Work Text:
"Greatest Gentlemech Of All Time"
By: DratchetIsMyJam
" Oop! Mech down! " Somemech announced with inebriated gusto prompting Whirl to cackle maniacally, the helibot thrusting his claws high above his helm in victory.
Thunderclash stirred his beverage distractedly, resting his square, bronze-hued chin upon the heel of his blocky, indigo hand. He had been nursing the same artfully-layered cube all evening. He never had been much of a drinker, despite being Amica Endura to the fabled "Party Ambulance" back in his days at the Academy. Ratchet had really been quite something back then... Thunderclash frequently found himself adopting the role of level helmed, responsible, "kill-joy" whenever the medic had an important exam the following cycle, slinging the ambulance's slack frame over his shoulder and carefully navigating the campus grounds until he had safely delivered his over-charged Amica Endura back to his hab.
Thunderclash sighed. He'd honestly only come down to Swerve's tonight in hopes of getting a chance to be able to speak with Rodimus, but it seemed that, despite his best efforts to strike up a conversation with the mech, Rodimus was avoiding him like the rust-plague. Ratchet had departed breems ago with Drift, leaving Thunderclash to quietly stew in his thoughts. There was just something about Rodimus... He was so charismatic and outgoing... More confident than anymech had a right to be... Optimistic to a fault with such magnetism Thunderclash was certain that the Captain had his own gravitational pull. He couldn't explain it, but wherever Rodimus was, that was where Thunderclash longed to be... He couldn't help it.
" Quick! " Whirl whispered drunkenly, hanging his frame over the bar counter to rummage around for something. " Swerve! Get me a paint-pen so I can draw a mustache on our comatose Captain before the 'Duly Appointed Buzz-kill' shows up! "
Captain? Thunderclash thought perking up slightly at the glyphs. Oh, no... It was Rodimus who'd passed out cold on the bar?
Before he could think better of it, Thunderclash found himself rising to his pedes and striding across the bar to where the crimson and gold speedster was slumped, snoring softly, his cheek resting upon the polished countertop.
"I'll see him safely back to his hab-suite." Thunderclash announced as Whirl uncapped a thick bristled, black, paint-pen only to narrow his yellow optic in a scowl as the big mech stooped down to carefully hoist the unconscious Captain into his arms, slinging his slack frame over his bulky, right shoulder with a smile. "Night, all."
Thunderclash could feel Whirl's sullen glare boring into the back of his helm as he carefully made his way through the few remaining patrons and finally out into the quiet corridor beyond, ex-venting a small sigh of relief when the notoriously unstable helibot didn't follow. He really wasn't in the mood for an altercation. He merely wanted to see the Captain safely to his hab.
Thunderclash slowly made his way along down the quiet hallways of the Lost Light. Admittedly C-Deck was quite a long distance from the Captain's quarters on the Officer's deck, but Thunderclash didn't mind. He'd admittedly carried Ratchet much further and up multiple , narrow flights of stairs, and he was far heavier than a speedster frame type. This was no trouble at all.
At least the Lost Light has ramps and lifts. Thunderclash thought, chuckling quietly to himself at the fond memory.
Just then, Rodimus mumbled something incoherent, stirring against Thunderclash's shoulder before falling silent once more. The speedster's frame was hot to the touch, his heat radiating through the thick armored plating of Thunderclash's shoulder as he slowly ascended a long, spiraling ramp, careful to keep his strides even and smooth so that he wouldn't jostle the Captain too much.
He's so warm... Thunderclash thought as he found himself subconsciously savoring the blissful heat of Rodimus' frame against his shoulder.
How many times had Thunderclash laid awake at night yearning to be able to work up the nerve to approach Rodimus? How many times had he confessed to Ratchet that he wanted to court their Captain? How long had he dreamt of holding Rodimus in his arms and calling him his own-
"Who's got their hand on my aft and why am I floating in the air ?" Rodimus croaked groggily as he came to. "Not that I'm complaining or anything unless it's-"
Rodimus cycled his bleary optics, realizing that his vocalizer had merely succeeded in mumbling incoherent, static-laced gibberish and not actual, fully formed glyphs. He belatedly noted his intoxication and fumbled to engage his FIM chip to purge the copious amount of charge from his systems. As he did, he took in his surroundings.
Brightly lit hallways... Moving hallways... His helm spun sickeningly. Why are the hallways moving? Burgundy plating, no, indigo. No, scratch that, white. No, teal. Somemech is carrying me? I'm being carried? By-
Rodimus's cerulean optics shot wide as he finally managed to engage his FIM chip and reality came crashing down around him.
BLUNDERCLASH?! Rodimus gasped, horrified as he struggled to right himself, pushing against Thunderclash's helm to get himself into a more dignified position.
"What in the actual frag?!" Rodimus exclaimed, startling Thunderclash into almost dropping him.
The big mech fumbled the shocked speedster for a moment before carefully setting him down onto his pronged pedes upon the polished floor.
" C-captain! " Thunderclash blurted, his bronze face heating as he offered Rodimus a somewhat embarrassed, grimace of a smile. "You're awake!"
"No scrap." Rodimus remarked, taking a step back from the multi-colored mammoth of a mech before him. "What in the pits is going on?"
"I-well..." Thunderclash began haltingly, fiddling with his own hands as he spoke. "You see-the thing is-as I understand it, you and Whirl were having a competition back at Swerve's... Who could take the most shots of nightmare fuel without-anyway... You-ahem-well you... How do I say this..."
" Lost ?" Rodimus prompted with an impatient roll of his wrist. "You don't say. And? Then what?"
"Well..." Thunderclash continued, face flushing hotter by the nano-klic. "I-erm-well-I Whirl was going to- never mind - I just thought that given your vulnerable state that you might appreciate being returned to your hab by somemech- ahem -responsible?"
Rodimus blinked as he slowly took in his current surroundings. This wasn't C-Deck. He was, in fact, currently standing directly outside of the doors to his office which led to his personal habsuite.
"You carried me here?" Rodimus asked, dumbly, expression perplexed by the development.
"Erm, yes?" Thunderclash replied with a small wince.
"Here. All the way from C-Deck ?" Rodimus clarified with a suspicious arch of his optic ridge.
"Yes." Thunderclash replied with a small nod before taking a respectful step back, allowing his Captian more space. Rodimus blinked at the big, colorful mech before him in absolute dumbfoundment.
" Why? " Rodimus demanded. Mechs usually have ulterior motives. No. Scratch that. They ALWAYS do.
"Because... I wanted to see you safely back..." Thunderclash answered honestly."That's all."
What? Rodimus thought, his expression suddenly morphing into something far more contrite.
"I- uh -yeah..." Rodimus managed finally, rubbing the back of his neck cabling awkwardly as he fumbled with the keypad beside his door, blindly imputing his access code. "Th-thanks for that then, Thunders. Or should I call you, 'The Greatest Gentlemech Of All Time' instead?"
"I wish you a pleasant evening, Captain." Thunderclash replied with a small chuckle, laying a hand over his spark as he offered the speedster a small incline of his helm. "A peaceful recharge to you, Goodnight."
"Y-yeah, you too." Rodimus sputtered awkwardly as he felt his faceplates flushing inexplicably with heat. "G'night!"
As soon as Rodimus' office doors slid open, the Captain whipped inside, swiftly engaging the locks and plastering his backplates up against the closed panels behind him. His chest was heaving as he gusted heavy ex-vents, his fuel pump racing, hammering in his audials as his spark whirled at a million revolutions a klic. He felt as if his helm was spinning. The floor was moving. Rodimus laid a single hand over his wildly fluttering spark in absolute confusion.
" Seriously?! " Rodimus admonished himself, shaking his helm in an attempt to rid himself of the sensations. " Blunders?! BLUNDERS?! You're simping over BLUND- "
"I'm sorry, did you say something, Captain?" Thunderclash called from the other side of the door, causing Rodimus' optics to shoot wide in horror.
SCRAP! He's STILL THERE ?! Rodimus thought, faceplates flushing furiously with heat as he cast his optics about his office in a blind panic.
" NOPE! " Rodimus outright lied, beating a hasty retreat into the privacy of his habsuite beyond. " NOTHING! GOODNIIIIIGHT! "
~~~
One vorn later...
"You did NOT !" Rodimus cackled, chucking a handful of enersours to pelt off of Thunderclash's polished, pearlescent chestplate, a holovid flickering in the background.
" I did. " Thunderclash murmured taking Rodimus' golden hands into his own to gaze into his love's optics with such adoration it stole the very air from Rodimus' vents. " It was in that moment that I knew, My Flame... "
"Knew what ?" Rodimus prompted, leaning closer so that he could trace his index finger over the teal thunderbird that adorned his Conjunx Endura's broad chestplate.
" That my spark belonged to you. " Thunderclash whispered softly, closing the distance between them so that their lips could meet in a slow, deep kiss. " And it always will... "
~~~END~~~