statically.

"Hush, pet. You will be helping me unlock a future discovery."

"Mah....master. Master Tarantulas! PLEASE," his begging continued.

Tarantulas cackled as the energy saw was switched on. And quickly pressed against his spark.

He couldn't muster a scream. The pain shook his very core.

It left him paralyzed.

He watched, mouth hanging open, as Tarantulas managed to slice a single piece of his spark away. It was rushed to a containment tube. He watched, as it pulsed wildly, like it was struggling to stay lit.

He was burning. Dying.

Another piece was cut away.

Tears streamed from his optics.

Another piece.

And another.

He screeched in agony as Tarantulas separated the last fragment of his spark—his consciousness itself—from his body.

It was dark.

Hurt.

Agony.

Want to live.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Fixit screamed as he opened his optics and glanced around. He was still in the warehouse, clinging to Chop Shop. The combiner was staring down at Fixit with glazed optics. Fixit could feel the entire plum frame under him spasm and shake uncontrollably.

"How much did ya see?" he asked in a quivering voice and closed his optics.

His face twisted in pain. His servos dug into Fixit's back.

It was the first time Fixit saw Chop Shop look so frightened.  

Chapter Text

Chop Shop sat like a frozen statue as Fixit meekly described the scene he had witnessed. He didn't utter a word and simply gazed down at the floor, one servo dug against his thigh armor. Even after Fixit finished recalling every detail that he could, Chop Shop didn't react.

Fixit gazed up at the combiner's face. Something tugged his spark. Fixit winced at how quickly his spark was reacting. He clutched his chestplate and whined. Strange and foreign emotions flooded him: regret, fear, distraught, frightened. It caught him by surprise, but he felt more at ease when Chop Shop wrapped his arms around him. He dwarfed Fixit's frame and practically enveloped his entire body with his arms and chest. Fixit noticed that his frame's convulsing had nearly finished, but an occasional twitch rippled under him still crept up.

"'S all of us," Chop Shop muttered. "Feel it, Widget?"

Fixit whimpered and pressed his face against Chop Shop's chest. It was so much more reassuring just to be closer to him; to his spark. He gave a single nuzzle before he crooked his helm up again. "Should I call you Trinket?" he asked, ringing his servos together with uncertainty.

Chop Shop scoffed. "Ain't who I am no more."

Fixit frowned. "I'm...so s-sorry. That was an awful thing."

"Ya asked why Righty wasn' detected by ya scanners?" Chop Shop spoke up suddenly and moved Fixit to the space beside him. Chop Shop leaned forward and rubbed his hands anxiously. "I ain't lyin' when I say that we're only myself when joined. The coppers had no idea 'bout my...circumstances."

Fixit nodded and tilted his helm.

"They assumed a combiner shares the same spark frequency as the individuals. But, they couldn' take the chance of havin' me split up and try to scan each of us to be sure."

"So, that's when you were placed on the Alchemor?"

Chop Shop nodded and leaned back.

"That does explain why the manifest never had much data on you other than a list of what you stole," Fixit murmured and giggled.

"I hate that cage," Chop Shop hissed. "Bein' froze like tha' in stasis. We dream of it over and over."

Fixit perked up. Suddenly, everything made sense. Why Chop Shop was so desperate to get away from Team Bee; why he wanted to get off planet. His optics began to drip as his sympathy for Chop Shop grew. He couldn't bring himself to be angry over Chop Shop using him as a substitute limb or kidnapping him from his teammates. It was faint, but he could feel all the hesitation, all the fear, how much Chop Shop doubted himself. All his cockiness and smugness was simply an act disguising a pained mech who had lost so much already.

Chop Shop's arm snapped off. Righty disconnected from the shoulder and hissed. "No!"

Fixit leaned forward and looked around Chop Shop when he heard a different voice. He blinked and watched.

"Righty. Not now." Chop Shop's tone warned the spider bot to mind himself.

"No cage!"

"He's speaking," Fixit whispered. He tapped his servos together in excitement.

"We ain't!" Chop Shop snapped and turned his attention on Righty. "We. Ain't."

"I was lonely! No cage!" Righty cried and wiped his face with his forelimbs.

Fixit blinked again, optics widening, and lifted a hand to his mouth. The more he dwelled on it, the more Righty's voice was beginning to sound familiar. He had never heard it in person, but it was the very same voice he spoke with when Fixit experienced Chop Shop's memory.

Trinket's voice.

"Calm down," Chop Shop ordered and rolled all four optics at once. "Gettin' too stressed ou' over nothin' again!"

Righty made one last hiss and whacked a limb against Chop Shop's frame. He bristled and dropped down to the floor. Chop Shop said nothing and simply watched with narrowed slits. As he scrambled away, Fixit noticed how Righty was limping and keeping weight off of his back left legs. Realization dawned on him.

He gasped and slapped an arm on Chop Shop's leg. "Hey!"

"Oi! Why's everyone hittin' me now?!" he growled and sent an irritated glare at Fixit.

Fixit, undeterred by the menacing scowl, simply crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks. "You lied to me! Righty did get hurt."

Chop Shop's shoulders rolled back and he glanced away, avoiding Fixit's gaze. Fixit made a loud hum of disapproval and frowned. The combiner fidgeted uncomfortably. He tried to open his mouth and fumble up an excuse, but Fixit silenced him with thrusting his arm in his direction and cut him off. He looked sheepish, little a newly forged hatchling being scolded, and bowed his helm.

Fixit shook his head in exasperation and quickly followed after the spider, carefully lowering himself off of his high seat.

As he rolled away, waves of apologetic urges squeezed his spark. Fixit swallowed, in response to the sheer urgency from it, but he did not give any more attention to Chop Shop. The other mech didn't seem to get the hint when Fixit ignored him and continued doing so, almost coming off as desperate.

"Righty?" he called as he approached the spider mech, who had tried his best to curl up on the floor. His long legs were tucked underneath his body and his shorter arms gave his head something to rest on. Fixit frowned again.

Righty cautiously lifted his head and stared at Fixit.

Fixit smiled and reached out to brush his hand on Righty's head. He could feel Righty tense up, but he warmed up to touch within moments. Righty nudged his face into Fixit's side and whined.

"I'm sorry about Sideswipe," Fixit said as he stroked his head. "He meant well, but he doesn't understand. None of the others would."

He noticed an unusual glimmer in Righty's eyes. Another whine was produced.

Fixit blinked and nodded quickly. "You aren't upset about being injured? It's that the others were captured!" he exclaimed and wrapped his arms around Righty's yellow-ringed neck. "You must have been lonely, huh?"

There was a growing swell of surprise and comfort that erupted in Fixit's spark. Righty quivered. Arms shot around Fixit and pulled him closer. Righty continued to nuzzle his snout into the orange armor. Fixit yelped when he found himself lifted off the ground a few inches while Righty carried him to the closest wall. The spider component supported Fixit with his back the wall and sprawled out on his lap.

"R-Righty! Let me check your legs," Fixit sputtered but pat the joint between his back and abdomen with good humor.

"Li'l brat. Tryin' to make me jealous," Chop Shop snapped. He glared at them both and quickly turned his head away.

Fixit sighed and lifted his right arm. "Righty, please open your chest panel. I can perform a systems probe," he explained as his sensory tendril slow slid out through the circular base on his servo. It extended out from his arm and slithered towards Righty's chest. The spider mech made a soft whimper again and flinched back from it. "It's alright. It won't be painful at all," Fixit added cheerily and caressed his cheek.

He made a nervous sound but still tilted back and cautiously opened his chest plate.

Fixit gave another nod before the tendril slipped in. He closed his optics—it was easier to sort through the data. Walls of text scrolled across his internal processor display. To any bot unfamiliar with medical practices, it would seem like an extremely invasive process, but in reality, it was not quite complex. The probe only ran a diagnostic scan for flaring pain receptors that had no reason to be. After that, the tendril was removed, unless further scans were required.

In Righty's case, it wasn't necessary.

His frame was healthy. The scan proved that while the pain receptors in his left legs were active, it was functioning minimally. He had been hit just a little too hard from Sideswipe, and thus, it explained why he was limping. It some sense, it left Fixit feeling relieved. Sideswipe was holding back.

Fixit was pleased with the results and flickered his optics back on.

He didn't expect Chop Shop to be sitting beside them, crouched down on his knees.. Fixt hadn't heard his footsteps; he had been too immersed with sorting all the data.

Propping his chin up, Chop Shop stared down the tendril. Any anger and jealousy had been replaced with curiosity. He leaned closer and peered at it. "...So, how long is tha'?" he asked.

Fixit tapped his cheek. "I never tested the entire length. I'm sure it's long enough to wrap around this building once? There's a reason my arms are splat--mat--fat!" he waved one servo up in emphasis.

"Ya ever tie anyone up wit' it?" Chop Shop asked.

Fixit frowned when he felt a quick flash of heat brushing his spark from the combiner's end. Strange.

"I suppose if I encountered a hysterical prisoner, it would be suitable to restrain them," Fixit replied simply.

Chop Shop broke out a wicked smile and leaned closer. Righty was rumbling mischievously on his lap.

"Use it for fun, I mean," Chop Shop clarified. He grinned coyly and licked his lips. "Someone being a bad boy and ya had to put 'im in 'is place."

Fixit froze. Embarrassment hit him heavy, like a large stack of support beams, and he glanced to his tendril. Both Righty and Chop Shop were sharing a lewd snicker. He quickly jerked it back and recoiled it into his arm. "T-that's not its intended use!" he exclaimed, voice breaking pitch from how flustered he was.

"Think of it as bein' crea'ive," Chop Shop purred and moved even closer. He supported himself on his elbow and knees. Righty then climbed off of Fixit, turned to face him, and blew him a kiss from his forelimb before rejoining Chop Shop. He crawled forward in a languid motion.

Fixit made a loud squeak and darted away from the predatory gaze on him. "You do realize that I still want to talk, right?"

"Talk? Bah," Chop Shop complained and grunted when Fixit shied away from reach.

"I mean, what exactly what are your plans now?" he asked with a pout, ignoring how bored Chop Shop looked. The combiner made a dramatic sigh and planted himself on the ground when it became clear that Fixit wasn't going to comply with his wishes.

"Well, we didn' think far ahead after rescuin' ya from the 'Bot 'pressors."

"They aren't oppressors," Fixit cut in with a frown.

Chop Shop scoffed. "Then we decided we needed to keep our turf protected."

Fixit nodded. "After that?"

He flipped over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Um. Steal more stuff."

"Stuff?" Fixit asked with an intrigued stare. He rolled up to Chop Shop and stared down at him, resting his servos on his hips, just above his wheels.

"Dunno. Wha'ever suits my fancy."

Chop Shop's list of stolen items began to make sense. It was beginning to sound like he had urges that went well beyond stealing only to steal; he even recalled from the flashback that Trinket seemed to share the same problems.

Fixit gasped when arms wrapped around him and pulled him forward.

"C'mon. Let's have fun," Chop Shop pressed his face into Fixit's frame.

Fixit squirmed and tried to push away. "Why the sudden affection?" he asked softly and squirmed.

"Why not?" Chop Shop countered and nuzzled Fixit.

"If you don't stop that, I'll have no choice but to restrain you!" Fixit warned. He was smiling and enjoying the gesture, but he felt playful.

Chop Shop shivered and purred again. "Mmmm. Promise?"

Fixit snorted and glanced up to one of the factory windows. It was dark outside at this point; way past the hours Denny Clay or Russell would be awake. He closed his optics for a short time, reflecting on all the events that had passed since the day the team left him and Sideswipe alone at the base. Sometimes he wondered on how differently things could have unraveled if Strongarm had stayed behind. Or even Grimlock.

But now, he couldn't think on what ifs.

"Alright!" Fixit cooed and leaned back into Chop Shop's touch. "But another night. We need to recharge now."

Chop Shop groaned and rolled his helm back. "Aww, wha'? Why?"

"Because, we're both exhausted."

"Am not!"

"You can't lie to me anymore," Fixit replied with a sing song voice and patted Chop Shop's arms. "Your spark is practically falling asleep."

Another groan.

Fixit chuckled. "Recharge separated too."

Chop Shop snarled. "Why should I? We don' like it."

"Because I don't want to hear you complaining about stiff joints," Fixit scolded him. "And...I thought it would be nice to cuddle with all of you at once."

That got Chop Shop's attention. A chaste kiss was pressed against the back of Fixit's helm. The combiner scrambled up and broke apart. Fixit was swarmed by the spider bots as they climbed all over him and chirped with excitement.

"Ack! H-hey. You guys!" Fixit sputtered in surprise. Multiple limbs wrapped around him as every inch of exposed frame was kissed and nuzzled. A mouth nudged against his wheel and rubbed on it in content, another snout was headbutting one arm and lifting it up in a gesture asking for attention. Fixit tried to shift and wiggle into a more comfortable position, but he was weighed down more and more by purple and bodies.

He sighed and closed his optics, wearing a small smile.

"Night, Tur'ledove," Brains whispered.

Fixit felt another kiss along the crest of his forehead and relaxed.

At brink of falling into recharge and feeling so assured by the warm pulsing sparks surrounding him, Fixit wanted to believe that while what lead to his circumstances was far from ideal, things could actually go well with Chop Shop.

It turned into a routine; a long, painful, and cautious one. Reach for something to cling to. Dig feet into the dirt. Pray that it would hold.

"I'm going to squash them," Sideswipe hissed. He winced when some of the dirt fell out of the compacted wall and slapped his face.

The stasis cuffs had shorted out when he hit the bottom of the well and water splashed on them. He was just thankful Chop Shop was too stupid to realize that.

He felt cold and tired and exhausted. Exhausted from falling down five times already.

Sideswipe hissed and quickly reached for the Decepticon hunter on his back with one servo. He grimaced and clumsily pulled it over his shoulder—there wasn't much room to maneuver in such a cramped space—to angle it upwards. "Alright. Uh. Hookshot?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. When the weapon didn't react, Sideswipe growled. "I knew Russell's game had fake weapons! There's no way a human could carry that much metal."

He shook his head and aimed it again. "Let's try a grappling hook." The weapon instantly shifted. A blue claw-pronged tip sprang up. "Much better!"

Without wasting a second, Sideswipe readied the weapon and fired. The claw shot forward in the air, with a bright blue energon chain tailing it. It flew out of the well's entrance overhead and landed on the ground with a loud thunk . Allowing the chain to go taunt, Sideswipe gave an experimental tug and ascended for freedom.

The opening was getting closer and closer.

With the last of his energy, Sideswipe sprang to life and darted up the chain. It was the fastest he'd ever climbed in his life. His digits dug into the grass as soon as he was in reach and he desperately hoisted himself up. Pulling himself up out of the well, Sideswipe crawled forward, panting erratically, and turned over onto his back. He dragged a hand down his face and gazed up at the night sky.

"I'm sorry, Fixit," he muttered hoarsely and struggled to sit up.

With a new found sense of urgency, Sideswipe pushed himself to his feet. He knew what he had to do.

Chapter Text

His optics snapped open.

Four different angles greeted his vision.

Everything hurt.

He was suspended from a standing berth.

He lifted his helm weakly.

"You survived the transplant."

He knew that voice. He felt fear and his frame trembled.

"You are the epitome of my work."

A touch stroked his face.

"You're so much more than you were--a useless drone that stole garbage trying to impress me."

He could feel his spark pulsing angrily as the cruel words sank it. But, then he realized his spark felt so strange. It was like something was grabbing it and pulling apart. He remembered the pain; remembered seeing his spark cut away and divided.

He shrieked.

"Now, don't be upset. You shall become the first of many soldiers born of a single spark!"

The straps securing him to the berth snapped free. He fell to the floor and winced after his faceplate smacked against the hard, cold metal.

"Get up, pet. I'd hate to see this end in a failure."

He strained to lift his head. Tarantulas was standing above him, leaning over to examine him. A weak glare was all he could muster.

He wanted to die.

He should have died.

Fixit gasped as he jolted awake; feeling instantly relieved at the warmth that greeted his frame. He glanced around, knowing that he wasn't in Tarantulas' lab. He had never been there. He was still in the abandoned warehouse, supported by the five frames of his sparkmates.

The sharing of memories was known as a bleeding effect. Newly bonded sparks often experienced the symptoms until they could truly grow synchronized—it was most likely how they stabilized after receiving the surge of energy during the bonding process. It made sense now that Fixit would experience multiple flashbacks from Chop Shop's perspective. His spark had experienced traumatic stress and was much stronger. And frankly, it was a miracle that he was still functioning.

He noticed that the frames supporting him were shaking and he turned over to face them. They all were sleeping with the same position: curled up and hiding their faces underneath their forelimbs. Fixit reached out for the closest and hesitantly brushed the blunt end of his pronged digits against the maroon plating. The shaking only increased.

He frowned.

Fixit's spark radiated in reassurance as he leaned forward, hoping it would carry through the bond. He gently pushed the spider's legs away and wrapped his arms around his head, pulling it closer in an embrace. Fixit leaned closer and cooed softly. Yellow optics snapped open and gazed up at Fixit with confusion and fear; a whine accompanied them.

"It's alright," Fixit murmured and wiped his cheek in a doting caress.

The others soon stirred and lifted their heads as well. They all gazed at Fixit with large frowns and swarmed around him. Fixit smiled half-heartedly and used one arm to pat the others; he gave them each a few moments of attention.

"It's alright," he repeated, smiling as their snouts pressed against him for comfort.

Grief overwhelmed Fixit's spark from their end—he nearly recoiled from the sheer intensity. He could feel how sorry they were for everything; how they regretted so much; how they saw themselves no better than Tarantulas. He winced but did not pull away. They had been alone for so long. He rubbed his helm against the spider's face he had been hugging and nuzzled cheek to cheek; Fixit felt slightly guilty that he was still having a hard tell identifying them individually, but perhaps as time passed it would become second nature.

"Can you all join?" Fixit asked.

They glanced to each other warily.

"It'll be fine," he said and began to nudge them all in encouragement.

He kissed the spider before him on the forehead and smiled.

They all made soft whimpers again before they moved away from Fixit. In mere seconds, they had combined again. Fixit noticed that it wasn't as smooth or fluid as their typical transformation. They did not jump to meet each other. Kicker and Steps remained planted on the ground and transformed into Chop Shop's legs, both bending at the knees. Brains, Righty and Lefty climbed up and clumsily joined at their joints and the combiner's midsection connected down on the thighs.

Chop Shop groaned afterwards and he sank down.

Fixit smiled again and rolled forward, tugging on the combiner's left arm. "Lift me up."

His four optics darted back and forth in consideration.

Without a word, Chop Shop reached down, wrapped one hand around Fixit's waist and easily hoisted him up in the air. He looked so tired and worn down. Silently, Fixit leaned closer and placed his arms against the sides of the combiner's face. He rubbed the base of his jawline in a soothing motion and smiled.

"You're nothing like him," Fixit whispered and pressed a gentle kiss to Chop Shop's face.

Chop Shop's optics flashed brightly in surprise and he glanced away.

Fixit leaned closer as Chop Shop adjusted his arm to support Fixit by his underside. He wrapped his arms around the mech's thicker neck and rested forehead against forehead. "I'm not angry," he said, still smiling. "I forgive you."

He could sense a subtle change in Chop Shop. The mech bowed his helm.

Fixit found himself back on the ground while Chop Shop sank on his knees again and covered his face. He rolled closer and wrapped his arms around Chop Shop's neck once more.

"I'm not going anywhere." Fixit nuzzled his cheek against the back of his servos.

Chop Shop allowed himself to press closer to Fixit as his frame twitched and heaved quickly. He hesitantly pulled his face away and gazed down at the mini-con with clouded optics; a faint, glimmering trail fell down from both right ones. He wrapped his arms tightly around Fixit, protectively and possessively.

Fixit blinked, freezing as he was dwarfed under the large arms.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I love ya. W-we love ya. We're so sorry." His voice was trembling and broke pitch.

Chop Shop pressed his face even closer and wrapped his arms tighter, as if he was afraid Fixit would disappear if he let go.

Fixit wiggled his arms free and lifted them up to wipe Chop Shop's face. He made another soft cooing sigh and smiled. His spark fluttered against his chest plate as he considered the combiner's words. It was the first time he heard Chop Shop speak in such an emotional and heartfelt way. It made Fixit feel...relieved that they were beginning to open up.

He grinned and pushed closer to Chop Shop, affectionately clinging to the other mech. He opened his mouth to reply, but a loud and sudden banging caught his attention.

They both froze.

Chop Shop quickly released Fixit and placed him on the floor.

"Hide. Now." His posture had changed drastically in the few seconds it took for him to wipe his face clean and turn to face the warehouse door.

Fixit hadn't heard such a serious tone from him before. He blinked, made a confused noise, and stared up at Chop Shop.

"Fixit!" Chop Shop hissed when he noticed the mini-con's hesitation. He stomped his foot in urgency.

He squeaked and rolled back, fleeing to hide behind the console.

No sooner after he took shelter, the metal sliding door was blasted open. Fixit's spark jolted in surprise as he peered out from behind the console and frowned. Smoke and dust kicked up in the air and poured through the opening. Had the Autobots finally found them?

"Hello again, brother."

That wasn't the voice of any Autobot.

Steeljaw stepped through the freshly destroyed opening, accompanied by both Thunderhoof and Fracture.

Fixit's optics widened in surprise and he pressed closer to the console.

Chop Shop bristled as he approached them and blocked their path. "Ya lot bloody insane?!"

"Do forgive the...unexpected entrance, but we wanted to be sure we would get your attention," Steeljaw spoke up in a smooth tone. "I've come to extend my offer once more."

"Didn' I make it crystal clear? I. Ain't Int'rested." Chop Shop growled. His servos flexed. Fixit could feel the anger pulsing from his spark.

"Yes. You did make that quite obvious," the wolfen mecha replied with a coy grin and sauntered forward, arms folded behind his back. His tail swayed with each step.

"Then I sugges' ya make a hasty retreat, lads," Chop Shop warned. His arms produced a few red jolts in emphasis. He glared at the three mechs.

"In due time, I suppose," Steeljaw retorted and smirked. He strolled forward and eyed the factory. "What an interesting little setup you have."

"Yeahs. Make youse wonder what a mech could be hiding," Thunderhoof added with a deep chuckle.

"Especially when he has so many firewalls up and three different proximity alarms too," Fracture spoke up and folded his arms. "Oh. Disabled those by the way. Maybe next time you should use coding that isn't prehistoric."

Anxiety washed over Fixit's spark. He couldn't tell if it was his own or Chop Shop's, but it was irrelevant at that point.

Something grabbed Fixit by his arms. He yelped as Fracture's mini-cons dragged him out and shoved him to the ground.

"Boss!"

"The Autobot's pet!"

Fixit froze under the sudden attention. He could feel multiple optics leering down at him.

"So, that's why you had the Autobot's attention," Steeljaw murmured with a purr. "If it isn't our little warden."

Chop Shop stepped closer. "Hands off. The runt is my prisoner. And since ya barmy lot messed with my signal dampener, the 'Bots are gonna find us all!"

The other Decepticons paused and glanced to one another.

The sound of gunfire outside caught their attention.

Steeljaw turned. His audials twitched and perked up. "That's not one of ours..."

"Attention Decepticons! Come out and surrender now!"

Fixit gasped.

That was Bumblebee's voice.

Beginning atmospheric descent.

Atmospheric breach estimated within one solar cycle, converted from planet's stage of time.

Deactivating stasis protocols.

Chapter Text

After the Decepticons realized that the area had been compromised, they flew into a frenzy. Chop Shop and Fixit had been forgotten as they scrambled to the opposite end of the warehouse, led by Steeljaw. Fracture blew a hole against the building and the Decepticons quickly fanned out through the smoke and chaos. Fixit could only watch, his chest rising up and down repeatedly in panic, as Chop Shop froze.

The combiner gazed at the factory doorway as his mouth hanged open. Anger and fear and sadness of having his—their—hiding place discovered and invaded flooded through the bond. Fixit glanced up to him, giving heavy intakes. He rolled closer and nudged Chop Shop's leg.

Chop Shop didn't respond.

But, fear spewed out. Fixit saw vivid images from being trapped in a stasis pod; the weakness and helplessness that accompanied it. Chop Shop truly despised having his freedom taken away and being trapped. Fixit could feel that it was a stemming fear from Tarantulas and all the trauma inflicted by him.

"C-Chop Shop!" Fixit cried, begging for his attention.

A barrage of gunfire shot forward through the warehouse doors.

Fixit shrieked and flinched back, and suddenly arms engulfed him. Chop Shop had yanked him up and rushed to cover. Fixit squirmed and hid his face against the wide, maroon chestplate.

"Widget..."

A large hand lifted Fixit's chin and caressed his cheek.

Fixit stared up into Chop Shop's optics, confused and frightened. He frowned, lips pulling back into a pout, and he watched Chop Shop.

The combiner's optics looked glazed; he wore a crestfallen smile, as if struggling to keep appearance. He stroked Fixit's cheek slowly. Affectionately. The moment seemed to last an eternity.

But, Fixit could feel the apprehension and anxiety oozing from the other's spark.

And then he heard a soft, "This'll probably be the las' time I get to hold ya a while, luv."

The mini-con quickly opened his mouth to question Chop Shop, but their lips instantly met. Fixit's body stilled. He gasped; Chop Shop easily swallowed the sounds he made.

After several seconds passed on, the gun fire died down—voices replaced them. Chop Shop sighed and stared down at Fixit. The combiner then kissed the mini-con's helm crest carefully and moved Fixit back to the ground. He didn't give Fixit a chance to react as he stood up and stepped out of his cover.

"Chop Shop!"

Fixit gasped and perked up. It was Bumblebee.

"'Ello coppa," Chop Shop snapped. "Invadin' my privacy, I see."

Fixit dared to take a short peek from his hiding spot. There stood Bumblebee at the crumbling doorway, with his Decepticon Hunter trained on Chop Shop. The lieutenant's face was scrunched into a hardened glare and his doorwings flared out against his backside.

"Where's Fixit?" Bumblebee demanded, powering on his weapon with a sudden click.

"Fixit, Fixit," Chop Shop mimicked and tapped his chin in a feigning innocence. "Nope. Don' ring a bell."

"Let me refresh your memory then," Bumblebee replied with a scowl and charged forward.

The two met in a clash of yellow and maroon. Fixit watched with dread and horror as his interests conflicted. The Autobots were there, intent on rescuing him, but...he was bonded to Chop Shop. He couldn't bring himself to pick a side. Bumblebee got the first blow, swiping the transformed Decepticon Hunter in a single motion, but it didn't stun Chop Shop for long.

He punched Bumblebee square on the faceplate.

"Lieutenant!" Fixit whimpered, watching as Bumblebee stumbled back and fell against rubble.

Bumblebee caught himself in time though and adjusted his balance. "I try to be fair, Chop Shop. But, you don't deserve a chance to explain yourself. You've kidnapped one of my team and you trapped Sideswipe in a well. He would have starved if he didn't escape!"

Fixit blinked quickly. Trapped...Sideswipe?

"I'm going to make sure your stasis pod has a million firewalls if that's what it takes to keep you locked away!" He heard Bumblebee continue.

Fixit shook his head in denial and chuckled anxiously to himself. Chop Shop had promised to let Sideswipe go. He rolled out from his cover, still intaking in rushed pants. Both Bumblebee and Chop Shop froze in place and quickly shifted their gazes directly on him. Fixit glanced at Bumblebee for a few seconds before he turned his attention directly on Chop Shop.

"Fixit! You're alright!" Bumblebee cried and kneeled down, looking him over for signs of injuries—keeping his weapon aimed at Chop Shop. "After the damage Sideswipe sustained, I was worried."

"What is Lieutenant Bumblebee referring to?" Fixit asked softly, not responding to Bumblebee.

He was given an uncomfortable, silent stare as a response. But, it only lasted a few seconds before Chop Shop swallowed and glanced away.

"Chop Shop." Fixit rolled out from Bumblebee's shielding. "You let Sideswipe go. You...promised. Right?"

"Hold on. It ain' like tha--"

"You promised me you would let him go!" Fixit replied quickly, his voice cracking. He lifted his servos to his mouth and made panicked squeaks. "Y-you lied."

Chop Shop sputtered. His optics widened as his servos flexed. "I...No. I didn'..."

"I bonded to you..." Fixit whispered and rolled back several inches.

"What?!" Bumblebee questioned with a deep, serious tone and glared at Chop Shop with new-found fury.

Fixit buried his face against his arms as his spark clenched in humiliation and sadness at being deceived so easily. Quickly, he rounded back and stared up at Chop Shop with a quivering expression. His body trembled with anger. Chop Shop had preached of the Autobots taking advantage of Fixit and yet, how was this so different? He took advantage. Fixit made a subdued growl and reached for the closest rock on the ground. He snatched it up and chucked it Chop Shop in a sloppy throw.

"You all lied to me! How could you?!" Fixit cried, his mouth clenched open angrily.

Chop Shop stood in silence, stunned as the minuscule rubble bounced against his shin plating and fell to the ground in an awkward drop.

Fixit immediately drooped down to the ground and rubbed his optics as they began to leak. He sniffled quietly.

When he heard the shuffle of approaching footsteps, he whipped his helm up and gave a lubricanty glare at the combiner. "You're just like him after all," Fixit hissed.

Chop Shop stiffened.

Fixit immediately turned away and rolled back towards Bumblebee. "I-I ready to go home, Lieutenant Bumblebee," he murmured between sniffles and his hitching voice.

Bumblebee opened and closed his mouth several times, as if struggling to form words. Eventually, he made a single sigh of resignation and he nodded to Fixit. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled up a pair of stasis cuffs out from his frame's storage. Chop Shop had been distracted; Fixit could feel the squeezing sensation the combiner's spark gave off. He was too stunned by the impact of the mini-con's words. He gave no reaction as Bumblebee took advantage and tackled him to the ground. In a matter of moments, Chop Shop had been restrained and cuffed.

Fixit could feel the four yellow optics glued on him still.

He did his best to ignore them.

Bumblebee activated his comm.link after making sure that Chop Shop was secure, "Alright team. Dismiss pursuit of the other 'Cons for now. Fixit's here and safe. And I've got Chop Shop too."

All Fixit could do now was to wait for the other Autobots to arrive.

He could only wonder how he was going to face Sideswipe again?

Chapter Text

It had been an Earth week since Fixit returned with Bumblebee and the others returned to Denny Clay's scrapyard. A full week of secluding himself at the Alchemor's database terminal. Barely fueling. Barely recharging. He wasn't sure how to speak to the others. He could see the confusion in the other Autobots' optics.

There wasn't any usable stasis pods for Chop Shop to be stored in—apparently due to the colder weather causing a fritz with any unoccupied pods and making them malfunction until being repaired. It made Fixit feel guilty. He should have been there, helping his team, keeping the maintenance for the pods up to date. But, he hadn't. He let himself be distracted with Chop Shop. He could have found a way to escape; he just knew it. But...here he was. Bonded to the gestalt.

Betrayed. Alone. Miserable. Unhappy.

Bumblebee was quick to have a makeshift block cell put together with rush welded pieces of scrap metal and kept Chop Shop locked up and cuffed. The combiner was kept in the solitary confinement with no contact, aside from being brought energon rations from Strongarm or Bumblebee. Grimlock was often the one to keep guard. And Sideswipe...Sideswipe hated Chop Shop. He didn't dare offer any assistance with the combiner.

After hours of pointless pinging throughout the Alchemor's maps, Fixit paused and pushed back from the console, sighing softly. His spark ached and throbbed; he could feel them. It was only exhausting for Fixit and it made him so upset and conflicted? Part of him wanted to go to Chop Shop, just to be near the gestalt's spark again. But...how could he? Especially with knowing that they had trapped Sideswipe. How could he think of something so selfish?

With a crestfallen gaze, Fixit rolled around and stared out at the scrapyard. In the distance, he say the green, bulky form of Grimlock lumbering around cell—located in the epicenter of the area near the dormant stasis pods. The flurry assaulting his spark made him wish he could just climb into a stasis pod and slumber for an indefinite period of time.

In hindsight, Fixit wished he had ushered Chop Shop to flee with the other Decepticons. At least, he wouldn't have to endure the pain of seeing his newly bonded mate locked away.

As he descended down the ramp of his station, Fixit saw Bumblebee approaching the cell. He winced and wheeled in the opposite direction. His spark was quivering inside his chestplate. How would they ever respect him again?

Bumblebee was the first to notice how off Fixit was after they finally rescued him from Chop Shop. And he decided that it was for the best if the mini-con was given space, even if he could have been useful with repairing the stasis pods. The pods would just have to wait.

A loud clanging got his attention as Bumblebee traveled to check on Grimlock at his post. Bumblebee blinked, observing as Grimlock yelled at each loud noise.

"Shut up, stupid bughead!" Grimlock snarled and whacked a fist against the sheet metal.

"Easy, Grim," Bumblebee urged and placed his servo against the Dinobot's thick arm.

"Uh! Bumblebee!" Grimlock paused and quickly pulled back from the metal wall. "I'm not trying to fight, but Creepy Crawly keeps smacking the wall to irritate me!"

The lieutenant sighed and nodded in understanding. "I know, Grimlock. And it's really tempting to get angry for what Chop Shop's done, but we have to be the bigger mechs. For Fixit's sake," he explained, nodding to the command console.

Grimlock made a soft grumble, but he relented and stared down at Bumblebee. "So...what's sparkbondin' even like?"

This caught Bumblebee off guard. Even he didn't have a definite answer, except for a tiny single insert paragraphs from Cybertronian databases. But, Grimlock didn't need know about his lack of knowledge. "I suppose it's a really intimate and personal thing." When he glanced back to Grimlock, he followed the Dinobot's stare. He was still holding onto the larger mech's arm. He froze, doorwings arching up against his back. And then, he pulled his arm away.

"I guess so," Grimlock replied, looking oddly disappointed.

"Which Chop Shop took advantage of," Bumblebee added and frowned

Almost as if on cue, the loud metal banging resumed again. Bumblebee scowled and held up a servo, "I'm going to talk to him. Keep guard, Grim." He turned to the pivot-jointed doorway, the only entrance on the cell, and paused. "Good job so far," he added with a small smile.

Grimlock blinked before he broke out a large grin and made a clumsy salute.

Bumblebee gave a short, happy flutter of his doorwings and smiled before turning his attention to the door. He knocked loudly and directly, announcing his presence. "Chop Shop! I'm coming in. You better not try anything."

"Yeah!" Grimlock interjected, pounding a fist against his servo's palm. "Or there's gonna be a squashed bug!"

Bumblebee was quick to shut the door behind him as he entered, sealing himself in the cell with the gestalt. He scowled at Chop Shop, who was sitting on the ground, cuffed arms over his knees. The combiner was repeatedly leaning his head back and smacking it against the metal.

"Wha'?!" Chop Shop snapped after he noticed Bumblebee's presence and scowled, kicking up dirt with his large pedes. "We're bored. Ya left us wit' literally nuthin' t'do!"

"You think you deserve or have the right for any entertainment?" Bumblebee pressed with a glare, lowering his servos to rest against his hips."You do realize that you're going back into a stasis pod, right? This isn't a vacation, Chop Shop. You...you did some really awful things."

Chop Shop chuckled. Dry and low. "Ain't tha' cute? Ya 'Bots gotta be the biggest bunch'a hypocrites I ever seen."

"My team are all Autobots!" Bumblebee stated.

"Yer 'team' ain't but just a group of clumsy oafs!" Chop Shop was quick to reply and he straightened up. His yellow optics flared brightly with new found passion. "Did ya know 'ow many times Widget almost got crushed by that green metal block ou' there? 'ow about when li'l miss officer recites every li'l Autobot rule that makes our kind more like prisoners and tools!"

Bumblebee's mouth pulled back into a line, optics narrowing.

Chop Shop smirked. "And yet...ya wanna know how I was able to get in so easy? Ya li'l boy scou' wasn' paying attention and I snuck in. Did he tell ya tha'?" The combiner mech cocked his helm a bit as his smirk stretched wide and thin.

Bumblebee sighed loudly, dropping his arms to his sides.

"We done then, copper?" Chop Shop hissed, glaring at Bumblebee.

"Yes," Bumblebee said with a curt tone. "We are done. And you're going back into a stasis cell a.s.a.p."

Chop Shop merely scoffed and shifted his optics away.

Without another word, Bumblebee turned on his pedes and pushed back on the cell's door, leaving the combiner mini-cons to their dark cell.

"Hey, Dad!" Russell swiveled on his diner chair after he spotted the orange frame rolling by. He dropped his school work on the bar counter and watched. "It's Fixit!"

He jumped after a sudden clack of dinnerware placed before him on the table, quickly drawing his attention back to his dad. Denny tousled his hair and smiled halfheartedly.

"I think we need to give Fixit some space, son. The Autobots made it very clear that he's been through a lot. And sometimes it's hard for someone to be who they were before something traumatic," Denny explained, resting a hand on Russell's shoulder and gently squeezing. "Fixit just got back, Russell. He needs time to figure things out, I think."

Russell frowned and sank in his chair, grabbing the fork placed on his plate. He leaned his head against one hand and toyed with the scrambled eggs. With a flick of his eyes, he watched and waited; he waited until his dad turned back to the flat top grill to cook up his own food. And then he waited a couple more minutes to be sure his dad was distracted as he placed bacon down.

Russell quietly placed his work down and crouched, hiding against the bar counter. He crawled forward, dashing towards the diner's door and scrambling outside. Russell took one last look at his dad through the window before sneaking after Fixit.

He heard hushed voices in the distance and followed the sounds. At the far end of the junkyard, covered by large piles of stacked engine blocks, Russell took a quick peek. There was Bumblebee and Fixit. The mini-con was gazing down and adverting his optics from the team's leader, while Bumblebee was leaning forward, watching Fixit with concern.

"I just want to be sure that if...if Chop Shop is put into stasis, it won't affect you," Bumblebee spoke in a hushed voice.

"I...I am almost certain that I'll be fine, Lieutenant Bumblebee," Fixit replied with a dry tone. "There is no need to worry over me and my mistakes."

"It's not a mistake," Bumblebee said quickly and leaned down into a kneel. "I failed you, Fixit. I'm sorry we didn't get there sooner and I just...I want to make this up to you."

Fixit finally broke his gaze away from the ground and glanced up to Bumblebee. His optics looked dim, expression sullen, as if he was trying to keep himself together. "Please, sir. There's no need to worry on my behalf."

Bumblebee frowned and scratched at the back of his neck. "We can find alternatives. Just keep him in solitary confinement. I don't want to risk that bond affecting you if he goes into stasis, Fixit. There's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is judging you."

"I insist!" Fixit stated harshly and scowled. "This won't affect me. Chop Shop doesn't deserve any special treatment. He's just...another prisoner who escaped the Alchemor. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to keeping watch for more Decepticon signals."

"Wait, Fixit. Are you really up to working again? So soon?" Bumblebee asked, his frown growing. "I don't want to exhaust yourself. Rest if you need to."

"I'll be fine, sir," Fixit muttered and turned away. He rolled off without another word, leaving Bumblebee to his thoughts.

The yellow Autobot looked severely disappointed, doorwings drooping behind him.

Russell tapped his chin in thought and quickly pulled back before he was spotted. He wasn't sure what kind of 'bond' that Bumblebee were talking about, but he couldn't just stand by helplessly. Maybe...maybe he could convince Chop Shop to break it and leave Fixit alone. He pounded a fist into his palm, feeling determined.

He had to help Fixit.

Chapter Text

"What did you do to me?!"

He tried to stand up. Everything ached and hurt; each little movement sent a new shivering layer of pain throughout his frame.

"I improved everything about you."

"What...am...I?" His voice cracked as he examined his servos.

"Perfection."

"You killed me," he choked out between harsh gasps and wheezed in pain.

"Nonsense. You're much more...capable now. And if all else fails, you'll undergo many, many experiments to learn to endure meaningless things like frame sensations." Tarantulas was towering over him. "Now get up. There's much more to be done before I am ready to present you to those fools."

"I'm not an experiment," he whimpered, voice trembling.

"You believe I put up with your annoying tendencies out of mere kindness?" Tarantulas snapped and cackled. "How naive, Trinket. I only bothered keeping you here in my laboratory with the hope you would someday be useful to me. I'm so pleased I was proved right."

He pulled up, gathering as much strength as he could to lurch back on his knees. His vision filtered through static and fuzz. Everything looked so different and smaller and cloudy. Had the lab always been so dark before?

"Now, unfuse," Tarantulas ordered. "I want to see how your individual selves have adjusted."

"H-huh?" He only panted and made confused hisses.

A sudden and piercing jolt of energy whipped against him. He yelped and fell back, limbs buckling in fear. The tip of an electrical prod then crept into his line of sight and forced his chin up.

"Unfuse! Obey. Me." Tarantulas' voice deepened in a dark and dangerous tone. The scientist's visor flared to life.

The fear of more pain and suffering made him duck away, cowering on the floor. It only seemed to provoke more anger from Tarantulas though and the prod quickly came back into contact with his body. He howled, thrashing in response to the energy.

"I disappointed with how disobedient you're becoming, Trinket," Tarantulas murmured and jabbed him with the prod once more.

He felt strange as his body quickly reacted to the next strike. He...broke apart and his very spark was pulled, wretched in several directions. He fell down in pieces, producing a pile of himself. It was a disorientating sensation, being split apart. He was...there but not together. He—they—shivered as Tarantulas stepped over.

"Now, we'll begin with the individual tests," he stated aloud, more to himself, as he reached down and grabbed one of them.

There was a shriek as part of himself was dragged away. They tried to follow after him; it felt so wrong to be split apart like this.

"The rest of you get into the cages I have prepared!" Tarantulas snapped as he twisted around to glare at them. When there was hesitance, he raised the prod up in a threatening manner. "Cages. Now! I will get to the rest of you later."

He felt himself recoil away as multiple taps of footsteps clicked against the floor. They scrambled back and pressed together in a quivering mass of limbs.

"Pathetic," Tarantulas replied with a sneer. "We'll have to work on that."

They were helpless to watch as Tarantulas hoisted the one he had selected up onto the medical slab. The scientist retrieved several tools, ones that were frightening in appearance.

"There's so much to do." Without hesitance, Tarantulas pressed a pointy needle tip into the frame.

They all felt the pain.

Fixit awoke with a jolt, mouth hanging open, and shaking. He glanced around hysterically and swallowed several choked sobs. The feedbacks were growing stronger and stronger now. The mini-con frowned as he leaned forward and balanced himself on his wheels. One minute Fixit had been mindlessly wandering through the scrap yard and now he was reclining against the curve of a metal column.

He was so exhausted that he didn't even remember stopping to rest.

Fixit gazed up at the night sky and spotted the moon lingering high above. At this time of night, the other Autobots were often recharging or sneaking off base--such as Strongarm did for her nightly car wash visits. He wasn't sure if things could ever return to a more normal and simpler state.

The mini-con resumed rolling forward and took a sudden turn; now having a destination in mind for his thoughtless traveling. Optic brow furrowing, Fixit cautiously approached close to Chop Shop's holding cell and eyed it from the near distance. He spotted the bright yellow form of Bumblebee leaning against the cell wall, arms crossing and optics closed. The lieutenant's optics were shut and his helm tilted back and forth in a subtle nod.

Fixit carefully rolled forward, using stacks of the scrapyard's piles to keep himself hidden from sight. Quietly, the mini-con maneuvered to the cell's door and swept the area with another glance before pushing against the metal. He hesitated at the entrance when darkness greeted him, but there was a single light source: the yellow rings and bio lights on Chop Shop's armor pulsed faintly.

He shuddered and sighed before he gave in and entered the contained area. Despite how angry and betrayed Fixit felt, he knew he couldn't avoid Chop Shop anymore. They...they had to talk.

As he inched closer, his optics darted up and down the combiner's frame. All four of Chop Shop's optics slowly cracked open and slowly lifted up to meet Fixit's gaze. For a short time they only stared at one another; Fixit fought against the yearning of the bond to go by Chop Shop's side and comfort him.

"What...what's wrong with you?" Fixit whispered as a frown overtook his face.

Chop Shop leaned back, helm rolling side to side, and chuckled. "Tha's the first thing ya wanna say? S'good ta see ya..."

"No!" Fixit cried and rolled closer. "Why did you lie to me? And you stranded Sideswipe down a well!"

Chop Shop stared down at him silently. He shifted back, pulling his cuffed wrists closer to his chest. He sagged as a loud sigh escaped his mouth. Eventually, he broke away from Fixit's glaring and looked away, shrugging weakly. "I wasn'...I was gonna ge' him back ou'...eventually."

"How does that make it right?!" Fixit snapped. His optics dimmed as he peered up at Chop Shop, lips twisting into a quivering pout.

"Didn' say it did," Chop Shop muttered and shrugged again. He closed his optics. "I...We just...jus' wanted a li'l time. He'd a went right back to ya pals and snitched on me."

"You still lied to me!" Fixit cried, whacking an arm against his chest plate. "And you manipulated me...and...and you took advantage of me. Even after I agreed to bond with you."

Chop Shop hesitated and dared to glanced back at Fixit. He bowed his helm and squeezed his optics shut. "Ya've seen what was done t'me."

"Chop Shop! Just because...what happened to you was awful, but that's not an excuse for being just as hurtful!" Fixit's voice cracked. The pain in his spark hurt so much.

Chop Shop snarled and struggled with his cuffs. "I ain't like him!"

Fixit froze and frowned again. Vivid memories of the day the Autobots found Chop Shop's secret base still occupied his thoughts. The mini-con paused and lowered his stare down to the ground. "I'm sorry I said that to you. Of course you aren't like Tarantulas. But...there are different ways you can hurt someone, Chop Shop. And, I'm hurt...and I'm angry."

The combiner gave no indication of a response and actually turned his back to Fixit, shifting to lean one side against the cell wall.

"Well?" Fixit demanded and wheeled forward to follow his gaze. "Why so stoic and quiet, Chop Shop? You've never been before!"

The gestalt merely grumbled. "And wha' d'ya want me ta say? I ain't...I ain't disagreeing with ya."

Fixit scowled. "I don't know, something simple like 'Fixit, I'm sorry I was so manipulative. It. Was. Wrong.' How about that?" he stated, optics narrowing.

The combiner closed his optics and frowned. "What else was I supposed to do then? He was gonna ruin all my plans!"

Fixit frowned. "You're not admitting any fault then?"

Chop Shop turned back to face him. "It was a perfect plan. Why do ya 'Bots gotta be such nuisances?!"

The orange mini-con closed the distance between them. "That's the problem then. You expected this to work like you were stealing some kind of treasure. And you were too concerned with your own, selfish wants...You never considered that there might have been another way to do all of this," Fixit murmured, helpless gesturing with his arms in the air in emphasis.

In an instant, he leaned forward and converted one servo into a welder. He activated it and brushed it against Chop Shop's stasis cuffs. He pulled back after making sure that the cuffs had been broken and frowned. Chop Shop watched as the metal shackles fell to the ground and rubbed his wrists. He hesitantly stood up and stared at Fixit in confusion.

"Go!" Fixit snapped as the combiner took a step towards him. "Just...leave, Chop Shop."

His mouth was gaping. He walked a few steps closer. "I...Tur'ledove..."

"No!" Fixit hissed and moved back. "You've done nothing but hinder my work and I want you to just leave me alone! I have duties to my team and I hate myself for letting you distract me. Just, go!" he cried out and pointed to the open door. "Just...leave. G-go splay--day--away!"

Chop Shop stood silently like a statue for several moments as Fixit's words sank in. He tried to approach the mini-con again, but Fixit rapidly shook his helm and continued to gesture at the door. The bond was smothering...

Fixit ignored it as best as he could, but still winced. He stared up at Chop Shop as the combiner slowly walked forward, still rubbing his wrists.

"Take some energon if you want..." Fixit whispered. "But, I don't doubt that you would regardless if I told you to or not."

Chop Shop took one last glimpse of Fixit, standing there in the cell, before he disappeared through the open door slow and lumbering. The mini-con trembled the instant he vanished from sight and wiped at the building trail of fluid leaking from his optics. Quickly, Fixit rolled out of the cell and peered outside and retreated in the opposite direction from Chop Shop's path.

He needed to resume work on the stasis pods...

"Bah...That coulda went better," Chop Shop muttered as he put distance between himself and the cell.

He wanted to hit his helm against a bloody wall out of sheer frustration; he cursed his endless supply of bad luck too. He had to admit though, the Autobot's little base had tons of nice shiny loot. It was tempting, seeing so much nice stuff just sitting there, right for the taking.

"Well...Ya know what they say," Chop Shop murmured as he grabbed the closest piece of metal, formed into some sort of earth animal. "Ain't nothin' like some therapy shoppin'."

He smirked as he gazed down at the metal figurine, but the fascination died. He growled in frustration and dropped the object on the ground. He kicked it away and took a seat on the ground. "Somethin' is wrong with me. I don't even wanna steal righ' now..."

"Hey!" a tiny voice squeaked beside him.

Chop Shop blinked and glanced to the ground, face scrunching up after spotting a little human pest standing beside the metal statue. He scoffed and slapped a hand to his faceplate. "Great. Jus' what I need."

"That's my dad's!" the little human protested, pointing to the strange metal. "It's a one of a kind model and you just crushed it!"

"Yeah?" Chop Shop replied sarcastically. "Well, I don' even know wha' a dad is, so tough luck."

He slumped to the ground, letting his servos sink against the dirt. His optics twitched in agitation when he realized the little human was still standing there and staring at him.

"You guys don't have parents?"

"Surely ya got better things to do than bother me, yeah?" Chop Shop snapped.

"Actually..." the human's voice trailed off.

Chop Shop yelped when something heavy smashed against his fingers and whipped his helm down at the human, who had lifted the metal statue and struck his hand. He glared down at the organic annoyance and snarled. "Ya li'l twerp!"

"You hurt Fixit!" the human snarled and glared up at him.

"Ya humans...Always think ya understand anything about us, huh?" Chop Shop questioned mockingly and rolled all four optics at once.

"I understand that Fixit was crying after you left the cell," the child said accusingly and crossed his arms together.

Chop Shop froze, optics twitching, and he coughed against a servo. "That's...uh...complicated big bot stuff, shrimp. Ya wouldn' understand it anyway."

"Puh-lease!" the human threw his arms up in frustration. "You sound just like my mom and dad! They always lie to me and try to distract me," he complained and leaned back against one of the towers of junk. "For years before my parents divorced, they always lied to me and told me that they were happy together," he explained and stubbornly tucked his arms against each other.

"'Divorced'?" Chop Shop mirrored, keeping hardly any interest.

"Yeah...When two people like each other a lot—love like—they get married. There's a big ceremony and a ring and fancy clothes and stuff."

"Really?" Chop Shop stroked his chin.

"Yep." The human kicked a tiny stone by his feet. "My parents were like that and I guess they did love each other at first, but my dad's...well...he's like this," he explained and gestured to the tall stacks of clutter surrounding him. "I remember when I was six, my parents were arguing after they thought I was asleep. It went on like that for years because they wanted to shield me from it or something stupid like that."

"How. Tragic." Chop Shop mocking wiped an optic.

The human glared for a few seconds before continuing, "Yeah, well they only just divorced a couple years ago. I wish they had been more honest and open about it way sooner..."

"Yeah, well...Life's tough. Accept tha', munchkin. And, while yer at it, shoo," Chop Shop replied and nudged the human away with a finger. "I might decide to steal ya as a souvenir instead, twerp."

The human made a loud huff at the indignant response.

Chop Shop rolled his optics again and turned his helm away...until a familiar pain crushed his finger again.

"And that's for making Fixit cry!" the human yelled as he retreated, dropping the metal statue behind him.

Chop Shop hissed, quickly bringing his servo to his chest plate, and he examined the inflicted wound. However, his anger quickly evaporated away and he resumed leaning back against. "Yeah...I know, fellas," he muttered, rubbing his chestplate.

He made one last sigh before rising up on his pedes again. The gestalt cautiously peeked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear before he stepped out from cover. He rushed forward and crept all the way back towards his prison. Chop Shop then took one last look above to the moon and smiled with a bittersweet expression.

With out a word, Chop Shop entered the dark and lonely cell, carefully sliding the door closed behind him.

Tomorrow was another day.