Work Text:
Wheeljack mumbled quietly to himself as he wandered down the corridors of the Ark. He was staring intently at the datapad in his servo, trying to sift through the various lists of components he would need for his next project. This one was to be a surprise for one of his fellow Autobots. Many of his projects were meant to be used by all, or at least further the Autobot cause. Occasionally though, he liked to make things for his friends. Sometimes the bot in question wasn't a very close friend, but someone that had a need that just had to be filled. This was such a case. So Wheeljack continued on, oblivious to his surroundings for a few moments. That is to say he was oblivious until he reached his destination. Glancing up from the datapad he found the door he was looking for and entered the key code he needed to get in. Technically what he was doing would be considered an invasion of privacy, but it was for a good cause. It had taken a considerable amount of valuable time to get the door code from Red Alert in the first place. While his explanations pointed out that he would not misuse the code, it still took a lot of convincing as Red Alert himself could be called forward on charges if anything should go wrong.
Wheeljack smiled as the door slid open. He was so glad that he had talents he could barter with. When words and explanations failed to garner him what he desired, he settled for a trade of services. Being an engineer and a mech of science meant that he had considerable talents to draw from, and on the rare occasions that engineering and science failed to be useful he had numerous other talents that were apparently in high demand if Red Alert was anything to go by.
Looking around the engineer was a little surprised at the state of the room. He wasn't sure what he expected from his fellow Autobot, but it wasn't this. The expectations had leaned more toward messy than clean, and this went well beyond clean. The organization in this room was astonishing, bordering on obsessive in some areas. Wheeljack knew he would have to be careful. If the room had been in disarray it would have been easy for him to hide his tracks, but in a room this clean, well he wasn't so sure anymore that he could get away with this unnoticed.
After a few quick glances around the scientist was becoming worried that he would not find what he needed, until he spied a smaller door. Moving over to investigate it turned out to be a small storage closet. The closet was mostly empty, but had exactly what he was looking for. Wheeljack smiled as he saw the weapons lying there, these were older models usually discarded for recycling after they ceased to be useful. The engineer chuckled quietly to himself. /...Oh Ironhide... you couldn't let these be recycled though could you... you and your love of guns.../ Carefully Wheeljack picked up one of the weapons and turned it over in his hands. He had not known Ironhide as long as some of the others, so he had never seen these up close. These were the cannons that Ironhide used to have mounted to his arms at the beginning of the war, they were the weapons he had started with. As time when on, they became obsolete and their size prevented him from transforming properly.
Wheeljack knew the story behind the decommission of the gunner's favorite cannons. The battle had been one sided from the beginning, the Autobots simply could not hold. Ironhide had taken considerable amounts of damage during the retreat as he was the last to transform and the last to leave the area. Apparently the amount of time it took his cannons to cool down enough to be folded and compacted into his form, were just seconds they could no longer afford. So with some struggling and convincing from Prime, Ironhide switched to handguns like everyone else, though he spoke often of his cannons.
So it came to be from one of the many re-tellings of an early war story that Wheeljack got the bright idea to re-purpose the old weapons into something Ironhide could use again. Something that could make the soldier far more deadly on the battlefield than he already was. Plus anything that gave Ironhide more fire power had to be a good thing, or at least Wheeljack hoped so. He did worry that by modifying these weapons he might upset Ironhide. He did not know for sure that the gunner had kept them until he saw them here. It is possible that for sentimental reasons that this could upset his friend. Still it could not hurt to look at them and use them as a jumping off point, even if he chose not to re-purpose the weapons himself. /...I wonder if I should have just asked.. I want it to be a surprise... but... not at the risk of destroying something he loves.../
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Wheeljack was a bit too lost in thought to realize that he had lingered too long in Ironhide's personal quarters, of course he realized it once he heard the door being keyed open. Instead of just explaining why he was there, he crammed himself into the storage closet as tightly as he could, still clinging to the arm canon. Unfortunately the door did not close completely, so he had a small view of the room itself, and of the occupant. Luckily for Wheeljack, his presence seemed to go unnoticed at least for the moment. Ironhide seemed busy with putting a few items away and reorganizing a few that were there. It struck Wheeljack as odd that Ironhide was so neat, considering how messy he was on the battlefield and everywhere else. The cleanliness and organization of these quarters are more along the lines of what you would expect from Prowl. /... now I wonder what Prowl's quarters look like... I wonder what I would have to do for Red to get THAT key code.../
The resident engineer hoped that Ironhide would depart quickly. The storage closet was small and cramped, he also was developing kinks in some of his cabling from the awkward position he had managed to somehow fold himself into. For a moment, Wheeljack panicked, the thought of having to call for help to extricate himself from this predicament made his energon lines run cold. This was something he really did not want to have to explain, he wasn't even really sure he could. Well, he obviously could explain the situation, it was more the reasoning behind it that would be difficult. It was not like he had been in enemy territory. There really was no reason to go diving into the small enclosure like a criminal. Still he had been startled and it was the first thing he thought of.
His thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like humming. /...t... thats.. odd.../ craining his neck to see out of the closet a bit better, he tuned his audios to be sure he heard what he thought he was hearing. /... huh.../ Of all the mechs to be humming to themselves, especially that particular tune, well it just was not something he would have ever expected from Ironhide. Still it was kind of interesting, a side of the warrior he had never really expected. Of course that thought made Wheeljack suddenly quite uncomfortable. /...I... I am seeing things I shouldn't.. this is private.. I shouldn't be here.../ Guilt began to wash through him as he realized the consequences of his chosen actions, he only hoped it did not get worse.
Of course when you hope for things to not get worse, that is really your signal to the universe at large that not only should they get worse, but considerable so and as quickly as possible. As if the humming wasn't bad enough, what the engineer was currently witnessing certainly was. He wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing, but it appeared that Ironhide was posing in front of a mirror, or some other viewing surface, most likely a mirror since it didn't appear that a com or video link had been engaged. A smile crossed Wheeljack’s face under his mask as he watched the normally surly gunner smiling at himself as he made various poses, none of which their human companions would consider "manly". There was something intimate, almost sexual, in some of the poses Ironhide got himself into. Wheeljack was impressed by the flexibility that the sturdy warrior possessed. However, that same feeling of guilt came back. It was bad enough that he was crammed in a closet, but he was essentially spying on a friend. Oh he wasn't close with Ironhide, no one could say they were best buddies. But Ironhide was someone Wheeljack respected, if for no other reason than the fact that he never gave up. No matter what the situation, Ironhide never backed down.
/...This.. is so wrong.../ Thankfully the posing had stopped, but the humming continued. Wheeljack wondered if he would ever be able to hear that saucy little tune again and not think of this moment. Not that music was something he played often during intimate activities, well not as often as Jazz. It didn't change that he still enjoyed music during those times. /...note to self... remove this tune from line up.../ Since the posing had stopped Wheeljack hoped that Ironhide would be leaving soon, it was getting terribly uncomfortable for him crammed into the storage closet like this. It took everything he had not to make any noise and keep his side panels from lighting up.
Of course, the power of worse really had it in for Wheeljack this evening and simply could not let the situation be. Instead of leaving, the engineer watched as Ironhide reached into a cabinet and pulled out a polish cloth and some rather nice polish, at least from what he could tell from the angle he was at. The highly explosive-prone scientist had to bite back a groan as Ironhide did not leave with the items, but instead settled himself in a chair near the storage closet. /...by the Unmaker.. which of our deities did I frag off this time?/ Wheeljack wondered, as of course being the logical being that he was fragging off a deity was the only reason something like this could possibly occur in the first place. It was bad enough that he was trapped in a storage closet bent at unnatural angles, now he was essentially forced to watch a very private moment of someone he respected. There was really only one way for this to get worse. /....don't... don't even think it... if you don't think about it... it won’t happen... do not tempt the universe!/
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Luckily for Wheeljack he wasn't going to have to see Ironhide servicing himself, at least not at this point. For now it looked as though Ironhide was simply going to polish himself a bit. /..this shouldn't take long, Ironhide never seems to polish himself all that often, unlike the twins.../ Of course Wheeljack could not be prepared for what was to come. He expected a quick polish job, maybe a small touch up. However, what the poor cramped engineer got was a very thorough polishing session all done to saucy tunes. Somehow, against all possibilities that Wheeljack could come up with, Ironhide managed to run through just about every sexy song Wheeljack knew, all while polishing himself. If the oddly explosive-prone engineer could shake his head in wonder, he would. Of course the torture did not stop with the polishing. No, Wheeljack then watched as Ironhide preened in front of the mirror again, enjoying his newly polished form. Somewhere inside Wheeljack had to admit that he couldn't complain about the view, Ironhide cleaned up rather well.
Of course he wasn't supposed to be thinking about that right now. He should have been praying to Primus, or some other deity to help him out of this situation, but the normally logical inventor had convinced himself that he had somehow managed to anger them far more than he ever had angered Ratchet. It really was the only explanation for the situation he found himself in. Under normal circumstances he should not have been trapped in a storage closet for this amount of time, but somewhere out there was an individual that must take pleasure in the suffering of others, a puppet master of sorts that lead him into this situation and now would not let him out. He was sure that wherever they were they must be laughing. /...probably cackling with glee.. kind of like Starscream... only... not so much.../ Of course Wheeljack realized the he had to have been in this little closet far too long for his own health if his mind was going to weird places like that. /...Fluids must be backing up... bent wires... processor... just can't handle the strain..../ The inventor wondered if this situation would cause him to develop an irrational fear of tight spaces. /... I certainly hope not.../ He thought as he realized it would dampen other aspects of his life if that were to happen.
Without even realizing he had done so, Wheeljack had shut off his optical input while he had been lost in thought and self-pity. Thinking, perhaps his subconscious was at least trying to give Ironhide some privacy. In reality he knew it was Ironhide that should be upset, not himself. It was Ironhide whose privacy was being infringed upon. Yet, Wheeljack could not help but smile just a bit at how...not grumpy... Ironhide was being. The smile was genuine, the warrior's optics bright as he watched himself in the mirror posing this way and that. In a small way, Wheeljack was enjoying the show and it just made him feel more guilty. He had his own private rituals he wouldn't want others to see. He was sure everyone had them, and here he was infringing on those of one of his fellow Autobots.
A small frown replaced the smile that Wheeljack had, he didn't like how all this was making him feel. Watching a private moment, something he was sure Ironhide never shared. It had to be something that maybe no one had seen, as he honestly could not remember ever seeing Ironhide look quite so polished in public. /...Maybe I just miss it... I do spend a lot of time in the labs... perhaps everyone sees him this way.../ That did not appear to be the case as the mood in the room suddenly shifted. Wheeljack watched as the gunner's smile turned to a small frown, a bit of a sigh leaving him as he turned from the mirror. Slowly the cloth moved over the soldiers red form, ruining the shiny polish that was recently so carefully applied. Wheeljack's frown deepened as she saw the look on Ironhide's face, not nearly as cheerful and care free anymore.
This time when Ironhide turned to the mirror, it was clear the only reason was to check for missed spots. It made Wheeljack wonder, why he would go to such trouble if he was only going to ruin it anyway. It made him think heavily about his friend, and some of their other friends. Was this something that the warrior could only do in private? Wheeljack found that thought strange, but then, maybe not. He himself had a reputation, not that it was one he ever intended to cultivate nor was it something he wanted to maintain. But Ironhide had a reputation as well, and being shiny and smiling simply wasn't part of it. The inventor watched as Ironhide put away the polish and the cloth, leaving his room with a small sigh. The humming had stopped.
It took several moments for Wheeljack to convince himself that it was ok to move. Of course once he had his processor convinced of that, he had to convince the rest of himself as well. It took far longer than he would have liked to extricate himself from the predicament he had so foolishly allowed himself to get into in the first place. Once out of the storage closet, it took a bit longer for him to manage to get himself into somewhat of a standing position, though still quite hunched. The inventor knew he might end up needing a trip to medbay to sort his cables out. Perhaps he could convince First Aid to meet him in the labs, explain he spent too much time hunched over a table. Or maybe one of his fellow scientists would take pity on him and help him unkink some of his cables.
After a moment of debate Wheeljack decided to finish his mission. He grabbed the cannons he had come here for and stowed them in his subspace, closing the storage closet quietly and sneaking out of Ironhide's quarters. He made a quick trip to Red in the security office to inform him that the mission went smoothly, though this was a partial truth at best, and then continued on his way to the labs. If anyone that passed him in the corridors of the Ark thought he was moving strangely, they did not bother to inform him.
Arriving at his personal lab Wheeljack shuffled in with a small groan and plopped down at his favorite workbench. Setting the cannons on the tabletop he relaxed in his favorite chair. Now that he was somewhere private, quiet, and alone, he could let his emotions out. His side panels flashed brightly as several conflicting emotions coursed through him. He felt guilty for invading Ironhide's privacy, yet he had enjoyed what he saw. It still made his tanks churn at the thought though. If he put himself in the same situation, he would not want someone watching his private intimate moments. It also opened up other questions he never thought about, questions about Ironhide in particular. Was the mech happy? Was there a reason for this ritual? Did he really feel he had to keep this side of him private? Were they all really so bad about accepting bots just as they were? All of these questions and many more flooded through the inventors processor. Each question more confusing and more depressing than the last.
Wheeljack sat like this for a long time, lost in thought and guilt, his facial panels going dark to match his mood. He wasn't so sure about his project anymore, but he was sure about one thing. He needed to see Ironhide smile that way again, only this time, he wanted that smile directed at himself.
-End-