Chapter Text
“C’mooooon Mags it’ll be fun I promise!” Rodimus was attempting to drag his SIC by the hand down the hall, failing miserably as Magnus stood like a lumbering stone, but Rodimus was never one to give up that easily.
“I would rather go on another stakeout with Prowl than resort to some dumb game,” was his unenthused answer.
Rodimus scoffed and grunted as Magnus didn’t budge. “You… -ugh-… are such a…. -ugh-… a party pooper!”
Magnus rolled his optics and Rodimus nearly tripped over his own feet as Magnus finally lurched forward. Though he was not one to be easily insulted, especially by his captain’s rather pathetic attempts at insults, he decided giving in to Rodimus’ request would be better than listening to him beg him to join in on game night for the next several hours.
“Ha HAH,” Rodimus beamed, letting go and dashing his way to Swerve’s as Magnus slowly followed.
Nearly everyone was already at Swerve’s, drinks in hand, chatter filling the room. As soon as Rodimus made his entrance, Rewind climbed from his stool to stand on the bar’s countertop to grab everyone’s attention, pinging his rust stick against his cube to silence the crowd.
“Tonight’s game is called Empire!”
“Never heard of it,” Whirl chimed in. “Sounds rather boring.”
“I haven’t even explained the rules yet, Whirl.”
“Yeah, Whirl, jeez.” Tailgate clambered his way up to stand on the counter next to his friend.
“People eat off that counter,” someone murmured from the crowd.
“Trailcutter also drools on this counter so stop complaining,” Rewind chirped right back. “ANYWAYS. The rules! The rules are – “
“OH! OH!” Swerve jumped up and down behind the bar. “Can I explain them! Pleeaaassee!”
Rewind sighed and lowered his hands, then gestured briefly for Swerve to take over.
The red minibot made his way up onto the counter as Rewind sat back on his stool. His pouting didn’t last long as Chromedome nuzzled his neck from behind.
“So there’s a theme we have to choose. Let’s say the theme is… like… videogames!”
“You guys are the only ones who play video games,” Bluestreak interrupted.
Drift smirked and shot Rodimus a look. “Not the only ones,” he muttered. Rodimus gave him a face and poked out his tongue in response, Magnus rolling his optics at the unprofessionalism.
“I - it’s just - ugh, fine, ummm…” Swerve looked around. “Umm, or…. Oh! Types of music!”
“BOOORRRrriinnngggg.” Rung nudged Whirl in the side rather hard, his interruption followed by a hefty “oomph”.
“It’s just an example!” Tailgate squealed. “Then, once everyone – “
“ONCE EVERYONE HAS PICKED A TYPE OF MUSIC,” Swerve hollered over him. “…it goes into a bucket and then everyone’s choices are read aloud for the whole group to hear, THEN – oh, and you have to pay attention, you have to remember them all – everyone has to guess who chose what! And if someone guesses someone else correctly, that person is on their team and they’ve forged an empire!”
Several nods and noises of understanding rummaged throughout the bar. “Then that empire can guess as a team and try to pull others into their empire to make it grow,” Tailgate continued. “It… it’ll make more sense once we’re actually playing.”
Rodimus clapped his hands loudly, not nearly as drunk as he wanted to be but still anxious to get this party started. “ALRIGHT! What theme are we doing?”
“…video games?” Tailgate tapped his pointer fingers together.
Rodimus pointed a finger gun at him. “No! Next!”
“May I suggest the various elements of dark matter?” Perceptor spoke as he raised his hand.
“Absolutely not! Next!”
“Types of rare diseases.” Ratchet smirked as Drift glared at him. “What? There’s a lot of them!”
First Aid’s visor brightened at the potential theme and was about to second it as Drift pointed out the obvious: “I think you and Aid are probably the only bots who would know any.”
Ambulon spit out his engex at the crude statement. “Excuse me, I’m right here…”
Drift gave him an apologetic look.
“Types of alt modes?” Mirage tapped his chin as he spoke. Rodimus thought about it, but along with majority of the crowd, decided it was a little underwhelming.
“Sex positions!”
Nearly every head whipped around to stare at Brainstorm and his absurd suggestion. Perceptor simply pinched his nasal bridge, not daring to interject at his conjunx’s lack of a brain-mouth filter.
Megatron’s facepalm was loud enough to sound painful, as Magnus tried to collect his jaw off the floor.
“Actually…” Smokescreen gave a half shrug.
Rodimus said nothing, clearly thinking it over, and glanced to Drift who also gave a half shrug.
“Oh my Prim - Wh- What! No! Are – are you kidding me?” Ultra Magnus interjected, rather furiously. “Absolutely not!”
Brainstorm twisted his lips as he sat back down. Perceptor rubbed his thigh to comfort him being shot down. “You tried,” he murmured to him.
“Oh! I got it!” Nightbeat snapped his fingers. “Crimes.”
“Crimes?”
“Crimes! Ya know, like… crimes?”
“Like, things you do to get arrested?” Tailgate’s visor brightened.
“No, the kinds of crimes that make you feel all warm and tingly inside,” Whirl chirped, aiming to sound sarcastic, but the looks he received were just of slight concern considering this was Whirl speaking.
“Anywayyyss…” Rodimus’ wary glance to Whirl was redirected to the rest of the crowd. “Crimes it is. I like it.”
Swerve and Rewind handed out small pieces of paper and pens, and impatiently collected everyone’s chosen crime as the chatter picked up throughout the bar.
“No sharing your crime!” Rewind hollered.
“Ooookaayyy,” Swerve rubbed his hands together excitedly before diving into the collection of papers. “Everyone listen up, you have to remember them all!”
Swerve fumbled to unfold the crumpled up piece of paper and read aloud the first crime.
“’Grand theft’.”
Rewind worked to uncrumple the papers as Swerve would read the next one.
“’Mechslaughter’.
‘Throwing a wrench at me’.
‘Tampering with my datapads’.
‘Being this sexy’.”
The room gave several snorts and scoffs as Drift glanced over at Rodimus, who surprisingly maintained his poker face as he glanced back.
“’Being aboard this ship’.
‘Not telling your doctor who is also your conjunx when you have a level 4 metallurgic wound and thinking it would heal on its own’.”
Drift’s glare flickered quickly to Ratchet, who smirked and deliberately avoided his optic contact.
“’Kidnapping’.
‘Killing off your patients for their t-cogs’.”
Ratchet shot First Aid a look, the medic throwing his hands up in innocence, while Ambulon sipped his engex casually.
“‘Spoiling the movie’.
‘Arson’.
‘Playing grenade tag in the halls’.
‘Fleeing an officer’.
‘Racketeering’.
‘Harboring a fugitive’.
‘Bribing Ultra Magnus’.
‘Public intoxication’.
‘Nautica’s dance moves’.
‘Unloading the dishwasher before it’s done drying’.
‘Doing drugs’.
‘Triple homicide’.
‘Domestic terrorism’.
‘Threatening a judge in open court’.
‘Not telling us what’s in the briefcase’.”
Brainstorm let out a soft gasp and clutched his briefcase closer to his chassis.
“’Tax evasion’… aaaannnd…. ‘poisoning’.”
“Wait, I counted 26,” Nautica spoke up. “But there are only 24 people playing.”
“Ahh!” Rodimus gave her his famous finger guns. “Point! There are two extras to spice up the pot!”
“Don’t you mean sweeten the pot?” Chromedome asked.
“No, well, maybe, I don’t know. Who cares. SOOooo, when it gets down to the last two, it still won’t be completely obvious. Gives the game a little extra umph.”
“By the Allspark, half of those aren’t even real crimes,” Megatron groaned, rubbing his hand down his face.
“They should be,” Swerve muttered. Rewind handed him the pile of paper for him to go through and read a second time.
“Most of them were way too obvious, too,” Bluestreak laughed heartily while he dried an energon cube.
More giggles and guffaws erupted the second time around, but Rodimus was quick to redirect everyone’s attention.
“Alright! Who’s first?”
Rewind jumped up to his bar stool next to Chromedome. “I’ll go first!” he piped cheerily, rubbing his chin with utmost curiosity as he looked his conjunx over. “Chromedome…. Are you… kidnapping?”
Chromedome chuckled and threw his hands up. “No, sorry.” Rewind snapped his fingers in disappointing defeat.
“Now it’s your turn to guess, Domey,” he whispered to him as the silence began to linger.
“Oh, oh, my apologies,” he muttered as he glanced around. “Umm… Drift, are you, um…” he let out another small chuckle. “Are you… being this sexy?”
Ratchet snickered as Drift laughed, shaking his head. “No, good guess though,” he smiled brightly. He turned around and pointed to Ratchet, trying but failing to mimic his grumpy Hatchet voice as he recited his lengthy crime in stifled giggles. “Not telling your doctor who is also your conjunx when you have a level 4 metallurgic wound and thinking it would heal on its own.”
Ratchet chuckled deeply and sighed in defeat. “You got me,” he gestured to his mate as Drift stood from the floor to sit in Ratchet’s lap, purring as the medic immediately started stroking his back.
“Ok, so now Drift and Ratchet are an empire!” Swerve all but shouted in his excitement.
“Is that what they’re calling it these days,” Cyclonus muttered, earning a soft punch from Tailgate.
“…so now they can guess someone else as a team!” the bartender continued, giddy with excitement as the game was progressing faster than he thought it would with such a large group.
Drift curiously glanced about the room as Ratchet whispered something in his audial, making Drift smile. He wanted to guess Rodimus’, he was certain he knew what crime it was, but Ratchet had a better idea.
“Ambulon… killing off your patients for their t-cogs. Shame on you.”
That got a laugh out of most of the crew, Ambulon included as he threw his hands up. “Hey, not me!” He stood to sit in the booth next to the two, the three now whispering rather loudly as they carefully chose their next victim.
“Perceptor… are you tax evasion?”
“Negative, my apologies.”
The microscope then pointed at Brainstorm. “Mechslaughter.”
The teal jet guffawed and stumbled over his words as the crowd bursted out in giggles. “H-How could you have possibly known that? I thought I went with one to deliberately throw you off!”
Perceptor only smiled. “Which is exactly how I knew it was yours.” He snickered as Brainstorm sunk in his seat, but only for a nanoklik as he realized it was his turn to guess. Well, his and Perceptor’s.
Brainstorm pointed to Chromedome. “Public intoxication.”
The golden mech’s visor brightened, as did Rewind’s when he realized Brainstorm had guessed correctly, thoroughly bummed he wasn’t the one to do so.
“Wow,” he said, giving Rewind an apologetic look as he let go of his hand to walk over to the two scientists. “You’re good.”
“Of course I am, ship’s genius n’ all…”
The three whispered amongst themselves, finally deciding on their next guess. “Swerve,” Brainstorm finally spoke. “Unloading the dishwasher.”
“Dammit!” The red minibot threw up his hands in exasperated defeat, oblivious to how obvious that one was, implying either him or Bluestreak. “How are you all so good at this?”
Rewind and Tailgate snickered at him as he stomped over to his new empire.
Drift was a little disappointed Brainstorm got to Rodimus before he could, no doubt knowing “being this sexy” was his from the first time it rolled off Swerve’s tongue.
Brainstorm managed to pick out Mirage’s racketeering, Rung’s tax evasion, and Smokescreen’s arson, drawing the three into his and Percy’s empire before his lucky streak ended at Whirl.
“I’ve done a lot of terrible shit in my life, mate, but I’ve never deliberately poisoned someone,” the helicopter spoke with great pride. “However, I do believe I know who ‘poisoning’ is,” he squinted his glowing golden optic as he gestured to Sunstreaker.
The golden warrior was a little distracted as he continued to nuzzle into First Aid’s neck as the medic sat in his lap, fingers entwining and leaning into the nuzzles. Both were maybe just a little too overcharged to realize Sunstreaker was being addressed.
“Oi! Lover bots!” Whirl tapped his claw together and whistled as Nautica giggled and finally shouted Sunstreaker’s name.
“Hm?” both he and First Aid jerked their heads up. “Oh, sorry, yeah, that’s me,” the frontliner muttered, stealing a quick nip at First Aid’s neck before helping the slightly buzzed medic to his feet. Sunstreaker drunkenly staggered over and plopped down on the stool next to Whirl.
The crowd suppressed their snickers as the two whispered amongst themselves, until they finally agreed on their guess.
“Megs… are you… ‘throwing a wrench at me’?”
Megatron scoffed from his dark corner where he quietly observed with Ultra Magnus. “Not hardly.”
Whirl cursed under his breath as the warlord looked around, optics settling on a snickering green scout.
“Hound.” Megatron stroked his chin in thought. “….Hm. Domestic terrorism.”
Mirage spit out his sip of engex as the rest of the crowd erupted in loud cackling, Hound included. “No sir, not a bad guess though.”
As the game progressed, the harder it became to keep track of who guessed what or who was still guessable. Crimes that hadn’t even been in the list kept being shouted, accusing the most innocent of bots of the harshest, most ridiculous criminal insinuations. Bots keeled over with coolant leaking from their optics from laughing so hard. It was by far, Rodimus found himself thinking, the best game night they’d had in a long time.
Ambulon was quick to guess First Aid, earning his presence in their empire alongside Drift and Ratchet.
The four of them had watched Brainstorm’s empire grow rather large throughout the game, but they still had a few confident guesses up their arm plates. Drift was still very much determined to take over Brainstorm’s empire. After all, Perceptor still needed to be guessed, as he was the only remaining bot on their team that made them vulnerable to conquest.
But when their guess on Perceptor’s crime was wrong, Drift grew nervous as Brainstorm was staring deep into his very soul, now giving him the welcoming opportunity to guess Drift’s crime. The scientist eyed Drift hungrily, just waiting to pounce to conquer their empire to destroy their independency and add to the jet’s own.
But the longer Brainstorm stared, optics actually flickering over all four of them, Drift’s concern grew slightly weaker.
“…Can… can you re-read the list?” the jet asked.
“Nope!” Rewind was definitely beaming from behind his facemask. “You had to be paying attention!”
“I was paying attention, there’s just… so many to remember…” Brainstorm scratched his head, and eventually turned back to his conjunx to re-conspire with him.
“I have a guess,” Chromedome spoke up, still a little sad he hadn’t gotten Rewind in his empire yet, but Brainstorm stood back up and shouted his guess.
“Harboring a fugitive…?” his eyes screamed confidence, but his voice was very unsure, and as Drift’s smile slowly crept across his face, he was very much regretting that guess.
“Hah! No!” Drift chirped, finally having control in the guessing game again. “Rewind, bribing Mags!”
Magnus and Megatron shared a look of something like I-should-be-insulted-with-the-lack-of-respect-but-I’m-so-very-used-to-it-by-now, as the crowd around them bursted out in laughter. He was past the point of rolling his optics tonight. If he did it any more they’d probably roll right out of their sockets. Megatron was right there with him.
But, he couldn’t suppress the smile that threatened to creep up the corner of his mouth at the sight of everyone enjoying themselves, cackling and giggling and engaging in conversation that brought smiles upon nearly every mech in the game, as well as those throughout the bar who were simply observing. The sight of mechs actually… having fun and not worrying about war or threats or bombs or gunfire.
It was… enlightening, he supposed. He shared another look with Megatron that spoke the same words.
Chromedome, however, was not nearly as enlightened as he facepalmed when Rewind squealed happily at Drift’s guess and ran to the swordsmech’s side, climbing his way up into his lap to be able to engage in their conversation.
Chromedome definitely wasn’t jealous as Drift rested his hand on his little thigh to support him. Definitely not envious in the least. Nope, not him.
“Ok, ok, ok…” he heard his little conjunx whisper loudly. He looked down on the floor where Tailgate, Cyclonus, Nightbeat, Skids, and Nautica had formed their own empire.
Rewind’s gaze quickly fluttered across the room, his red camera light shining bright. His gaze landed on Perceptor, but that was too big of a risk. Brainstorm looked like he finally knew Drift’s crime, and if he had the opportunity to guess again, it would pretty much be game over.
Whirl still needed to be guessed, and if they were correct, that would be two more in their empire.
He looked to Ultra Magnus and Megatron brooding in their corner. They could try either of them, but Rewind and Drift really wanted to collect as many mech in their empire as quickly as possible.
That left Nautica and her empire, the purple femme still guessable. Rewind whispered with his group, and they finally settled.
“Domestic terrorism?” Rewind pointed to her. The room fell silent, waiting for her response, until she sighed dramatically and the whole crowd was in a fit of giggles once again.
“Dang, you guys are good!” she beamed as she and her empire wriggled their way over to sit with Drift, Rewind, and the three medics.
Rewind and Drift looked very pleased as their empire was quickly building. They now had ten people – that was more than Brainstorm’s, his only had eight!
And Brainstorm realized this, now more determined than ever to take over Drift’s growing empire as he glared at the swordsmech.
Ratchet took a shot at Hound. Wrong. Hound took a shot at Magnus. Wrong. Magnus took a shot at Perceptor. Wrong, and obviously a very big mistake he could tell as Drift and Rewind groaned loudly in annoyed frustration.
“What?”
“Now Brainstorm can guess Drift and our empire might be toast!” the archivist whined.
“’Toast’?”
Rewind groaned and waved him off. Magnus simply sat back in his chair and re-crossed his arms, smile growing at the drama he just caused.
The silence that filled the room as Brainstorm stroked his chin was deafening. Maddening. Torturous, Drift thought, as it continued to linger over a solid minute that felt like ten hours.
His guess, however, to Drift’s shock and pleasant surprise, was wrong.
Rewind and Drift cheered in unison, their shout of victory loud enough to startle Ratchet. Ambulon and First Aid remained quiet, though the obvious tension in their fields dissipated rapidly.
Megatron checked his internal chronometer. They’d been playing this game for an hour now. He wanted to leave, but similar to Ultra Magnus, he knew if he tried, Rodimus’ wrath would unleash upon them in methods of persistent nagging, begging, pulling of limbs, and possibly resorting to being jumped on. All of which neither officer were really in the mood for.
Drift’s empire decided to gather the solo guessables one by one before attempting Perceptor’s crime again. They managed to steal Hound and, finally, Ultra Magnus, but lost their turn at Bluestreak.
The Praxian managed to guess Whirl, and their empire finally captured Megatron into their hold.
The Praxian, however, did still need to be correctly guessed, which left him, Perceptor, and Drift.
“The final three,” Rodimus spoke up, a rare phenomenon for the captain to go so long without talking, but he had been quite involved in the quiet conversations amongst his teammates. He chuckled deeply as Drift eyed him warily.
After careful consideration, Bluestreak’s empire took their shot at Perceptor, guessing incorrectly. Brainstorm immediately countered by practically shouting at Bluestreak: “FLEEING AN OFFICER!”
The Praxian was taken aback, but quickly joined in on the gigglefest as he and his empire relocated to sit with the scientist’s. Whirl was not happy by any means, cursing and muttering under his breath as he stomped across the bar.
Rodimus laughed so hard he keeled over as Bluestreak elaborated that he had not been fleeing an officer, but rather Prowl would often use that defense to stop his younger brother from running away when he would catch him being a little shit growing up. Smokescreen scoffed and chuckled in agreement as Blue sat down next to him.
It was twelve against twelve. The final battle between Perceptor’s and Drift’s guesses. Drift stood as he and Brainstorm circled each other as if waiting for the other to physically pounce.
Drift tapped his wrist anxiously, arms crossed, impatiently waiting for Brainstorm’s empire to cast their guess.
Perceptor obviously knew his own, as he conspired with the group, which meant Drift’s had to be either ‘throwing a wrench at me’, ‘playing grenade tag’, or ‘threatening a judge in open court’.
Brainstorm had it all thought out, simply enjoying the tension that was accumulating in the air as he kept Drift anxiously waiting. Drift would never threaten a judge in open court; Deadlock maybe would, but not Drift. Brainstorm also knew that Drift was a fond and frequent player of grenade tag, but he also woulnd’t put it past Drift to write it off as a crime since he clearly knew it was something Ultra Magnus would consider one. However, being the Hatchet’s conjunx, Brainstorm knew Ratchet wouldn’t throw a wrench at Drift unless it was absolutely necessary, and Drift would definitely be the kind of conjunx who believed he was immune to such vile treatment from his lover.
So that’s what Brainstorm went with.
Drift stopped in his tracks, poker face still strong, but Ratchet watched his armor plating flair up his backstrut in a manner he knew meant high distress. That’s it, Ratchet thought, and shared a look with Nautica. Game over.
It was another few nanokliks of deafening silence before Drift lost full composure and wailed his defeat to the ceiling. Brainstorm yelped in victory, earning hearty cheers and whoops and whistles from his empire as the entire bar lost its shit in a fit of laughter.
“I KNEW IT!” the jet proclaimed. “SHIP’S. GENIUS.”
Drift stomped over and plopped himself down grumpily in Ratchet’s lap, sulking heavily. Ratchet could only chuckle as he went back to soothingly stroking his lover’s backstrut, calming the flared plating and pulled Drift’s scowling lips into his own for a brief kiss.
“You did your best,” the medic spoke softly with another peck on Drift’s nose.
“Who’s up for round two!” Rodimus clapped his hands. Megatron and Magnus both groaned and stood to leave for the evening, while the rest of the crowd cheered loudly.
Swerve and Tailgate were already passing out more paper and pens when someone asked what the next theme would be.
Perceptor glared at Brainstorm as he took his pen, hoping he wouldn’t suggest it again, but knowing his lover too well to have such hopes.
“…Sex positions?”