Chapter Text
In the first mega-cycles on the W.A.P he was so scared to anger one of his new teammates, to have powerful war machines yanking his weak and fragile K-class body to a wall and punching his opportunity of a new life out of him, that he practically never left his room or talked to anyone if not for refueling or help scavenging. He said the bare minimum. He was reserved. And most importantly he was trying to be the less noticeable, while at the same time useful, possible.
Someone needed him to repair an half destroyed data-pad? No problem. One of the engines of the ship was going on fire? He could solve it. The ship was literally a waste dump and was falling apart? - Primus! Did they fought a war here or the Scavengers simply didn’t know about the usefulness of a tidy and organized living space? – Well, it was another perfectly solvable boring problem.
It took him about four joors to clear up the common room; four joors in which he discovered they had a cyber-pong table, a strange and quite disturbing statue of a rat standing on his two anterior paws with white gloves and yellow shoes – how did that thing ended up here? Fulcrum couldn’t believe someone could like something like that-, and an infestation of cyber cockroaches.
If the statue didn’t make him scream, the third discovery surely did. It took him another two joors to free the room, and hopefully - even if during the war, and especially in his days in Styx prison, he had quickly learned that it was better not to hope at all, so that if something went wrong it would have hurt less than it would have if he had hoped – the whole ship from those insects.
Exhausted by all the work he had done, he collapsed -with all the grace a defunct bomb could have- on the now clean and junk-free couch, enjoying the silence and solitude of the W.A.P.
He in-vented deeply, sinking deeper and deeper in the couch, while the light rumble of the ship’s engines lulled him into lite recharge.
Being weaker than before the reformatting also meant getting worn out more easily apparently. Fulcrum thought that they could have used more durable materials for building K-class, however using a cheap and weak metal for something intended to have a brief existence and then explode made sense.
It making sense, although, didn’t erase the frustration and slight nervousness he got from getting weary every time he did something slightly more tiring than lifting an energon cube.
He made a whining stiff. Maybe it was better if Spinister gave a look at him- no, horrible idea, he didn’t need a gunshot wound in addition to his fatigue. Was it normal for him to feel so tired? It certainly didn’t feel normal. What if he was deteriorating or something?? No, he had to stay calm, it wasn’t possible.
But what if it was possible?? After all he was a K-classer, and K-classer weren’t supposed to survive. What if the material he was made off was of a so low quality that he was slowly falling apart?? What if he had survived death only to die in an even more awful way??
In-vent, ex-vent, in-vent, ex-vent. Do not panic Fulcrum. Do. Not. Panic. You’re ok. A little weary maybe, but perfectly fine.
Still, he started shacking slightly.
He took his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.
You’re not gonna die, you’re fine. Nobody ever died from tiredness- Well that’s not true, but the point is you’re not dying.
His whispered words were almost inaudible under the noise of his vents.
Trying to focus was becoming difficult with the world around him getting dizzy.
It was a fortune the others were still out scavenging, and not here where they could see how messed up he really was.
In-vent. Ex-vent. Be logical, it has actually sense that you got tired after moving and getting rid of that mess. You just need to recharge.
Vent.
I just need to vent.
The others are going to be back soon or later and I can’t let them find me like this. I’m fine. I’m just letting my anxiety take a hold on me.
He hugged himself a bit more, silently venting in and out, falling in a sleep-like state.
*
“Guess who’s back!”
Fulcrum jerked up from the couch, awoken from the enthusiastic voice. A little groggy from his recharge, he got up the second fuchsia wings crossed the door to the room.
“You’ll never believe what we fo- Oh Primus!” Misfire let go of whatever thing – probably other junk he’ll had to throw away, thought Fulcrum – he was holding making a terrible noise that made the technician shiver, “We have a cyber-pong table! I had completely forgot about it!” and rushed to it, forgetting about the mess he had just done.
Fulcrum sighed. He didn’t know if he should have been surprised or not by the fact that the seeker had totally ignored the whole room being a habitable place now, to instead completely focus on a piece of furniture.
It took him two astroseconds to decide there was nothing to be surprised about, it was Misfire after all. He gave a last look at the jet still enthralled by the new discovery, and then moved his attention to the mess on the floor, kneeling to see if the jet had found something useful.
Junk, some bolts and metal that he could use to repair the ship, other junk, a data pad with the screen cracked on the right inferior corner – this was interesting. Fulcrum picked it up, pressing the accension bottom and making a surprised gasp when the pad actually onlined. Scrolling through the files his surprise arose even more.
“You- ehm - you don’t pass as someone interested in literature”
Misfire paused playing and looked at him. “’Cause I’m not, what are you talkin-“ a flash of realization crossed his eyes. “Oh Primus I almost forgot about it!” he almost screamed slamming his hands to the table, the abrupt move made Fulcrum flinch and jump up from where he stood.
In less than an astrosecond the seeker was near him, all excited for Primus knows what reason, embracing him with one harm. It made Fulcrum freeze on the spot. Maybe it was because of his period in stasis, maybe it was for what happened on Styz, or maybe was just the simple fact that Misfire was a war machine perfectly able to crush Fulcrum if he just wanted to, maybe it was because of all of these things and more, but the technician felt the panic from before building up again. The jet didn’t notice it as he started talking.
“I noticed you’re kinda quiet and slippery when it comes to interacting with others, also you’re probably still getting used to the life here on the W.A.P.,”
Fulcrum felt the grip on his shoulder tightening, and that unease feeling growing. Misfire’s words slipping on him like rain drops.
“- which I totally understand, some of us can be totally overwhelming sometimes and the ship… well you can see it with your optics that it’s not in its best shape –“
It started feeling like there was no hair to breath, which didn’t make much sense as in fact he didn’t need to breath. It was making paying attention to what Misfire was saying harder.
“-what I was saying? Ah, yes, the data pad. I found it and thought you may would have liked it, you know you have the face of someone who enjoys this type of things – don’t know why, could it be the chin? Yeah, it’s probably the chin- I like it by the way, it fits nice on you -”
Fulcrum was sure he’s plating was getting hotter, but it wasn’t possible – was it? – ‘cause he didn’t have an engine anymore. What if his spark was overheating??
“ – back to the data-pad; I found it and thought it could be a nice ‘Welcome in the gang’ gift and also a way to-“
Misfire gave a better look at Fulcrum, “Are you feeling alright?”, he asked with a bit of worry in his voice, laying his free servo on the K-class’ chassis. Fulcrum slowly glanced at the servo, but said nothing, so the seeker stated “You’re hot”.
They exchanged a quick silent awkward look.
“No wait, I meant you’re hotter than usual- auugh, wrong phrase formulation, again, sorry! I-”
“It’s fine. I’m fine”, Fulcrum snapped as he pushed the jet’s hand away, freeing himself from him. “But your plating is…” said Misfire trying to reach him, but stopping the moment the technician flinched away with panic in his eyes.
“I-I’m fine, just- just don’t touch me without before telling me”, Frulcrum said between gasp while trying to calm down. Maybe he needed to be visited, it felt like he was going to explo- nonono, do not think about it Fulcrum, you’re not going to ‘boom boom’ or anything.
“Oh, okay. I didn’t mean t-“
“I really, really, have to go now. Have fun, ehm, with the cyber-pong. Okay, bye”.
Fulcrum practically threw himself out of the room, running the most fast he could towards his quarters.
Misfire remained still for a good breem, contemplating what had just happened. He looked down at the data-pad and took it. “You forgot your gift” he mumbled to the empty room. Maybe he should have gone to search Fulcrum, but if the distressed look in his eyes was indicating something, it was better to leave him some space. He would have talked to him later.
“Shouldn’t you be in the deposit?”
The seeker jolted, completely took by surprise, as Krok entered the room with his eyes locked on his data-pad. “It’s your tourn to organize the material we scavenged, do not think you can avoid it or let someone else do your work- Cranckase will not let us hear the end of it.”
“Uh- I was, ehm, I was just going to do it!” tried Misfire, failing at sounding convincing, the fact that he started fidgeting with his hands wasn’t making him more credible.
Krok looked up from the data-pad to glance at him, “Misfire you sound s-“, wait, was he imagining it or the common room looked like an actual, completely normal, room now? The officer let a “Wow” slip from his lips.
Misfire, happy to have momentarily dodged his chores, exclaimed joyfully “Yeah, I know, we have a cyber-pong table! Isn’t it awesome?”
Krok eyed the jet with the look he always used when Misfire didn’t pay attention or forgot about something important. “The ‘wow’ was for the room, Misfire. The room that has been full of towers and towers of who knows what since we occupied this ship”. The jet looked at him with a blank stare, “What-“ than he observed the room again, paying attention this time, “Oh, didn’t noticed it. Fulcrum must have worked on it while we were out”.
“Well, he did a great job,” Krok stated with content, “he’s been on the ship for what, a deca-cycle? And he already did a lot. We really were in need of a technician, eh?” and started moving around, taking note of the new space Fulcrum had made.
“Yeah,” Misfire agreed with a soft smile, that didn’t go unnoticed by the other bot, “he’s really nice.”
The room filled with silence. It was actually good thought Krok, it was rare to have a quiet moment, especially when in company of Misfire- talking about Misfire, he turned to the suspiciously quite jet. “Misfire,” he started, noticing how the seeker stiffened in place, “do you need to tell me something?”. The jet’s wings flicked in agitation as a nervous laugh escaped his intake “Noo, why would you even think it? I absolutely have nothing to say” he sputtered his words, completely betrayed by the smile he always made when he was caught up stealing someone else snacks.
“First thing first,” the officer began, now leaned on the wall with arms crossed, “you’re uncharacteristically quiet today”, giving the jet a hard look before he could counter, then continued. “Second you aren’t one who usually reads”, and pointed at the data-pad in Misfire servo. “It’s…a new passion I recently discovered” the jet lied, receiving a sarcastic ‘uh uh’ by the other. “Curious that this ‘new passion’ has bloomed as soon as a certain K-classer has put ped on the ship, someone might think there’s a connection” implied Krok.
Misfire moved his body weight from one leg to the other, feeling at unease under Krok’s scrutinizing gaze. He cleared his voice, but when he attempted to speak nothing left his intake and he earned a heavy sigh by the bot in front of him.
“Third, Fulcrum left the room in a rush.” That final statement made the jet’s optics look away from his.
Krok sighed again. “Misfire, Fulcrum is new to the crew, he’s still adapting and most importantly he’s been in stasis for who knows how long, not to forget our little encounter with the DJD.”
I know, I was there too when that happened!
“Let him have some space, he still needs to metabolize what happened; he’s already timid, do not scare him even more by-”
Scarring? “But I haven’t scared him!” Misfire whined. Krok gave him a stern look, “Him dashing out of the room says otherwise”
“I…I didn’t intend to, I was just trying to socialize with him!” What was wrong in trying to befriend the new member?
The officer shook his head, massaging his forhelm with his servo, “Misfire you should have understood by now that your way to interact with others tends to be overwhelming”
“I know that sometimes I tend to be hyperactive, but-“
“Sometimes? – he tried to not groan, why had he got himself in this situation? – Misfire, you’re always too much hyperactive!” Krok ended up almost shouting.
Too much. Misfire could do nothing, but feel a sting in his chest at those two words. He was always too much, always a nuisance to the others.
“Anyway,” Krok started, looking at him before walking towards the door, “I’m saying you have to go slow with him, ok?”. Misfire silently nodded, locking his eyes on his pedes. “Do not be impulsive or do whatever thing that might scare him.” He nodded again.
“Oh, and Misfire”
The jet looked at him a bit embittered.
“Go reorganize the deposit. Now” And with that Krok left the room, leaving Misfire alone again.