Chapter Text
“C’mon Thunders!” Wheeljack protested, gesturing at Thundercracker’s neatly kept apartment. “You need ta get yourself out there and socialize. Make more friends than just me!” Thundercracker sighed, he’d heard this a thousand times at this point.
“Listen, Jackie, I just. . . I’m tired, I spent most of today on a research project for the university. I don’t really have the energy.”
Truthfully, he did want to have more friends, not that he wasn’t satisfied with Wheeljack in his life. It was difficult, though, when mechs saw the broad shoulders and the bold stripes on his wings, and they recognized the former air commander, especially the rumors about him. Rumors of how once, he had coaxed Megatron into his berth, then shot him between the optics with a blast from his null-ray, or how he had conducted a massive air strike on a well-hidden Autobot base, something well-regarded as a turning point in the war. None of it was true—he had followed orders, respected his superiors, and minded his business (as best you could as an air commander, anyways).
With Megatron’s surrender and the order to restore Cybertron to its former glory, the University of Iacon had been rebuilt in a flash—the speed was likely influenced by the newly elected leader, Starscream (officially titled “Prince” Starscream, but Thundercracker questioned the validity behind that), and the his passion for science and the arts. Thundercracker had decided to take his chances and applied to be a research assistant for the university; he now helped piece together the fragments of ancient Cybertronian literature and mythology. Most of his time was spent hunched over datapads, identifying inscriptions on rusted sheets of metal, and sipping heated energon to keep himself awake. Thundercracker thought he was happy enough and felt somewhat fulfilled by his job, but he did have to admit that he spent most nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling and contemplating what it would be like to have someone care for him, and to care for someone in return. It was easier not to admit something like that, though.
“Aw, maybe we can go out this weekend, then?” Wheeljack persisted, finials dimming. Ugh. He was right, it would do Thundercracker some good to have a change in his routine.
“Fine, yeah, this weekend.”
As he sipped from his fizzing cube of highgrade, Thundercracker decided that he absolutely, positively regretted agreeing to go out to the bar. The heavy bass echoing from the speakers was too loud, the lights were too dim, and there were far too many mechs bumping into their table at their booth. The bar looked interesting, at least—old street signs decorated the walls, along with a collection of items that clearly had significance to the neighborhood—photos of famous visiting mechs, tickets from bands that had played at the bar, and a map of the surrounding galaxy covered with pins identifying where visitors had traveled from. From where Thundercracker was sitting, he could barely see the stage, which usually hosted live bands, but it was unfortunately karaoke night. Not up Thundercracker's alley.
“So, Thunders, you havin’ fun? Sometimes a mech just needs engex in their systems. C’mon, let’s go see if we can get in line for karaoke!” exclaimed Wheeljack, slamming down his cube, foam sloshing out the top. Thundercracker groaned and stood up, following Wheeljack through the crowd of mechs on the dance floor. He hasn’t had too much to drink, just enough to make his processors fuzzy and wings tingle pleasantly.
“Heeeeyyy Raaa-atch!” Wheeljack shouted excitedly, apparently spotting Ratchet somewhere and slipping between a pair of mechs standing far too close to each other, and suddenly, he was gone. Ah, shit. Thundercracker elbowed his way between the mechs that Wheeljack had rudely interrupted, turning his helm this way and that, hoping for a glimpse of brightly-glowing finials.
“Watch it!”
“Ah, sorry,” Thundercracker apologized to whoever he had just smacked with his wings, trying to tuck them a bit more tightly to himself with no real success. He stretched up on his toes and peered above the crowd; Thundercracker was tall enough to see above most mech’s heads, but Wheeljack was nowhere to be found. The chaos of the crowds made his processor spin, and he could hardly tell where the entrance doors were at that point. He didn't want to give up and leave yet, though—going out to drink with a friend was a scary step to take as an introvert, but Thundercracker wanted to see if he could get through the whole night.
A servo caressed Thundercracker’s twitching blue wings and he jolted back, frowning. A slim red speedster gave him a lecherous grin, raking their optics up and down Thundercracker’s bulky armor with clear intent.
“Hee-ey mech, tell me, does the paint match the protoform?” The mech purred, pressing closer to him, and reaching out with their field, practically suffocating Thundercracker with its intensity.
“Uh,” he choked, “What?”
The speedster laughed and slid a digit down Thundercracker’s cockpit. “You heard me. You seem familiar, don’t you? I know my ‘Cons quite well, and judging by those fancy stripes on your wings, you are someone very important. Tell me, how is Megatron in bed? I gotta know,” they drawled. “D’you have anywhere to be tonight?”
“Listen, you’ve got the wrong idea, I—“
“Ah ah,” the mech shushed him, sliding their servos up his wings, pressing into a seam with their thumb. “Don’t play dumb.”
“OH!! There you are! I was looking for you, didn’t you say you had to get home soon?” A smaller purple seeker curled his arm around Thundercracker’s and flashed a fanged grin at his antagonizer. “Sorry buddy, he’s gotta get home. You know what it’s like for a working mech, see ya later!”
His savior pulled Thundercracker towards the creaky entrance doors, pushing past drunk mechs standing in the way. Once they made it out, the flyer gently let go of his arm, stepping back so that their EM fields weren’t brushing so closely anymore.
“Sorry for invading your space. You seemed really uncomfortable, are you okay? Wanna go sit down somewhere?” The stranger asked, pointing out a quieter spot, nearby and out of the way.
Thundercracker nodded a sigh of relief, “Yes, sorry, thank you. I—thank you.”
The purple mech gave him a small smile and sat down, leaning forward with his palms pressed onto the bench on either side of him. Thundercracker settled next to him, pulling his wings back so they didn’t take up too much room, and cast his gaze down the foggy road, the faded streetlamps casting orange shimmers of light through the thick atmosphere. The remnants of loud music leaked out of the front doors of the bar and echoed into the empty street, a sharp contrast to the relative silence of the sleeping neighborhood. Aside from that, it was quite peaceful, with the absence of crowded streets and the loud booms of construction that echoed in the daytime.
“Sooooo. . . you okay? Sorry again. We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to, I just wanted to make sure you got out of there safe,” The mech rambled, turning his bright gaze towards Thundercracker, “. . . He was making you uncomfortable, right? I wasn’t misunderstanding? I’m Skywarp, by the way.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I appreciate it,” Thundercracker mumbled, still disconcerted by what had just happened. “I’m Thundercracker. Thanks.”
“It’s no problem. What are you doing out here all by yourself anyways?” Skywarp asked, tilting his head to the side and giving a little twitch of his wings.
“Ah. My friend invited me. I, uh, don’t typically go out, but he really wanted me to come with him.”
Skywarp hummed, “Work keeps you busy?”
Thundercracker couldn’t figure out why this stranger wanted to know so much about him, he couldn’t be that interesting to talk to. He liked literature and history and stupid Earthling entertainment and sappy romance novels and being quiet, not whatever ‘bots were into these days. This mech didn’t seem like the type to care much about those sorts of things, no offense to him.
“I just got hired as a research assistant for the University of Iacon. Old Cybertronian stories, myths, that kind of stuff,” Thundercracker answered. Boring. Boring, boring, boring, why did he have to be so awkward and uninteresting!
Skywarp’s wings perked up in interest, his optics widening. “That’s super cool. I wish I could have the patience to sit and learn for more than five minutes. So, you do a lot of reading, then?”
“Yeah. I’m really happy they started rebuilding the university. Fighting, war, all that stuff wasn’t meant for me.” Thundercracker turned away to avoid Skywarp’s intense stare, peering up at the stars twinkling distantly in the sky. “I was an air commander for some time, and was offered a position in the Royal Guard when Starscream took over as Ruler of Cybertron. But. I declined. Obviously,” he said, awkwardly.
“Waitwaitwait, I’m training to be in the Royal Guard! That’s so crazy, we could’ve been working the same job,” Skywarp exclaimed, nearly shouting, Thundercracker desperately trying not to reflexively jump out of his seat. “Ohh, sorry. Sometimes people say I'm a little loud. Or annoying, or something.”
He was loud, but it seemed to suit the smaller mech. With his twitching wings and his pedes kicking back and forth, lightly scuffing the cement, Skywarp was vibrating with restless energy.
Thundercracker huffed and patted Skywarp’s arm kindly, “That’s rude of them, I don’t think you’re annoying. And you’re right, that is crazy.” He didn’t know why he was humoring the other seeker, but something about him seemed very endearing, and Thundercracker couldn’t help but resist. Something in his instincts, he supposed.
“Yeah, well, if you ever change your mind on the Royal Guard thing and decide that you do want to join, let me know. I bet I can twist some wings,” Skywarp stuck out his glossa. “Hey, do you wanna go back inside? I don’t think either of us should drink anymore, though. I can keep an eye out for that ugly bastard that was bothering you. Ooh, and I can be your bodyguard!”
Thundercracker tried to keep a straight face. The little seeker was looking at him, grin widening, and—Primus help him, he was serious, wasn’t he? The mental image of small, jittery Skywarp beating up a tank in order to protect him was awfully funny. But, hey, he had to give the mech credit for saving him just minutes prior. Not to mention, the engex was nearly out of Thundercracker’s system as well.
“Mmm, sure,” Thundercracker responded, pushing up off the bench, offering a servo for Skywarp to pull himself up with. “Let’s go back inside.”
30 minutes later and Thundercracker’s little bodyguard was belting out karaoke tunes on stage. Soberly.
“‘Cause youuu don’t knowww—HEY!! GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!”
At the same time, Thundercracker felt yet another servo on him—what was it with mechs touching him so much tonight?
Skywarp was leaping off the stage and pushing past mechs to reach Thundercracker and—ah. Wheeljack, it was Wheeljack who had slung an arm over his shoulder.
“Thunders! I’ve been so worried about you! I was wonderin’ where ya went—did you pick up some sort of attack dog?” Wheeljack chuckled, gesturing at the purple seeker advancing upon them. Thundercracker waved frantically at Skywarp, trying to get him to back down.
“Get. Away. From. My. Friend.” Skywarp growled, fangs flashing and wings hiking up in a threatening display.
Friend? Thundercracker’s purple attack dog considered him a friend. That felt. . . good, really good. A burst of warmth curled around his spark, and he couldn’t hide the smile in his voice as he explained to Skywarp that no, he knew Wheeljack, please don’t kill him.
“Ohhhh,” Skywarp was saying, “My mistake.” and Thundercracker grinned dopily as they went back outside into the chilly air to make introductions and exchange comm. frequencies.
He received an incoming message from an unknown sender.
< heya! it’s skywarp :] >
Thundercracker sent a ping of acknowledgment in reply, labeled the new contact as “Bodyguard,” and Skywarp reached up to tap him on the nose.
“Hey, it’s getting late, I gotta get home—early training tomorrow. See ya later?”
“Yes! Yes. I’ll see you later,” Thundercracker assured him. Wheeljack nodded at Skywarp. “Get home safe, and let us know when you get back.” He leaned over to fake whisper in Skywarp’s audial, “He’s a worrier.” Thundercracker choked in indignation and swatted at Wheeljack, who dodged it with a laugh.
Skywarp gave them a crooked grin and a wave, “Sounds good. Night!”
As the smaller seeker strolled down the road, Thundercracker and Wheeljack’s optics met.
“So. . . new buddy? Told ya that ya needed to get out,” Wheeljack teased.
“Yeah, um, I’m happy,” Thundercracker replied, but the glowing feeling in his chest was suddenly replaced with something heavier once Skywarp had left. “Jackie. . . do you know what happened when you and I got separated in the bar?”
Wheeljack’s finials turned a desaturated blue and he wilted. “I should’ve kept a better eye on you—let’s start heading back and we can talk about it.” As they walked down the street towards the train station, Thundercracker recounted the experience.
“I’m. . . really sorry that happened, Thunders. Ratch and I were looking for you, but I think you were probably outside with Skywarp, ‘cuz we couldn’t find you anywhere. It might be a good idea to go out in a group of three next time, instead. That way if someone does get lost, they’ve got two mechs looking for them.”
As they boarded and sat down, Thundercracker heaved out a big vent of hot air and leaned his helm on the cool glass of the window. Lights whizzed by as the train sped towards their stop, and the seats gave a heavy rattle every time it passed over an uneven length of track.
“Yeah. . . I don’t—I don’t really want to go out again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have met someone new, but it just felt really. . . gross to have that mech try and coerce me into something. It was really hard for me to come out here tonight in the first place.”
Wheeljack sighed into his mask and nodded in acceptance.
“Okay. I get it.”
Thundercracker wasn't sure if Wheeljack really did.
As Thundercracker was trudging from the train stop to his apartment, he counted the individual lightbulbs on a row of string lights, clattering against a wall with each gust of wind. The craziness of the night was running laps in his processor, and the conflicting emotions made him feel strange. He wasn't sure what to make of it all. Just then, Thundercracker received a ping from “Bodyguard.”
< made it home!!! you make it back yet? >
< Almost there. Glad to hear that you’re home safe! >
< umm i think its actually *your >
He stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping.
< It’s “you’re”. As in, “Glad to hear that you are home safe!” >
< wtf. my life is a lie. >
Thundercracker shook his head and continued walking. This energetic mech was a fresh breath of air, silly, but perhaps a bit tiring. He seemed a bit immature, dumb, headstrong, and it was quite possible that Thundercracker had just found the change he needed in his life.
For the next few weeks, Thundercracker chatted back and forth with Skywarp whenever he had free time or when he got bored with his work.
This time, Skywarp was on a lunch break, but the trainees had been invited for a formal meal with members of the royal palace. Skywarp had excitedly informed him that there were rumors of Starscream attending, and Thundercracker had to talk him out of pulling a horrid prank on the poor mech.
A photo message popped up in Thundercracker’s inbox and took a break from his datapad to open it. Skywarp had sent him an image of his meal, a variety of gelled and candied flavored energon in dazzling colors, as well as a silver chalice of fine highgrade. Reflected in the smooth mirror of the chalice was a stretched version of Skywarp’s face, warped by the curved metal.
< Did you see the photo before you sent it? Look at your cup. >
< OMG. why would you do this to me >
< So. . . anything exciting happen so far? >
< nope......the food is good though. i got ditched by the rest of the trainees, so im just chilling by myself. im sooo bored >
< Sorry that you got ditched :( >
< its cool :] omg. screamer just showed up >
Accompanied with the message was a blurry photo of Starscream adorned with a crown, cape, rows of jewels hanging from his wings, and a frown. He appeared to be sitting at the end of a lengthy banquet table, fancy energon desserts piled in front of him.
< He looks mad. Tell me if you hear anything interesting! >
< im like a spy lol >
Thundercracker smiled at the message and returned to his work. He was seated at his neatly kept desk in a dim basement office of the university, shelves of datapads and neatly restored artifacts lining the walls. On his desk sat a steaming mug of energon, a pair of spectacles (his optics sometimes had trouble focusing properly when he read for too long), and the datapad that he was currently investigating. On his datapad were photos of metal sheets, engraved with an old Cybertronian legend that he was having to translate by hand. Although there were technological advancements that allowed for automatic translations, the university was seemingly having trouble getting their hands on modern datapads while the economy was still recovering.
So far, Thundercracker had worked out nearly the entirety of the story, but it seemed that the ending page was missing, lost to time.
The story began with the first two Cybertronians to be created; one emerged from the burning hydrogen depths of the Sun, and the other from the iron-rich core of the Moon. Two halves of a whole, a blazing spark and a protoform of sentio metallico. These two mechs, simply known as the Sun and the Moon, spent their days together exploring the far reaches of the universe, learning about themselves and the things around them—they created a language to communicate, they learned to transform, they fell in love. With this revelation, they sought out a planet overflowing with energon to settle down upon, to build a home and start a family. The Sun began to experience visions in their sleep, dreams of their Creator beckoning the Sun to seek them out. Compelled, the Sun did as they were told, leaving the Moon behind, never to return. Spurred by grief, the Moon built a telescope, looking to their solar system’s Sun day-by-day, seeking evidence that their beloved was still out there. After months, they finally saw it: a black spot moving rapidly across the face of the Sun. Within minutes it was gone, but the lonely Moon was determined to be reunited with their lover. They set off—
That was it, there was nothing left of the rest of the story, and the cliffhanger was tearing Thundercracker to shreds. He was a hopeless romantic and wanted to know if the Moon had found their other half, their beloved Sun. It would be a dream come true to have the completed version in the university’s collection; it was a creation story, and something that, if completed, could have major significance to Cybertron’s history.
Huffing, Thundercracker pushed the datapad to the side of his desk, and laid his helm to rest in his arms. When he returned home this evening, he could sit in his comfy armchair, put on his glasses, and read a steamy romance that would have him blushing. For now, he was trapped in this tiny basement office with little to entertain him.
< yo!!! i heard screamer whispering to someone about something… :eyes emoji: >
Thundercracker’s wings perked up and he responded quickly, excited to hear the juicy gossip.
< What did he say???? >
< ok basically, its not good.....i didnt hear much, but apparently hes worried about us, about the future of cybertron......you remember how we were starving and running out of energon, even though the autobots were rolling in it? apparently, they had a stash, but now that everyones back on cybertron and the population is growing. our energon supply is looking really bad >
Thundercracker thought back to his days serving under Megatron, how he would fall into recharge with his belly rumbling, how the seekers that he was supposed to command and protect had complained of being cold and hungry, their frames requiring an excessive amount of energon just to function. He had felt so helpless and guilty, but there was nothing he could do. His authority only ranged so far, and demanding energon when there was simply not enough would do no good.
< That’s. . . really bad. What are they planning to do? >
< not a clue >
< Hey, is there anything you can do to find out more about this? >
< mmm yeah, i have my ways >
Thundercracker did not like the sound of that, not one bit. Skywarp seemed to be a reckless mech, and he would likely get himself into trouble if he went through with “his ways.” But, what other option did he have?
< Okay. Just, be careful. >