Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Safe mode, in computing, is a specific boot mode that disables all but the most basic functions. This makes major system errors easier to identify and correct.

Skywarp was the first one to online.

He was confused at what he saw, at the loss of half his senses, at the narrowing of all the wavelengths he still could access. The pounding in his processor explained a little of it; Megatron's latest superweapon apparently had some sort of kickback. He didn't remember anything after the light, but he must have hit his head. Beyond that, he didn't know what else had been hit -he couldn't feel two-thirds of his body and his diagnostics were entirely shot. Giving himself a moment to regain his bearings didn't work beyond allowing him to realize he was face-down in the Chinese dirt. He pushed himself up, and that felt strangely off-balance, like there wasn't enough weight on his back.

Whatever hit him must have taken both his wings. Skywarp cursed and looked around for them; he wasn't losing another pair to trophy-hunting Autobots. They were nowhere to be seen. The Autobots were nowhere to be seen. Nobody was anywhere. Even the frame that had held Megatron's latest science experiment was gone.

Skywarp was alone.

Mindful of his training, he picked a direction and walked in a straight line. Or at least as straight a line as he could manage with his gyros going haywire. He walked by something that could have been an oversized meatbag, and six paces beyond that another one. There were no other landmarks save a crater that could have swallowed him, with five more giant fleshlings in a heap at the bottom. Their position tickled something in the back of his mind, but he told himself that his processor was clearly damaged and he couldn't spare the cycles to see how closely those bodies were laid out like a fallen gestalt.

A metal girder, impossibly tall for Earth at chest height, blocked Skywarp's path. He didn't trust his wonky balance to try to climb it. Instead, he turned right and picked his way along the churned mud of a battlefield. He very carefully didn't think about self-assessment or teleporting or where everyone else was. He didn't think about anything until he lost his precarious balance and grabbed at the girder to keep from eating mud again.

Instead of the clang of metal on metal, the sound was more akin to a tiny bag of wet concrete as his skin and meat and bone hand connected with the support for the mystery device over the Decepticon symbol.

Skywarp hadn't survived millions of years of war by thinking too hard. With the new information about the location of the superweapon, and his own shift in size, he could get his bearings enough to find where Megatron would lay. There was a subroutine screaming in the back of his processor, but he didn't waste time trying to shut it down. He had lots of practice not paying attention to that particular subroutine, especially when he was going to be shot at any second.

There was a human body lying where Megatron had stood. Skywarp poked it with his foot.

"Who..." the human said. It sounded like Megatron, or how Megatron would sound over tightbeam. "Skywarp. Of course."

Skywarp stood at attention and waited for orders while his leader regarded the field.

"Wake the others," Megatron told him.

Skywarp went back to where he had woken. He and his wingmates had been standing on the ground in case of a shock wave, so Starscream would be...this one?

"Ow. Fuck."

No, that was Thundercracker.

Starscream didn't say anything when Skywarp kicked him awake, just stood up gingerly and turned in a slow circle, taking everything in. More of the Decepticons-turned-human were waking up and waking their fellows in turn. The gestalt team Skywarp had passed earlier was pulling itself out of the crater. The Stunticons, or possibly Soundwave and his cassettes were sitting on the ground by Megatron's feet.

Someone was screaming. Skywarp didn't try to figure out who.

"Why," Starscream started, staring at his hands. He squeezed them into fists a few times. "What is the point?" he asked Skywarp.

"Doesn't how matter more?" Thundercracker asked. His wingmates sounded like themselves, still. Not all of the Decepticon voices across the field were so easily matched to names.

"Science could do this," Starscream said. "Skywarp. Which one is Megatron?"

Skywarp pointed dumbly at their leader, and wondered why his voice didn't work.

"Exhale to talk," Starscream told him. "Can your poor overtaxed processor handle two things at once?"

"Yes," Skywarp whispered. Sniping back at Starscream was nearly hard-coded into him, and calling that function unlocked a dizzying array of other basic programs; talking, swallowing, accessing gauges; things Skywarp didn't have words for, things Skywarp didn't have a concept of.

"Hmph," Starscream crossed his arms. "How about walking and talking at the same time. Can you handle that?"

Skywarp didn't think he could just yet, but that was because of his gyros, not his ability to multi-task. Skywarp was awesome at multi-tasking. Just usually he was calculating warp vectors and not shooting Starscream. Not shooting Starscream could take as much as half his mind at once. "Leave me alone, Starscream," he whined. "I got hit in the head."

"Like there's anything in there to damage," Starscream snorted. "Thundercracker? Status?"

"Watching Megatron...I think he's going to hit someone with a rock."

Megatron was standing over someone, probably Prime, armed with a stone the size of his fist. He dropped it on the head of the prone man at his feet.

All he managed to do was anger who turned out to be Ironhide.

Ironhide launched himself with a yell at Megatron. The Autobots began to stir and rise. Some of the Decepticons, Skywarp couldn't tell who, had the presence of mind to join the brawl. Some of the Autobots had the same idea.

"How is this my life?" Starscream asked the ground. Half the people on the field were just watching the battle, dull surprise on their soft faces. Among the participants, maybe one in three had any sort of control over his new form. As Skywarp watched, somebody with black hair tried to punch someone with red hair, missed, and fell on his face.

"Should we be helping?" Thundercracker asked, making no move toward the pile of humanity.

Starscream rolled his eyes at him. "Sure. You tell me who's a target and who's on our side." He watched the battle for a few more minutes, then looked at Skywarp. "You're banking," he said. "How can you bank on the ground?"

"I am immensely talented," Skywarp said. The screaming in the back of his processor was getting harder to ignore without something to do.

"You are immensely something. I can't watch this anymore; it's just painful." Starscream turned away from the sad excuse for a battle. "Let's go pick out a rendez-vous." Skywarp fell into line behind him, and Thundercracker brought up the rear.

"Are you good to walk?" his wingmate asked him quietly. Skywarp nodded, even though he was now yawing along with banking. Walking had never been so difficult in his life, but it was a welcome distraction from how he didn't have a choice.

Starscream lead them to dry, grass-covered ground under some trees. He had picked up a few more Decepticons on the way, and they sat down with varying success. Starscream himself dropped down like he had been in that body his whole life.

"How are you so good at this?" Thundercracker grumbled at him, lowering himself with far less grace.

"The question is, why aren't you?" Starscream pulled on Skywarp's hand. "Let me see your head. Is it leaking?"

Skywarp sat in front of Starscream and let his wingleader poke at his head. Thundercracker patted his shoulder awkwardly. His hand was warm and faintly sticky. Skywarp tried to tell himself that it was good enough, that this was close enough to normal. He tried to shut down some of the running processes, but couldn't find the controls. Distantly, he heard Megatron call a retreat.

"How did you manage to dent your head out?" Starscream demanded. "You've been like this for what, ten kliks, and you've already broken yourself."

"I don't think it's a hardware problem," Thundercracker said. "Look at everyone else."

Megatron called roll as the rest of the Decepticons staggered into the clearing in twos and threes. The curvy one at his feet with all the short ones surrounding him turned out to be a silent Soundwave and his cassettes. The Combaticons, the only gestalt upright, stood at awkward parade rest behind Starscream. Motormaster and Drag Strip were physically restraining the other three Stunticons. The Constructicons were having a collective breakdown but all six were there. Astrotrain and Blitzwing were the only ones as steady on their feet as Starscream and Megatron himself. Reflector, oddly enough, was only one man.

"The Insecticons were in Africa," Thundercracker muttered to Starscream. "What do you think happened to them?"

The Coneheads were the last to find their way to the rendez-vous. Ramjet opened his mouth to make his excuses but at a look from Megatron changed his mind.

"Well," Starscream broke the silence. "A rousing success. Surely this is all according to your master plan."

"Not now, Starscream," Megatron growled. Skywarp was very aware that he was currently in between the two of them.

Starscream stood up and tilted his head. "Really, oh Glorious Leader? You mean to say this wasn't what you intended to happen when you fired an untested weapon? How...unfortunate."

"I still have a rock."

"Yes, the rock you almost took down a single Autobot with. But you failed. Again. When I lead the Decepticons, such mistakes will not happen!"

Megatron threw the rock at Starscream, who went down squealing. "Shut up, or I'll rip out your vocalizer!"

And that was very nearly normal, so the Decepticons picked themselves up and moved out.

This wasn't the worst thing to happen to Skyfire in his long life, but it was close.

Once the Decepticons had retreated from the field and everyone had sorted themselves out, they had returned to the village where their human friends had been waiting for them. Protection from the elements was the first order of business, followed by calling for an extraction. The few Autobots left behind at the Ark had found themselves similarly...inconvenienced, and it had taken a week for those in charge to scramble together a cover story and enough money for plane tickets. Skyfire wasn't sure about the politics involved, but the Autobots had never needed cash before.

The initial shock had taken about three days to wear off. Cybertronians, by and large, were used to adjusting to new forms, and it didn't hurt that Optimus Prime had reassured them all, collectively and individually. Perceptor was already working on a reverse-transmogrifier sketched on the proverbial napkin.

As a scientist, Skyfire knew that Perceptor's machine was at this stage worse than useless. They didn't know what had caused this, by what mechanism, through what process. All they knew was that according to the Constructicons it was the "product of superior Decepticon science," which was a hint only slightly bigger than "not magic." But the machine lent hope to the other Autobots, so Perceptor worked on it all week, starting from first principles to try to figure out what had happened beyond "the big gun made a bigger flash and we woke up transformed." It would be easier once they were back at the Ark with access to all their labs and equipment.

They were heading back there now, everybody fitting on a single plane. From Skyfire's seat in the very last row, he could see everybody, but recognize only a handful. Fully half the Autobots now inhabited female bodies. Anyone who was mainly black or white or yellow had kept their original coloring, including Skyfire himself; everyone else had become a single shade of pink or brown. Hair had the most variation -Skyfire was charting it out to see if there was any sort of logic behind it. Relative size had stayed the closest: the tallest were still the tallest and the thickest were still the thickest, but Slingshot was a scant two heads shorter than Skyfire now, and he could almost share clothes with Silverbolt.

Skyfire had spent most of the last week with the Aerialbots. The five fliers had suffered the greatest shock, losing not only their natural forms but their gestalt-link and their wings in one fell swoop. They had also recovered the fastest. He had intended to surround himself with them, to distract himself from his own loss of flight. But by the time he had found them, Silverbolt had appointed Skydive in charge of discovering the full range of motion of the human body, nominated Air Raid and Slingshot to a committee investigating the properties of food as enjoyment as well as a fuel source, and assigned Fireflight to discovering any new senses or abilities, especially those that could offset something lost. In retrospect, Skyfire should have known. The Aerialbots had been fighting, and fighting the elite of the Decepticon army, since literally the day they came online. Was it any surprise they were terrifyingly good at adapting to new situations? He said as much to Silverbolt, who thanked him for the compliment and asked Skyfire if he would mind helping him pick out what would be important to the science team.

On the plane, the Aerialbots had claimed the very last seats for themselves and the Protectobots. Slingshot and Blades were arm-wrestling. Silverbolt and Hot Spot had their heads together over a notepad. The other six had pushed up all the armrests on the middle row of seats and were sleeping in a pile. Ratchet, Wheeljack, and the Dinobots were the next closest Autobots, three rows up, giving them the illusion of privacy. The idea had been to continue to give the gestalt teams space to adjust to being fully separated individuals, but Silverbolt had invited Skyfire back there. "This is your first time flying in something, isn't it?" he had asked.

Skyfire had politely declined the invitation when they boarded, but after the disaster of takeoff retreated to the back as soon as he was able. The other Autobots meant well, he knew, but he just didn't have it in him to reassure a new mech every five minutes that he was fine. At least behind the Dinobots he only had to convince First Aid he wasn't sick, and the young medic vouched for him to everyone else.

Starscream probably did not have that particular problem right now.

His thoughts turned, like they usually did when he was alone with them too long, to his former partner. It bothered him that he didn't know if Starscream would be disgusted or angry or scared. Before The Ice, he would have guessed that Starscream would have been excited at the data he could collect, until the first time he discovered an unpleasant sensation. Then he would demand of Skyfire to fix it or at least join him in his suffering. If Skyfire refused, Starscream would go off and sulk until Skyfire found some irresistible new artifact or life-form to show him. (Since this was Skyfire's fantasy, Starscream wouldn't simply restate his demands with increasing volume and offensive language until Skyfire gave in.) Now, Skyfire could only hazard that Starscream probably wasn't very happy he was without means to fight or fly.

"Starscream will be okay," Fireflight said softly next to Skyfire's audial in his new, female voice.

"Where did you come from, Fireflight?" Skyfire asked once he could breathe again.

Fireflight sat down next to Skyfire. "Over there," he said. "Didn't you hear me?"

"No," Skyfire said. "I was lost in thought."

"About Starscream, right?" Fireflight asked with far too much glee.

"Yes," Skyfire admitted. The Aerialbots were the only ones on the Ark who seemed willing to consider that the explorer Skyfire had known was very different from the Air Commander of today. Skyfire would have thought that a lifetime of being shot at would have lessened their admiration of the Seekers, but if anything the opposite had happened. "How did you know?"

"I just looked at your face, and I knew."

"Humans can read minds like Soundwave?"

"No," Fireflight shook his head. Some of his hair came loose from behind his ear and he tucked it back, irritated. "But nobody can control their faces now, and yours was all worried out the window. He'll be okay. I've seen him much worse."

"But you don't know how he is now."

"I know that Megatron doesn't have a fusion cannon anymore and isn't as strong as he used to be. He can't hurt Starscream like he used to. Besides, he'll have his friends with him; they'll fix him up afterwards at least."

Skyfire's eyebrows came up of their own accord, a truly unsettling feeling. "How do you know so much about the inner workings of the Decepticons?"

Fireflight shrugged. "Not all of them, just those three. I find them hiding in the mountains all the time, especially down in the desert where nobody lives. It's easy to sneak up on them if I'm alone."

"Spying on three Decepticons by yourself seems dangerous."

"If they see me, I just yell, "Oh no, Decepticons! Help! Where is everybody!" and fly off. They must think I just got lost again." Fireflight laughed a little. "Most of the time I am lost. I see them about three times a month, more if Megatron's having a bad run."

"They don't show up in your reports nearly that often." Skyfire would have noticed. He noticed every report mentioning Starscream.

"Silverbolt knows, but we all leave them out of our reports unless there's shooting."

"You'd be in a lot of trouble if Prowl found out though, wouldn't you?"

"Not as long as they don't shoot at us. Skydive found something in the Tyrest Accords that makes it okay. Their base is underwater," Fireflight added.

It made sense. The Decepticons were trapped in their ship under the ocean, and everything within range for Starscream was Autobot territory. "Three times a month, though?"

"It's...complicated," Fireflight looked over at the pile of his sleeping brothers -for backup, presumably. "We can learn a lot from watching them."

"There aren't any Autobot fliers you could learn from," Skyfire said as neutrally as he could manage in the face of this information.

"Yeah, just Powerglide and he's very different," Fireflight agreed. "Do you think all Decepticons are like them when we're not looking? They're almost like us."

Skyfire didn't have an answer. It was much easier to think of the Decepticons as a ship full of violent sociopaths who refused redemption, and little evidence to the contrary. The idea of Starscream having new wingmates, real wingmates, not just soldiers he had been thrown together with wasn't something he'd considered; twenty-three metacycles was barely a blink to him, not even long enough for the sting to fade. The idea that this new, Decepticon Starscream was even capable of getting along with someone else for more than five kliks was even more radical. If he had friends, though, he wasn't alone. Did these new friends have a hand in making Starscream who he was today? Or did they get through Starscream's defenses where Skyfire hadn't? They had more time to try, though, maybe if Skyfire had stayed with Starscream...

Skyfire suddenly found himself with plenty to think about besides being unable to fly himself home.

Chapter Text

It took two weeks for almost all the Decepticons to stop crying and resign themselves to their new condition. (Starscream's idiot wingmate was the last hold-out and Thundercracker had quite considerately waited until Skywarp had accepted the necessity of solid food before going off into kernel panic.) They may have been unarmed, naked, and weak, but Blitzwing could still hold his own against two out of any three little old ladies. With money and clothes, Swindle had no problems "acquiring" weapons, and with the guns Megatron seized a small farming village to use as a first base for further reconnaissance, resource gathering, and planning. The village originally housed fifty people and cost the Decepticons four days. It was a sobering reminder that they were very much powerless in this world; the town down the road had a thousand times more. Even the Stunticons had to admit they could no more take it than they could take the moon. The Decepticons were less than thirty strong on a hostile planet of nearly seven billion. Every mech there had been in fights with worse numbers, but for the first time they were also outmatched by the natives. It was time to blend in, hide, integrate. Conquest would come later; survival was always the first priority.

As second-in-command, Starscream commandeered one of the huts for himself and his wingmates. It had become the de facto lab for the work on a reverse-transmogrifier. So far, he and the Constructicons had a list of things they would need to figure out the list of things they would need, starting with a lock to keep Skywarp out. The rest of the Decepticons were not idle. Soundwave and his cassettes focused on bringing everyone up to speed with English; without the physical ability to use Cybertronian that was the closest they had to a shared language and not everyone was proficient. (Megatron had not been amused at Astrotrain's grammar.) The only other assignment Starscream was sure of was the human assimilation team: Skywarp, Thundercracker, and their knack for absorbing local culture.

Skywarp had left early to go "into town," leaving Starscream with an entire blessed morning of being able to complete his thoughts. His complete thoughts were far less productive than they probably should have been, considering he was the only one who could undo this fascinating example of Shockwave's scientific prowess. He was sitting on the table, enjoying a particularly vivid fantasy of things to do with the fusion cannon when Thundercracker emerged from the back room and squinted at him.

Starscream assumed it was supposed to be some sort of dirty look. "You missed breakfast. It was enlightening on several subjects, not the least of which was the importance of socially expected clothing for successful infiltration. I'm working on a theory about the current Decepticon blind spot regarding the entire concept of femaleness."

Thundercracker ignored him. "Do we have any food in here?"

"You'd have to brave the uneducated masses outside or wait for Skywarp, I'm afraid."

"I'm not that hungry." Thundercracker dropped in the chair next to Starscream. "You're in a suspiciously good mood."

"Unlike our compatriots slower on the uptake, I'm in no particular amount of pain, today no-one has actively tried to kill me, and best of all," Starscream grinned, "Soundwave can't see inside my head."

"I'll give you the last." Thundercracker nodded. "I forgot how nice it was without him around. Does that mean you're finally going to succeed overthrowing Megatron?"

Starscream ignored the sarcasm. "Oh, yes."

"How?"

"You will see," Starscream said, because he didn't actually have a plan yet. "There will be a plan, and a plan B, and possibly even a plan C . I might even go all the way up to M."

Thundercracker gave him another squint. "Great. Now you've gone manic. Don't get so caught up in planning you forget to actually do anything. Again." Thundercracker was always willing to point out the flaws in Starscream's plans -true flaws, not just a litany of insults or an assumption Starscream doomed anything he touched. He was Starscream's voice of reason when Starscream's own had long ago crashed. Not that Starscream listened very often, but the important thing was that he tried.

Starscream certainly wasn't going to listen to him today. For so long now, his attempts to overthrow Megatron had been half-hearted, more reminders that when Megatron did fall, Starscream was next in line. He couldn't think more than a step at a time or Soundwave would pluck it right out of his head. But as human, whatever else he may have lost, his mind was his own once again.

Skywarp chose that moment to come in, bearing four cups dripping with condensation. "You guys have to try this," he said, handing them each one.

"This" turned out to be something called a chocolate milkshake, and it was actually pretty good. Even Thundercracker admitted as much, and Starscream had him down for a day and a half more of sulking and hating everything.

"Who's the fourth one for?" Starscream asked.

"Megatron," Skywarp said. Starscream and Thundercracker exchanged looks.

Perhaps sensing they would try to stop him, perhaps not wanting it to melt, Skywarp left in search of their leader before Starscream could find the appropriate monosyllables to convince him that approaching Megatron in his current mood with frozen milk was a very poor choice. Starscream waited to follow him until Thundercracker had located his pants. They didn't expect Megatron would be too hard on one of his favorites, but it might be entertaining.

Megatron had taken lately to holding court under a tree, the gun Swindle had procured as a replacement for his fusion cannon in his lap. Skywarp was apparently explaining the concept of a milkshake -couldn't Megatron just try it?

"...and it can substitute for solid food," he was saying. Starscream wished he would stop running that joke into the ground.

"I sent you into town for reconnaissance," Megatron said. "This is dessert. Is this all you brought back?"

"It can be lunch?" Skywarp offered. "And it's chocolate?"

"This is not the time for chocolate," Megatron bellowed, gesticulating with his new weapon.

There was a sharp report, and Skywarp fell back.

Skywarp sat up slowly, touched his chest. His hand came away red.

Nobody, not even Starscream, dared move.

What had actually happened, no-one bothered to remember. Perhaps Megatron's finger slipped, or the gun just went off by itself. Perhaps his aim was off without a targeting computer, or he didn't predict the bullet's ricochet. Or perhaps Megatron simply had forgotten that Skywarp couldn't shrug off a gunshot as a human like he could a low-level laser blast as a robot. Starscream saw an opportunity present itself, Megatron cared more about his image than one soldier, and when those two agreed on something the Universe re-arranged itself to make it true.

So the official story, ever afterwards, was Skywarp wasted time and Megatron punished him with a bullet. The Decepticons were used to all sorts of physical discipline –Megatron was far from the only source of it, and there wasn't a mech among them who hadn't been on the business end of the cannon at them one time or another. But to cause real damage, on someone who wasn't Starscream, over a misspent morning...

A susurrus ran through the assembled Decepticons. Starscream could almost hear the words if Megatron will shoot Skywarp, of all mechs, over food, what would he shoot me for?He pushed his way to the front, Thundercracker following him. Megatron pointed the gun at them, and Starscream spread his hands to emphasize how his gun was still tucked into his pants.

Thundercracker, slagging coward, hid behind him.

"What do you want, Starscream," Megatron growled. "I'm busy here."

Megatron shooting Starscream was different. Starscream generally deserved it. "And here I thought attempted murder was our special thing," Starscream drawled, trying to defuse the situation. Skywarp was as annoying as six kinds of rust and dumber than a sack of wrenches, but Skywarp was his.

"Did you put him up to this?" Well, it had been ten whole days since their last fight. Starscream supposed they were overdue.

"Of course not, Mighty Megatron. Why would I share this delicious frozen treat with you when I could have two for myself?" Starscream punctuated his question with a slurp. "You ought to praise him for such a discovery."

"I shall dole out punishment as I see fit, and you will mind your tongue or join him!"

"Milkshakes are punishable by death now? Didn't we start a war over that kind of thing?" Starscream wondered if Megatron was aware how stupid this was. He was ready to drop the whole thing and check on his wingmate. Certainly he owed Skywarp at least that much. He kicked Thundercracker's ankle, hoping he'd get the hint.

The way Megatron was ranting, a beating was in store for someone. Starscream, as his favorite target and the one in Megatron's direct line of sight, resigned himself to receiving it. "We started a war because our superiority will be recognized," Megatron reminded everyone. "The Decepticons will rule the galaxy and not be distracted by organic mud!"

"You have brought us to the absolute nadir of the Decepticons! You have failed, Megatron, you have betrayed everything it means to be Decepticon, and you no longer deserve to lead." Starscream wasn't talking about milkshakes. Megatron knew it, everyone around them knew it, for booting up cold the rocks below their feet knew it.

"Starscream." Megatron spat his name like poison, eyes narrowed. "If you were leader, what would you do when a formerly useful soldier has become more trouble than he's worth?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thundercracker pull Skywarp to his feet, and both frowned at the Air Commander. For the first time in many years he let the plan forming in his mind debug instead of run as soon as it compiled. He had those so very important seconds to spare now that Soundwave couldn't pluck his intentions from his head. Starscream made sure all optics were on him, then sauntered up to Megatron with as much arrogance as he could pour into his frame. "I wouldn't clamp down on any fuel source."

"You dare!" Megatron dropped the gun and lunged for his second-in-command. Starscream thought he was prepared for it to turn physical. He was wrong. Megatron was more experienced in hand-to-hand combat, and while the difference in their frames was smaller than it had been before, it was still significant. His flesh housing was still far too new for him to fight back with any effectiveness. On top of everything else, he felt pain much more keenly now. Starscream reminded himself that there were three gestalts, two lonely triple changers, Soundwave's little family, and the trine of Coneheads watching, and took what was, on the face of it, punishment for defending his wingmate. Though the fight wasn't really about Skywarp any more than it was about milkshakes. Starscream hoped it was Megatron reassuring everyone that no matter what happened, he was still in charge, he still made the rules, and anybody who challenged them needed to back it up with power. He had a sinking feeling it was more about Megatron's need to assert control over something, anything.

He fell on his back, barely breathing, when Megatron finally stood up. Starscream had managed to bloody Megatron's nose at least, turning the Decepticon leader's face into a ghastly mask of blood. "Leave," Megatron ordered him. "Take your sorry excuse for a wingmate if he's so important to you, and go." He picked up the gun and leveled it between Starscream's eyes. Behind him, he heard Soundwave or maybe Astrotrain, someone in a skirt, take a step forward.

This was the part where he begged Megatron for mercy and just one more chance to bask in the illustrious leader's glory, and if Skywarp had pushed Megatron down the stairs or some other idiotic prank, he would have. But Skywarp had brought the milkshake simply because he thought Megatron might enjoy it. Skywarp wrote his reports like creepy love letters. Skywarp didn't deserve a bullet because Megatron was having a bad day.

Starscream always thought faster when he was in pain. If he left the Decepticons not because of another failed attempt to overthrow Megatron, but because he genuinely cared about someone else's well-being, then maybe... He'd always taken care of his own; otherwise he would have never stayed Air Commander, but if he reminded everyone... All he needed to do was convince twelve Decepticons here, while Megatron was weak, before the Autobots fixed this and forced unity on them once again.

Megatron nudged him in the face with the tip of the gun, and Starscream couldn't help but cringe. His mutant spark had proved inextinguishable before, but there was no assurance it still was. Megatron was waiting for him to start groveling, to reinforce for all the gathered Decepticons that the days of banding together in the face of power unaccountable were over. Between the promise of favors owed, and the last remnants of idealism, Starscream could sway twelve. That was only two gestalts and one of the triplechangers.

Starscream rolled over and pushed himself up. "Go smelt yourself," he threw over his shoulder and walked away from Megatron without looking back.

Two weeks in, and the Aerialbots had mastered the concept of "fake it until you make it." To be fair, Silverbolt had a head start; years of acting as if he wasn't panicking at being so far from the ground. (Indeed, he rather liked being a scant six feet tall.) With so much of the Aerialbot identity tied up in flying and Superion, being human was almost a welcome distraction.

Almost.

Silverbolt tried to distract them as much as possible, with mixed results. Since they didn't have the gestalt link anymore, they had to settle for simple physical contact. Silverbolt worked around it as much as he could, but it was starting to become obvious. So far no-one had commented, but Silverbolt wasn't sure what would happen if push came to shove and pride lost.

The Autobots had descended upon a fast-food restaurant for a day of human practice. The human employees, unaware of exactly who this large party was, served them with grace and didn't mention anyone's odd clothing, odder food choices, or obsession with the self-serve soda machine. Jazz had arranged for cars to try to drive, and Prowl had disappeared with Red Alert two hours ago. With no clue what Megatron's plans were, the Autobots not working on the reverse-transmogrifier were preparing for anything. Considering most of the Autobots were one form of grounded vehicle or another, it was surprising how many of them couldn't even manage controlling a car.

Silverbolt was teaching himself to write longhand to distract himself from thoughts of any one of his brothers behind the wheel of a two-ton steel death-trap (Jazz had, wisely, found cars already one wheel in the scrapheap; somebody had already taken out a lamp-post and the flower bed outside the window was a lost cause. Three-fifths of the Aerialbots being immune to fear, they were, of course, on the other side of the glass.) "Hey," Slingshot said. "Hot Spot just came in. He's making the face Raid did before he misplaced his breakfast."

"I didn't lose my breakfast. I knew exactly where it was at all times," Air Raid said.

"So you, what was the word, vomited all over my legs on purpose?"

Hot Spot came over, saving Air Raid from answering. "Are you busy?" he asked.

Silverbolt didn't really want to leave the table, since Skydive and Fireflight were out practising driving and that would leave Air Raid and Slingshot unsupervised. On the other hand, he would have to actually be in a different room than the other four at some point -going off with Hot Spot was the least traumatic of all possible scenarios. None of the other Protectobots were actually within sight, too, and that could not be a good sign. He disentangled his feet from Air Raid's and stood up. "You two stay here," Silverbolt said to his brothers. "Save the table for us."

"What's going on?" Silverbolt asked Hot Spot in the vestibule.

Hot Spot hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What happened to your hair?"

Silverbolt untucked the braid from the back of his shirt. "It kept getting in my way. Fireflight cut his off, but it'll just grow back."

"I like it," Hot Spot said, examining the woven strands. "Where did you get the idea?"

"Ratchet did it for me."

"Ah," Hot Spot dropped Silverbolt's hair, but didn't step back. "He's really into the female experience. He keeps telling me to wear a bra."

Silverbolt shrugged. "You really should. It's much better than being nagged at."

"Groove came back," Hot Spot said abruptly.

"That's a good thing," Silverbolt said, switching gears effortlessly. His brothers had given him plenty of practice. "Isn't it?"

"Then he asked Streetwise why everyone was looking for him."

"Oh." Silverbolt tried to come up with something to make Hot Spot feel better. "At least you can sleep now?"

"How do you do it? What am I doing wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Silverbolt asked. "You're doing fine, considering."

"Yours aren't giving you near as much trouble," Hot Spot said.

Silverbolt knew what Hot Spot needed to hear. "No, they're still a bunch of jerks. I love them, but they're allergic to giving me any peace of mind. Air Raid has a weak grip on the concept of "food." This morning he poured mayonnaise on ramen noodles and called it breakfast."

"Blades keeps forgetting that he needs to use actual words. Out loud."

"Slingshot keeps running down to the shooting range, no matter the time. He refuses to go alone."

"I found out this morning that First Aid never got around to learning how to read anything but Cybertronian."

"Right now, Fireflight is driving a car."

"You win," Hot Spot smiled, then sighed. "How do you do it?"

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the Protectobots weren't like the Aerialbots, weren't reincarnations of fallen warriors. Sometimes, it was all too obvious the other gestalt was made up of newsparks. "The first rule is," Silverbolt held up a finger, "pick your battles. The second rule is, expect they'll pull it together and they will when it matters. The third rule is, whatever happens, tell them that it's going to be okay." He held up a finger for each point. "The fourth rule is, when it gets too much, come find me."

"Those are the same rules as before," Hot Spot said.

"Nothing's changed." Silverbolt gave Hot Spot a wry smile, knowing full well how dumb that sounded. "This isn't permanent, and they're still our brothers. We just have to keep them alive until they fix this."

"Did you just rule three at me?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. I need you to be okay so I can come cry on your shoulder when it gets too much for me."

Hot Spot laughed. "We should do the Friday thing again."

Silverbolt tried to raise an eyebrow at Hot Spot. He had to settle for raising both. "I don't think we have the right equipment anymore."

"I'm sure humans have a way. Streetwise is waving at me. I should go find out what he wants."

"Mine disappeared," Silverbolt noted. "I should go find them before something catches on fire." He squeezed Hot Spot's shoulder before going inside.

"Call me if you need help!" Hot Spot called after him.

The table wasn't empty; Fireflight slumped in Silverbolt's chair, head on the table. "It was that bad?" Silverbolt asked, putting a hand on his back.

"I don't want to talk about it," Fireflight said. Without Superion, Silverbolt couldn't tell if he really didn't want to talk about it, or wanted Silverbolt to ask for details.

He erred on the side of finding the rest of his wayward flock. "Where's Skydive?"

"In the bathroom, I think."

"Did he remember to use the right one?" Like Fireflight and Silverbolt himself, whatever had caused this had decided Skydive should be a woman. Unlike Silverbolt and Fireflight, Skydive kept forgetting and following Slingshot into the men's room.

"Probably not. The other two said they'd be right back."

Air Raid and Slingshot walked up, bearing five cups dripping with condensation. "You guys have to try this," Air Raid said, handing them each one. "Where's Skydive?"

"One of the restrooms," Silverbolt said. "Thank you for the...what are they?"

"Chocolate milkshakes!" Air Raid grinned. "How'd driving go, 'Flight?"

"I think the car's totaled," Fireflight groaned into the tabletop. "There was a turtle. TV lied. Those things are fast."

"Cars can be repaired," Optimus Prime said, coming up to the table. "You are not the only one to damage one today, but you are the only one to do so to save a life."

Silverbolt rather suspected the turtle was more "distracting" than "in danger," but he wasn't about to embarrass his brother further. "Have you tried chocolate milkshakes yet?" Air Raid asked, offering Skydive's to his leader.

Optimus Prime had not, and he found them very nice indeed. He hadn't come over simply to say hello, though, and once again Silverbolt found himself in the vestibule.

"We don't know what Megatron is up to," Prime began. "Since he must now act with more subtlety, we need to spread our forces out to find the Decepticons. They will have to hide among the humans; Prowl has drawn up a list of likely places."

Silverbolt did not like where this conversation was going, but he hid it as well as he could. "What do you need us to do?" he asked, half-knowing the answer, Maybe he would be lucky and the Protectobots would go with them.

"I would like the Aerialbots to live in a human city, looking for signs of Decepticon activity. It would require blending in with humans, and while we would give you what support we could, you would be essentially on your own. I will not order you to do this, but I must admit not all Autobots would be able to."

Silverbolt was a soldier. If Prime needed something done, he would make it happen. Somehow. Silverbolt didn't need Superion to know that his brothers were the same. He was a little disheartened by what Prime was implying, but he tried not to let it show. "Where do you need us to go?"

"I would ask the Aerialbots to go to Detroit."

Detroit? Where the hell was Detroit?

"Prowl assures me that there is at least a eighty-four percent chance at least one Decepticon will spend some time in the area." Prime smiled at Silverbolt. Minus the facemask, it was far more disturbing than reassuring. "I did not ask him how he came to that conclusion, but he is rarely wrong. With the stakes so high, I want mechs there who can act with discretion when it comes to Decepticons."

So Prime knew about Skydive's loophole. "Sir, we would never," he began, but Prime cut him off gently with a raised hand.

"I have always trusted your judgement. If you felt that observing was better than engaging, then," Prime paused, then started over. "If Megatron isn't planning to attack us like this, I don't want to provoke him. And to find them, I need people who will recognize them as they are now. This is strictly a volunteer mission, of course," he added, almost an afterthought.

It didn't matter if Prime wanted them to go to Alaska on the off-chance Skywarp tried to push a live moose out of a moving airplane. (Actually, if Skywarp was somehow involved, his brothers would consider the trip worth it.) Wherever the Autobots needed them, the Aerialbots would be. Always. "When do we leave?"

Chapter Text

Dramatic irony is the disconnect between what the characters and the audience knows.

Slingshot didn't rise from his crouch at the shooting range until his comm. unit went off. Since he was imprisoned in five cubic feet of bone and blood, that meant his phone rang. Somebody, probably Air Raid, had programmed it to play a song about lightning crashing when Silverbolt sent him a text.

"So Detroit would be attractive to Megatron," Skydive said as soon as Slingshot took off his headphones. He didn't look up from his own phone. "Lots of factories, the busiest border crossing in the country, plus there's a huge chemical laboratory and a nuclear reactor less than a hundred miles away."

"I've been to Detroit. Detroit isn't attractive to anyone." Silverbolt wanted them back with the other three, but he hadn't said why. Slingshot frowned at his phone and stuck it in his pocket. "There are zero grocery stores."

Skydive didn't challenge that. "My point is, we're not being punished. Megatron could come to Detroit to either rebuild himself or to attack us while human. If I was a super villain, I would set up in Detroit."

"Plus there's, what, a million people in the city?"

"Eight hundred thousand," Skydive corrected him.

Slingshot ignored his brother. "How are we going to find him?"

Skydive hummed a non-committal note, and didn't say anything as they walked hand-in-hand to the other end of the Ark.

He was right, though. The Aerialbots weren't being punished. They hadn't done anything for the last two and a half weeks of being human, or for months before. The only thing anyone could possibly object to was their being jets, and they weren't anymore.

Well, except for the analysis of the last Seeker battle they'd had in the rec room, but a mech would need Red Alert levels of paranoid to think being sent to Detroit by themselves was an Autobot-style punishment. Maybe if one of them had 'faced with Thundercracker, they would deserve Detroit, but Silverbolt was always very specific on that topic.

Besides, where else were they supposed to learn? From Powerglide? Slingshot may be the slowest and weakest and generally suckiest Aerialbot, but he was at least better than Powerglide. Sideswipe was better than Powerglide. Sunstreaker was better than Powerglide.

They probably just wanted the jets out from underfoot. Detroit couldn't be that important, though, not if the Aerialbots, perpetrators of all possible fuckups, were ordered there. Slingshot ground his teeth in frustration, but realized he was being unfair. The other Aerialbots weren't really that bad. He was the problem. The rest of the Autobots just couldn't be bothered to tell his brothers apart. It was easiest to get rid of all five of them.

Well, fine. Slingshot didn't want to stick around anyways. It wasn't like it could be any worse than sitting around here watching Silverbolt get progressively twitchier.

Thundercracker watched a lot of television. Skywarp had mocked him for it every day since Thundercracker had first hacked a cable signal. Skywarp wasn't ever going to mock him for it again, because all that TV watching directly prevented Skywarp from losing the ability to mock. And sure, there probably was a better way to fix the hole in Skywarp's chest than with the sewing kit one of Blitzwing's little old ladies had dropped, but not even Skywarp knew enough Chinese to ask for dental floss and a fifth of whiskey.

If Starscream had been in the mood, he could have taken them to the hospital down the road and, despite the language barrier, charmed the humans there into helping. Starscream had, in his infinite wisdom, decided it was probably better not to show up with a gunshot wound and a black eye –Thundercracker would have been arrested. Nobody had time for that, especially with how funny Starscream had acted in the days since Skywarp's chocolate milkshake adventure.

It bothered Thundercracker, as they holed up in an abandoned house in town waiting for Megatron to cool off, that he didn't know what Starscream was thinking as he tapped away on the laptop Thundercracker had acquired for him. He'd known the Air Commander since before he was the Air Commander, since before the war, since before even the Science Academy. And yet, in so many ways, it was like he was meeting a new fragging Starscream every day. Four days ago, it had been the near-manic Starscream who could talk an Autobot front-liners into treason and reverse-engineer a warp field generator from individual component molecules in three days without recharge. Today was the bitter, frustrated Starscream who enforced orders with null-ray reminders, or would if he had access to his null-rays. Mysteriously furious as Starscream was, at least he wasn't too angry to think clearly. He kept sending Thundercracker out to acquire them food and supplies, legitimately if possible, but with the methods Blitzwing had perfected if not. Thundercracker couldn't deny that he was grateful to keep busy. Not grateful towards Starscream, of course, but a vague thankfulness directed at the universe for not having time to sit around and brood.

Skywarp had time to sit around and brood, but not the inclination. Starscream was strangely reluctant to let him out of his sight. Thundercracker couldn't blame him; an unsupervised Skywarp was a dangerous Skywarp, but since Skywarp wasn't actually moving Starscream was also trapped in the back room. "When can we go back, Screamer?" Skywarp asked for the tenth time today, sprawled on the floor.

"We're not going back," Starscream said, not looking up from the poor excuse of a computer console.

"Of course we're going back," Skywarp winced as he rolled over. "We can't stay away forever."

"Watch us."

"Why aren't we going back?" Thundercracker asked, trying not to stare at the bruises Starscream had left on their wingmate's wrists. Starscream had steadier hands, but Thundercracker had once seen someone on TV get stitched up, so he did the honors while Starscream held him still. There had been a lot of yelling. There usually was, with the three of them, but this had been...different yelling.

Starscream closed the lid and looked at him. "We need to eat," he said, standing up and walking towards the door. When Thundercracker didn't follow, he turned around in the doorway and tapped his foot pointedly.

Thundercracker took the hint and walked through the front room to the outside door with him. "You watch television, you know humans," Starscream said. "What usually happens when they're shot in the chest?"

Thundercracker shrugged. "Depends on how important they are to the story." Starscream glared at him. Thundercracker looked away. "He's fine. Why the sudden caring?"

"Megatron doesn't see fit to adjust his leadership style to the situation," Starscream said. "How well do humans take to being shot? To beatings?"

"They have really good self-repair," Thundercracker pointed out, mostly for the sake of arguing.

"Tell me, did you enjoy digging the slug out of his spark casing? Did you get off on him screaming?" Starscream hissed. "Skywarp was closer to dying four days ago than he's ever been, and you were with us on Hydrus 5. Half an inch higher and Megatron's little love tap would have ended him before he hit the ground. Shiny Cybertron, we're unarmored humans. Am I the only one who realizes it?"

"Megatron overreacted," Thundercracker said. "You're not the only one he's allowed to try-"

"He didn't!" Starscream interrupted. "A deca-cycle ago, Skywarp would have shrugged that off."

"So then why aren't we going back?" Thundercracker asked, Starscream's point dancing on the edge of his comprehension. His wingleader had that murderous look in his eye, the one he got right before he exploded. "Because Megatron made a mistake? It's not the first time. Hell, if he ever was going to, now would be the time. Because he's not as much of a freak as you?"

If Starscream had been armed, Thundercracker would have been shot. As much as his wingleader was a stranger to him, he knew that. "Because," Starscream said, strangely quiet, "if we go back, we will die. Maybe he won't shoot us for leaving. Maybe we'll live for a week or a month. Maybe it'll even be an accident. But if we go back, we'll die crawling in the dirt." Starscream grabbed his shoulder and shoved him into the night. "Don't come back without milkshakes."

The Aerialbots originally had been given traditional quarters on the barrack deck of the Ark, but as soon as Skyfire had heard about them he intervened and got Prime to give them a proper hanger. The TV corner hadn't been too difficult to convert for human use, and the rest of the hanger had too many associations. Slingshot would have loved to find new quarters altogether. He hadn't mentioned it, though, figuring the rest of his brothers preferred to stay in familiar surroundings. The other three Aerialbots were dividing take-out that smelled...well, it smelled like food, which humans ate, which made it gross, cue ee dee, whatever that meant.

"You called us, boss?" Skydive asked, squeezing Slingshot's hand before letting go.

Silverbolt smiled at them, though Slingshot was pretty sure it was fake. "Air Raid found Thai food. Have you two refueled yet?" He held out a plate towards Skydive.

Skydive took the plate and sat on the floor next to Fireflight. Slingshot stayed where he was.

"C'mere, Slingshot," Silverbolt said. "I haven't seen you all day." He pulled the smallest Aerialbot down on the couch against him. Slingshot was acutely aware of the softness of Silverbolt's breasts, the roundness of his hips and the wrongness of his entire body. He fit better under Silverbolt's arm like this, and if he turned his head just so, it would have settled perfectly into the dip of Silverbolt's shoulder.

Instead, he hunched as far away as he could without angering Silverbolt. "I was at the range," Slingshot said as Air Raid pressed food on him. "Practicing for Detroit."

"To shoot the bears?" Fireflight asked, blue eyes wide. "I mean, I know they're making it nicer, but they're still bears..."

Everybody paused, trying to find some words of comfort for their sensitive brother. When no-one reassured him, Fireflight bit his lip. Skydive tried to roll his eyes and tipped his whole head back. "There are not actually bears in Detroit."

Fireflight giggled; he had bit his lip to keep from laughing. Slingshot hadn't known Fireflight was kidding. He was beginning to get used to the silence in his head, and he had thought his brothers were also getting used to finding new ways to stay in tune with each other. Apparently, they had blown right by him. He couldn't tell when Fireflight was making a joke. How would he be able to tell when Fireflight wasn't?

"Where did you even hear that?" Silverbolt sighed. His arm tightened around Slingshot.

Because Slingshot was the weak link; even if Silverbolt didn't mind, he had to at least take it into account. Slingshot started sorting the vegetables in his dinner.

"The Internet," Fireflight said. "Are you saying someone lied on the Internet?"

Air Raid laughed. "There are lots of abandoned buildings. There could totally be bears in there."
"We won't be in the city limits anyways," Silverbolt said. "There's a college town about thirty miles north; the school is just big enough that the Decepticons could be hiding shipments in their mail."

"Why is everyone so sure Megatron's going to show up there, again?" Skydive asked.

Air Raid shrugged. "I went there once with Slingshot. It looks like Cybertron in the middle but at the edges there's these huge houses. Wheeljack said it was just like Cybertron before the war."

"The general consensus is that he'll feel at home there," Silverbolt added. "I'm not sure why they're all convinced he won't just stay in China."

"Because Decepticons don't speak Chinese," Fireflight said, poking his tongue out as he chased a pea around his plate. "They barely speak English."

"I'm sure I've heard Chinese come out of Skywarp," Air Raid said. "Once, when he wasn't shooting us so we were just watching him."

"The time I was with you and we thought Thundercracker was really going to kill him?" Skydive asked. "Because if we're thinking of the same time, that was Korean."

"Nobody told me about that," Silverbolt said, perfectly willing to sidetrack. "If it was K-pop, I can't say I blame him."

"I like K-pop," Firefight said absent-mindedly, still chasing that pea.

"Yeah, well, we always knew there was something wrong with you," Slingshot said. It came out harsher than he intended and he winced just as hard as Fireflight.

Slingshot looked down at his food. Maybe if he ate the red stuff first he wouldn't have to taste anything else.

"So if there are over a million people there," Skydive said after a minute, "I have an idea on how to find the Decepticons."

"Turn up Fireflight's radio and wait for Thundercracker to descend upon us as the self-appointed final arbiter of musical taste to change the station?" Fireflight either ignored or didn't hear Air Raid. A hot surge of jealousy flashed across Slingshot's circuits. Nerves. Whatever. How could Air Raid know the right thing to say without Superion? What was wrong with Slingshot that he couldn't?

"Get jobs," Skydive said.

Everybody looked at him, even Fireflight. "We have a job," Silverbolt said. "Find the Decepticons."

"I mean employment jobs. The place you got the food from, you went there because it's really popular, right?"

"Yeah," Air Raid said. "There're lots of people there."

"And I don't think they'll cook very much."

"Even if they are, they need to buy food and other supplies," Silverbolt said. " We could go to grocery stores and malls. That's a really good idea, Skydive."

"The best part is, we'd be almost invisible. Do you really remember who took your order?"

"I do," Fireflight said. Slingshot thought about making a joke, but he was already zero for two in the last ten minutes.

"Well, none of them are as awesome as you," Air Raid said. "I don't remember him."
"Her," Fireflight corrected around a mouthful of noodles.

"See," Skydive said. "They won't even see us. They're a bunch of jerks."

Slingshot picked at the green stuff on his plate, decided he wasn't hungry and set it on the table. Around him, his brothers started discussing the deep and profound differences between K-pop and dubstep.

"Are you okay?" Silverbolt asked. "You're being awfully quiet."

"No," Slingshot heard himself saying. "I'm not okay. I'm organic. I can't hear anyone. I can't feel anyone, I can barely see anyone. I can't fly, and my hands keep shaking." He pushed Silverbolt's arm away and stood up. "I'm blind and I'm grounded and Superion has just up and disappeared and I don't know where he is and nobody else is bothered by this in the slightest and I don't know anything about you guys without him and about the only thing I do know is K-pop and dubstep and humanity suck Unicron's sooty exhaust!"

Too late, he realized he was yelling. Before his brothers could stop him, he turned and fled.

As it turned out, he wasn't the slowest Aerialbot anymore.

Starscream was right. Starscream was fantastic at calculating fatality odds, especially when his own frame was at risk. Starscream was so good at calculating them, in fact, there was a rumor going around that he was immortal.

Thundercracker sat, a little dazed, under a tree. His face buried itself in his hands without real effort on his part. There were people around him, people he couldn't understand, couldn't understand what they were saying or what they were doing or why they even existed when everything he held firm was slipping away.

Starscream was right often. Just usually he was right about facts. Science and history and tactics, anything that could be reduced to hard numbers. Though perhaps this could be reduced to numbers as well. The human body needed x amount of food and water daily, could withstand y pounds of pressure per square inch, took z hours to repair fully following injury. Thundercracker had left the math to Starscream for so long, he couldn't do it to save his life. He could approximate it, though, and it added up the same way it had for Starscream's more precise figures. Megatron's unwillingness to change had not only lead them to the greatest blunder of this whole long black comedy of errors they called the war, it would kill them if he couldn't admit their new weaknesses. They had to leave, or they would die.

Not that he'd ever held all that firm to the Decepticon cause. It was something worth doing, in the beginning, and it mattered to Starscream, and it mattered to Skywarp, and it had taken no time at all before he was in so deep he wasn't getting out with his head intact. It hadn't been so bad in the beginning; things had to change, and the Decepticons hadn't been forced by necessity to...all the things they had done. But as the war continued on, only the strongest and most ruthless survived, and at his core Thundercracker was a survivor. For ages now, that was what kept him at Megatron's side, not honor or the promise he made Starscream or even Skywarp. Simple survival. He couldn't make it on his own, and while he occasionally fantasized about leaving, he'd never come up with even the most rudimentary of plans.

Starscream would have a plan. Half the time, that was the problem, but Starscream always had a plan. They'd have forward direction, and they'd have each other. Starscream had done more with less, and Thundercracker was the richer for it. He needed Thundercracker, of this Thundercracker was sure. They were still fliers, even if they were grounded, and Starscream had flown with two wingmates for so long Thundercracker didn't know if he could manage with just one. Even if Starscream didn't actually like him, they at least respected each other enough that Starscream wouldn't ask nearly the same ignominy that Megatron did. That alone was worth it. Starscream might even like him, some days. Some days, not today, Thundercracker liked him enough to die for him.

He didn't need to die today, though. He just had to return with milkshakes.

Humans were, for the most part, friendly folk, and Thundercracker knew the words for chocolate milkshakes. With a bit of charades and the last of their cash, he managed to get three drinks and some food. He was hungry, Starscream was never too keyed up to forget to eat, and Skywarp hadn't all day. He turned around and nearly walked into the woman behind him.

"Sorry," he said, hoping she could understand the sentiment if not the word, and nodded like he'd seen the locals do. It galled him a little to have to treat them as equals, but now he didn't have a choice.

"You apologizing?" Onslaught raised his eyebrows. "I ought to record this."

The best way to avoid detection, Slingshot knew, was to keep moving. Since dinner, all of his brothers had commed -texted- him at least four times. He deleted the texts without reading them. He would have to slink back to the hanger eventually, but not yet. First, he had to figure out how to stop his optics from leaking. Then maybe wait until they were certainly recharging. Or never. Never was sounding pretty good. Except he'd yet to be alone for longer than absolutely necessary. He didn't think he could stand it long enough to be forgiven.

He slid to the ground against the wall. Being alone made him dizzy, made him sweat, made his Thai food want to come back out. Maybe he could call somebody, just to hear his voice? Maybe Skydive would forgive him? Slingshot had his phone in his hand when it went off. This time, though, it was Ratchet requesting his presence.

Slingshot wasn't exactly afraid of his creator. Fireflight had pointed out to him once that Ratchet only got mad when people hurt themselves doing something stupid, and he only made light of some injuries because it seemed to calm some of the older Autobots down. And yeah, the one time Skydive had been shot right off of Superion's leg by Megatron's fusion cannon and Ratchet had been nice until Dive had woken up was pretty scary.

But after his performance, and disappearing on his brothers for two hours, Slingshot had a healthy respect for how annoyed Ratchet would be about Slingshot dragging him into this. "I'm sorry!" burst out of him before the repair bay doors swung closed.

"Sorry about what?" Ratchet asked. Slingshot supposed he could tell Ratchet about what had happened, but then his optics might start leaking again, and he'd want a hug, and then Ratchet would deny him a hug. Or worse, he'd hug Slingshot and the former jet would be pressed against Ratchet's breasts because they were all cursed with humanity and he didn't really think he could experience their suffocating softness twice in a day. Then again, he'd get a hug, and maybe Ratchet would tell him what the secret to this was, it seemed that everyone was in on it except Slingshot and would that really be worse than Ratchet not hugging him? Ratchet probably wouldn't make fun of him. He wished he could ask one of his brothers through Superion or even the giant mech himself.

When Ratchet touched his shoulder, Slingshot realized, somewhat guiltily, that he'd been ignoring the frowning medic. "Are you okay?"

This time, Slingshot answered the question correctly. "Yeah, just, stuff. You know?" He shrugged a little, because Ratchet was his creator and next to impossible to lie to, and his pocket was telling him an angel was opening her eyes. "They're a little behind on the learning curve," he admitted.

"There's not really a trick to it," Ratchet said. "The ten of you are doing better than seventy percent of us." He walked to the pile of paperwork that his desk was theoretically under, a little unsteady in low heels, and rummaged around in a drawer. "It could have something to do with being technically too young for this slag, but I'm going to go ahead and blame Wheeljack."

"Wheeljack?" Slingshot asked. "Why?"

"He moved my box, for one," Ratchet said, taking things out of the bottom of his filing cabinet and perching them precariously on top of Paperwork Mountain. "You must have caught it from him, this terrifying unflappableness. I always thought it was an acquired skill from being blown up so often."

Slingshot didn't really know what to say. The Aerialbots weren't unflappable, except for maybe Silverbolt. They were in shock. Well, Slingshot was in shock. He thought everyone else was too. Maybe he was wrong?

"I"m surprised to see you by yourself," Ratchet continued, moving on to the next drawer. "I shouldn't be, you've done nothing but surprise everyone since the day you onlined." Slingshot's pocket went off again, Hendrix this time. Not answering it was a dead giveaway, but Slingshot couldn't bring himself to. "Was that Fireflight calling?" the medic asked.

"How did you know?"

"I know that song. Here we go," Ratchet said, and stood up. "This is for you. Don't tell anyone where you got it."

Slingshot took the white cardboard box. It was a little bigger than his hand and not very heavy. "Why not?"

Ratchet looked at him like he was a half-full shot glass, and Slingshot braced for impact. "I don't have enough for everyone," was all he said.

"Did you call me down here to give me a present?" Slingshot asked. Ratchet never gave anybody presents. He complained vociferously when Wheeljack did.

"Skyfire's not answering his phone and I need to talk to him about science."

"I don't know where he is."

Ratchet rolled his eyes. He had taken all of thirty seconds to master that skill. "I need you to find him, tell him I need him for science, and he can keep all his blood in his body this time."

"So you did tie him down in the end?" The Aerialbots had cheerfully given the required blood sample to First Aid the first day back in the Ark. It hadn't been fun, but the way some of the other Autobots, including Skyfire, were carrying on, the medics were asking for every last drop.

Ratchet crossed his arms and glared at him. "Are you going to find the Albino Snowman for me or not?"

Slingshot wasn't going to push his luck, not when Ratchet was too angry to get creative. "I'm going, I'm going." Maybe by the time he found Skyfire, he'd be able to face his brothers.

"I'll tell Silverbolt I drafted you," Ratchet called after him.

"I need to talk to Starscream," Onslaught said.

Thundercracker gave him a non-committal grunt.

"I was supposed to meet him here."

It would be nice if Starscream would tell him when he was sending Thundercracker to feel out potential traps. It wasn't ever going to happen, but it would be nice. "He didn't come."

Onslaught waited patiently.

"I suppose you'll just follow me home like a little lost puppy." Onslaught didn't seem to understand the reference, which was probably for the best. Thundercracker's hands were full, and Starscream was already ready to spit gears. The Air Commander's disappointment was a fearsome thing, loud and shrill and endless. "Come on, then."

Onslaught followed Thundercracker back to the Seeker's temporary base in silence. He wondered what the Combaticon wanted, what he and Starscream were up to. Nothing good ever came of Starscream making friends. On the way back to base, Thundercracker managed to find three purses and a money clip in unlocked cars, so at least they had cash again.

The door was unlocked, but when Thundercracker turned on the light the front room was empty. Onslaught leaned against the wall. "Anybody home?"

"They're probably in the back." Thundercracker shut the door to the inner room behind him.

Starscream was holding Skywarp down; he must have explained the new situation to him and Skywarp got violent, because there was no way in the entire universe Starscream was doing...that with anyone, even Skywarp. Thundercracker set the food on the floor and handed Skywarp one of the milkshakes. Another mech would have, after the first time, refused to drink a second milkshake in his life. Skywarp tried to live on them. When Starscream let go, Skywarp curled half into a ball around his drink, pointedly ignoring his two wingmates.

"Onslaught followed me home." Thundercracker said. "He seems to have the impression you were going to meet him."

Starscream, evil little glitch that he was, just smiled. "Good. I need to talk to him. You come with me and do your brooding thing. You," he turned to Skywarp, "stay here and don't screw up my story."

Skywarp just sniffed. Thundercracker wondered if, on top of everything else, he'd have to get that thing from the commercials with the bee.

In the front room, Onslaught was still waiting. Starscream sat on one of the boxes they were using for chairs and motioned Onslaught to the other one. Thundercracker eschewed the third in favor of standing behind Starscream with his arms folded. Onslaught's eyes flicked to him, then the Combaticon leader dismissed him without a second thought.

He opened with, "Lord Megatron grows tired of your sulking."

Starscream snorted. "So you've been sent to fetch us?"

"Hardly," Onslaught said. "I've come to warn you. He's fit to shoot all three of you when he sees you again."

"That could be uncomfortable," Starscream allowed. "You've come out of the goodness of your spark to warn me that Megatron is annoyed?"

"About as much as you took that dented eye for Skywarp," Onslaught snorted, possibly accidentally. "Did you really think anyone would believe that?"

Thundercracker hated to agree with Onslaught, but he had to admit no Decepticon would have fallen for Starscream and his chronic backstabbing disorder suddenly caring about anybody else's well-being.

"I was making a point," Starscream said.

Onslaught smiled at that. "That you still enjoy pain?"

"Megatron's latest brilliant plan has rendered us rather more fragile," Starscream reminded him. "One of his best warriors could very well have died because our great and glorious leader lost his temper." Oh, for a recorder to play that back to Starscream later. Starscream rarely had a word of praise for anyone. Especially Skywarp.

"Megatron is telling everyone it's no less than Skywarp deserved."

"And here I thought he liked Skywarp," Starscream said lightly. "I suppose one never runs out of things to learn."

"If he really wanted Skywarp dead, he would have aimed higher," Onslaught sat back. "Take us with you."

"Where am I going?" Starscream asked. Thundercracker could only see the back of his head, but he'd put money on Starscream pulling that stupid face he always did when he was pretending innocence.

"Megatron's failed his bug check," Onslaught said. "Beatings are one thing but like you said, attempted murder is you two's special...game." He clarified himself with an elegantly obscene gesture

That was a mental image Thundercracker never wanted. Ever. He wondered what Starscream would say if he just shot the tactician across the table.

"Your little show did fool the Stunticons," Onslaught continued, oblivious to Thundercracker's attempt to will him into death. "They're more afraid of the fusion cannon, though. The Constructicons, on the other hand, are just happy they're not welding you back together. You will come back on your knees, or run, or die."

"And the Combaticons?"

"We could be persuaded. It's not like you could do worse than Megatron."

There were undercurrents of something that Thundercracker couldn't quite grasp running between the two of them, some gestalt math he wasn't quite getting, and he ground his teeth in silent frustration. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Starscream had asked him to play enforcer on Earth; never had Onslaught been involved. And why didn't anyone who wasn't a combiner seem to matter to them?

Starscream sighed. "It would be nice to trust you –remember when Decepticons used to trust each other?" Thundercracker didn't. By his face, Onslaught didn't either. "But now, I need a gesture of good faith."

"When have we ever needed such things between us, Starscream?" Onslaught was leering. That was distinctly a leer. Any respect Thundercracker ever had for Onslaught, no, the entire Combaticon team dropped from him like a dirty bomb. Even if Onslaught was joking; that might actually make it worse. Worst of all was the idea that Onslaught hadn't learned yet to school his faceplates. He was never sitting in on Starscream's wheedling again. Sure, he knew that Starscream wouldn't do more than tease, hadn't in ten million years or so, but he did not need to see it.

Starscream didn't give Thundercracker a clue as to what Onslaught was getting at. "Three solar cycles, three plane tickets to Chicago, three American visas for us. I want to be as far away from Megatron as this planet permits."

"You want a lot for blind faith," Onslaught said. "What are you planning?"

"I'm thinking that if I'm going to find the cure before Megatron, I'll need someone I can trust to stall him," Starscream said. "The visas, and we'll retrieve you when I succeed."

"That's a risky job, especially if we don't know what exactly you're doing."

"That's what I'm asking."

"How do I know you won't just take the papers and leave us," Onslaught's face twisted in disgust, "like this?"

"I swear on my honor," Starscream promised.

Onslaught laughed. Thundercracker felt his mouth twitch, but sternly reminded himself he was supposed to be the scary one. Who, this cycle at least, was on Starscream's side.

"Fine," Starscream said, serious this time, "I swear on his honor."

Well, that was new. Thundercracker wondered exactly what Starscream was getting at. More important, probably, was what Onslaught thought Starscream was getting at.

Onslaught raised an eyebrow. He seemed rather enamored of this new ability of his. "I've never heard that one before." He glanced at Thundercracker. Thundercracker nodded slightly at him. The Combaticons had been reformatted and come to Earth during a … turbulent time for the Seekers; it was very possible Onslaught thought that was how they always were.

"It's never been this important before," Starscream said. "On his honor, visas in three cycles, we'll retrieve you when I succeed, and what you don't know can't be beaten out of you."

Air Raid texted him, and Skydive twice, before Slingshot found Skyfire on the roof of the Ark. The older mech, now only two heads taller than Slingshot instead of twice his size, was bent over a datapad. He looked up as Slingshot approached. "Ratchet says he needs you and you can keep all your blood," Slingshot told him.

"Inside my body?" Skyfire asked. When Slingshot didn't respond, he asked, "That wasn't funny?"

Slingshot just looked at him, and shook his head slowly. The first few days, Skyfire couldn't leave them alone, but as soon as they touched down, he had run off to the lab and abandoned them. Slingshot had wondered, in the face of his brother's disappointment, if it had been because Skyfire had lost his sense of humor along with his wings.

Skyfire stood up, and looked down at him. "So they're sending you to Detroit?"

"Yeah," Slingshot said, skipping the ladder entirely and jumping down. "We're going bear hunting."

"Bear hunting," Skyfire repeated, coming down the traditional way.

"Bear hunting," Slingshot confirmed, heading towards the repair bay. He could make unfunny jokes too.

"Along with hunting Decepticons?" Skyfire asked.

"If they show up."

"I'm sure you'll be able to recognize Starscream, at least."

Slingshot gritted his teeth and kept walking. "Just as well as you would." Skyfire only wished he'd had as many opportunities to watch Starscream in action as Slingshot did. He was just jealous, the Aerialbot told himself. Or taking out the loss of his wings on Slingshot, or something. Usually, Skyfire could be counted as one of the Aerialbots' few foul-weather friends.

"Are you okay?" Skyfire asked.

Slingshot did whirl around at that. "I'm fine," he hissed, trying not to shout. "Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

"On my honor?" Thundercracker asked as soon as the door closed behind Onslaught.

Starscream stood and stretched. "It worked, didn't it?" He was smiling, because plotting always put Starscream in a better mood. Thundercracker wondered if Starscream was capable of holding on to a single emotion for more than five kliks. "Onslaught knows a scary mech when one's scowling at him."

"I can't believe you're trusting Onslaught, of all mechs." Thundercracker went into the back room, sat down next to Skywarp's legs and snagged the untouched bag of food. His charades earlier had translated, apparently, into cheeseburgers.

"You are totally irrational with your Combaticon-hate," Skywarp said. At some point, he had flopped backwards on the blanket spread out over the floor. Now he twisted around to look up at Thundercracker. "Seriously, why do you care so much about them?"

Thundercracker stuck a fry in his wingmate's mouth. "Eat."

Skywarp sat up, and stole two more of Thundercracker's fries. "Do we have a plan?"

"Yes," Starscream said, sitting on the floor across from them and accepting a burger. "You pretend to be near death and we, in our grief, inspire the rest of them to rise up and overthrow the Great Slagmaker."

"That is a truly terrible plan," Skywarp said. "Unless part of this plan involved actually patching me up. Can we get on that?"

"You've been patched," Starscream said. "Humans don't get any more patched than you. I know it's difficult for you to conceptualize any sort of delayed gratification, but..."

"You know what would make it better?" Thundercracker said, cutting Starscream off. "Food." He dropped a second hamburger in Skywarp's lap.

"I thought I was supposed to be near death?"

"Pretending," Starscream stressed, sliding his milkshake in Skywarp's direction with a finger.

"He's not actually going to do it," Thundercracker said. "You're not actually going through with it, are you? The thing you told Onslaught was a much better plan, except for the part where you trust Onslaught."

Starscream shrugged. "If Onslaught was right about the Constructicons, I want to be on the other side of this planet. I already got us tickets for Dallas."

"Did you just approve of his plan?" Skywarp asked.

"I said it was a better plan." Thundercracker finished organizing the contents of his burger. "I didn't say it was a good plan. It ranked somewhere below the Stunticons."

"What's worse than the Stunticons?" Starscream asked. "What could you consider to possibly be worse than the Stunticons?"

"The Giant Purple Griffin," Skywarp said. Thundercracker choked on his pickles and Skywarp hit him on the back.

"I thought I managed to forget that," he said. "I was going to say the Pearl of Bahoudin, but you're right. The Giant Purple Griffin was the apex of Decepticon humiliation." It really wasn't, but if Starscream wasn't going to remind them, Thundercracker would play along. This was almost normal. Skywarp ignored his own dinner, stole the rest of Thundercracker's, drank Starscream's, and never stopped talking through the whole thing, which was also as close to normal as circumstances would allow. Sure, it was unfocused and scatterbrained even for Skywarp, but he was finishing his sentences. He even fell asleep across Thundercracker's legs, which was normal by the broadest definition of the word. With Starscream in the same room, Thundercracker wasn't even complaining about the lack of interfacing before Skywarp's unconscious weight pinned him down.

Skywarp had one hand fisted in Thundercracker's shirt, expected enough when he was hurt, but not days later.

Starscream was blathering on about miniaturized sparks and Shockwave's genius being wasted when Skywarp's hand relaxed enough that Thundercracker guessed he was recharging. He wasn't exactly sure, it was much easier to fake now, but if Skywarp was going to pretend he deserved what he heard.

"What did you say to him?" Thundercracker asked Starscream.

"I made him understand," Starscream said. "When I cure this, Megatron's done."

"You can't just stand up and declare yourself leader. Shockwave won't stand for it."

"Then I will kill him and anyone else who disagrees. I'll ask the Autobots for help if I have to. This is insane."

"That's your entire plan?" Thundercracker asked. "That's a terrible plan."

"Its genius may be matched only by its audacity, but it will work."

Thundercracker lined up four of the leftover fries. "First of all," he said, picking one up and throwing it at Starscream, "you'd be doing your science alone. I don't doubt you can do it," Thundercracker learned long ago to never doubt Starscream in the lab, "but can you do it faster than Shockwave and the Constructicons together?"

Starscream caught the fry. "Shockwave built this for a reason, he'll slow them if he doesn't outright sabotage them. You and Skywarp are the entire Decepticon integration brigade; I'll be able to focus more on the solution than they will. Misfire can send us the parts, or I'll ask the Autobots for help if I have to. Remember when they moved their little pet into a proper body and back out?"

Thundercracker ignored the biggest flaw in that, and threw the second fry at him. "The Autobots are more likely to shoot us than help us. Except for maybe the Aerialbots, if we're very, very lucky and we get them alone."

"They're too noble to leave us in the lurch, especially after we tell them about Mighty Megatron's itchy trigger finger." He pointed the fry at Skywarp. "Drop him in Prime's lap and he'll start the slagging war all over again." That was probably true. Yesterday was the first day they managed to get him to eat solid food and not just suck on milkshakes "like a proper Decepticon." Today was the first day Skywarp had asked about going back. He should leave the back room tomorrow; so far he was repeating the first time he was shot.

"And if he's not there? If he goes back to Megatron?" Thundercracker threw the third fry at Starscream. "He'll die, and your Autobot alliance will die with him."

"That's your job." Starscream threw the fry right back at him. "As much as nobody believes I'll lift a servo for him, I believe you'll try to keep him in one piece." Privately, Thundercracker thought Starscream did care about Skywarp. Not as much as Thundercracker himself did, but enough to intentionally provoke Megatron to violence. If he hadn't been distracting their leader, he would never have pushed Megatron's buttons with that little comment about clamping down. Too, they'd been together for eons. Starscream didn't have the patience to put up with slag for two kliks, he had to like Skywarp at least a little else he would have let his victims or the Autobots kill him long ago.

Thundercracker tossed the fry for a third time. "What if I think we'll do better with Megatron?"

Starscream smirked and called his bluff. "How many hard-earned credits did you steal from innocent people today?"

"Don't try to tell me that you actually give a bent screw for them."

"I don't, and maybe you don't either. But tell me, since you're the one that cares about this slag, how much honor is there in theivery?"

Thundercracker threw the last fry at the Air Commander. "When we're outnumbered and outgunned? How many of Shockwave's versus how many of us, again?"

"The last time I talked to Acid Storm he said we were pretty even in firepower if not in moving bodies."

"Your plan still hinges on Misfire, the worst Decepticon in the entire army, getting access to the space bridge." Thundercracker covered his face with his hand.

"Misfire will come through, as long as I don't ask him to shoot anyone. He owes me."

"So this is what you've been reduced to?" Thundercracker peeked through his fingers, unwilling to watch this particular midair collision, even if it was just metaphorical. "Trusting Misfire? Why not just go back to Megatron and skip straight to the begging?"

"Right. Let's just take Skywarp right back so Megatron can shoot him again," Starscream proposed with withering sarcasm, his voice rising. "He might just kill him to make his point, but we'll be okay. We'll lose the respect of every Seeker, which is why Megatron tolerates us, so we'll be saluting the floor buffer and the Stunticons, but at least we'll be alive, unlike Skywarp. Unless Megatron kills me, but you'll be okay. Probably. What do you even contribute to this army?" Starscream asked at the considerable upper limits of his volume.

Thundercracker felt Skywarp stir in his lap, and dropped his hand on his wingmate's head. Skywarp stilled, and he hoped that meant he didn't hear or wouldn't remember this conversation later. "Keeping you alive," he said. "even when you're hell-bent on suicide. Even if Misfire does come through, you're talking about a second war. We've got even odds on Shockwave, what happens when the Autobots figure out what we're up to?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Starscream spat.

Thundercracker shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to do. It just doesn't sound right."

Starscream stood up, folded his arms and looked down at Skywarp. "I've lost one wingmate," he said plainly. Thundercracker sucked in a breath. Starscream never mentioned Skyfire. Ever. Skywarp hadn't known about him until he unfroze. "I'm not about to lose any more to this cursed planet. I will kill every Cybertronian in the galaxy if I have to, including you, but I will not lose another one. If I have to make deals with Shockwave, with the scavengers, with the Autobots, if I have to beg Prime on my knees, I will, but we are not going back to certain death."

For that moment, Thundercracker believed him.

Once he was sure he was alone, Slingshot opened the box from Ratchet. Inside was a plastic visor that fit over his eyes. The lenses turned the whole world a little darker, but when he took his picture with his phone, he almost recognized himself.

The phone went off again, and this time he read the message before he deleted it. All Silverbolt had typed was "come home. please."

Slingshot deleted the message and headed back to his brothers.

Chapter Text

"My mouth is tingly," Skywarp announced after his second tiny bottle of tequila.

"We're supposed to focus on the positive," Thundercracker reminded him, slumped in the airplane seat next to Skywarp with his back to the window. Starscream had claimed the aisle seat, and Skywarp had left the window for their third wingmate, figuring that the clouds would either cheer up Thundercracker or he'd lower the shade. Plus, then he had all of Thundercracker's bulk between him and it. It was bad enough he wasn't flying himself; he didn't need a reminder every five minutes.

"Tingly is good," Skywarp said. "Tequila is awesome."

"Can I trade with him?" Thundercracker asked. "Now that the bubbles are gone, mine just tastes like muddy battery acid."

"No," Starscream said, sipping his coffee. "You may try another flavor, but he is our guinea pig-o-tron for alcohol."

"I'd like to see you stop me," Thundercracker grumbled.

"I wouldn't," Starscream said archly. "I wouldn't stop either of you from doing anything."

As if Skywarp had never sat on Starscream until he sobered up and forgot about reversing the polarity on Megatron's fusion cannon. Skywarp wasn't going anywhere, but Thundercracker closed one of his hands around Skywarp's knee. Whenever Thundercracker had done that before, Skywarp had jerked away; half the time this body would read that as an invitation to interface, and he wasn't even sure how humans did it. Now the sharp edges of the squishy situation were wrapped in a comforting layer of tequila, and for the first time he could entertain thoughts of the bright side existing. "This is awesome," he said. "You know what would make this more awesome?"

"If your answer involves any combination of the words "chocolate milkshake," I will throw you out the window," Starscream said.

"Humans, um, connect, don't they?" Skywarp asked, not too intoxicated to remember they were supposed to blend. "I'm blending, do you know what I mean?"

"Is it supposed to happen this fast?" Starscream asked over Skywarp's head, making a note on his napkin.

"I don't know," Thundercracker said. "Did he eat lately? That can make it faster."

"I'm right here, you know," Skywarp reminded him. "I ate today."

"You had rice five hours ago," Starscream said. "You've probably digested it already."

"This is way better than rice. It doesn't even itch anymore. I can't even feel it anymore." Tequila may have tasted like desperation and gasoline, and it made his head all pitchy, but it made his chest stop aching and that was just really, really awesome.

"You're the expert on humans," Starscream said to Thundercracker. "Is he still supposed to hurt?" Skywarp hadn't realized he said that aloud.

"Until we get him some painkiller or for at least another week."

"Can I be overenergized for a week?"

"No," Thundercracker said. Skywarp was disappointed. He thought Thundercracker would take his side. "You'll get pregnant."

Starscream finished his coffee in one long swallow. "You're going to have to explain that to me," he said. "I thought humans reproduced sexually."

"They need chemical assistance," Thundercracker explained. "Alcohol or birth control."

Starscream paused, like he didn't quite believe Thundercracker. It was probably true; Skywarp himself almost never watched shows that touched upon the subject, but Thundercracker would watch literally anything and had neither reason nor imagination enough to lie. "That is strange," Starscream said, "but you're the expert. We are male, yes?"

"At the moment."

Skywarp swiped Thundercracker's soda. It did taste kind of like battery acid.

"Do I need to review the definition of "male" with you?"

"Hey, hey," Skywarp said, catching on. "Females are the ones who get pregnant. You just don't want me to be happy!"

"It can happen. They call it Mister Seahorse," Thundercracker said, "and the way our luck on this planet is running, do you really want to risk it?"

"Someone would have to have sex with him," Starscream pointed out, waving to the flight attendant. "I'm sure he can abstain for a week."

Skywarp realized that Starscream was trying to talk Thundercracker into letting him do something fun, and that was just so backwards he couldn't help but laugh..

"And then comes the hangover," Thundercracker said. "I'm not sure it would be survivable."

That was something Skywarp could wrap his head around. Thundercracker was just looking out for him, like he always did. "Keep the other two alive" was his assignation and nothing could keep him from doing it. Not even being trapped in a small metal tube and unable to fly himself. He deserved a medal and a, how did the saying end? It was something physical. "You're the best, TC," he said and launched himself at his wingmate, slammed hard into the armrest, and doubled over in pain. He did not whimper. Skywarp was a warrior and a Seeker and had survived the worst of everything Wheeljack had ever cooked up and that meant, by shiny Cybertron, he did not whimper.

"Are you okay?" Thundercracker asked him, tugging at his shoulder. "Lemme see what you've done to yourself now."

"'M fine," Skywarp said to his feet, gyros spinning.

Starscream ignored him and ordered more drinks for the three of them.

Thundercracker pulled the armrest between them up. "Are you bleeding?"

Skywarp wasn't really sure, so he sat up slowly. Thundercracker slipped a hand under Skywarp's shirt, but he wasn't punctured or ripped. "Said I'm fine."

Thundercracker just grunted, in that way that meant "I don't believe you but I'm going to humor you because you're Skywarp." It was subtly different from "I don't believe you but it's not worth arguing about" and "though I can't prove it, I know you're wrong," but Skywarp was the expert on Thundercracker's whole grunting language.

Starscream rolled his eyes. It didn't matter that Skywarp couldn't actually see his eyes, he knew Starscream was rolling them. He made a rude gesture in his wingleader's direction and let Thundercracker pull him back.

It was really weird to have one of Thundercracker's arms so high around his waist, and the other one over his shoulder where vent usually blocked it, and to not have a cockpit propping him up but to press his back flush against Thundercracker's chest from shoulders to hips. It was really, really weird, but it was almost kind of nice to fit together so tightly. There weren't many things Skywarp had stable enough to lean against; only Thundercracker anymore. Thundercracker was the steady one, and that was okay, because he'd given up all sorts of things Skywarp was good at.

Skywarp was good at lots of things. Some things all three of them were good at, like flying and shooting Autobots and being funny, and some things only he and Starscream were good at, like entertaining themselves and making friends and fighting dirty, and some things only he and Thundercracker were good at, like ducking and being sneaky and cutting losses, and some things only Skywarp was good at, like thinking sideways and stopping fights and pushing people down the stairs and he was really overcharged.

He was far too overcharged to notice the dirty looks other passengers were giving him and Thundercracker, but he saw Starscream look at each one in turn, and eviscerate them with his optics. Starscream should totally have eye lasers. Skywarp had been trying to talk Starscream into them for years.

One of Thundercracker's hands was rubbing little circles over Skywarp's chest where Starscream said his spark was now. The former scientist had explained, with lots of huffing, that while the metal to organic matter transmogrification was the most visibly dramatic change, it was far behind whatever Shockwave had invented to shrink their sparks. Starscream assumed all three Seekers had the same miniaturized spark housing embedded in the bones of their chests; though he had only seen Skywarp's. They were close enough in construction outwardly he felt safe assuming their internals were the same as well, especially since human bodies didn't offer much in the way of variation.

None of it made any sense to Skywarp, except for the part where Megatron shot him and then Thundercracker had to, and Starscream had, and he didn't want to think about any of that. If nothing else, tequila was really good at distracting him from that. "And I said that out loud, didn't I?" he asked, when he saw the look on Starscream's face. Starscream couldn't lie with his face anymore.

"If you are going to be like this for the next ten hours," Starscream said, "someone is going out the window."

There were three more tiny bottles of tequila on the tray in front of him, though, and he didn't stop Skywarp from leaning forward and picking them up. Thundercracker pulled him back. "You said you'd only throw me out the window if I said chocolate or milkshake," Skywarp reminded him, fumbling one of the bottles open.

"I can throw you out the window for anything," Starscream informed him.

"The windows don't open," Thundercracker pointed out. "Even if they did, he's too big." Skywarp giggled.

"I should just put you both out of my misery." Starscream retreated behind a magazine from the pocket in front of him.

"You won't let him, right TC?" Skywarp asked.

"Mmm, you are pretty annoying."

"I'll give you tequila." Skywarp held up his last two bottles.

Thundercracker laughed. "And mess up his experiment? You drink them."

"But if I drink too much, I'll cry myself to sleep," Skywarp said. "Like in your tv. And then you'll be alone with him and then he'll throw you out the window." Skywarp thought about that for a minute, then added, "Tequila makes me cold. And hot. At the same time. That's weird."

"I should tape this," Thundercracker said. "It seems safe to say tolerance did not transfer."

"Huh?"

"You're a hell of a lightweight."

"Yeah, well, I bet you'd be worse," Skywarp sulked, drinking another bottle because he was the only one of the three who could hold his high-grade. "I bet you'd be worse than the guy. The baby. Whose name I can't say because he doesn't have a micknane. Why are you the only one with a mickmame?"

"Who are you talking about?" Thundercracker picked up his soda, which meant he wasn't hugging Skywarp anymore, and that decided Skywarp on the whole new kind of hugging issue. He was strongly in favor of it.

Skywarp took Thundercracker's hand and put it back across his hips where it belonged. "You know who," he said, trying to find a way to identify Air Raid without saying his name and blowing their cover. "He's my twin and he's black and sometimes he's a leg and sometimes he just runs into you first head and sometimes he shoots you and sometimes he just washes."

Thundercracker was silent for a moment, trying to make sense of that. "How do you know what the Raider's like when he's overcharged?"

"I'm pretty sure he's always overcharged. That's the joke. You're awesome, do you know that? You're awesome because you always know what I'm saying even when I don't know what I'm saying about legs and babies and not-twins. And you're awesome because you're keeping me from falling over and you always keep me from overfalling," Skywarp amazed himself with his ability to be, what was the word, self-aware when he was so overcharged he could not stop talking. "And you're awesome because you haven't punched Screamer yet once and I know you want to because I kind of want to but we can't because we need him more than he thinks he needs us but he needs us because he's that really smart kind of idiot that he is and needs people not like him to do the stuff he doesn't do."

"You're monologuing," Thundercracker interrupted him. "Just like he does."

"Yeah, well, that's cause we're awesomer than you," Skywarp said. He expected Thundercracker to protest or something, but his wingmate just shifted behind him to free his foot from under Skywarp's leg. "Are you sure you don't want to drink the last battle? This is way better than not-flying. I don't even care about the flying. You could not care about the flying."

"I'm not entirely sure you should," Thundercracker said. His voice rumbled through Skywarp's chest, and it wasn't like it used to but it was kind of close and very nice.

"Not even for science?" Skywarp asked, spinning the last bottle in his hands. He thought he heard Starscream snort, but the Air Commander was still hiding behind the magazine. "Open it for me?"

"If you can't open it, you really shouldn't drink it," Thundercracker said, because he was a complete and total kill buzz.

They could take his wings, and take his warp drive, and take his everything but there wasn't a power on a planet that could stand between Skywarp and high grade when he put his mind to it. He crowed in victory when he got the bottle open, and downed the contents.

Behind him, Thundercracker rested his head on Skywarp's shoulder and sighed. "This is not going to end well. Next time, he gets the soda and I get the alcohol."

"On an airplane, I can deal with him sober or you not. I can't deal with both at the same time," Starscream said without looking over.

"Yeah, well, since when did the universe revolve around you?" Skywarp started to say, but the fifth shot snuck up behind him and hit him in the face with a space shuttle. "Did everything just tilt left and go black for a minnit?"

Thundercracker's hands tightened on him. "Black?"

"Just for a minute," Skywarp said. The world was still sliding left. He tried to grab the seat back to his right, but missed.

He'd never been overcharged enough to miss whatever he was grabbing for support before. That didn't happen until the charge started burning wires out. He blinked, and then he was seeing two Starscreams lowering their magazines. That was just a nightmare. And not optically possible except he didn't have optics he had eyes. "TC," he asked, hesitating. "TC. Something's wrong. I don't, I can't. This isn't fun any more."

"Alcohol's a depressant, idiot," Thundercracker said, smoothing a hand down his chest. Skywarp hadn't realized he was depressanted. He picked his feet up off the floor and braced them against the armrest between him and Starscream. He couldn't exactly feel them, and he didn't want them to run away like his wings.

"Alcohol did this," Starscream said. It wasn't a question. The tequila had crawled in Skywarp's head and was gleefully stomping on switches for...stuff. It was clogging up his tubes and he couldn't finish his thoughts and it was just like no time ever because Cybertronians may get overcharged but it never threw their emotional dampers out the window like this. He covered his face with his hands, wondering if he could just pull the alcohol out of his ears. There wasn't even anything wrong! At least nothing that hadn't been wrong before the drinking.

Thundercracker shrugged, and the motion did things to Skywarp's midsection, things he didn't have words for. Unpleasant things. "Increased chemical sensitivity," he said.

"Only five little bottles, though?" Starscream asked, sickly fascinated. "He looks ready to cry."

"Fizzit," Skywarp said, trying desperately to regain some sort of control over himself. Any sort.

"You're gonna have to sleep it off," Thundercracker told him, tracing circles on his chest again. "You're fine. Just a little drunk."

"A little?" Starscream asked as Thundercracker helped Skywarp rearrange himself into an almost-comfortable position. Skywarp's numb feet ended up in Starscream's lap, which he thought was important, because of the time with the tiny blue lights, but the tequila jumped up and down inside his head and reminded him that Starscream was an evil little glitch who kept him around to hurt. Look at all the terrible things that happened in the general area of Screamer. Skywarp couldn't think of any specific ones, because Thundercracker was conspiring with Starscream and humming, which was totally not fair. Humming and rubbing and he'd been putting Skywarp to sleep whenever it was convenient for Starscream forever because they were both utter jerks who Skywarp didn't deserve.

On the other hand, if he was asleep, he'd miss the greater part of the not flying himself.

"I really hate this," was the last thing Skywarp said before dropping off into blackness.

The airport was all slick chrome and smoky glass and strange people. The Aerialbots and the Protectobots, the first wave of the Autobot rapid-alert network, blended right in. The ten of them were a little odd, yes, but they were much better at adapting to any given change than the rest of the Autobots. Opinions on exactly why were divided. Some shook their heads sadly and said that children were so flexible, still learning how the world worked, that it was a terrible shame their innocence had been stolen from them and now they were being sent out among the natives without really understanding how wrong the very idea was. Some thought that with the loss of the gestalt, they were so traumatized that they were still in shock, not grasping the full implications of anything other than suddenly finding themselves alone.

Air Raid could have told everyone they were wrong, that they just had better things to do than sit around and feel sorry for themselves while the science team fixed this. Like finding Fireflight, lost in the human sea. He had gotten distracted by something, Air Raid wasn't sure what, and then he had gotten turned around, and now he was...there!

"Found you," Air Raid said across the line, coming around the information board.

Fireflight hung up his phone. "I could have found you. There's a map," he said.

"I know," Air Raid said easily, taking Fireflight's arm and steering him towards the nearly-empty restaurant where the others were. "I don't mind coming to get you. We're testing out the aliases Jazz got for us."

"Do they work?"

Air Raid shrugged. "Well enough to get beer. I got you one, if you want to try it."

Fireflight was quiet for a minute, then said, "The sunglasses didn't fix Slingshot. You should hug him. You're the only one whose hugs he likes anymore."

"I like my arms attached."

Fireflight smiled at him. "Then we'll have to get one of the Protectobots to do it. Except Hot Spot, he'd make Slingshot cringe like Silverbolt does."

Air Raid couldn't follow Fireflight's logic, but he'd seen Slingshot try to pretend he wasn't suffering through the others hugging him. "There's where the others are," he said, pointing to the restaurant. "You can try to talk them into hugging him."

Skydive and Streetwise had opted out of the alcohol experience and were sharing a plate of nachos at their own table. Slingshot, Blades, Groove and First Aid squished around another table with two empty chairs, a bigger plate of nachos, five beers, and one soda in front of the medic. "Where'd Silverbolt and Hot Spot go?" Fireflight asked.

Slingshot shrugged and moved over so Fireflight could sit between him and Air Raid. "They said they'd be back. Probably-"

Air Raid stepped on his foot. "So how do we do this?"

"First we clink," Groove said. "Then we drink, man."

"You shouldn't have more than one," First Aid told them. "I don't think it would be a good idea to actually get drunk."

"I am not picking up anyone from Mexico with no pants and a purple tattoo on their aft," Streetwise said.

"That's tequila," First Aid said. "I've cleaned up after tequila. Nobody should ever drink tequila."

"So as long as we keep our pants on, we're good. Gotcha." Air Raid lifted his glass and the others, even First Aid, clinked theirs against it.

"People do this for fun?" Fireflight asked, grimacing at the taste.

"It's not so bad," Slingshot said.

Air Raid didn't think it was all that great, but the nachos were spicy and it was nice to have something to wash the taste out with. "So what are you guys doing in Los Angeles?"

Blades swallowed his nachos and said, "We're going to look for Decepticons hurting each other," First Aid raised his hand, "breaking the law," Streetwise raised his glass, "and setting things on fire."

"That's Hot Spot's job," Groove added.

"I wonder if they would call for help from humans?" Fireflight wondered, pulling the green peppers off his nachos and trading them for Slingshot's onions.

"Maybe if Starscream got shot and stormed off in a huff," Streetwise said. "What are you guys doing?"

"We're going to work places where lots of people pass through," Skydive said proudly. "Fast-food, retail, that sort of invisible thing."

"That's cool," First Aid said. "Our way will take longer, but we can't stop helping people."

Air Raid was ninety-five percent certain First Aid's programming didn't allow him to give offense. He probably meant that he was sorry they were less efficient or that their first priority wasn't the bunch of crazy killers wandering around. Or something equally innocuous.

Slingshot had other ideas. "Ours is better than sitting around waiting for the Decepticreeps to wake up one morning suddenly civic-minded."

"You should know," Blades said. "You're more than half one yourself."

"Yeah, well, at least I can keep up with them!" Slingshot said, as if Blades hadn't called him that and worse in the car. Though, in the car, it had been the friendly sort of insult-trading that left First Aid out of it.

Blades jumped out of his seat, knocking the table and causing everyone to grab their drink; Slingshot half a second behind him. "You're not half as tough as you think you are," the Protectobot said.

"Wanna bet?"

Fireflight threw himself between the two and pushed Slingshot back into Air Raid. Air Raid wrapped his arms around his smaller brother and didn't dare let go. "Slingshot, let it go," he said. Blades and Slingshot fighting was nothing new. Pulling Slingshot off of Blades was nothing new. Slingshot so furious at his friend he was shaking, that was someone Air Raid hadn't had to restrain since 'ninety-five.

"Hey, let's all calm down now," Groove said. "There's no need to fight."

"Right, there's never a reason to fight, is there?" Slingshot asked. "I mean, we could all just sit down and let ourselves get hit. Or shot by Decepticons. Yeah, let's find some 'Cons and see how well not fighting works." Air Raid should have covered his mouth or stuck a sock in it or something.

"Have you ever even given it a shot?" Streetwise demanded.

"That would be suicide," Skydive said. "Did you know they have an official game built around shooting pacifists? Medics are worth double points." Air Raid felt his jaw drop. Skydive should be heading out to get Silverbolt, not making it worse.

"How about we all give beer a second chance?" First Aid suggested, tugging on Blades' collar. "I want to try it now. Let's all try it again."

"Yeah," Slingshot agreed, "Maybe I'll be able to stand you if I'm drunk." First Aid dropped his brother's shirt and looked away. Air Raid tried not to roll his eyes. Slingshot was just blowing off steam, obviously. He loved First Aid like a medic who didn't judge and knew how to keep a secret.

Blades tried to shove Fireflight out of his way, but Fireflight had four inches and forty pounds on him. Air Raid couldn't see his expression, just the confused tilt of his head. "Maybe we should do what First Aid says," he said.

Streetwise stepped up behind Blades. "Hot Spot's not answering his phone," he said with a hand on his brother's shoulder. "People are starting to stare."

Skydive wasn't volunteering to go, Slingshot wouldn't retreat from the field, and Fireflight would get lost. "We'll go find them," Air Raid said, dragging Slingshot with him. He hated retreating, but he figured it was better to go find his big brother than to lose this exciting opportunity to go to Detroit. Plus, this wasn't a real battle. This was the Protectobots. They were sort-of half-brothers and fighting them left a bad taste in his mouth.

Silverbolt and Hot Spot hadn't gone too far; there was a pillar and a baggage cart blocking their line of sight to the restaurant and giving them the illusion of privacy. Silverbolt was laying with his legs thrown over one arm of the bench and his head in Hot Spot's lap. Hot Spot was.

Hot Spot was tickling Silverbolt's nose with the end of the Aerialbot's braid, and that was just really. Awkward.

"-walked into a door," Silverbolt was saying. "A door. And I'm supposed to take him to Detroit."

"What's he going and whining about 'Flight for?" Slingshot bitched in Air Raid's ear. Air Raid grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Let them do their thing," he said. "You want Silverbolt twitchy all the way across the country?"

"He'll be fine as long as he doesn't look out the window," Slingshot pointed out, waving in the general direction of the gestalt leaders. Air Raid grabbed his hand before he actually caught their attention. This time, he didn't let go.

Let it not be said he didn't learn eventually. "Let Hot Spot do his Hot Spot thing. When's Silverbolt gonna see him again? He's allowed to have friends just as much as you."

"I am not friends with Blades like that," Slingshot said.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should. It'd make you easier to live with," Air Raid muttered.

"Nothing would make you easier to live with," Slingshot said with a huff, leaning against the pillar. Air Raid squeezed his hand and thought about hugging him. Slingshot looked to be in a punchy mood, though.

"Jazz got us an apartment all set up," Hot Spot told Silverbolt. "Did he do the same for you?"

"Yeah," Silverbolt said. "He even arranged for us to have a car waiting, Detroit's not big on public transportation."

"Sounds like we're both good then." Hot Spot wrapped Silverbolt's hair around his fist. Where they couldn't see, Air Raid mimed gagging at Slingshot. "You'll be okay?"

"I'll have my brothers." Silverbolt gave Hot Spot a wry smile and sat up. "They'll keep me busy at least."

"You love the little vegetable cakes, though," Hot Spot said.

Slingshot spread his hands at Air Raid, silently asking what Hot Spot meant. Air Raid, having no clue, shook his head.

"Yeah," Silverbolt said, "we'll be fine. Will you be okay?"

"I'll have my vegetable cakes." Hot Spot stood up, and helped Silverbolt to his feet, then hugged him. Great. Now they were kissing. Air Raid knew they did that, of course, but he didn't need to see it. Ever. He averted his eyes and wished for sunglasses like Slingshot. At least all four hands were visible.

"I'll call you," Silverbolt promised, and Air Raid peeked around the pillar. "Every Friday."

"I'll answer, come hell or high water." It figured Hot Spot would get that one right.

Air Raid gave them thirty seconds, then when they just kept holding hands and staring at each other like dorks, came around the pillar. "Hey, guys," he said. "We got a bit of a situation. With Blades."

"Of course," Hot Spot said.

"And Slingshot?" Silverbolt sighed. At the look on his face, Air Raid felt the very unfamiliar feeling of regret welling up. Would it really have killed him to let the two of them say goodbye on their own terms?

"I didn't do anything," Slingshot protested. "I tried to apologize to First Aid and Blades tried to hit me."

Silverbolt and Hot Spot gave Slingshot identical looks of disbelief, then headed back to the others.

"Was that what happened?" Air Raid asked, trailing after them. "Because, I didn't see that. I saw Blades call you a Decepticon and try to knock Fireflight over, but I really think I would have noticed you apologizing to First Aid."

"I was going to drink with him, dummy," Slingshot said. "That's an apology."

"So it was one of those," Silverbolt said tiredly.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Hot Spot said. "At least they'll stop fighting when they're on other sides of the country,"

Skywarp woke up with something that resembled a headache in much the same way a supernova resembled a sparking wire. And someone was shaking him. "'M up," he mumbled, then retched. Dimly, he registered a paper bag being shoved over his mouth, and bile rising over his throat, but next to the pounding in his processor that was a minor distraction. Hands, probably Thundercracker's, pulled him upright and buckled him down. "Dying," Skywarp croaked. "Don't need no seatbelt."

"You're just hungover," Thundercracker said, stroking his hair. Skywarp thought about punching him, but elected to just squeeze his eyes shut to keep them from being forced from his head. "TC? Remember the time Devestator accidentally stepped on your head?"

"That's not really something you forget."

"Stop touching me."

"We're touching down," Starscream said. "Why did you drink so much?"

There was something wrong with Starscream's memory chips. Too much blunt impact trauma, or maybe not enough. Skywarp made a rude gesture.

"I suppose on the grand list of poor life choices you've made, this isn't very high."

"I don't know," Thundercracker said, far too amused by the whole thing but at least keeping his hands to himself. "He looks like he's suffering."

"I hate you both," Skywarp declared, even as Starscream ordered him to drink a bottle of water. He ignored them steadily all through the touchdown, all through them guiding him by the arm through the airport, and that took a while, and even all through them putting him in a taxi, pulling him out, and pushing him down to sit on a bed. He'd never ignored them for that long before, but they ignored him all the time, at even more inconvenient times, and anyways, he wasn't sabotaging them. Just focusing on not throwing up again or having the contents of his head slide out his audios. Yeah, that was difficult enough to do, especially for hours and hours and hours, when they kept talking to him and touching him and not really giving them a reason to get mad. He counted Starscream giving him five bottles of water and one hand on top of his head to keep him from banging it on the car roof; Thundercracker put his arm around Skywarp's shoulders for a hundred forty-three stair steps. He also counted them calling him an idiot fourteen separate times, questioning his ability to maintain his balance five, and in a surprisingly clean rant Starscream called him a sulky child, so he probably would survive this. He thought about pushing Starscream down the stairs once, but his gyros hadn't leveled out yet and he didn't want to follow him.

All those numbers left a good part of his mind unoccupied, though, and he used it to calculate the amount of gelatin he would need to fill whatever space he found himself in, ambush sites, the warp vectors from door to door, choke points, the exchange rate between American dollars and Renminbi, and the odds of Thundercracker getting caught picking up somebody else's bag.

Thundercracker was terrible at stealing.

The security forces were even more terrible at catching people, though, and so they acquired enough cash for a two-bed room in some motel Skywarp couldn't be bothered to pinpoint beyond "Texas," and it was only when Starscream warned him the coffee was hot that he acknowledged his presence.

"I hope your experiment was worth it," Skywarp told the ex-scientist.

"Your sacrifice in the name of science is greatly appreciated," Starscream said, sitting at the table and writing something down.

The coffee smell made his throat constrict, and the liquid was too hot to drink anyways. Skywarp dropped the paper cup on the nightstand, flopped backwards, and promptly regretted it. Once his gyros stopped spinning, though, the bed was cool if a little scratchy, and at least the colors didn't make his eyes bleed. Maybe he would live after all.

The room had only one outside door, barricadable, but also the only exit. The beds would give them some cover, and the bathroom door wasn't immediately visible from the entrance. Of course, they hadn't been able to take their weapons on the plane, which seriously limited their defense options, but there were walls and a roof. He'd been trapped with Starscream in worse places.

"Shopping list," Starscream said, handing the paper to Thundercracker.

"You're going to have to learn how to do this sooner or later," Thundercracker grumbled, putting his shoes back on.

"Not as long as I can send you." Starscream booted up the laptop. "Leave me Skywarp, I need his brain module."

Thundercracker folded the paper and tucked it in a pocket. "This list is vauge."

"I trust your judgement."

"How many days are we going to stay here?"

Starscream shrugged. "At least until I can get us proper IDs mailed."

"What's wrong with the ones from Swindle?" Skywarp asked. "They worked well enough."

"They're from Swindle. Do you really want him to be able to track us?"

"I thought you trusted the Combaticons," Thundercracker said, with zero emotion.

"I trust them to do whatever they feel serve them best," Starscream said, with that same flat tone.

Skywarp sat up and leaned on Thundercracker, hard. "Did you hear? He needs me."

"I need your brain module," Starscream specified.

"So you admit I'm smarter than you?" Skywarp asked.

"There are Stunticons smarter than you."

"Name one," Skywarp challenged.

Thundercracker laughed. "He's got you there."

"Or he's lying about the brain module. Are you lying about the brain module?"

"Yes," Starscream said without looking up. "I really need you for passionate interfacing. I'm looking it up," a strangled laugh escaped from poor Starscream, unable to keep a straight face without a gun pointed at him, "I'm looking up the mechanics as we speak."

"But I've been drinking. You'll get me pregnant," Skywarp cackled. "Unless, unless, that is your master plan. I don't know how that would help, but I never understand, I never, oh frag."

"Please don't impregnate him," Thundercracker said, pulling Skywarp off the floor. "We don't need more of either of you."

"Aw, TC, don't be like that. You make it sound like you don't like us."

"Well, take notes on what he finds and we can compare them later." Thundercracker left, shaking his head.

Starscream typed on the computer for a minute. Skywarp drank the coffee. It was sweeter than he'd been lead to believe. "Whatcha doing?" he asked Starscream.

"Creating us new identities," Starscream said. "Ones nobody else knows about. Give me three names. Believable ones."

"What does it matter? It's not like we'll be spending tons of time with fleshbags."

"We're getting jobs." Starscream looked over at him. "Legitimate ones."

"Can't you just do the thing with the moving the numbers?

"If you want to get caught and sit in jail until Soundwave comes for us. Do you want Soundwave to come for us?"

Skywarp had to admit, he did not. "But I could get us cash. I'm much better at it than TC."

"Without warping?"

"Oh yeah. That makes it harder." Skywarp fell back on the bed again. "There's gotta be another way."

"There probably is." Starscream gently closed the lid of the laptop the frustrated way he did when he wanted to break some irreplaceable thing. "Working for humans is the last thing we'd do. So anyone with an employment record Soundwave will assume is not us."

"I hadn't thought of that," Skywarp admitted. "It's still really gross. We'd be taking orders from insects. Fungi. What comes before insects and fungi?"

"Besides," Starscream said, crossing to the other side of the room, "it'll make Thundercracker happy to do honest work. I think we can both agree he's more bearable when he's happy?" He almost managed to keep a straight face.

Skywarp snickered and hung his head off the side of the bed to watch Starscream make coffee upside-down. "You should be Steve Stark." The s-ts would help Starscream remember those names referred to him; even though it was a bit of a giveaway, having familiar sounds made fake names easier to use. "I want to be Sam Winchester."

"No TV characters I've heard of."

"Sam Wesson?" Skywarp tried.

Starscream went back to the table, opened the lid and hit some keys. "That's one of Sam Winchester's aliases. You need your own."

"S-k is way harder than S-t," Skywarp said. "S-k-something-w isn't even a thing. How about Keith Moon?"

"Will you remember to answer to it?" Starscream asked.

"I've gone by "Moon" before."

Starscream went back to the coffee maker. "Fine. Thundercracker?"

"Thor Cullen," Skywarp smirked.

"Thor doesn't sound like it would blend."

Skywarp sat up. "It sounds like a stupid name, and then everyone will call him TC, and then he'll actually answer to it."

Starscream poured two cups of coffee and tilted his head. "You're being logical. He's going to hate the name, isn't he?"

"It means "thunder," he'll totally love it." Skywarp accepted one of the cups and added four of the little sugar packs to it, like he'd seen on the television. He supposed they would have to start watching as much as Thundercracker did, to learn how to blend in. "Where's the remote?"

Chapter Text

Man plans, God laughs – Yiddish proverb.

It was weird, stepping off a plane five hours and nineteen hundred miles away from where Fireflight got on, and being in almost the same place. The airport was still airy white, and large as the Ark, and despite the late hour far more crowded than the last one.

Fireflight stopped to watch a child, male, dressed in green plaid and denim, dark skin, short dark hair, playing with a toy -a yo yo? Whatever it was, it spun green and gold, dropping from his hand but never quite reaching the floor. The child grinned, white teeth flashing, two missing on the bottom, as he jerked the toy up on its string before it hit the ground. He took a step towards the child, but Air Raid put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him away without missing a beat.

"Did you send your texts?" his brother asked.

"I was on the same plane as everyone else," Fireflight said. "If one of us texts them, isn't that the same as letting them know we all got here safely?"

"If anyone could get lost while in an airplane, it would be you," Slingshot said.

"Nobody's texted Wheeljack," Silverbolt said. "So he doesn't know any of us are on the ground."

Fireflight took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the texting program. "We have all arrived in Detroit in one piece," he said aloud as he poked the screen with his finger. "Except for Slingshot's manners."

"Hey!"

"Baggage pickup is over there," Skydive said as Fireflight quietly deleted the second sentence. When the other Aerialbots walked over to claim their bags, Fireflight hung back until Silverbolt turned around.

"C'mon, 'Flight," he said. "We still have almost an hour of driving." The other three turned around, and Fireflight captured the image.
"I wanted to show Wheeljack we were okay," he said, joining them at the carousel. He attached the picture to the message and sent it out.

"But you weren't in it," Air Raid said, locating his bag.

"Well, I was holding the camera. It's implied."

"No," Skydive said, setting his and Slingshot's on the ground, "all that's implied is that somebody is holding your phone. Not necessarily you."

"Look," Slingshot said, "a puppy!"

"Where?" Fireflight craned his neck to follow Slingshot's finger. There was a stuffed animal, grey, shiny black nose, brand new, being held by a small girl in a puffy pink coat, a tall man next to her carrying his coat over his arms, the white fleece lining facing out, another child, holding the hand of a second man, dragging a black stuffed dog by the tail.

And Air Raid, standing in front of him, taking his picture. "Now he's got a picture of all of us," Air Raid announced as Fireflight rubbed the spots from the flash out of his eyes. "Sorry."

"S'okay." Fireflight took his bag from Silverbolt. Each Aerialbot had a bag with four outfits, the toiletries they used now, and a few personal items. Fireflight brought some of his smaller captured images, his flying brick, and the lava lamp Wheeljack tucked in when his creator thought he wasn't looking. Silverbolt had made him leave his rock collection at home.

The parking lot was too big to see the edges of, an endless cloudbank of brightly colored cars shining under the setting sun. Fireflight wasn't surprised when Air Raid took his hand. The last time Fireflight had tried to pick his way across a parking lot, it had been dark, in China, when none of them were yet used to their centers of gravity so low or bodies so narrow. They tripped over each other, and Ironhide got mixed up in the middle, and Grimlock wanted to swap anyone, anyone at all for Sludge.

There was the same number of cracks in the asphalt, too.

"This must be the car," Silverbolt said, stopping after a few rows in front of a green station wagon, the fourth Ford Escort they'd seen.

"How can you tell?" Slingshot asked.

"Jazz must have given him the plate number," Skydive said.

"Look, there's a toy you on the hood!" Fireflight pointed out.

"Uh, guys," Air Raid interrupted, peering in the window, "we have a problem. I don't think 'Bolt's going to fit."

Skydive looked into the window next to him, then to their brother. "Maybe, if he pushes the seat all the way back Slingshot can still fit behind him?"

"What are you volunteering me to do?" Slingshot popped open the hatchback and started loading their bags in.

"Then who's going to drive? Silverbolt asked.

"I will," Skydive said, and Silverbolt handed him the keys.

"I'll read the map," Air Raid added.

Slingshot closed the hatch, needing to jump up to reach the handle. "Me and 'Flight get the windows this time."

"Alright, everyone in," Silverbolt said, giving Air Raid the address.

If Skydive had any trouble with the car, Fireflight couldn't tell. He drove carefully towards the exit and pulled smoothly into traffic as if he'd been driving for years, not weeks. Fireflight sat behind him, his knees almost touching the back of the seat, but it wasn't as bad as the plane had been.

Even with the seat pushed all the way back, Silverbolt's legs didn't quite fit. He kept twisting around, too, asking Slingshot if he had enough room, checking Skydive's blind spot, confirming Air Raid's directions, touching Fireflight's knee. Outside the car window, trees lined the highway, reaching for the clouds but not too high. Fireflight wondered why the airport was so far from the city, then realized the trees were shielding houses from highways' noise.

The highway was wide, and crowded, but the cars danced along in long-practiced ribbons. A black sports car he didn't know the name of wove from side to side, inching along ahead of a puffy blue Dodge that stayed in the left lane and never fell behind. In the backseat of a white Yukon a couple kissed; the window was tinted, only their outlines visible. They drew apart, one laid his head on the other's shoulder. Air Raid, with no leg room in the middle, was leaning against Fireflight as he called out the directions from his phone to Skydive. Two highways met, dipping under and over one another in a knot as complicated as any maneuver they'd flown.

An oil refinery rose on their right, one of the tanks painted as a basketball. The signs informed him that he was welcome to the City of Detroit, but on the highway he had the strange sense of passing over it, traveling in a bubble that didn't touch the city proper. Fireflight looked, morbidly curious, for the bears he had heard about, the war-zone, the flaming husks of abandoned buildings. There weren't any. The south side of Detroit looked little worse than the bad part of every other city Fireflight had ever flown over, maybe as bad as the ruins of Vos, but it wasn't a complete Pit. There was even plenty of greenery around the tired buildings, more sunlight reaching down. Skydive navigated around another complicated loop, and Fireflight realized two things.

The first was that it wasn't just the south side that needed a tune-up. All of Detroit, or at least all of it visible from the highway, could have used a fresh coat of paint and a nap, or a firefog missile.

The second was the near-total lack of people.

There were people in cars, and plenty of those, and a few people at one crosswalk or another, but for a place where eight hundred thousand people lived, it was a ghost town. What he had thought were parks were abandoned lots, what he took for apartment buildings were crumbling husks. Three houses stood in a row, plywood nailed over their eyes. The corpse of a strip mall floated in a sea of broken concrete. An entire skyscraper stared blindly down, a bird's nest in a broken thirty-third story window. The city rolled past him, dead and half-buried, neglected and decayed in a way Cybertron would never be.

Maybe if Fireflight hadn't been whizzing through it at seventy miles an hour, if he could poke around in his own time, he could have found something in Detroit, some spark of beauty. It was what he was built to do, see what everyone else overlooked. But it was so, so difficult to see past the grey shell and the nothingness it overlaid.

"Well, now I understand why Prowl thinks the 'Cons would be here. Looks like they already were," Slingshot said. "Hey, firebug? You see what I mean?"

Startled out of his reverie, Fireflight shook his head. "I don't know," he began. Detroit had to have something good about it. Everything did, even Slingshot.

Slingshot didn't let him finish. "It totally looks like that. Did we just take ninety-four to ninety-six to seventy-five to ten back to ninety-four to seventy-five?"

"That's what the map said to do," Air Raid defended. "There's construction or something, the road's closed."

"I take it back. This place would be improved by a Decepticon invasion."

"Living here is bad enough, they don't deserve Megatron on top of it," Silverbolt said. "We're almost to base. Twelve miles out."

"Sheesh, I thought we weren't staying in this dump."

"We're already out of Detroit," Skydive said.

"Doesn't look it," Slingshot sulked, holding his phone at arm's length and typing with his thumbs. He held anything he read at arm's-length now.

Fireflight's phone buzzed in his pocket with a text. "Did you just text me from two feet away?"

"Open it and find out." Slingshot had forwarded a picture from Blades of First Aid and Streetwise eating chicken and waffles. There were more people in the background than Fireflight had seen in the entire city of Detroit.

Air Raid talked Skydive through one more cloverleaf, and on the other side the highway was separated from the city by a tall concrete wall. The roofs on the other side were solid, at least. "Is this the part of Detroit we're staying in?"

"We're not staying in Detroit," Silverbolt said. "We're staying in the suburbs."

"The city never stopped," Slingshot argued. "Just 'cause there's trees next to the highway doesn't mean it stopped."

"Well," Silverbolt paused, "if you think of it that way, yes. This is the part we're staying at."

"Look, there's even little skyscrapers," Slingshot kept on arguing. "If there's skyscrapers we're still in Detroit."

"What exit do we get off at?" Skydive asked.

"Sixty-nine," Air Raid said. "Big Beaver."

"There's a mall," Fireflight pointed out Slingshot's window. "It looks pretty crowded."

"Good eyes, 'Flight," Silverbolt said. "That's only five miles from base. We'll start looking tomorrow."

"Okay," Air Raid told Skydive as he headed down the off-ramp. "When you get off, go right and then take the first left."

"I can't go left," Skydive said patiently. "There's a, whatsit, in the way."

"There's a break in it up ahead," Fireflight said. Skydive turned left through it.

"Well, that was unnecessarily complicated," Slingshot said. "What's wrong with the guy who came up with that's processor?"

"I don't know, Skydive, turn right now," Air Raid said. "And then right into the second parking lot."

"Are we here now?" Slingshot asked. "Can we finally be done with this nightmare trip?"

"Yes," Silverbolt said. "Let's go see what they set up for us."

They had to go up to the top, the sixth floor; there was an elevator that smelled like bathroom soap. Silverbolt stopped in front of one of the doors and unlocked it. "We're next to the fire stairs, that's good."

Air Raid and Slingshot were right on his heels, immediately dropping their bags and rushing over to the window that took up an entire wall of the living room. "Just the parking lot," Air Raid reported. "Nothing interesting."

Skydive went to the left of the door, into the tiny kitchenette. "Jazz left us some extra keys, and two guns. Why only two?"

"Because only one of you bothered to fill out the paperwork to carry one," Silverbolt said. "At least we have furniture."

Indeed, the living room had a couch, a coffee table and a couple of chairs, all in shades of beige, a TV and a metal desk with another matching chair. Down the hall, two doors on the right each led to a bedroom with one dresser and one bed; the beds looked strangely off before Fireflight realized they didn't have blankets or pillows. At the end of the hall, on the left, was a small bathroom.

"'Flight?" he heard Silverbolt calling, "Fireflight?"

"Did he manage to get lost in the apartment?" Slingshot demanded. "That's new, even for him."

"Chill, Slingers," Air Raid said, on the edge of Fireflight's hearing.

"I'm just checking the rest of the place out." Fireflight came back into the living room.

"What do you want on your pizza?" Skydive asked.

"Whatever," Fireflight said, wandering over to the window. Another one of Slingshot's little skyscrapers blocked his view, but he didn't think he'd be able to see downtown, even though it was less than a minute on the wing away. It would be easy to forget the bird's nest perched in the broken window.

It was surprisingly easy to forget, for whole hours at a time. Starscream just fired up the Internet and taught himself about polar ice packs or neuromodulators or adenosine triphosphate, and pretended he was in his lab until his idiot wingmate's caterwauling dragged him back to reality. He spent whole mega-cycles at a time in his lab, spent deca-cycles on the Nemesis under four thousand mechanometers of water. Even if it took him an entire stellar-cycle, this would be nothing more than an uncomfortable blip in his endless life.

Except this body wasn't wired to deal with cycles, deca or mega or stellar. This body was wired to days and months and seasons. Keeping it running didn't really take any longer; even with shaving, he could be through the washracks in far less time than before, it consumed a fraction of a cube at a meal, a brief nap was a full night's recharge, but he had to do everything so often!

Perhaps he'd just let the hair on his chin grow.

Someone pounded on the door, making his hand slip and draw a bead of brilliant red. Starscream hissed and pressed a tissue to the spot. "Mail call, Screamer," Skywarp sang through the door.

"Don't call me that," Starscream yelled back. He dressed himself before leaving the bathroom and pulling Thundercracker off of Skywarp by the collar. "The paperwork came, I assume?"

Skywarp sat up and rubbed his neck. "I put yours on your console...thing."

Starscream didn't bother to correct him. He sat in the chair and checked them over, even though he wasn't sure what he was looking for. The citizenship papers he had arranged for seemed legitimate enough, and certainly had been expensive enough. Three new identities had completely wiped out the account he used when he needed to acquire things through channels that were not Swindle. "Good. You can go get lunch and test yours. Alone."

Skywarp grinned at him. "Any way I want?"

"Can I trust your judgment?" Starscream didn't wait for an answer and booted up his computer. He was starting to get attached to the brave little thing, after rewriting every line of code in its aluminum case. It was certainly a more trustworthy companion than either of the two morons he was stuck with, but they were far more useful for all the dirty jobs, what with the moving independently and everything. Skywarp dropped off a cup of coffee as he left the room. Starscream had trained his wingmates well, and though it said disturbing things about the entire Cybertronian race, they were the most capable mechs in the entire Decepticon ranks, the two most likely to have an original thought. No, it wasn't fair to compare them to anything incapable of making a choice simply because they had only brought back two decent pairs of shoes.

Starscream expected Thundercracker to remark on the risk of sending Skywarp out alone, but he just sprawled across one of the beds and watched a spider walk across the ceiling, without turning the television on. "Do we need to talk?" Starscream asked.

"You are the last person I want to talk to." And if the silence hadn't been enough of a giveaway, that certainly was.

"I didn't ask if you want to talk. I asked if we need to talk."

Thundercracker held his fake ID at arm's-length, considering the full ramifications of what it represented. Then he crated all that slag up, shoved it in the back of his processor, and focused on something small enough to grasp with human fingers. It was in the way he shook out invisible wings when he rolled over to face his friend.

"You let him name me Cullen." Thundercracker said finally.

"What's wrong with Cullen?"

"He's a sparkling rusty vampire, that's what's wrong."

"You say that like it means something to me. Are baby vampires worse than regular ones?"

"No, seriously, he's a vampire -a sparkeater- that actually glitters."

"I'm weeping for you." Starscream rolled his dry eyes. "On the inside."

"His girlfriend's a lot younger than him."

"So it fits?"

"I suppose it does." Thundercracker tried to smile. He overshot the mark, but at least he attempted. It wasn't kernel panic; Starscream would take it. "It's still a stupid name."

"That's exactly what he said." Starscream turned back to his computer and checked to see if Swindle had contacted him. "It's a stupid name, which will lead everyone to calling you TC, and then you'll remember to answer. Was I supposed to extinguish such a fragile ember of intelligence?"

"That's actually, huh," Thundercracker didn't finish, but he turned on the television. Mission accomplished, with only a minimally awkward conversation.

The next one was considerably more complex. A few days ago, while tapped into a satellite, Starscream had found a recording of a caravan driving from the Ark to the airport, and when he hacked the flight manifests he could discovered five names, on the flight going to Detroit, that could only be the Aerialbots. The contrail almost faded there, but the gestalt team was competent to an almost terrifying degree, to survive so many battles with Starscream so young. Yesterday, with a brief search of the concealed carry database, such good little Autobots to ask permission, he narrowed it down to a county.

Today, he injected a few lines of code deep into the police network. It was easy enough for someone of Starscream's caliber, made easier by how familiar the primitive language was. Human minds, so alien, would have developed architecture impossible for Starscream to hack if the Autobots had left them alone. Now Prime's sharing with the meatbags would be his undoing. Part of it, anyways. Part of it would be whatever Aerialbot had backed over a stop sign, earning himself a citation and giving Starscream an address.

The computer beeped, delivering a message from Swindle.

Moved out to Camden. All available units called out on hunt for missing three. Orders dead or alive. None headed towards Dallas yet.

How Swindle managed to pack so much smugness into just nineteen words was beyond even Starscream's ken, but he thought it might have something to do with the font. Starscream sighed and looked at the ceiling. The spider had taken to weaving a gossamer...Starscream had no idea what the spider was doing.

Well, Detroit was as good as Dallas for Starscream's purposes. Better, with the Aerialbots there. Either they'd shield him from Megatron's fusion cannon, or, if they refused, he'd buy his way back into Megatron's good graces with their location. The hard part would be keeping track of the rest of the Decepticons. And reversing this; Starscream would have to rebuild his lab, from scratch.

That at least would keep the other two busy. Neither of his wingmates dealt well with inactivity, a grave fault in a soldier, but distracting them was always easy enough. It was hard to say which one was worse. Skywarp didn't get bored so much as make poor choices. The results were entertaining enough, but more often than not Starscream was the one re-rewiring the monitors so Shockwave was no longer displayed in Constructicon green. Bringing Skywarp in as their third, Starscream firmly believed, had saved his life.

"Our great and glorious leader wishes us to return," Starscream said, tipping his head towards the bed. "One way or another." He expected Thundercracker to criticize the source of his information, but his wingmate just grunted in acknowledgement. Skywarp had to be kept busy, or he'd go out and do something. Leave Thundercracker to his own devices, and he'd start thinking. Not unlike other mechs Starscream had flown with. "Did you ever figure out...?" He let the sentence trail off, knowing that Thundercracker would finish it himself.

"Not having that conversation with you," Thundercracker said, still watching the television. "Never having that conversation with you again."

"You can borrow my computer."

"Don't need to."

"So you did figure interfacing out!" Starscream grinned and clapped his hands. "Tell me all about it!"

"You're a pervert," Thundercracker said, which was not only a complete sentence, he made eye contact while saying it. "Can we talk about anything else, since you apparently can't shut up for five minutes?"

Starscream raised his eyebrows at Thundercracker. "I was just not talking for," he checked the clock. "An hour."

"Right, and whichever Aerialbot took out the sign isn't carrying, Perceptor would weep if he saw what they did to his code, and Shockwave was Acid Storm green, not Constructicon green."

"Okay, Soundwave, that's just creepy."

"You were talking," Thundercracker repeated. "And it's annoying."

"And that's my job," Skywarp said, juggling the key card and the bags.

"What is on your head?" Starscream and Thundercracker asked at the same time.

Skywarp set the bags on the table and passed out cheeseburgers. "It's called a hat."

"It's a cowboy hat," Thundercracker said as Skywarp sat on the bed next to him. "At least it matches your boots."

Skywarp just smiled and dropped the black hat on Thundercracker's head.

It would have been funny, except Starscream was distracted by the brown paper bag. "Did you buy tequila?" Starscream pulled out the bottle. "You bought tequila."

"You wanted me to test the ID, so I bought alcohol. It works, by the way."

"Didn't you learn your lesson already?" Thundercracker had forgiven Skywarp for Cullen, either that or his compulsion to play with Skywarp's hair was stronger than Starscream had realized.

Skywarp shrugged, scooting a little closer. "The first four were pretty cool."

"We're going to Detroit, to be in position in case we need to contact the Aerialbots." Starscream set the tequila bottle on the floor, out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

"The Aerialbots are in Detroit?" Skywarp said, pinching Thundercracker's pickles.

Starscream turned the computer around. "This was their flight."

"They...does that say Superion?" Thundercracker asked. "That says Superion."

"That is not a name that blends," Skywarp said, with great authority. "That is a name that screams "We are the Autobots." Didn't Superion once step on Detroit?"

"I don't even know where Detroit is," Thundercracker said, "aside from atop the gates of Hell, and I think they were being metaphorical when they said that."

Skywarp tapped a finger against his head. "It was the time he ripped Dirge's wings off and took them home. I bet Dirge is ready to eat dirt. I give even odds on him being dead by the time we get back. When are we going back?"

Thundercracker wound Skywarp's hair around his fingers and yanked his head into his lap so hard Skywarp yelped. "We're not going back," he said, forcing Skywarp to look at him. "Don't even think about going back."

"TC, TC, let me up," Skywarp tried to extricate himself from his wingmate's grip, but his hair was good and caught. "Seriously TC, lemme go."

"I'm not letting you -either of you- get killed."

"Okay, fine, whatever, just let me go. Thundercracker, let me go." Thundercracker let him up, smoothing out the tangled strands.

Starscream filed the exchange in the back of his head, and resolved to find some complicated project to distract Thundercracker. "You can go back alone, if you can, though there's orders to shoot you on sight." He shrugged. "We'll be with the Aerialbots, who are less likely to kill us."

"Slightly less likely, are you going to leave me any of my food?"

Starscream tossed his burger to Thundercracker. "And they'll shoot anyone who comes after us. So we're going to make friends with them."

"Nothing good ever comes of you making friends," Thundercracker grumbled.

"That's why you're going to help. You," Starscream pointed at Skywarp, who was allowing Thundercracker to pet him in apology, "get on their ditzy wavelength. Don't impress them; see if you can activate their wing cover coding, or at least get them to empathize."

"Yeah, yeah," Skywarp said, munching on a fry. "Play cute for your machinations, story of my life."

"You," Starscream said, ignoring Skywarp and pointing at Thundercracker, "find some way to frame the Noble Decepticon Cause and Megatron's deviation from it they'll buy. And I know it's difficult, but for the love of Primus, let them cheer you up."

"I can make friends without your help, Screamer."

"Really? When was the last time you managed it?" It was a bit of a low blow, so Starscream kept talking before it could sink in. "Don't overdo it. Don't tell them about that game you play with the medics. Don't scare them off with fistfights. No more hair-pulling. Remember they're young, not stupid."

"Are you sure about that?" Skywarp asked.

"No dumber than you are," Starscream said, "and nobody's managed to kill them yet. You might even get along with them."

And maybe from them he could hear something, anything, about Skyfire.

Chapter Text

No plan survives contact with the enemy.  Strategy is a system of expedients.  - Moltke the Elder

The theory was sound. Every available instrument said they were merely in alt-mode, and Skyfire remembered Thunderwing's forbidden experiments in polydermal grafts from so long ago, and, well, the theory was right. They were, somehow, reformatted and mode-locked, and modifying Wheeljack's old anti-transfixation grenades ought to solve one of those problems.

Powerglide won the lottery. Powerglide grinned as Wheeljack fired the ray at him. Powerglide transformed halfway, the familiar five pulses almost supersonic. Powerglide's flesh tore as his parts pulled apart without seams.

Powerglide died screaming as nearly twelve tons of metal ripped out through his ribcage.

Rigor morphis threw most of his mass back into subspace, startling them into action. Ratchet rushed to him, slipping in the blood and energon, but the minibot was beyond helping. Wheeljack, Perceptor, and Skyfire followed more carefully, and the four of them stared dumbly as the reality sank in.

White fingers of bone reached out of his chest, cradling what had to be a miniature spark chamber. Blood pooled around the metal casing, blood soaked the floor and his hair, blood dried on the scientists. Perceptor knelt at Powerglide's feet. "I'll do the necessary."

"I'll help," Skyfire said, lifting the corpse's shoulders. The crew of the Ark had been together for ages, even as Cybertronians reckoned such things; Skyfire knew nothing of Powerglide beyond his designation. Xenobiology wasn't his field, but he knew enough to help, enough to spare one of them. Together, he and Perceptor laid the body on an empty lab table.

"I'll, Primus, I'll clean this up," Wheeljack said. "He was transforming, Vector Sigma's t-cog, transforming killed him."

Ratchet stood up and rubbed his face. "Prime needs to know. I'll break it to him." He and Wheeljack left. Skyfire hoped he remembered to wash his face before presenting his report.

"How would you like to start?" Perceptor asked.

Carefully, reverently, Skyfire lifted the spark chamber out. He turned it over in his hands. "There's a torn energon line, here," he said. "It might be the cause of death. Less energon is required, bleeding out would be quicker."

"I rather suspect the cause of death has more to do with massive trauma to the thoratic cavity." Perceptor brought over a metal tray draped with a towel. Skyfire laid the spark chamber down, and wrapped it in the towel.

"Or his tiny spark couldn't support all that mass once it shifted," Skyfire said, "though I'm not sure we have enough facts to choose a theory."

Perceptor set the tray down and braced his hands on the table to either side of it, head down. "Of course we don't, forgive me."

Skyfire returned to the body, unsure what to do next. He wondered if Perceptor was praying. He wondered if praying would make him feel better. "There was no other damage that I could see," he said eventually, "but I'm no expert. Do you know where the specimen jars are?" he asked.

"Left corner cabinet, over the sink," Wheeljack came in with a mop and bucket. "What are you taking samples of?"

"Everything," Skyfire said, lifting another bit of machinery out of the red ruin. "This doesn't belong."

"It appears to be a miniature energon converter." Perceptor set down the specimen jars and snips, and picked up another tray. "That solves the mystery of how our sparks have not yet extinguished from energon depletion."

Skyfire attempted to lift it out, but it was fused to the polyderma – it had to be polyderma, this had to be simply some new alt-mode that killed them when they tried to transform. Perceptor snipped it free with shaking hands and Skyfire laid it in the second tray for Ratchet to examine later. "No major trauma aside from the other half of that energon line. Let's get those samples collected."

They worked in silence after that. It was the first alien necropsy Skyfire had done since he'd flown with Starscream, but to him, that really wasn't all that long ago. Once he had the torso fully exposed, Perceptor diagrammed the layout of the internal organs. Skyfire weighed, measured, and took samples from each one while Perceptor wrote down the numbers and labeled the jars. Later, much later, they would have difficulty reading the glyphs, but now Skyfire just kept the snips to himself. Behind them, Wheeljack mopped the floor one tile at a time.

"Aside from the two pieces of hardware we found, it appears to be a normal male configuration," Perceptor said as they pulled a sheet over the staring eyes and exposed cranium. "No other anomalous phenomenons."

Skyfire stretched his back, aching from so long bent over the table. "I have an idea," he said slowly. "The polydermal layers plus the smaller sparks could be weakening sibling bonds to the point where they were undetectable. Spark shielding was the excuse Thunderwing used to justify his experiments."

"Does it have any bearing on the situation, or is it just a side-effect?" Ratchet asked, leaning against the wall with his hands wrapped around a mug of what Skyfire thought was cold coffee, from the lack of steam.

Skyfire hadn't noticed his return, or Wheeljack's departure. "If our sparks are just shrunk," he said, surprised he was explaining this to the chief medical officer, "it would be easier to restore them to full-size than if they were shrunk and modified somehow."

Ratchet nodded in acknowledgment. "Prime wants a full report tomorrow at nine hundred local time."

"I'll prepare the samples for computer analysis," Perceptor said. He picked up the tray, and though Skyfire could see the tremors, they weren't strong enough to clink the jars. "You should go decontaminate." Without a mirror, Skyfire couldn't tell if Perceptor was in more dire need of the washracks; the fluids, not all he could name, had splashed them both quite easily past the distance of science.

As Skyfire passed Ratchet on his way out the room, he realized the mug didn't smell the least bit like coffee.

His phone woke him with a beep, alerting him to a text message received. Actually, in the night, he'd received fifteen. He wasn't sure why he had quite so many, until he realized they were all from the Aerialbots.

The text that woke him was from Silverbolt, and it simply said, "i am sorry. they left messages."

The first one, dated eleven o'clock last night, when he was wrist-deep in Powerglide's chest still, was an inquiry from Fireflight on how to make fire burn green. Then there was a note from Skydive thanking him for the loan of the book, but he didn't know if he'd get a chance to read it because he was dying. (Skyfire assumed that if Skydive really was dying, his brother would not be playing around with matches. Fireflight had his moments, but never that badly.) A picture of a green flame came an hour or so later, from Slingshot, captioned "He set the bug spray on fire, now he wants to make purple, please send help."

Air Raid sent one in the middle of the night, "help i broke the toliet you know everything call me if youre still awake if youre not im sorry" Skyfire smiled at Air Raid's faith in him.

"Do you think i could get KCI at the grocery store?" Fireflight sent a half-hour after that. "We already are here for Drano."

Slingshot sent a second one a few minutes after that. "did you know kcl makes purple fire and kills people? I do not know what kcl is. Please do not tell fireflight where to get it."

"They have an entire wall of fishtanks, this is the coolest thing." Fireflight sent on the tailfins of Slingshot's.

"do you need anything from the store? i think chocolate and ice cream are supposed to help" Air Raid followed that text with, "sorry that was supposed to go to skydive"

Slingshot asked, "How do humans do this for their hole lives, skydive looks like he wants to die."

"I'm sorry they're blowing up your phone," Skydive sent nearly an hour later. Fireflight sent a picture of the flame colors he'd managed to ignite, tinfoil bowls arranged in the outline of a fish.

"i fixd the toilet but now bolt wont wake up how do i know if hes in a coma" Air Raid asked.

Slingshot sent the last one before Silverbolt's apology. "If boss kills me in the morning blades knows what to do with my stuff so ask him not raider."

All together, they still added up to a better night than Skyfire's was. He texted them all back, asking Skydive how he was feeling, asking Fireflight how he'd produced that particular shade of blue, asking Air Raid what he had done to the toilet, asking Slingshot just what happened last night. "It's okay," he texted Silverbolt last. "Just call if it can't wait until morning." He meant it honestly, but he couldn't think of any situation that he could help with two thousand miles away. He wasn't worried about them, exactly. He cared about them, of course, but they were more than capable at taking care of themselves.

The Aerialbots, for all their questions, weren't sparklings. Skyfire remembered true sparklings, from back before the war, full of grand ideas and poor choices. So new, with a whole world open to them, sparklings weren't held accountable for their actions until they left the shelter of their creators' responsibility. No, the little fliers were never sparklings, never allowed to make mistakes. Ratchet would defend them, and Wheeljack would defend them, but Skyfire remembered when silly little things like taking out the power grid around the Great Lakes didn't need defending.

But there would be no more sparklings, not since Silverbolt destroyed the key to Vector Sigma. Now their numbers would only dwindle as they died one by one.

Skyfire slipped into the inquiry ten minutes late, sat in the back and set his datapad and coffee on the table in front of him. Wheeljack was playing the video recreation the science team had worked out.

All the Decepticons, save the Insecticons, lined up on one side of the screen, and most of the Autobots on the other, with the river to their backs. Menasor was formed, but not attacking; Superion floated above the Autobots' heads. Megatron gloated, and the Constructicons prodded Menasor to one side, revealing the triple-braced ray cannon. The leader of the Decepticons gloated for a bit more, though there was no audio, and triggered the cannon with a theatrical flourish of a remote control. Superion broke up to fit inside Trailbreaker's forcefield, and the beam reflected back at the weapon. The weapon started smoking, and Starscream started to take off.

"How much power were they pouring into that?" Prime asked from the front of the room.

"Enough for the wave to hit the Ark, on the other side of the globe," Wheeljack said. Prime nodded. Where the Decepticons acquired the power to run that would have been, on any other day, the major concern.

The ray cannon on the screen shook and began to glow as the reflected beam hit it. The beam thickened, and finally exploded in a white-blue ball of light that engulfed everyone on the screen. Now they knew it was from the energy release of upwards of thirty robots shifting most of their mass into subspace, but at the time, all Skyfire had known was Starscream's face, shifting from annoyed confusion to terror.

The light faded, and the camera zoomed on the model of Optimus Prime in alt-mode, now barely two meters long, and the glowing green tendrils of ambient bacteria transformed into polydermal grafts that wrapped around him. Once he was fully cocooned, the light brightened, then yellowed and faded to reveal the human male Prime now was.

To say it was unethical was laughable. It was depraved, revilesome, unnatural. It was the descendent of experiments too foul to be repeated, regardless of their outcome. It violated every ethic and moral Skyfire had ever heard of, and did unspeakable things to the laws of thermodynamics. It was as close to evil as science could get.

That didn't mean Skyfire couldn't appreciate the genius in it. So much packed into a single quantum surge, and a controlled one at that!

"So that's how we became human," Ironhide drawled. "What's that got to do with Powerglide?"

"We're not human," Wheeljack said.

Everybody looked at him, except Prowl, having a very quiet fit of some sort in front of Skyfire.

"Shockwave is an evil genius," Wheeljack continued. "Evil, but genius. We're reformatted and transfixed into alt-mode."

"That doesn't even make sense," Jazz protested. "A 'bot can't be reformatted this drastically."

"It happened," Wheeljack argued. "We're living it. You want to transform and prove it?"

"Is that what happened to Powerglide?" Prime asked.

"Yes," Perceptor said. Perceptor had volunteered to explain just what had happened to Prime and everyone else. It was a kindness Skyfire would not soon forget.

He wished he could, and forget Powerglide while he was at it. He'd stood under a cold shower for far too long, last night and this morning, trying to numb himself mentally as well as physically. It hadn't worked. By the looks of Ratchet, slumped in his chair, and Wheeljack's foot twitching like there were ten thousand volts running through it, he wasn't the only one who kept running over yesterday in his head.

It had been a long time since Skyfire had seen someone die. Powerglide had survived the war for so long, survived being shot at by Starscream for so long, the thought of him dying hadn't even crossed their minds. At worst, they thought, Powerglide would remain human. But he hadn't, and they couldn't have left him even his dignity. No, with the stakes so high, they had to seize the opportunity, as morally questionable as it was, to learn all they could. It had fallen to Skyfire, who never thought he'd be grateful he was an outsider on the Ark, to weigh and measure and snip. He wondered if he missed anything, going over the necropsy one more time in his head. He'd taken samples, yes, but had he taken them from the right places? Had he taken enough? Were they big enough? He wasn't likely to get any more. He hoped he wasn't going to get any more.

"Skyfire?" Perceptor said, pulling his attention back to the present. "Would you like to conclude the presentation?"

Skyfire stood, and moved to the front of the room to wrap it up. Everyone still had the polite, slightly-glazed look most mechs had after talking too long with Perceptor; he still delivered reports like he was defending a thesis. Skyfire had only been doing this for a handful of rotations, but the Aerialbot's terrifyingly steep learning curve had rubbed off on him. He delivered to the officers the strategically relevant information, and left them to decide if they needed the technical details. "We can, given enough time, reverse this," he said. "It's going to take a lot longer than we thought because we have to be absolutely sure the process works before we test it. Aside from that, it's best to still act as if we're fully human. The only functional differences we've found is that we need between twenty and thirty percent more food than normal, probably to convert into energon, and..."

"Skyfire?" Prime said, when the scientist stopped mid-sentence.

"I don't think Shockwave built a weapon," Skyfire said slowly. This must be what it feels like to be Starscream, he thought, to take two data points and skip all the little steps until the elegant, brilliant end. "I think he wanted to use us as test subjects. Whatever new problems we have, he's at least solved the energon crisis."

Chapter Text

It's not what you know that matters when you're job-hunting, it's who you know.

Thundercracker supposed a human could see the difference between Detroit and Dallas, but after five days he couldn't. It was a little cooler, and a little more run down, and they weren't in a motel but some pre-furnished apartment across the hall from the Aerialbots and, well, that pretty much eclipsed all the other differences.

The first day, they came in late. The second day, Starscream dropped the laptop on Skywarp and told him to find cars. The third day, Thundercracker rearranged the apartment into something almost defensible. The fourth day, Skywarp had thrown a set of car keys at Thundercracker's head and proclaimed some human named Craig to be king of the planet. The fifth day, the two of them hauled him in front of the window and told him to quit with the kernel panic and take a shift watching their Autobot neighbours. It hadn't been kernel panic, but they couldn't tell the difference between that and thinking something all the way through.

The sixth day, Thundercracker checked King Craig's list for the dignity of honest work. He told himself it was dignified, honest work, at least, that he still had some choice. Shockwave's doomsday device had robbed him of wings and engines and weapons, all he had left were honor and dignity. Both sorely depleted by one wingmate or another, he clung to what scraps he had left tighter than a syphonist to his last circuit booster.

Well, maybe not that hard. Starscream indulged him, mostly, and Skywarp wasn't malicious about it, at least.

"You know what I just realized?" Skywarp asked, turning from the window where he had been emptying purses Thundercracker wasn't asking about, "We are right back where we started."

"Howso?" Starscream asked. He was stretched across the couch with one knee bent, a notepad propped against it. Detroit had brought out a Starscream Thundercracker hadn't seen in ages, a side of Starscream that made a new pot of coffee when he finished the old, and laughed at Skywarp, and made Thundercracker's life a living Pit in more interesting ways. He'd even, yesterday, stepped away from the computer for the night before he went cross-opticked, confident that neither it nor he would be smashed to bits before he could return. Being away from Megatron for so long had been good for him; without the constant threat of beatings (no matter how well-deserved) hanging over his head, the Air Commander was more relaxed, more patient, and at times, almost happy.

For a given definition of happy, considering the circumstances.

"Well, you're flopped all over the couch," Skywarp began.

"I am not flopped," Starscream protested.

"No room for me, you're flopped and TC's on the floor trying to find a job, and seriously, how many nights did we spend like this?" Skywarp perched on the arm of the couch and wobbled a bit.

"This is nothing like that," Starscream said as he sat up enough for Skywarp to slide down behind him, then settled back against his shoulder.

Skywarp was right, from a certain point of view. They had spent far too many nights like this, at the end of the time before Megatron. Starscream was right, too. There was food, and they were free to leave if they wanted, and Thundercracker could take any job he found, not just security. Maybe he'd do something inside, something where he could talk to people without threatening them.

"Tell him this is nothing like that, Thundercracker," Starscream ordered.

Thundercracker shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, it's not my couch you're crashed on any more, and Skywarp's not been just a pretty freeloader for a while." Even when he first brought Skywarp home from the War Academy, Skywarp hadn't really been a freeloader, but now Thundercracker could turn his back on them for five whole kliks. "But I have to say, supporting your science habit does feel rather familiar." Thundercracker wasn't sure, but he thought since Skyfire was not dead, Starscream might appreciate the joke. And if he didn't, well, Thundercracker would know for the future that Skyfire was once again taboo.

Starscream swatted him on the back of the head with his notepad, not throwing a fit at the reference to the time after Skyfire and before Skywarp. "My science habit is going to fix you, remember?"

"Because your hypotheses have such a great track record," Skywarp snickered.

"Pluralizing hypothesis correctly?" Starscream asked. "Who are you and what have you done with my idiot?"

"Don't pick on him," Thundercracker looked up at the two of them. "It took me a long time to teach him that."

Starscream swatted him again. "What did I ever do to deserve you two?"

"Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?"

"Alphabetically," Starscream challenged.

Thundercracker did not carry around a list, alphabetically or otherwise, of all Starscream's sins in his head. Nobody had that much memory. "Aerialbots and the chronosphere."

"That," Starscream said archly, "was a favor. They could have missed the whole war."

"So we're you're reward for saving the babies?" Skywarp asked. Starscream whacked him on the knee.

"That is the story you will stick to," Starscream said, almost but not quite an order.

"Stick to when? It's not like you let us talk to them. What's the point of being here where they are if they don't know we're here?" Skywarp asked.

"You can talk to them when you can tell them apart. As meatbags."

"I can now."

"You tried to leave me at the gas station," Starscream reminded him, "because you said all humans look alike and you couldn't tell me apart from anyone else."

"Yeah, well, I lied," Skywarp neatly plucked the forgotten pen from behind Starscream's audial flare and rolled it between his fingers. "You're just obnoxious."

"He's got a point," Thundercracker said, smiling up at Starscream.

Starscream dropped the notepad on Thundercracker's face. "I hate you both," he said, but he was smiling as well. "Prove it. Tell me about Slingshot."

"He turns quicker than anyone made of metal has a right to," Thundercracker said, putting the notepad on the floor where Starscream couldn't reach and the closed laptop on top of it. The Aerialbots, along with Skyfire, had been the only other ones worth mentioning in the air for nearly the whole war -what was Starscream wanting a briefing on them for?

"As a meatbag," Starscream repeated.

"He's the super short yellow one with no hair," Skywarp said. "Who wears sunglasses all the time, even in the dark, even though he keeps tripping over the curb. I mean, he walks over that thing twice a day, at least, you'd think he'd remember it was there."

"He's carrying a gun, something small, but it's definitely there," Thundercracker remembered.

"Hey, hey, TC," Skywarp tapped him on the forehead with the pen. "You two could totally bond over trying to keep idiots alive. 'Cause he's superglued to Skydive."

"Skydive's no idiot," Thundercracker said, taking the pen away from him. "He's almost as good as Starscream."

"He's the shortest female one," Skywarp said at the same time. "Almost as dark as you are, Starscream, got black hair too. Not as good as I am at anything," he added. "He stalls like, like a stall-y thing." Thundercracker didn't say anything, mostly because he really wanted to talk Skywarp into trying sex now that Starscream had his own room. And, well, Skydive did tend to stall out when he pushed himself.

"And how are you going to catch him?" Starscream asked. "Now that you can't fly with him?"

"Wait. You're briefing me on making friends, by shiny Cybertron," Skywarp said, finally catching on. "I am being briefed on how to make friends, by Starscream, with a bunch of babies. This is what I will now judge every single thing in my life. Is it more pathetic than the time Starscream briefed me on making friends with a bunch of babies who have tried to kill me their entire lives?"

"What about the time you jacked off in the Autobot brig?" Starscream asked with his sweetest smile. Skywarp tried to shove him off the couch, and when he didn't budge, hopped back to the arm.

"Okay!" Thundercracker turned around and held his hands up. "Moving on to your long-lost twin."

"Air Raid? Air Raid's got gravity-defying hair," Skywarp said. "It looks like that one statue that was in the place with all the spikes, only black."

"It is deeply disturbing that I know which one you're talking about," Starscream muttered, rolling over on the couch and stretching his legs across it.

"He's the taller male, still shorter than the other three," Skywarp continued, "and I think he might glow in the dark."

"You can see his lines. They're the same color as his eyes. I didn't know humans could produce that shade of blue." Thundercracker was not jealous. He wasn't, really. It just would have been niceto keep something his own color. The fact that four, possibly all five Aerialbots had eyes the same color as their optics wasn't fair in the slightest, but he wasn't jealous.

"And I don't care about how he flies," Starscream said, poking Skywarp's bare foot, "so do you know anything useful about him?"

Skywarp didn't come down from his perch. "Fragging insane. Absolutely nuts. I want to trade him and Fireflight for the two of you and have some fun."

"I need to interrogate Fireflight now that he can't set me on fire," Thundercracker said.

Starscream raised an eyebrow at him. "You're still flammable," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's not carrying firefog, so I'll at least get some warning."

"What do you want with him anyways? He flies like a titanium moosebot."

Thundercracker nodded. "Exactly. And have you ever seen him crash? Nobody should be able to maintain lift with the wallowing he does."

"I've seen him crash into Ramjet," Skywarp said, not noticing that Starscream had retrieved the pen and was now doodling on his ankle.

"I've seen him crash into his brother," Starscream added.

"And the side of a mountain. And, like, four trees in a row."

"And you."

"But never the ground," Thundercracker said. "I need to know his secret."

"You are really taking that boom thing seriously," said Skywarp.

"And which one is he?" Starscream asked. "Since I don't recall seeing any titanium moosebots around?"

"The tall female with the really short red hair," Skywarp said. "Not the freakish tall one, the one with the, what did you call them, TC?"

"Boobs. All the females have them."

"Yeah, but his are the only ones you can see from all the way up here. How has he not found us yet with his creepy finding us radar?" Skywarp asked.

"Nobody's bleeding, maybe?" Thundercracker shrugged.

"That makes Silverbolt the "freakishly tall" one then?" Starscream paused to admire the little winged Decepticon logo he had drawn, even though it was lopsided, then started writing something underneath it.

"Freakish," Skywarp repeated. "Nearly seven feet tall, freaky as you."

And if there was ever confirmation that Thundercracker should have dragged them both off on leave ages ago, it was when Starscream let that pass, and Skywarp didn't kick him in the face when he realized what was written on his foot.

Skydive was eighty-four percent certain that this was not the lowest point in his life, but that last percent was growing past sixteen with every minute. It wasn't bad enough that he had to do laundry. No, someone in the building was rifling through the dryers, so he had to sit there and babysit the laundry. He had his datapad, and the book Skyfire had e-mailed him, though, and Fireflight was sitting cross-legged on the table next to him, so it was mostly the principle of the thing he objected to. That, and being stuck with trying to get the blood out. Fireflight was no help on that front; he'd gotten stuck on a wacky walk almost as soon as he'd googled "how to get blood out of laundry," but he was at least finally grasping the difference between fuel exhaustion and fuel starvation.

The door opened, and Skydive looked up to see three men come in with one basket of laundry between them. One of them, in an honest to Primus cowboy hat, waved at him. He waved back and returned to his book, trying not to eavesdrop as two of them bickered over loading the washer. They sounded eerily familiar, like Slingshot and Air Raid, perhaps, the argument something Skydive had heard many times.

Behind him, Fireflight dropped his phone to the table. Skydive turned around to ask him what he found, but the words died on his lips when he saw his brother staring at the newcomers. As near as Skydive could tell, it had been a while since he'd seen Fireflight do it, the scout was memorizing every detail he thought might be important.

At least there were no mountains looming for Fireflight to decide weren't building superweapons and therefore not worth paying attention to.

Skydive turned back to the three men, holding his datapad in front of him and pretending to read. They were all three of a height and weight with Air Raid, with the same black hair though none of them had it short enough to gel into spikes. The one in the hat was nearly as pale as Air Raid as well, with the same lunatic grin and only black eyes to tell them apart. One was tanner and beponytailed, wearing a denim jacket and covering his eyes with his hand at his companion's antics. The third was a little darker than Skydive, and had his hair loose and the secret smile Silverbolt got when he thought they were being funny but Prowl didn't agree.

Then the third one said something, and whatever it was didn't register to Skydive, because that third man had Starscream's voice, was Starscream, and that's why Fireflight was staring, and Skydive dropped his datapad.

The three Seekers, because that had to be Skywarp and Thundercracker, Skywarp and Air Raid had always been alt-mode twins, who else could the third man, in a blue jacket be? The three Seekers took no notice of him and left the room. Fireflight followed them, and Skydive barely had the presence of mind to grab their stuff as he followed Fireflight. He texted Silverbolt as soon as he dragged Fireflight back inside their door, "possibly sighted Starscream, hes in the apartment across the hall."

Silverbolt called him back before he could put the phone back in his pocket. "We'll be right there; we're at the corner. Give the phone to Fireflight." Silverbolt and Slingshot had gone out to pick up Air Raid from his first day of work and bring back dinner.

"No, no, no," Fireflight said as answers to three separate questions. "I don't know, maybe." Skydive went to the coat closet and took out the pistol stashed there. Slingshot had the other one. Fireflight hung up the phone and handed it back to Skydive. "He's worried." Fireflight tilted his head and regarded his brother. "You're not."

"No," Skydive agreed, sitting on the couch in view of the door. Fireflight perched on the stool at the counter, fiddling with his lighter. "Neither are you."

Fireflight shrugged. "Have they ever shot at us without Megatron being around?"

"No," Skydive admitted, the Seekers had never even tried to take out one of Superion's components, and they'd certainly had enough chances. "But Megatron could be around."

"He's not. They don't have any bruises. If they were still with Megatron they'd have bruises."

"One of them had a big purple one on his neck."

"Do you really think Megatron is biting them like some sort of vampire?" Fireflight giggled. "Skywarp doesn't have bruises like Megatron was taking out his frustrations on him, and the other two weren't bruised at all or walking funny or anything."

"Megatron could not be hitting them hard enough. Or at all."

Fireflight giggled again. "Megatron? Not hit Starscream when things go wrong?" Skydive had to admit, it was only a theoretical possibility. "I'm surprised he's still alive. Maybe we should go say hi?"

Skydive was saved from having to answer that by the entrance of their other three brothers. "How did you know?" Silverbolt asked.

"They still all look the same," Fireflight said, "only different colors, and they sound the same too."

"So what do we do, boss?" Air Raid asked. "We could go say hi?"

Silverbolt sighed. "We watch and wait for something to update Prime with," he said.

"Or we could get the drop on them," Slingshot suggested, sitting on the desk with his gun in his lap. "Not wait until they know we're here."

There was a knock on the door. Silverbolt opened it, revealing a grinning Skywarp holding a, was that pie? Skywarp had brought pie. Behind him, Thundercracker was pointedly staring at his feet and Starscream's mouth was compressed into something that could possibly, if one was feeling charitable, be called a weak smile. "Bah-weep-granah wheep ni ni bong," Skywarp chirped. "We come bearing pie! Please don't shoot!"

Everybody just stared at each other for a long moment. "Well," Starscream said, shattering the silence as only Starscream could, "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

"It's pumpkin," Skywarp supplied helpfully.

Silverbolt stared at them for a few more seconds, then folded his arms under his breasts and stepped back. Skywarp set the pie on the counter and asked Fireflight where the plates were. Thundercracker stood awkwardly next to the window, all five Aerialbots between him and the door. Starscream claimed the edge of the couch as his throne, though that put him within touching distance of Skydive, and gave Slingshot a clear shot. The Decepticon Air Commander looked around, taking in the garbage overflowing with takeout containers and the growing collection of pens and the line of beer bottles stuffed with rags. "Slumming it?"

"Why are you here, Starscream," Silverbolt said. He sounded an awful lot like Superion, considering how high his voice was now. Skywarp handed him pie.

Starscream shrugged and accepted another slice of pie from his wingmate. "This was the only place in Detroit that would sign a lease on the Internet."

Fireflight set Skydive's pie on the arm of the couch and sat at his feet, which had the side effect of trapping Thundercracker in the corner. Skydive didn't know if that was on purpose; sometimes with Fireflight it was hard to tell. "But why are you in Detroit?" Slingshot demanded. "Are you here for the nuclear reactor, the factories, the chemicals or Canada?"

"Wow, Detroit sounds awesome," Skywarp said. "Which one are you here for?"

"We're here because Prowl thought it would be logical for you guys to be here," Air Raid said. "This is really good pie. Where did you get this?" Silverbolt's hand twitched as he repressed the urge to cover his face with it. There was no telling what the Seekers had done to the pie, intact sticker or no, especially since they weren't eating it.

"You'd think after so long, he'd realize the Decepticons never does the logical thing," Starscream said, rolling his eyes. "We're no longer aligned."

"Because of the human thing?" Skydive asked. "Was that the final nail in your coffin?"

Starscream and Skywarp looked at Thundercracker, which struck Skydive as odd. "Sure, let's go with that," the Seeker rumbled. "If that's what you'll believe. Whatever keeps you from running off and announcing we're here."

"How long have you been away?" Fireflight asked quietly. Thundercracker looked at him, but didn't answer, and no-one else seemed to have heard.

"Why are you here, Starscream," Silverbolt asked.

"Because ex-Decepticons are like good mornings," Thundercracker said. "They don't exist."

"We'll stay out of your hair as much as we can," Skywarp said, setting his untouched pie on the floor. "We just wanted to say hello. Which we have, so now we're leaving." It was probably a good call; three out of the five Aerialbots had openly hostile expressions and Fireflight was fiddling with his lighter again. "Right, guys?"

"We're here because it's the last place he'd look for us." Starscream's eyes flicked around the room to each Aerialbot in turn, settling on Silverbolt guarding the door. "You can't possibly imagine what he'd do if he found us."

"Hey, Hot Spot. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you were going back for Powerglide's memorial?"

Silverbolt had completely forgotten about Powerglide. "I wasn't planning on it. Something came up that was more important."

"What's more important than the death of another Autobot?"

"Something Seeker-shaped." For that particular Autobot, nearly anything, but Silverbolt did wish they could have gone back to see Ratchet and Wheeljack. All five of them had called, separately, but it wasn't the same. "Prime wants us to keep an eye on them."

"Just an eye? Not a target lock?"

"Starscream says he's left Megatron. Fireflight thinks he's telling the truth, and I'll believe my brother even if Starscream is constitutionally incapable of not lying for more than five minutes running. He probably wants to throw us between him and the fusion cannon."

"Probably," Hot Spot agreed. "How many times have you had to remind them not to jack up with Thundercracker?"

Silverbolt sighed. "I regret ever telling you about that."

"Which time?"

"All the times. Prime thinks we might be able to convince one or two not to go back. Apparently they're all that's left of Vos and he doesn't want to lose the cultural history of an entire city-state." Perhaps Prime should have thought about that before he bombed Vos into its current Detroit-like state. "He wants us to see if we can't make friends with them."

"So," Hot Spot said, drawing out the vowel. He was going to try to do the Ratchet thing, try to be funny. "They have Prime's approval to jack up with Thundercracker?"

"Yes," Silverbolt gritted. "I might even have a turn."

Hot Spot laughed. "I'm sure you'll be having more fun than me."

Well, that was true, unless Megatron actually showed up. "Yeah, probably. Tell them we said hi? And call me after?"

"I will," Hot Spot promised. "Your life is weird. I love it." He paused. "He didn't really say..."

"I didn't ask. But if they're serious about not being Decepticons anymore, then maybe it's not so impossible. After all, who else can fix them?"

Chapter Text

A game is a form of art in which participants, termed players, make decisions in order to manage resources through game tokens in the pursuit of a goal. -Greg Costikyan

Skywarp liked Starscream when he was in a good mood. He liked it more when Screamer was screeching and throwing things at Thundercracker. That was, well, not more familiar because Thundercracker was pretty good at avoiding Starscream's rages, but it was closer to normal. Skywarp wasn't even entirely sure Starscream had registered just who he was screaming at. It was yelling at whatever poor mech crossed Starscream's line of sight, and Skywarp wasn't nearly dumb enough to enter the danger zone, especially after the shattered coffee mug he was most emphatically not cleaning up. Starscream would just have to burn himself out on something else, now that Thundercracker had wandered out the door for his job interview with their wingleader still screaming obscenities at his back.

Starscream had been right, without the ability to teleport Skywarp couldn't get enough cash to cover the rent, much less buy or steal what Starscream wanted for the lab he was building in the back bedroom. Once away from airports, their cash influx had dropped sharply, and after three cars and the deposit on the apartment, Skywarp was reduced to raiding the communal laundry room even though he knew how dangerous it was to take from people you passed in the hallway. Barely anyone in Detroit carried cash, and Thundercracker had sat him down in front of a particularly explosive episode of one of his shows to demonstrate why using other people's credit cards wouldn't work.

They hadn't even managed to arm themselves properly yet, and Skywarp had no desire to sit in any sort of brig until Starscream felt like springing him. Hopefully Thundercracker would bring home enough money, or Starscream would want Skywarp to get some sort of job and then he'd have to find some way to steal stuff that didn't involve "smash, grab, warp out."

"I'm going out," Starscream announced, interrupting his thoughts.

"I don't care," Skywarp told him.

"If you get bored, go play with the Aerialbots." Starscream, selfish slagger, grabbed Skywarp's cowboy boots and pulled them on.

"I'm watching this fascinating documentary on home security," Skywarp said. "Shut up, I'm learning how to bullet proof a car with phone books."

Starscream whacked him on the back of the head as he walked out the door. "You couldn't bullet proof electrum armor as thick as your head."

Skywarp ignored him and turned the television up pointedly as Starscream left the apartment. He turned it up more when the rain started. It was an autumnal thunderstorm, the kind that Thundercracker used to drag him out in all the time, and Skywarp wasn't going to think about flying or he'd go as mad as his wingmate.

He wondered if Thundercracker and thunderstorms would still equal interesting times. Maybe they did, and Thundercracker was out somewhere hearing it in public, and now he wouldn't be able to hide his interest, and Skywarp wasn't around to help him out. Thundercracker was such a prude, he'd probably insist on coming home first, and then he'd try to act like he wasn't telegraphing what was going on to everybody within eye shot what the storm was doing to his pants. And then once nobody could see, he'd let Skywarp, well, Skywarp wasn't sure what he'd do with a mid-thunderstorm Thundercracker now, but after the last couple of nights he knew the basics, and he was ready to take a turn exploring...

Skywarp yelped when the power to the apartment abruptly cut off, plunging him into darkness.

It was really dark, too, even though the sun still had to be up. The rain beat against the window, loud as pelletfire. A flash of lightning illuminated the room, but was gone as soon as it came, and the wind shrieked through the parking lot's bedraggled trees below. This was not the kind of storm Skywarp would want to fly alone in.

Well, the television was out, and Skywarp wasn't about to brave Starscream's lab for the laptop, which left him officially bored. And Starscream had practically ordered him to go play with the Aerialbots if he got bored.

When Slingshot came out from dropping off the last application, Silverbolt was waiting in the freshly-repaired car outside. Fireflight was stretched out across the backseat, watching the rain through the moonroof, so Slingshot got in the front. "How'd dropping off the applications go?" Silverbolt asked. He still sounded pissed.

"Fine," Slingshot said. No matter how much or little Starscream had lied about Megatron, the Aerialbots still had to keep an eye out for him. More, now, because even if Megatron hadn't planned on coming to Detroit before, there was no way he wasn't coming now, either to join his second-in-command or kill him. Plus, Silverbolt couldn't wait until he didn't have to call Prime for money anymore. He'd already found a job."I got some new ones, too. They fixed the car up okay?"

"Yes," Silverbolt said. "Luckily, they had the parts in stock, or we'd be stranded without a car. Isn't that lucky, Fireflight?"

"Raider says the power's out," Fireflight said, oblivious to how angry Silverbolt was. "We'll have to use the stairs."

"We'll skip the courthouse then," Silverbolt said, "and go straight home."

"Why do we have to go to the courthouse anyways?" Slingshot asked. "Why can't Prowl just do his thing?" Slingshot wasn't really sure how Prowl dealt with Autobots that got traffic violations, but he didn't know about any of the grounders going into the courthouse and paying their fines.

"Prowl only "did his thing" because nobody fit in a courtroom," Silverbolt said. "You can take Air Raid to work tomorrow, and pay them on the way home."

Fireflight was watching the rain and didn't say anything.

"Fireflight?" Silverbolt said. "Did you hear me?"

"Prowl only "did his thing" because nobody fit in a courtroom," Fireflight repeated.

Slingshot's phone buzzed in his pocket, a message from Skydive. "The power is out," he had sent. "Is Silverbolt still mad?"

"Spitting nails," Slingshot sent back, "fireflight's not the least bit sorry ether."

"And what else," Silverbolt prompted.

"And I can try to see if I can take care of them online when we get home?" Fireflight guessed.

Silverbolt sighed. "No, you can go in and pay them after you take Air Raid to work tomorrow."

Whatever Fireflight said in reply was drowned out by a long roll of thunder. 

"And," Silverbolt continued, "you really need to pay more attention. You can't just drive into trees and walk away anymore!"

"I just did," Fireflight pointed out.

"You could have been seriously hurt," Silverbolt said, after a minute. He didn't say anything more.

"Remember when fireflight was the well behaved 1?" Slingshot texted to Skydive. "No," Skydive texted back almost instantly. "Do we have a deck of cards?"

The rest of the ride back to the apartment was silent.

Air Raid answered the door, flashlight in hand. It was a little creepy, how close it was to looking in the mirror. Air Raid seemed better at shaving, and his shorter hair was spiked with gel, otherwise Skywarp wasn't sure his wingmates would be able to tell them apart.

"Hey," Skywarp said. "Got an extra one of those?" He didn't really want one, but it was a good an opening as any.

"No," Air Raid said. "But come in. You can help us eat the ice cream." He stepped back to allow the Seeker to pass, and locked the door behind him.

"Ice cream?" Skywarp asked. He wasn't about to turn down free food, but surely there were more important things to take care of. He couldn't think of any right now, but they had to exist.

"We have to eat it before it melts and gets all over," Air Raid explained, opening the freezer and shining the light in. "You like ice cream, right?"

"Well, duh." Skywarp mentally shrugged and glided with it. Air Raid handed him a carton of strawberry ice cream and a spoon.

Skydive wandered out of the bedrooms, lantern in one hand and a deck of cards in the other. "Who are you talking to, Raider?" he asked. "Oh, hey, Skywarp. Do you know how to play poker?"

Skywarp had something of a reputation for bewildering any and everyone in the Universe he came across. His transformation didn't break his streak, adding Slingshot and Fireflight when they came home to find Skydive, Air Raid and Skywarp huddled around a lantern and a deck of cards. "Why is there a Decepticon in our living room?" Slingshot asked.

"He's helping us eat all the ice cream before it melts." Air Raid said without looking up. "Where's Silverbolt?"

"Out in the storm," Fireflight replied, lighting a candle. "Where else would he be?" He took a spoon from Slingshot and sat between Air Raid and Skydive to more efficiently steal bites from both their boxes of ice cream.

"Wait," Slingshot said, sitting down on Skydive's other side. "Isn't that my ice cream?" He pointed his spoon at the carton in front of Skywarp. Skywarp shrugged and slid it halfway over.

Skydive gathered up the cards and shuffled them clumsily. "Sixes wild okay with you guys?" he asked. No-one had a problem with it, and he dealt out five hands. When they laid their hands down after trading out cards twice, Skydive had nothing. After a bit of discussion, Air Raid and Slingshot smirked at him.

"Off with it," Air Raid said.

"Off with what?" Skywarp asked. "Low hand loses an article of clothing," Slingshot explained. "It's in the rules."

Air Raid and Fireflight nodded agreement. Skydive groaned. "There's something wrong with you. All of you," he said, peeling off a sock and dropping it in the middle of the circle.

"We didn't make the rules," Fireflight said innocently.

"But you're playing the game," Skydive pointed out.

"So are you." Air Raid gathered up the cards and shuffled them expertly. "What's wild, 'Shot?"

"Threes."

The game went on, the deal passing to the left and the winner picking wilds. They let Skywarp have his turns, though it wasn't worth it to try dealing from the bottom of the deck after so long without practice. Slingshot refused to take off his sunglasses, and held his cards at nearly arm's-length, allowing everyone to read his hand in his lenses. Nobody knew what was higher, a straight or a flush; Air Raid wanted to look it up but Skydive wanted to save their phone's batteries, so they decided a straight was higher based on the fact that the two together were a "straight flush" and not a "flush straight." The game was decided mostly by luck; none of the babies had any poker face to speak of, but the darkness and unfamiliar body language robbed Skywarp of the advantage. After losing the first hand, Skydive managed to keep all his clothes. Fireflight, constantly distracted by his candle flame, was not so lucky.

Once Fireflight lost his shirt, Skywarp's human body demanded he notice his breasts, and how soft they looked, and wondering what they would feel like. Human males seemed to be obsessed by them, and Skywarp wondered, idly, if Fireflight would show him what was so great about them. Their power was a little scary, once Fireflight had lost his bra as well, to occupy his mind so fully -he'd want Thundercracker there to help him resist their pull. Thundercracker would probably be interested on his own, too. He would wait for him, and in the meantime, think of a way to get Fireflight to allow them to explore the mysteries of the female chest; that's why he was almost naked when the rain stopped and the power came back on. Maybe the bits that were a different color tasted different? They didn't on the male chest, but Skywarp found himself wanting to confirm one way or another. For science, yeah, for purely scientific reasons. Was this why Starscream used to do so much with xenobiology back before?

"Uh, Skywarp?" Fireflight said quietly. "You dripped." He pointed at the bit of ice cream running down Skywarp's bare chest, the beginnings of a blush staining his cheeks. Neither of them noticed Air Raid and Slingshot exchanging glances behind their brother's back.

"Oh?" Skywarp looked down. If Thundercracker was there, he would have asked him if he wanted to lick it off, just for the reactions everyone would have when he did. He almost asked Fireflight anyways, but it had been a real nice time so far. The Aerialbots weren't so bad once they stopped shooting at you, he thought. No point in angering them when this was the first time he'd had fun without having to take a shower after since the tequila. He wiped the ice cream off with his thumb and licked it.

"Can you put clothes back on now?" Skydive asked. "Regardless of what Prime said, I'd rather not explain to Silverbolt why we have a half-naked Decepticon on the floor."

"Yeah, the game's on," Slingshot agreed. He got up off the floor and sat on the couch, turning on the TV. The other Aerialbots and Skywarp pulled their clothes back on. Skydive sat at the desk and booted up their laptop. Air Raid and the remaining ice cream joined Slingshot on the couch while Fireflight claimed one of the chairs.

"Guess I'll just get going then," Skywarp half-muttered as he stood.

"What's the rush?" Air Raid asked. "Stay and watch the game."

Silverbolt did not come inside with them. Fireflight thought he wanted to watch the lightning. Slingshot thought his brother had all the self-preservation instincts of Starscream. Less, because Starscream at least usually knew when Megatron was seriously torqued. Slingshot yanked the door open, ashamed that he'd just compared his brother to Megatron, of all mechs, and that he was glad Superion couldn't rat on him (not that Supes had ever intentionally gotten him in trouble, but sometimes the big guy had a strange sense of humor,) and that he really wanted to shake Fireflight until his teeth rattled and he understood that the shattered headlight and crumpled fender could have been his skull, no wonder Silverbolt was off doing paperwork or whatever excuse he'd come up with later.

Fireflight at least didn't say anything as they climbed the stairs. Slingshot would never claim to have his big brother's patience, and Fireflight was really racking up space cadet frequent flyer miles today. He'd forgot his key, too, so Slingshot unlocked the door, and was greeted by the sight of Air Raid, Skydive, and a second, scruffier, Air Raid -Skywarp- sitting around a lantern. Air Raid was holding a deck of cards. "Why is there a Decepticon in our living room?" Slingshot asked, though he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

"He's helping us eat all the ice cream before it melts," Air Raid said, stressing the pronoun a bit. At least there weren't more Decepticons hiding in the gloom. "Where's Silverbolt?"

Fireflight went right, fetching one of his candles from the shelf. "Out in the storm," he said, lighting it. "Where else would he be?"

Slingshot grabbed two spoons from the kitchen, handed one to Fireflight, and sat down in between Skywarp and Skydive, just in case. He'd play nice with them, for Prime's sake, but that didn't mean he had to trust them. "Wait," he said. "Isn't that my ice cream?" He pointed the spoon at Skywarp, who didn't argue and slid the carton halfway over.

Skydive gathered up the cards and shuffled them. "Sixes wild okay with you guys?" he asked. Nobody had a problem with it, and he dealt out five cards to each person, one at a time.

Slingshot squinted at his cards. He had two cards with red blurs on them, one four and one seven, and two cards with black blurs on them, both sevens. The last one had some sort of picture on it, and he held it out away from him until the blur in the corner resolved itself into a K. He put down the red four, and Skydive gave him another picture card with a K in the corner, so he didn't put anything down the second time. "I have two pair," Air Raid said, laying down his cards and looking at Fireflight.

"Ace high," Fireflight said.

"Cold slag." Skydive laid his cards down. "Slingshot?"

"Full house," Slingshot said. He did not add "read 'em and weep," because this was not the time to quote stupid movies, not with a Decepticon sitting next to him.

Air Raid said it anyways.

"What do you have?" Fireflight asked Skywarp.

"I have," Skywarp paused, "a little man stabbing himself in the head and four little red blobs."

"That's a flush," Fireflight said. "That's actually pretty good."

"Better than my hand," Air Raid said. "But Slingshot still wins, and Skydive loses." Slingshot smirked, not bad considering he could barely read the cards. Air Raid did too, for an entirely different reason. "Off with it," he said.

"Off with what?" Skywarp asked.

"Low hand loses an article of clothing," Slingshot explained. "It's in the rules." Fireflight and Air Raid nodded.

"There's something wrong with you. All of you," Skydive complained, tugging off a sock and dropping it in the middle.

"We didn't make the rules," Fireflight said with his fake-innocent voice.

"But you're playing the game," Skydive replied.

"So are you." Air Raid collected the cards and shuffled them, better than Skydive had. "What's wild, 'Shot?"

"Threes."

And so the game went, passing the deal to the left and winner picking the wilds. Slingshot did fair enough, considering he couldn't read the cards in the dimness and that he was too padlocked to pay much attention to the actual game. Skydive was counting cards. Slingshot could tell because when he tapped against his knee, half the time he hit Slingshot's. The rain let up eventually, but the power didn't come back on right away. Fireflight kept getting distracted by watching Skywarp, but Fireflight had been getting distracted watching one Seeker or another since the day they'd first met, so Slingshot didn't think too much of it. Air Raid was grinning far too widely to be from simple fun, Slingshot wondered if he'd be helping or stopping him later. Skywarp was really terrible at poker.

It wasn't that he couldn't remember which hands were better. None of them could, really, except for Skydive, and even he got confused when it came to straights and flushes. No, Skywarp seemed to not be able to remember what made a hand. Twice, he attempted to make a hand of one card of each suit, only to forget that there were only four. Several times, he just laid his cards down and asked what he had. Once, he ended up with six cards and lost his pants. Only sheer luck kept him from losing more often than Fireflight (nobody had luck like Fireflight, not even Slingshot and he deserved it,) and he still ended up sitting there in his skivvies when the power clicked back on.

"Uh, Skywarp?" Fireflight said quietly. "You dripped." He pointed at the bit of ice cream stuck to Skywarp's chest, clinging to a pink dip of scar tissue. Behind his back, Air Raid looked at Slingshot. Slingshot shrugged at his brother. Yeah, Skywarp had been trying to shoot them for the last twenty-something years, but he'd voluntarily walked into their base unarmed, played their game and shared their ice cream. Maybe Prime wasn't so off the mark thinking they could learn from him.

Okay, maybe not learn from him, because he was just as air-headed as everyone said Fireflight was, without any of 'Flight's perceptiveness, or ability to reach his own conclusion. But maybe they could play nice with him, and then Thundercracker (and Slingshot was not making any sort of friends with Starscream ever, did no-one else remember the chronosphere?) could teach them whatever it was that Vos had kept secret from the Autobots Prime thought was so slagging important.

The point was, none of the Seekers had offered them anything more dangerous than pie, and they'd sought out the Aerialbots where before they'd actively avoided them. Slingshot couldn't quite parse it, but Prime had expected this to happen, which begged all sorts of questions he wasn't going to ask, and told them to try to make friends! Slingshot didn't know what was stranger, Prime's idea or that it was turning out to be right.

Then again, Prime had thought that if the Aerialbots fed the Seekers, they'd be able to poach one or two. "Can you put clothes back on now?" Skydive asked. "Regardless of what Prime said, I'd rather not explain to Silverbolt why we have a half-naked Decepticon on the floor."

Slingshot didn't want to explain to Silverbolt why there was a Decepticon on the floor in any state of undress. He wanted to kick the Seeker out of the apartment and their lives on general principle, no matter how harmless he was on his own. "Yeah, the game's on." Slingshot pulled his shirt over his head and moved to the couch, turning on the football game for Silverbolt. His big brother loved football, for reasons not even a gestalt-link could explain. They were out of pretzels, but there was still a beer or two in the fridge, hopefully two out of the three would cheer Silverbolt up.

Skydive sat at the desk, in front of the laptop. The other Aerialbots and Skywarp pulled their clothes back on. Fireflight sat in the chair he'd claimed as his, and Air Raid dropped on the couch with what was left of the ice cream next to Slingshot.

Skywarp stood awkwardly between the Aerialbots and the door. "Guess I'll just get going then," he said quietly. And, damn his optics, he looked lost and helpless, like he always did when an Aerialbot found him alone. The general opinion of the Ark was that particular Seeker had a warp drive in the place of a brain module, and yeah, he wasn't the brightest flash of laser fire, but the Ark didn't understand what it was like to fly faster than sound, where the slightest miscalculation ended in fiery crashing. There was a difference between being stupid and being obedient, and if the Autobots thought they were one and the same, well, that explained a lot about their attitude towards the Aerialbots.

Silverbolt had once fantasied about trading Air Raid for Skywarp. Superion had thought that the funniest thing he'd ever heard, and told the rest of the Aerialbots. Sometimes, Slingshot just didn't understand the big guy. "What's the rush?" Air Raid asked. He hadn't minded Silverbolt's harmless fantasy; he'd wondered aloud how long it would take the other two to notice, and if they'd let the Aerialbots keep Skywarp. "Stay and watch the game."

Skywarp, who had no intention of leaving, sat on the floor next to the couch. "What did Prime say about half-naked Decepticons on the floor?"

"That as long as you're not killing us back," Slingshot said, "we're not supposed to kill you." Slingshot was still wearing his gun under his shirt, but he'd been wearing it since he walked in the door, and no other Aerialbot was armed. "Like you could."

"I could," Skywarp said. "I'm a frightening Seeker warrior."

"Not two minutes ago, you were losing your pants and eating our ice cream," Air Raid said, waving a spoon at him. "Once you've seen someone in their underwear, he is no longer scary."

"But we've seen him naked before," Fireflight said. "I've seen Skywarp naked lots of times."

Of course Silverbolt chose that moment to come in, his expression instantly transforming into an attempt to electrocute Skywarp through sheer willpower.

"Naked is different," Air Raid clearly wanted Skywarp dead. "Naked is scary. BVDs are just sort of sad."

"Hi, boss," Skydive said, alerting the others to the fact there was a very unhappy Autobot Air Commander in the room.

"I turned the game on for you," Slingshot said, shoving Air Raid over to make room on the couch.

"Fireflight," Silverbolt said, stepping around Skywarp and sitting in between his brothers, "would you like to explain why Skywarp was on the floor in, apparently, his underclothes?"

"He's heading the cliff list already," Air Raid leaned down to whisper to Skywarp, "'cause he crashed the car this morning."

"Oh, so I'm dead then?"

"I give you even odds."

"Well," Fireflight began, worrying at the hem of his shirt, "uh, the storm knocked the power out? And then all the ice-cream was gonna melt, and we had a lot of ice cream, you know. So Skywarp came over to help us eat it. I don't know if that's why he thought he was coming over because he was already here when me and Slingshot came in, and helping them eat all the ice cream before it melted and got all icky inside of the freezer and went to waste. And since we didn't have any power we didn't have any television so we were playing cards but we didn't have any poker chips so we used our clothes. First Skydive lost a sock and then I think he was counting cards because he didn't lose anything else but Skywarp lost everything -even his pants- and it's a good thing the power came on when it did because it would have been really embarrassing if he kept losing. You would have come in to a naked Decepticon in the middle of the floor and you weren't really specific on that but I don't think you would have been happy about that. We've spent lots of times with naked Decepticons, though, they just were the real thems at the time so they didn't have any clothes to take off and be naked so I don't think they'd count as naked? Except maybe for the time Superion was stripping Dirge but that wasn't the fun kind of naked? This wasn't really the fun kind of naked either, it was the betting kind of naked that teaches lessons. Anyways he dripped ice cream all over his chest so it was a good thing he wasn't wearing a shirt. And if you're still mad at me you shouldn't take it out on him because he didn't actually do anything wrong, he wasn't cheating or anything."

"So he lost his clothes in a poker game?" During Fireflight's impression of, what was his name, the Prowl repaint with the gun, Silverbolt expression's had faded from irate to merely annoyed. "I suppose that works. But why," he looked down at Skywarp, "are you here?"

"Oh," Skywarp hunched in on himself a little, trying to ping Silverbolt's wing cover coding without being too obvious about it, "well, when the power went out I was all by myself and it was..." he trailed off. Silverbolt's expression didn't soften. "Usually when it storms like that me and TC go play," he offered, "but TC's out."

"He left you alone with Starscream, after what we heard?" Air Raid asked. "That's harsh."

"Starscream wasn't there either," Skywarp said, biting down on his instinctive defense of his wingleader. Starscream had been throwing a tantrum this morning, and he'd play a lot of cards but he wasn't about to throw Starscream out of the shuttle. He was a better mech than his wingmate that way. "And, he didn't have a choice. He's got a job interview."

Five Aerialbots looked at him like he'd said Thundercracker had volunteered to take small children deep-sea diving. "I knew it was too much to expect you to actually stay out of my hair," Silverbolt sighed after a minute.

"That implies him being annoying, and he's really no worse than Air Raid," Skydive said. Air Raid made a rude gesture at his brother.

"C'mon, boss," Slingshot said. "If he's here, we've got eyes on him, right?"

Silverbolt fixed Skywarp with the same sort of look Starscream got when Skywarp was thinking too loudly. How that managed to happen when Starscream swore up and down Skywarp didn't have a thought in his head, Skywarp didn't know. "I believe you," Silverbolt said. "Don't make me regret it."

"I'm thirsty." Air Raid jumped off the couch. "Is anyone else thirsty?" He retrieved from the kitchen water for Skydive and Fireflight, beer for Slingshot and Silverbolt, and two cans of soda for himself. He didn't sit back on the couch but next to Skywarp, and handed him one of the sodas. "So okay, have you ever seen football before?"

"Blitzwing watches it sometimes," Skywarp said. "He tried to explain it once, but we were all kind of distracted by Starscream being defeated by a door."

"That is a story we need to hear," Slingshot said. "During the commercials."

"So, okay," Air Raid said, "you see the guys in the blue and grey? Those are the Lions. Their job is to throw themselves under the tires of victory and snatch defeat from its jaws."

Above them, Silverbolt sighed again. "If you're not going to explain it to him right, let me." Skywarp didn't give a bent screw about football, but if Silverbolt was going to look at him as "the guy to explain stupid Earth games to" and not as a danger, that was better than he expected when he came over. Even Fireflight's staring felt less like being target locked than usual.

Twenty football minutes later, Skywarp was in the middle of describing one of Starscream's schemes designed to make him look harmless (or at least that's what he claimed later, harmless and not more trouble than he was worth,) when Thundercracker knocked on the door. "Thank you for babysitting Skywarp," he told Firefight, "but I can take him off your hands now."

Fireflight let him in, but Thundercracker hovered near the door, attempting to comm. something to Skywarp with his eyebrows that Skywarp just didn't understand.

Air Raid threw his arms around the Seeker, and it took everything Skywarp had to not slug the mech suddenly attached to his back. He sternly reminded himself that one, he was under strict orders, two, Slingshot would certainly shoot him for it, and three, Air Raid wasn't actually attacking. To his credit, Air Raid let go almost instantly when he felt Skywarp tense. "We're keeping him," he said.

Thundercracker's face did some real interesting maneuvers as he fought his own internal battle against all Air Raid was pinging. "As much as I'd like to dump him on you, I'd feel bad about it later," he said, jamming his hands in his jacket pockets casually. Skywarp wondered what he was preventing himself from doing. "Did he behave for you?"

"I'm right here, you know," Skywarp said, leaning against Air Raid.

"He was fine," Silverbolt said.

"How is losing your pants in a card game fine?" Slingshot asked. Skywarp was pretty sure he was just being an afthead, though.

Thundercracker looked at Skywarp. "You lost your pants in a card game."

Skywarp grinned and shrugged. "They gave them back."

"You lost your pants in a card game and this somehow falls under "behaving." There are so many questions in there, I don't know where to start."

"He accepted the consequences of his actions." Silverbolt didn't look away from the game. "We can live with that."

"Does that mean Air Raid can keep him?" Skydive asked.

"Isn't one of him bad enough?" Slingshot asked before Silverbolt could answer.

"You can't keep people," Fireflight said from the door. "Can you? If we can, I vote yes."

Skywarp grinned at Thundercracker. He couldn't remember the last time his wingmate had come to collect him from somewhere and they argued to keep him. Or at least argued to keep him because they liked him. Thundercracker sighed. "If I promise to return him, can I have my own wingmate back?"

The TV cut to commercial and Silverbolt tore himself away from it. "We're not holding Skywarp against his will, guys."

Skywarp looked up at him and made his eyes as big as he could get away with. "What if I want to stay?"

"You can't," Thundercracker said. "We have important trine business now." "If you have a thing, you can come back," Silverbolt told him. "The Lions are going to lose, you're not going to miss anything."

Skywarp didn't give two bolts for the game, but Thundercracker was wound extra-tight, which did not mean this would be the fun kind of trine business. Like there ever was fun trine business. "Skywarp," Thundercracker said. "Very important trine business. Move."

"You're kicking me out?" Skywarp asked Silverbolt.

"Is that actual smoke coming out of his ears?" Skydive asked.

"I dunno," Air Raid said. "At this point, maybe we need to keep Skywarp for his own protection."

Silverbolt and Thundercracker facepalmed at the same moment. Three Aerialbots giggled. "I am not getting in between you two," Silverbolt said from behind his hand. "Stay or go, but choose now so we know how many are here for dinner."

Skywarp estimated he had about four nano-kliks before Thundercracker's head exploded, so he dragged himself up. "Alright then," he said, "I'll be back. For a rematch."

"I look forward to retaking your pants," Air Raid called out as the door closed behind the two of them.

"Seriously, you lost your pants in a card game," Thundercracker said, turning the knob and discovering the door was locked. "Pride of the mighty Decepticon army, and you lost your pants."

"Oh, like you've never lost a bet," Skywarp groused.

"I know when to fold 'em," Thundercracker said, leaning against the wall, "and usually you do too, so where are your shoes?"

"Starscream took them. And I lost the pants on purpose."

Thundercracker folded his arms and looked supremely unconvinced. "I was setting them at ease," Skywarp explained. "Now they're not afraid of me, I'm just stupid Skywarp who lost his pants in a poker game with a bunch of babies, not Skywarp who pops out of nowhere and once did something very painful to Fireflight with a heat-seeker."

Thundercracker grunted, not believing him.

"It was totally, completely, on purpose!" Skywarp protested. Technically, it was a lie, but it worked out to the same thing, so who cared? "Are you going to open the door?"

"You go ahead."

Skywarp frowned at his wingmate. "Did you forget your key?"

"No, I just want to see if he's still in a throwing mood."

"He might not even be home yet."

"In case he is, you go in first," Thundercracker said. "He likes you better."

"No way. He was yours first, you go first."

"I already was his target once today. It's your turn."

"Is this the very important trine business you were talking about? Using me as a shield?" Behind them, the Aerialbots' door cracked open.

"Do you guys need help?" Fireflight asked. Below him, Air Raid, Skydive and Slingshot peeked around the edge of the door.

"I don't know," Thundercracker said, because he was a big fat jerk, "Skywarp, do you need help opening the door?"

"I can open a fragging door," Skywarp said, demonstrating his superior door-opening abilities. Then he pushed Thundercracker through, waiting to make sure there were no more projectile coffees before following.

Chapter Text

Lies, damned lies, and statistics.

If Skydive, or any of the Aerialbots, had stopped to think about it, he would have realized he wasn't cut off from his brothers so much as very, very far from them. They didn't, though, they let Slingshot have the meltdown instead -not intentionally, but Slingshot's emotions had all of Superion's fury behind them still. And that, too, should have been a clue, how Slingshot still carried their weight, but nobody put two and two together until Skyfire shared the spark-shielding theory. It lifted a burden they hadn't wanted to admit bearing, though not enough for anyone to try reaching out.

And, paltry benefit though it was, now they could play cards.

Silverbolt was sitting on the floor, sorting out the deck of cards for something called Euchre, while Slingshot looked up the rules on the laptop. The frozen lasagna Skydive had been elected to cook was done in the oven and Fireflight and Air Raid had their heads together, Skydive didn't want to know why. They were plotting something, he didn't need the gestalt-link to know what, and while that wasn't nearly as bad as Slingshot and Air Raid teaming up, Skydive still would appreciate some warning.

When Skydive, still thinking about shielding and silence, opened the oven door and saw the fire, his first thought was to snatch his hand back. His second was that he'd followed the box's instructions exactly. His third was that he hadn't pulled his hand back quickly enough.

His fourth, when his brothers crowded around him, was that he hadn't realized he had yelled. Skydive had reached in the oven without looking, and brushed his bare hand against the hot metal rack. If he hadn't seen the bright orange flame, he would have grabbed the pan without the hot mitt. He could feel the burn, and yeah, it felt pretty much like burns always had, except ten times worse. Skydive didn't dare look at his hand; he was sure he'd charred the bone, to have it hurt so badly he couldn't think, and he couldn't bear to see that.

"What the hell, 'Dive," Slingshot said, pulling him away from the stove by his other hand. "Hot mitts, remember?"

Fireflight slipped behind him, neatly as if they'd choreographed it, and closed the door. "Let me see your hand," Silverbolt said.

"Looks like they'll have to cut it off," Air Raid said, leaning over the counter. Slingshot lunged for him, but Silverbolt grabbed the shorter one with his free hand.

"They will not have to cut it off, Air Raid, help Fireflight with the fire. Slingshot, go help him with the water, please?"

Right, they'd gone over the treatment of minor injuries shortly after the Aerialbots had arrived in Detroit. As Slingshot tugged him down the hallway, Skydive risked a look at his hand. The pain was white-hot, numb in the center -and out of all proportion. His hand looked downright normal, maybe a little pinker on the side. Slingshot twisted on the water in the bathroom sink and thrust Skydive's burned hand under it. "For crying out loud," he said, "where's your head? That was Skywarp-level stupid."

The water was soothing, for about ten seconds, then it was just cold. "I dropped a processor thread, I suppose."

"You're not the one who's supposed to need supervision," which Skydive translated as "don't scare me like that." Slingshot had a language all to his own, one Skydive was fluent in, so as his brother continued to speculate on the location and operational status of his brain module, Skydive heard only concern, and relief. A human couldn't get a replacement hand, after all.

Silverbolt understood it too, so when he came in with the first-aid kit from the hall closet to hear Slingshot insult two-thirds of Superion's collective intelligence, he didn't say anything about it, just asked to see Skydive's hand again. Slingshot hovered over him while Silverbolt wrapped his hand with gauze in accordance with the text from First Aid.

"Sorry I ruined dinner," Skydive said. Slingshot snorted.

"Will you go make sure those two are actually cleaning the oven?" Silverbolt asked him. "You didn't ruin dinner," he told Skydive as Slingshot went down the hall.

"Boss, I set it on fire. How is that not ruined?"

Silverbolt wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "We can still have dinner," he said. "Just not lasagna. Pick something else, okay?"

Skydive frowned, unable to read Silverbolt's mood. Why wasn't he angry? Or was he just hiding it, or just relieved that Skydive hadn't been burned worse? "I'm sorry I almost burned the place down," he repeated. It bothered Skydive that he didn't know, bothered him that he didn't know if Silverbolt was angry. Silverbolt could rival Slingshot when it came to righteous fury, sometimes over the very things Skydive had just done, spacing out and visible flames.

Silverbolt shrugged and squeezed him. "You didn't do it on purpose, though," he said. "Accidents happen. Does it still hurt?" Silverbolt rarely was angry over honest accidents -and apparently he knew this was one.

"A little," Skydive leaned into his big brother. "It's embarrassing though. There were three whole steps, and I couldn't manage them. I'm no good at this human...thing."

"You're doing fine," Silverbolt protested. "You're my right-hand man."

"I'm your left leg."

"-shit-eating camel humping sonovawhore!" Thundercracker finished, punctuating the sentence with a kick. He'd run out of proper curses he could pronounce early, but surprised even himself by how many organic ones he knew. Still, the dishwasher continued to calmly ooze bubbles out the bottom. He kicked it again, harder, and cursed more when pain flared halfway to his knee. " Chupe mantequilla de mi culo!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Skywarp peeking over the laptop at him from the couch. "What," he snapped.

"I think you might actually be louder than Starscream now," Skywarp said, holding the laptop like a shield.

Thundercracker informed him where he could put that false fact, and offered a suggestion or two on how to fit it in such a small space.

"You could just turn it off," Starscream paused his muttered running commentary to say, not looking up from the microwave he was disassembling on the floor.

"Dammit, why didn't I just think of that myself?" Thundercracker kicked the dishwasher a third time. It didn't have any more effect than the first two. The piece of cold slag could at least dent.

"Because, and I say this as a friend, you're an idiot?" Skywarp asked, fully enjoying someone else taking that role.

"Because it doesn't turn off until the cycle is complete." Thundercracker said. "There's no manual override." He tugged at the handle anyways. This was just humiliating. Children operated dishwashers. Human children managed to operate the fragging things without flooding the entire planet. What was wrong with Thundercracker, conqueror of strange skies, that he couldn't manage to wash the few coffee mugs they had?

He'd probably broken them, too.

Someone knocked on the door, five knocks followed by two quick ones, and Starscream irritably ordered Skywarp to open it before diving back into the microwave. Thundercracker crossed his arms and stared at the dishwasher, still cheerfully percolating away. The puddle was escaping the kitchen, creeping towards the door. Good. Let Skywarp have wet feet too.

Skywarp paused before he opened the door, looked at the dishwasher, looked at Thundercracker, and giggled. Thundercracker refrained from punching him, then hid his face behind his hand when Skywarp opened the door to Air Raid and Fireflight.

"We heard yelling," Skywarp's evil twin said, breezing inside. "We thought we'd stop in, see if we needed to stop a double homicide."

"Nope," Skywarp said, leaning against the counter. "Only casualty here is the autoclave."

"Dishwasher," Starscream corrected. "You, get back to your thing. You two, get out."

Air Raid paid no attention to Starscream. "What happened to your dishwasher? It's not supposed to do that."

Thundercracker ground his denta -teeth -whatever. "I don't know," he said into his palm. Now there were witnesses.

Fireflight leaned over his brother's shoulder and tilted his head at the sheer volume of bubbles. "Do you have a towel or something? To clean it up at least?"

"It's dirty," Skywarp shrugged.

"Seriously, how did you manage this?" Air Raid asked. "That is a truly impressive amount of bubbles." Fireflight nodded in agreement.

Thundercracker ignored everybody, very, very hard.

"This master of discovering new ways to break things is the second-most competent Decepticon in the entire army," Starscream said. Maybe Thundercracker could strangle him to death and Megatron would be so happy he'd take him back. "In case you were wondering how the war's been going on for so long."

"What about Soundwave?" Air Raid asked, sounding exactly like Skywarp did when he thought he was funny.

"He did say second-most," Thundercracker said. At least he was trying, frag you Starscream. What had Starscream done besides strip the microwave down to its component parts? Which he couldn't do without coffee, anyways, and all the mugs were in the dishwasher, and not even Starscream was dumb enough to drink it straight from the pot.

Skywarp, giggling traitor, probably was, and who'd be stuck dragging his ungrateful aft to repair bay? Someone whose designation started with "thun" and ended with "dercracker."

"We could ask Skyfire," Fireflight said. "He'd know why."

"Oh yeah," Air Raid enthused, whipping out his phone. "Skyfire knows everything."

Thundercracker reached out and slapped his hand over Skywarp's mouth before he could say anything. "Don't."

"Skyfire?" Starscream asked, laying down his screwdriver and blinking.

"Uh-huh," Air Raid said, tapping out a message on his phone. "He's pretty awesome. I bet you twenty bucks if anyone can fix a dishwasher from across the country, it'd be Skyfire."

"Skywarp," Starscream said after a long second, and it wasn't a tone Skywarp would argue with, "finish the thing, now."

"What thing?" Air Raid asked Skywarp, following him to the couch, both of them tracking bubbles across the floor.

"Screamer," Skywarp paused.

Starscream did not disappoint. "Don't call me that!"

"He wants me to get a job at some store, down by the mall, the big blue one? He says he needs, like, seven more microwaves for their cavities of Megatron."

"Magnetrons," Starscream corrected.

"Whatever."

Air Raid started telling Skywarp about his job, and about the interview process. Thundercracker, who wasn't yet ready to work in a store despite ten straight days of not finding work, ignored him and stared at the bubbles that were somehow still dripping out. How many could possibly be in that box?

Fireflight stood next to him, the Aerialbot's hands in his pockets. "I got another ticket yesterday," he said, quietly. "I ran over a speed limit sign."

"How did you run over a speed limit sign?" Most of the speed limit signs in the area were set back from the road. On metal poles.

Fireflight shrugged. "How'd you get the dishwasher to do this?"

"Driving's a little more difficult than running a dishwasher," Thundercracker said, without much heat.

Fireflight shrugged again. "It's really hard to pull up in a car, but at least it came with an instruction manual."

Thundercracker grunted at him. It wasn't Fireflight's fault he was failing to cheer up the Seeker, and he was at least trying to commiserate, where his wingmates found the situation a rare and fantastic joke.

"Silverbolt's going to kill me. I haven't told him."

"I didn't know you could lie to him, with the gestalt thing," Thundercracker said, as Air Raid's phone played some ridiculous song behind them.

"It's not a lie. I'd never lie to Silverbolt, even if I could," Fireflight protested, a bit too much. "I'm just not telling him."

"How's that not a lie?"

Fireflight didn't answer, just sighed so quietly Thundercracker wondered if he'd imagined it.

"Whoa, did a Decepticon just ask you an ethics question?" Air Raid draped himself over his brother's back. "Triptastic. Skydive wants to know what you like on your pizza, Slingshot says he is not eating with you and Silverbolt cordially invites you over to eat pizza and explain how we're suppose to ever trust you being nice again after the chronosphere. Except he said it a bit more, you know, Ratchet-esque."

"So...with a static laser gun?"

That seemed to put a bit of a damper on Air Raid's enthusiasm. Not much, though. "No, just, have you even had pizza before, because if not, you totally have to try it with pineapple, and 'Bolt won't let me get any unless we're getting three pizzas or a football game's on."

Starscream, never one to turn down free fuel, stood up and brushed his hands off on his pants. "I suppose you deserve to know the truth," he said.

Air Raid grinned, and started with that furious tapping again. "You want to try pineapple?"

"I want to try pineapple," Skywarp said. "What does it have to do with football?"

"'Cause when the game's on, Silverbolt will say yes to anything -almost anything- if it means you'll go away and let him watch it." Air Raid explained that very important assessment like he was describing the color of the sky. "Didn't you notice he was pretty cool with the whole poker pants thing?"

"Did you gamble away your pants," Starscream demanded. Thundercracker just glared. Skywarp had one job -to get the Aerialbots to like him. It wasn't like he had Thundercracker's impossible job, to lie or tell the truth about leaving Megatron, whichever it turned out to be.

Skywarp held up his hands. "I've met him what, twice, without him zapping me? And one of them was three days ago, when he couldn't if he wanted to? How was I supposed to notice a difference?"

"The part where he didn't mind you sitting on the floor in your underpants probably should have been a clue," Air Raid grinned. "Or the part where Slingshot turned on the game and then we all proceeded to completely ignore it because nobody else likes it?"

"Epic spot check fail there, 'Warp," Thundercracker said, unable to really stay mad at his wingmate. He hadn't picked up on it either, had assumed that Silverbolt was just as soft-sparked as all the other Autobots.

"I suppose I should be glad that you're at least losing your own armor this time," Starscream groused. "I'm not, but I should be."

Air Raid added, "Silverbolt has a taser. Just so you know in case you accidentally get in between him and the screen when the game's on. He really can zap you still."

"Whose armor did you lose?" Fireflight asked, still watching the bubbles.

"Huh? Oh. I lost TC's left aileron. But he wasn't using it at the time. Lemme finish this before Screamer," -"Don't call me that!"- "throws me out the window." Skywarp went back to whatever it was on the computer that would get him a job. Air Raid leaned over his shoulder, offering helpful tips. Starscream leaned over his other shoulder, keeping him on task. Usually, Thundercracker did that, but today the Seeker didn't want to deal with anything near Skywarp's level of required effort. He watched the dishwasher with Fireflight, less awkward than it sounded. The Aerialbot didn't say a single word except to inform his brother that the bubbles were actually kind of cool, which had the effect of making everyone shut up and leave Thundercracker alone.

At least he was trying to keep the place clean. They'd been more helpful before the war, or at least he remembered them that way. Then again, before the war.

"There's Skyfire's texting me," Air Raid said as his phone played another ridiculous song. "He says that if you used the wrong kind of soap then you didn't break it. But next time use the special soap that says "dishwasher" and not just regular dish soap 'cause if you use the regular stuff, well, you found out already."

"So that's not too bad," Fireflight said. "The bubbles have slowed down."

"And Silverbolt says that they'll be here in like five minutes with pizza. I guess that means Slingshot is driving now." Air Raid headed to the door, Skywarp in tow. "I really hope everyone stays off the sidewalks."

Fireflight tugged on Thundercracker's sleeve. "Will you show us how to make coffee?"

"First Aid just delivered a baby," Streetwise texted Skydive while they were picking up pizza. "I think it broke him."

"Why would it do that?" Skydive asked.

Then he wished he hadn't. He showed Silverbolt, who agreed.

That's how Slingshot ended up driving back to base. He only hit the curb once.

Thundercracker made coffee for the Aerialbots in their tiny coffee pot (the same size as his own, but there were twice the mechs in the Aerialbot's faintly smokey apartment), and unlike the traitor dishwasher, this coffee pot worked. Air Raid watched the procedure like it was the new emergency fuel transfer. Maybe it was. Fireflight tapped away on his own phone -apparently someone had left a message about yams. Skywarp completely failed to be subtle about staring at his breasts. The other three Aerialbots came in, bearing pizza, and once everyone settled around the living room with their dinner, Silverbolt regarded Starscream like Shockwave would have, if Shockwave had the face to do it with. "Chronosphere," he said.

Starscream, enthroned in one of the chairs, shrugged. "That was a favor."

The Aerialbots did not look impressed. "Really," Slingshot said from one end of the couch. "You're expecting us to believe that old Megatron sent us back in time out of the goodness of his spark?"

Thundercracker, on the floor between Slingshot's feet and Fireflight, slapped Skywarp's hand away from the pile of pineapple he'd picked off his slice and went back to removing the last traces of cheese. Skywarp sat back up on the couch, sandwiched between a bandaged Skydive and the arm. "I lied," Starscream said. "Megatron thought the chronosphere was set to send you to before the beginning of time itself. Is it so hard to believe I'd be less than truthful when there's a fusion canon involved?"

Silverbolt had that look again, the one that said he was wishing he could electrocute the Seekers where they sat. "And what, since I don't have one you'll never lie to me?"

Which was probably what Starscream was trying to sell to the Aerialbots, but since the Aerialbots weren't born yesterday, he had to have another trick or two in subspace, because nobody fell for such blatant lies, not after so many eons of war. Except the Aerialbots were what, a quarter-vorn old? And Starscream hadn't survived this long without being terrifyingly good at manipulating others, at mixing enough truth into his lies to fool much older and wiser mechs. "Starscream was a dick about it," Thundercracker said, choosing a word he was fairly certain his wingleader didn't know, "but we figured it would be better for you to live out your lives in the Golden Age of Cybertron. Where did you end up anyways?"

"Nine million years or so ago," Air Raid said. "Megatron shot up the docks, tried to steal a bunch of energon but we exploded it."

Skywarp laughed, a harsh sound. "I remember that! I didn't know we could get lower than starvation rations."

Starscream caught Silverbolt's gaze, and took a tiny, deliberate, bite out of his pizza. "So it was you we should thank for that," he said. "Do you know how many Decepticons died?" Starscream was Megatron's favorite, even then, and it had still been close. So close they hadn't been able to spare the fuel to fly out with him. It was half a science joke, to increase all the numbers by twenty percent, but if Starscream hadn't, well, warp drives took a lot of power.

"That explosion didn't take out enough of you guys," Slingshot was saying. "Not by half."

Starscream favored him with raised eyebrows and a gentle smile. "Have you ever been hungry, creation of Prime?" he purred, taking Slingshot's plate from him. "Not low on fuel, but truly starving? Have you ever felt systems go dark, one by one, as your reserve tanks dry? Have you ever turned off your diagnostics because you can't see past the alerts, past the red lines?" He leaned forward, their knees nearly touching. "Have you ever felt, against your spark, the caress of the gas you've injected to keep your fuel lines from collapsing?" Starscream paused, waiting for a response that wasn't coming. "I don't know how many mechs would have lived, if you hadn't interfered. How many would have been spared the soft slow slide into stasis and beyond. No, the explosion didn't grant nearly enough clean deaths."

It was Air Raid that broke the spell after a pulse, which surprised Thundercracker more than it should have. "Yeah, well," he said, "I ain't crying over a bunch of armed robbers. You could have just gone down and bought some like normal mechs. Like abnormal mechs."

Starscream blinked, and looked at Thundercracker. Air Raid didn't know, which meant none of Superion's components knew, which meant, holy rusting Primus below their feet, the Autobots had thrown them in a war and not told them how it had started.

"No, we couldn't," Thundercracker said. "It's not like Megatron came online one day and said, "I want to rule the galaxy!" There was rationing, unfair rationing, and then Senator Proteus..." He trailed off, fumbling for the words to explain the rest, the Clampdown, the Functionalists, the Senate. He'd been expecting to convince them of Megatron's fall, of the things done by thugs wearing red faces that could never be forgiven. He never thought he would be explaining the Noble Cause from its forging, and why Optimus Prime's reforms weren't enough for the Decepticons. Why Megatron still had an army, when Prime had agreed with him so long ago.

Thundercracker was afraid he couldn't, that they'd ask him what he was doing still with the bloodthirsty tyrant, and the only answer they might accept would be, "Starscream."

"Actually, he did," Starscream finished for him, giving Slingshot back his pizza, "but that was later."

None of the Aeriabots said anything, though Fireflight was spinning his lighter between his fingers again. Finally, Skydive broke the silence. "You still keep trying to kill us," he said quietly.

"When Megatron's around, he gets a show," Starscream pointed out, which was true. They were talented and they were gestalt, a challenge to any other Seekers, but not the Elite. Grounding them alive wasn't a problem, when they couldn't avoid shooting them. It wasn't often an Aerialbot offered up the opportunity for a kill shot, even less one Megatron could spot, and not even Skywarp was dumb enough to think that if one fell the other four wouldn't come to rip the spark out of whoever fired the fatal blast. Some Decepticons thought that if one member of a gestalt was killed, the other four would die as well. Motormaster, in his inexperience, had tried to prove that false by ripping off Thrust's arm. His demonstration hadn't been strictly accurate, as far as Thundercracker knew about gestalt theory, but since Thrust had been threatening Wildrider, nobody dared think about what an Autobot combiner would do. It was rumored they actually liked each other.

"We don't want to kill sparklings," Starscream said, and if the facts were a lie that didn't mean he wasn't speaking the truth. Even Starscream hesitated to cross that line. Even Skywarp wouldn't, not for Megatron. "So I tried to ground you. I failed. It was not my first time, or my last."

When Skyfire's phone beeped, he dragged himself away from his sequencing of the twenty-fourth chromosome that appeared unique to their new alt-mode. He needed to refuel and recharge -eat and sleep- so much more often now, he took to setting timers to keep from undignified passing-out in his lab. It hadn't been his alarm that beeped though, but a message from Air Raid; he'd turned off the alarm without noticing it. Again.

Well, the work he was doing was important. Logic dictated that extra chromosome had been built and inserted by Shockwave, for a specific purpose, and if he could just unlock its secrets, the Autobots would be that many steps closer to finding a solution to this puzzle. Ratchet and Wheeljack focused on the spark transformation aspect of the puzzle, since they had some experience with spark manipulation -the details of which they weren't sharing- and Perceptor was attempting to work out how much the organic processes were affecting their function. Skyfire was working on the differences between true humans and the Cybertronians alone; no-one else had close to his experience in micro-xenobiology. And most of what Skyfire knew he hadn't learned from formal training, but picked up from Starscream on other planets. Still, he had the best chance to tease apart that artificial DNA and find why Shockwave hadn't stopped with the portable ATP to energon converter. It wasn't half as efficent as the geothermal or solar collectors the Autobots used, but enough of them loaded with bacteria would have made a serious difference to the Decepticons. They needed a psychologist of some sort, to look at what Shockwave did and divine what his purpose was. If psychologists could even do that.

He gave himself ten more minutes to organize his notes -actual, handwritten notes like Starscream used to write. Starscream swore writing things down helped him think, helped him stay organized. Privately, Skyfire thought it was because Starscream couldn't keep up with himself some days and had to leave maps. Then, regretfully, he set down his work and picked up his phone. If he was forced to take a break, at least it was to reach out to his friends, rather than suffer the indignity of solid food.

"dishwasher is spewing bubbles help?" Air Raid had asked. "i bet 20$ ur awesome enough to fix." He had attached a picture of an impressive kitchen flood.

Skyfire wondered who it was Air Raid had bet with. The picture wasn't of the Aerialbot's kitchen, but similar, and Air Raid had to know that Skyfire wasn't any more an expert on plumbing than the Internet could tell him. Still, it took less than half a minute to find the right answer and pass it along.

"thanx," Air Raid sent back, "our neighbors are idiots. iou 10."

Skyfire left his phone on the desk while he went to get lunch. He ran into Perceptor on the way back, and the two of them spent the afternoon comparing notes in Perceptor's lab. When he came back to his phone, messages from the Aerialbots were waiting for him. This wasn't exactly new, but the messages themselves were less trivial and amusing than usual. Slingshot's message, he read and skipped over. "if we had stayed in the past what would have happened to us?" Silverbolt asked. Silverbolt was a transport shuttle, but the other four were warriors built. Skyfire knew first and second-hand what discrimination, what flat-out oppression those classes of mechs used to face, and from what Skyfire had heard, it only turned worse while he was in the ice. "You would have had a difficult time of it," Skyfire texted him back, "but I'm sure you would have been fine."

"What was the energon shortage like?" Skydive wanted to know. "Honestly, that was after my time," Skyfire sent back, thankful the character limit saved him from telling about how before the official shortage how prices had soared, about applying for any and every grant because they'd needed the money, about the semester he and Starscream had shared textfiles because it was that or starve on a student allowance designed for a ground-bound mech. To this day, he didn't know how Starscream had found the money for those texts in the middle of the semester, or any of the other times he'd scraped together the shanix they needed to last to the next allowance-day. Skyfire had always assumed it was somehow legitimate, since Starscream loved to cast assumptions about his character back into the teeth of the old guard who tried to close the ranks against him...but looking back, he wondered if Starscream hadn't been protesting too much. No, Skyfire decided for the tenth time, if Starscream had been getting the money dishonestly, he would have gotten enough, and they would never had gatecrashed parties just for the free drinks.

When they'd brought him back to the Ark, after Peru, it was the first time in meta-cycles that he had filled his tanks. He'd ended up in Ratchet's medbay that night, convinced there was something wrong with his diagnostics. There wasn't -but he'd gone so long with low-fuel warnings flashing at him, their loss had felt wrong.

Fireflight had merely wanted to know what the word was for a sin against the gods, so he could most accurately describe pineapple on pizza. Skyfire, a little relieved to have a question so easily answered, sent back, "blasphemy, or sacrilege."

Skyfire returned to Slingshot's message. He didn't have an answer for the Aerialbot, but he could at least acknowledge the question. "can starscream be forgiven? I mean. Is is physically possible?" Slingshot had asked. Slingshot had taken Starscream's betrayal personally, been so hurt by it Skyfire was almost offended. "Insufficient data," Skyfire sent back, wondering what prompted this round of questions. "Prime would know better than I," he added, to make it longer than two words. Prime might have said yes, no spark was beyond forgiveness. Anyone else would have said no, Starscream proved some things were unforgivable (and when Skyfire pressed for details, they were apparently unspeakable as well. Though, given what he'd witnessed of the Decepticon standard operating procedure, he didn't press very hard.) But, and maybe this was why Slingshot had asked him, Skyfire never told the Aerialbots anything subjective was absolute, when it came to Seekers he never told them how to feel.

Chapter Text

Is this angry yelling or busted hearing air yelling? - Zoidberg

"Silverbolt?" Hot Spot picked up the phone on the second ring. "Who's hurt?"

"Hot Spot. Hot Spot. It's terrible." After so long, Silverbolt knew when something was bothering Hot Spot in three words or less, knew when to press for details and when to back off, to let Hot Spot come in his own time. "I'm stuck in Detroit with the Lions."

Over the line, Hot Spot sighed. "Please don't scare me like that, 'Bolt."

"But it's the Lions," Silverbolt repeated, knowing he was whining and not really caring.

"They're a professional football team, right? You're not talking about real lions?"

"I don't know," Silverbolt said. He wasn't going to think about how much easier it was to talk to Hot Spot now than his own team, how much he always depended on Superion. "They call themselves football players, but the facts do not support their claim."

"You're going to have to explain that to me. Pretend I'm Sludge."

"The Lions, they've sucked for years and years and years. Generations," Silverbolt started, feeling along the thread of just why the Lions bothered him so much. "But Detroit loves them. No matter what a player does, or how bad a game goes, or a whole season, people still wear their logo and fill the stadium and hope that next time, things will be better."

"You've never thought humans made any sense," Hot Spot reminded him. "Did you call me to whine about football?"

"Sort of," Silverbolt half-lied. "Has Defensor said anything to you lately?"

"No, I don't think he could if he wanted to." Hot Spot said. "What does that have to do with the Lions?"

"Whenever I'm watching the game, I get the feeling Superion wants me to pay attention."

"Silverbolt, I've seen you pay so much attention to a football game you didn't notice you were on fire."

"That was only because Ratchet gave me the good stuff, and it wasn't even a very big fire." Silverbolt had thought it was a gestalt-thing, but he was starting to think maybe it was a jet-thing after all, more like reading the messages in the wind than trusting a brother's whims. And, now that he said it out loud, it did sound a little ridiculous, that of all the messages Superion could have passed along, something about football? "There's something about the Lions logo everyone wears around here that Superion thinks is important, and I don't get it at all." Ridiculous as it sounded, there had to be something there, Silverbolt realized. If that was the most important thing to Superion, well, their sixth wasn't given to the same flights of fancy the other four were.

"That is your greatest problem? What about your tinfoils across the hall, have they shared the secret of the extra wingmate?"

"All we've managed to learn so far is that Thundercracker can't work the dishwasher," Silverbolt said. "Not helpful."

"First Aid got mugged," Hot Spot blurted. "Kinda, he gave his wallet right over and the kid ran."

"That's still pretty scary," Silverbolt said, because that's what he would want to hear. His own pump skipped a beat, and First Aid was only half a brother; Hot Spot must have nearly stalled out. "But he's okay?"

"Of course he's okay," Hot Spot snapped, the apologized instantly. "Sorry. He's fine, I would have commed you if he wasn't."

Silverbolt winced, where Hot Spot couldn't see it. How many people had told him that as long as First Aid was okay, it didn't matter that he almost wasn't?

"Is Skydive okay?" Hot Spot asked, and that confused Silverbolt. Surely it was First Aid that had Hot Spot so upset? "First Aid said he burned himself trying to pull the pan out of the oven while it was on fire. Bare-handed."

"That's not exactly what happened," Silverbolt said. "Well, it's exactly what happened, but he didn't get as far as touching the pan, he brushed up against the rack and realized he forgot the hot mitt first. Fireflight put out the fire -it was, and I quote, "totally lame and not worth Hot Spot's time." An hour later Skydive's self-repair kicked in and we forgot all about it."

"Groove's missing again."

"Oh." And just because Silverbolt could talk to Hot Spot easier than his brothers these days didn't mean he knew what to say to that.

"He's...answering his phone at least. I think he'd come back if I asked him to, but there's no privacy here, and too much, if you know what I mean?" Silverbolt knew. Silverbolt knew very well what Hot Spot meant. But none of the Aerialbots ever felt the need for solitude the way Groove did. "I think he needs this. But I'm not sure, and it's been three days."

Silverbolt didn't know what to say. As much as he complained about not leaving his brothers unsupervised, as much as the Aerialbots fought among themselves, as much as Silverbolt suspected, privately, that the Protectobots just might be closer, he couldn't fathom not seeing one of his brothers for that long. Skydive held the record at sixteen hours of radio silence. Three days barely seemed physically possible. "It sucks, I bet," Silverbolt said, lamely.

"Sucks exhaust," Hot Spot agreed. "It would be wrong to ask him to come back, though."

"No, not if you need him." Silverbolt knew this part, at least, and apparently he really had called to talk to Hot Spot about the Lions, about remembering to take care of themselves as well as their brothers. "Pick your battles, and when it matters he'll pull it together."

"Rules one and two?" Hot Spot asked.

"Yes," Silverbolt said. "And four."

Starscream was pleasantly surprised to find he could acquire comm. units -phones- like the Aerialbots had with a minimum of cash up front. There would be a monthly bill to contend with, yes, but once Skywarp had some sort of computer-printed paycheck, it would be easy enough for Starscream to tweak his pay rate a little -not too much, they couldn't afford being caught, but if he was paid by the klik it would be worth the risk. And it had been a while, but Starscream hadn't forgotten how to run his wingmates on a tight budget.

He seemed to recall starting a war over the tightness of their budget once.

Well, that and other things, but trying to make two and two add up to five was uncomfortably familiar to Starscream. They were right back where they started, scraping by in a dead city, when once the Decepticons had ruled the galaxy. And Megatron had thrown it all away. For what? The chance to kill a third Prime? They should have left, found a planet with no sentient life to ping Autobot empathy subroutines. It wasn't even as if they'd have to go very far if Megatron had insisted on his Prime-hunt. The gas giant, the one that had almost been Sol's binary, had several promising moons. If Megatron had let Starscream take his wingmates for just that far! But no, Megatron didn't trust Starscream out of his sight for that long, even if stupidly-loyal Skywarp tagged along to do the heavy lifting, and so they were stuck here, while Shockwave embarrassed scientists everywhere with his untested, unexplained weapons. "Hit the button and see what happens," was not appropriate scientific process, and if Shockwave had ever darkened the door of the Science Academy, he would have known that.
And then Starscream wouldn't be sitting in the back of a car -Primus below, a grounded transport for he who had ruled Vos? -and one held together by rust and prayer at that. Starscream wouldn't be waiting for his idiot wingmate to emerge from that store, hopefully with a job. And if that wasn't a sign of how desperate they were, that suddenly they were depending on Skywarp to stayemployed? Truly, they had hit absolute nadir.

"Is it really that bad?" Thundercracker asked, not looking up from the phone he was poking at.

Starscream hadn't realized he'd been speaking aloud. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he said, because that had ever reassured Thundercracker in the last six or seven or eleven glorious millenia of the chaos that was their lives. He looked out the window, but there was no sign of Skywarp's ridiculous hat. "I'm sure you can find a job on your own. I trust your judgment."

Thundercracker handed the phone to Starscream. "The numbers are all programmed in. You ought to be able to figure out the rest on your own."

"It can't be that difficult," Starscream said, not wanting to burden Thundercracker with the details. Thundercracker would worry, and Starscream had other things for his wingmate to do than brood, things that would help the situation. "You managed it, after all."

"Well, if you have any trouble, feel free to ask the short one."

Starscream could imagine several possible results of asking angry little Slingshot for help with his phone. Some of them were amusing."They have Skyfire's number," he said. "Get it for me."

Thundercracker grunted. "Right, they'd be happy to hand that out."

"Fireflight would."

"Are we talking about the same Fireflight? Because the mini-Skywarp is Air Raid."

"Fireflight. The big one with the staring problem." Starscream paused, but let himself be sidetracked. "Why do you think I meant Air Raid?"

"Because both of them are missing the entire common-sense function packet." Thundercracker shrugged. "Fireflight's missing it too, I think, but I doubt he's got the same defective humor chip required to hand a fellow Autobot's" -Thundercracker made the word sound more like a curse than normal- "comm. frequency over."

"He'll give it to you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

"Fireflight has been watching us since the day he came online." Thundercracker shrugged. "I've gotten used to it."

Starscream raised an eyebrow. "The last time I saw someone giving you that look, you didn't come home for three days. He'll give you the number if you ask."

Thundercracker looked like he was going to argue, and Starscream felt battle systems he didn't have click on. "If I ask him," Thundercracker growled.

"You will get me that number." Starscream said, fingers twitching. He should have asked Skywarp to get it. Skywarp always rose to Starscream's expectations. "I won't tell you a third time."

"That was really weird," Skywarp said, opening the car door. Starscream repressed a flinch. Without proximity sensors, Skywarp had snuck up on them without even meaning to, a dangerous thing if the teleporter knew he could do that. "Nothing like Air Raid said the first one would be, more like the second." He looked between the two of them. "They just wanted to know about my level eighty-five paladin."

"You have a level eighty-five paladin." Starscream repeated. "How did you get through eighty-five levels of paladin?"

Skywarp shrugged and slid in the back behind Starscream. "Monitor duty is unimaginably boring."

Starscream shook his head. "I know that expecting you to pay attention to the monitors is asking too much. How did you get through eighty-five levels of heroically championing a noble cause?"

"What's that got to do with paladining? I just hit stuff. They had me sign a bunch of papers, and I start Tuesday. So I have a job and neither of you do, how did that happen?"

"I hacked the computer to say you'd already been hired."

"Thought we were going straight, that was the point of this employment farce," Thundercracker tapped the second phone against Skywarp's knee. "Why don't you just get his number for yourself while you're at it?"

"We are not getting caught by Soundwave," Starscream said. "Apply for a job that will explain our income somewhere with computerized employment records and then I will get you hired. Soundwave's not going to think you two would manage to stay employed."

"Soundwave would catch you just looking at phone numbers?"

Starscream closed his eyes and wished Thundercracker could still survive falling off a bridge.

"C'mon, let's go get breakfast," Skywarp said, surprising Starscream since that was the first time he'd suggested eating.

"Dinner," Thundercracker corrected automatically, pulling out of the parking lot. "If you're going to be around people for eight hours at a time, you need to be more careful."

Skywarp kicked off the shoes borrowed from Air Raid and swung his feet up across the seat. "I am the master at blending. You're all uptight. Seriously, I just spent twenty minutes talking about a video game and nobody caught on that I am secretly one of their giant alien overlords. It was...incredibly lame." Starscream heard the thunk of his head against the window as Skywarp fell silent. Skywarp wasn't nearly as okay as he was pretending. Neither was Thundercracker. The walls of their temporary accommodations were thin. Starscream wanted to do something about it, under the guise of operational efficiency, but right now it suited his plans much better for them to be falling apart. And Starscream never let his feelings get in the way of his plans.

They stopped for pizza, because it was cheap, and Skywarp was safely out of the car before Thundercracker started in again. "I just don't understand why you would even want to talk to him."

"The things you do understand would fit on the head of a pin," Starscream said, "with plenty of room for the dancing angels."

Obscure local metaphors didn't distract Thundercracker anymore, a pity. "No, really. What did he ever do to you to deserve this?"

"What did he ever do to you that you hate him so?"

"What did who do to what?" Skywarp asked, returning with a pizza far quicker than they expected.

"You know damn well what he did," Thundercracker said, throwing the car in reverse with more force than strictly necessary. "You were there."

"TC here seems to think that Skyfire has offered him deadly insult," Starscream said, conveniently ignoring the fact that was true -Skyfire hadn't known, after all, what it meant to accuse a Decepticon of disloyalty, maybe didn't even understand what sort of mech Thundercracker would have to be before abandoning his wingmates. Skyfire still wasn't accustomed to the reality of war, and Starscream didn't know if the Autobots were held together by the same web of friendships and fear and favors owed the Decepticons were. Noble as they were, the Autobots didn't seem to like each other very much half the time.

"Oh," Skywarp said. "What does Skyfire matter, though? He's gone over, who cares what he does?"

"Starscream, apparently."

"Wait, you want his number?" Skywarp accused.

"I don't need to explain myself to you two," Starscream reminded them.

"No, I think after last time, we at least deserve an explanation."

"I fail to see how it's any of your business!"

"What you don't fail at, Starscream, could fit on the head of a pin, with plenty of room for the dancing angels."

"Hey, TC," Skywarp broke in. "You think you could maybe pay some attention to the road and not, you know, kill us all?"

Dying not being on anyone's agenda for the day, they sat in uncomfortable silence until they arrived. The elevator was out, again, which just meant Thundercracker's bitching got to echo in the stairwell. Such a great word, bitching, that so accurately described the itching desire to shove him down the staircase and break his fragging -what were their cockpits now, fragile and painful? Testaments? Starscream tried to tune him out, but being more on the supply side, he didn't have quite the stamina to put up with such juvenile whining. One would have thought Skyfire had murdered Thundercracker's turbopuppy. Finally, in front of the door, Starscream snapped, "With all the gear-grinding you're doing, you could have got the damn thing five times over by now!"

"You don't need it, you don't need him," Thundercracker continued, "and if you ask me, you shouldn't be talking to him at all."

"Then it's a good thing nobody cares what you think." Starscream set down the pizza box -when had Skywarp handed it to him? Where had Skywarp disappeared off to? "Since you make such wise choices. Really, you're so good at your little self-appointed guarding. So absolutely slagging wonderful at keeping Skywarp from getting shot."

And from there, it was every fight they'd ever had in the last six million years, until Starscream just threw things at Thundercracker's head until the older Seeker retreated in a screech of engines, though metaphorical this time. And now he couldn't break all the lights on his way out.

Starscream smashed the glass bulbs anyways.

Air Raid was most emphatically not jealous. Sure, Fireflight was on his third day in a row of brushing out Silverbolt's damp hair, but that didn't mean Air Raid was jealous. Slightly suspicious of Skydive's shower schedule, but not jealous of Fireflight in the least bit. Besides, Fireflight needed the practice with braiding.

Skydive was working on another schedule, this one for the car. Slingshot was supposed to be filling out job applications, but after, like, two, he'd pleaded a headache and colonized Skydive's legs for a pillow. "Hey," Air Raid said, poking Slingshot's foot. "Hey, faker." Slingshot ignored him, again. All this happy clappy hippy dippy getting along stuff went against the natural order of the universe. "Hey, your mother wears army boots."

"That would be your mother too," Slingshot mumbled into Skydive's knee. "What does that even mean?"

"It means...I don't know what it means, you're stupid?" Air Raid wondered, mostly because that would probably get a reaction from Slingshot and life would be that much less boring.

Without lifting his head, without looking, Slingshot picked up his empty beer can and chucked it at Air Raid's head.

"Guys," Silverbolt said, his eyes half-closed, "don't fight."

"He started it," Slingshot whined.

"I'm ending it," Silverbolt said in his best Hot Spot voice. It wasn't very good.

Air Raid got to his feet and wandered over to the kitchen, intending to make a sandwich. He was debating between the leftover pizza and something called a cactus fruit when Fireflight said, "do you guys hear that?"

Sometimes, Fireflight heard things no-one else did. This was not one of those times. The entire building, possibly the entire state, could hear Thundercracker questioning Starscream's competence with regards to operating a cell phone, the shaky foundations on which his mental health rested, and the increasingly desperate status of his recent sexual activities.

"I don't even know what half of those words mean," Skydive said.

"I feel like I should be taking notes," Slingshot added.

Fireflight finished braiding Silverbolt's hair and patted his shoulder. "All done," he chirped, like they weren't witnessing a homicide. Was it still witnessing if you only heard it?

Silverbolt just shook his head. "At least I don't have to try to break that up," he said, mostly to himself.

Starscream shrieked something about Skywarp getting shot, and Air Raid almost missed the knock on the door. He opened it -Starscream had some real dramatic flailing going on there, Slingshot ought to be taking notes on that- and Skywarp held up a cell phone.

"Hey," he said. "Can you show me how to do the thing with the music?"

Air Raid looked at Silverbolt, who had the look on his face he got when he was wondering what somebody, usually Air Raid himself, was thinking. Silverbolt nodded, and Air Raid stepped back, inviting the Seeker in. "Fireflight's the one that does it, though," he said, "so you'll have to ask him."

Skywarp grinned and came in, plopping on the couch in between Fireflight and Slingshot's feet. He didn't seem to mind that his wingmates were, as far as Air Raid could tell, reciting every grievance from the last million years or so. Or he was hiding it really, really well. "I don't mind," Fireflight said. "Skydive, can I see the computer?"

"Sure," Skydive said, holding it out. "I think I have the schedule worked out, if you can remember to pick up Silverbolt after your interview."

"I'll remember," Fireflight said. "What songs do you want to play?"

"I dunno," Skywarp said, fiddling with the phone Fireflight had left on the couch. "You pick. Something good for Starscream."

"You know what is totally Starscream's song?" Air Raid said, trying to see what Skywarp was doing without making it obvious. "What's her name. Gaynor. The one about not dying."

Fireflight giggled, and Silverbolt sighed. Air Raid hoped it was the fond sigh of "I have a stick jammed too far up my aft to laugh properly," they didn't hear enough. "Please don't get Skywarp killed," Silverbolt said.

Air Raid didn't disagree, necessarily, but he suspected Skywarp had an ulterior motive somewhere. Across the hall, somebody said something about a waste of perfectly good stasis cuffs, and Skywarp looked straight at Air Raid. The Aerialbot would ask Fireflight what that meant later.

Skydive smiled and said, "Well, if it's what plays when Starscream sends him a message or calls, then Starscream won't be there to hear the song, so he can't get mad, right?"

"What song is it?" Skywarp asked. Fireflight played it for him.

"Wow," Skywarp said when it was done. "That is just, wow. Perfect." He grinned. "You have no idea how perfect. I have to play this for him. Don't worry," he said, as something across the hall audibly shattered, "I won't tell him where I got it." He shook his head, still grinning. "Can you pick one out for TC, too?"

"That's harder," Air Raid said, sitting on Slingshot's legs and thinking.

"What the hell are they up to?" Slingshot asked, trying to kick Air Raid off. Air Raid was slightly distracted by the sudden, inspired look on Fireflight's face.

Skywarp shrugged. "Minor disagreement. You should see it when they're really fighting. It's best watched from orbit. Jupiter's orbit."

"So how long before they knock it off?" Slingshot demanded. Skywarp shrugged again.

Fireflight handed the Seeker his phone back as they all pretended they couldn't hear the abridged list of Starscream's war crimes. "There you go," Fireflight smiled at Skywarp. Air Raid attempted to telegraph to Silverbolt that this was a bad thing, to be giving that very specific smile to a guy who couldn't look Fireflight in the eye. Silverbolt just looked confused. "I hope you like the song I picked for him."

There was one final crash, sounding like it hit the Aerialbots' door itself, and Skywarp stood up far too casually to not be on purpose in the silence that followed. "I should go make sure neither of them struck out," he said.

"Well," Air Raid said cheerfully. "If you need help moving bodies, come right back."

Chapter Text

Every new beginning is some other beginning's end. -Seneca the Younger

When Starscream opened the bedroom door, Skywarp pushed past him. "Where's your notepad, I got your ex's number." It had taken Starscream no time at all to turn the room he had claimed into a proper laboratory, that was to say, a well-organized explosion. The notepad was sitting on the pile that had once been a berth, inkstick thrust through the spiral binding. Skywarp flipped past the equations and mystery glyphs and doodles of Shockwave's increasingly creative murders to a blank page and scrawled the ten digits before they slipped out of his squishy head.

Starscream folded his arms and leaned against the wall, looking dangerously amused considering what he'd just been up to. There was broken glass all over the apartment that Skywarp was most emphatically not cleaning up. "They gave it to you so easily?"

"I didn't ask," Skywarp said. They'd have to get more lightbulbs, somewhere, and in the meantime they would be stuck in the dark as soon as the sun went down. Shiny Cybertron, and mechs said he was the idiot. "They got distracted by you."

"You were supposed to ask, see how much they trust you." Starscream held his hand out for the number.

Skywarp didn't give it to him. "I'm supposed to play stupid for them, not be stupid. What did you want it for anyways?"

Starscream tipped his head to the side. That used to mean he was receiving long-range radio transmissions, except he would tilt it to the other side and he couldn't now anyways. "Skyfire is a scientist, with access to all of the Autobot's notes."

"So?"

"So do you want to fly again or not?"

Skywarp opened his mouth to tell Starscream just how dumb a question that was, but closed it. Starscream wasn't given to stupid questions, even when they were climbing up towards a new record for time without flying. "You can fix this," he said instead. "I know you can." Starscream could, given enough time, do any science. And if it was a little longer on the ground or having to put up with him mucking around with Skywarp's wingmates again, well, Starscream would fix it eventually.

"I can fix it faster with his help," Starscream said, echoing his thoughts. Been a long time since that happened, and Skywarp found he almost missed it, having a conversation with Starscream that didn't get bogged down in tangents.

"Yeah, well," Skywarp shrugged. "Don't. It'll just tick TC off, and then he'll be all scary in the general direction of the Aerialbots and then they'll stop liking us."

"Thundercracker's feelings are his own problem," Starscream said.

"Well, yeah," Skywarp said. Once Starscream started arguing, it was better to just agree with him. At least then he might listen, instead of when he was all defensing and trying to win. "But it's hard enough to get into Fireflight's shirt already."

Starscream huffed, like he actually cared, and Skywarp grinned, like it was Thundercracker he was worried about. "What is with you and Fireflight's chest?"

"They've hypnotized me," Skywarp nodded sagely. He figured he could run this particular joke into the ground, beat the resulting wreckage into a grease spot, and still it wouldn't get old to his wingmates, at least until Starscream restored them. "That must be it. Also, I sorta traded him your and TC's numbers, I wonder if that'll help."

"I have more important things to deal with than your idiotic fancies," Starscream said. "Give me my notebook back."

"Are you gonna call him?"

Starscream rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, and looked at the ground for patience, but Skywarp could be plenty patient himself when he felt like it, and finally Starscream said grudgingly, "Not if I don't have to."

That covered a lot of eventualities, but it was more than Skywarp had thought he would get. He set the notebook down, and turned to leave. Starscream was never on speaking terms with the broom, and Primus alone knew when Thundercracker would come back from his sulk. Skywarp didn't want to spend his night picking shards of glass out of his feet, screw them both.

"Wait," Starscream said, and Skywarp hoped...but it was Starscream, after all, so he wasn't exactly disappointed when all his friend said was, "Is this a two or a six?"

Skywarp looked. "It's a nine."

Fierce debate raged in the Aerialbots' living room after Skywarp left, about how much of that was real and how much was staged for their benefit. Slingshot, who was not faking the headache, screw you Air Raid, didn't participate. Not everything was about them, after all, and if Skywarp wanted to duck flying glass, really, where else was he supposed to go? Granted, Slingshot wished the moron had been more creative, but Air Raid took off all the time when Silverbolt got mad. The way they were carrying on, you'd think the Seekers had come to Detroit as part of an elaborate plot to seduce the Aerialbots, because their first one hadn't blown up quite spectacularly enough.

He sat up and reached for the stupid applications, ignoring how two of them had moved on to the ever-popular tactic of interfacing with Thundercracker, while Silverbolt reminded them that without data cables, there was no longer even a point to it. Air Raid was speculating about Skywarp's lack of integrated weaponry to the general air. Skydive tossed the pen back to Slingshot, spouting some slag about Mach Two.

Idiots. His brothers were idiots. Short of the Dinobots, they were the biggest idiots anyone was saddled with as brothers. Slingshot wished for Superion to remind them about the whole faction thing. The big guy had strong opinions about Decepticons in general, and Starscream in particular. Not even Air Raid could raise him, though, aside from vague impressions about football, whatever that was about.

Superion would have Slingshot's back, now that Skydive had abandoned him. Superion would remind them that Decepticons were not the slightest bit trustworthy -it was in their Primus-damned name!

Superion would know, in that way outsiders found creepy, just what about the fight had disturbed Slingshot so badly. What about the Seekers acting like Aerialbots -a screaming fight the others were letting blow itself out, a single black jet, ex-jet, making new friends, visible fractures off the battlefield -they were not so different.

They were not so different, and Slingshot couldn't pretend to be Superion enough to reassure himself that they were different enough.

Skywarp found Thundercracker sulking on the roof, no big surprise there. He dropped to the floor next to his wingmate, and leaned against him. When Thundercracker refused to acknowledge him, he leaned harder, until he was in serious danger of falling right into his lap. When Thundercracker still refused to admit he was there, Skywarp did sprawl across his knees. "I got him the number."

That earned him a grunt of "I would say thank you, except that I have deactivated my vocalizer out of the very real fear I might verbally eviscerate the next person to come within twenty feet of me and also I'm a big scary warrior rustface who's never said thank you in his entire life."

"Also, I cleaned up the broken glass you forgot on the floor. You're welcome."

"I didn't break any glass," Thundercracker said, surprised.

"Well, somebody decided to smash all the lightbulbs in the room, and it sure as slag wasn't me." Skywarp paused, considering. "What does that mean, anyways? How is slag sure?"

Thundercracker shook his head. "I don't know," he said, shrugging off the not-so-mysteriously exploding glass.

"Hey, did you ever wonder what Wheeljack was thinking? 'Cause one of his bitlets is named Slag. That's just cruel."

"Maybe he named himself. The Stunticons did."

"That's even worse." Skywarp made himself comfortable and continued. "Because, why would he think to do that? Unless, you know, hey, I just realized something. Ratchet-esque."

"What?"

"Something Air Raid said when you bro-" Skywarp cut himself off. "When we had pizza with them. He said that Silverbolt wanted us to eat pizza and explain the chronosphere, except Air Raid said he said it more Ratchet-esque, and I asked if that meant with a static-laser gun, but now I think he meant with great profanity."

He would have thought that to earn him a facepalm, or a weary sigh, at least. It didn't, but Thundercracker did start playing with his hair. Which, okay, was weird as all get-out, but Skywarp wasn't about to point fingers at Thundercracker's weirdness when it took him over a week to get Air Raid's joke.

Not that the playing with his hair was a bad kind of weird. But it seemed odd that Thundercracker would automatically move to such a human thing. Usually, his wingmate was only this clingy when Skywarp got himself shot -and really shot, not just clipped.

"So, Slag. He's Ratchet's bitlet, too, right? 'Cause he and Wheeljack are a thing. Are they a real thing, do you think, or do you think we're just assuming they're a thing when really they're a thing like you and Starscream?"

"And what is a thing like me and Starscream?" Thundercracker asked, much in the same way a mech asked by which method he was due to be executed.

"Oh, you know. You put him back together, he keeps you from imploding under the weight of your own existential despair, people look at the two of you and wonder why the hell you haven't killed each other yet but secretly you enjoy each other's company, even though sometimes he's a giant fragging jerk and nobody but the two of you get it." Skywarp reminded him. "Do you think Ratchet's ever set Wheeljack on fire?"

"I am not explaining that to you again."

"But I like when you tell it! You ever notice they have a lot of bitlets since we came here?"

"No."

"And, I have it on very good authority that Ratchet likes to drink."

"Skywarp, no."

"So, maybe then, seeing as the Dinobots weren't on the Ark, and the Protectobots, who knows where they come from..." Skywarp trailed off, and winked for good measure.

"It doesn't work that way!" Thundercracker growled. Skywarp could almost hear the emphasis glyphs.

"I mean, Silverbolt broke the Key to Vector Sigma. There shouldn't be little 'bots running around anymore. So maybe they came the human way."

Finally, finally, Thundercracker facepalmed. "I hate you, I'm never going to get the images out of my head, I should throw you off the roof."

"I have a better idea," Skywarp said, tugging Thundercracker's hand down.

"We're outside," Thundercracker said. "Where anyone could see us."

"The building's half-empty," Skywarp said, turning Thundercracker's hand over. There was a place, a couple of inches down from the wrist, that if Skywarp squeezed made Thundercracker's fingers curl involuntarily. It was so weird.

"And it's a long walk to clean up."

"Or we could go inside," Skywarp shrugged, like it was all the same to him. He may not be able to stop Thundercracker from sulking inside his head, but Skywarp was damned if he was going to let his wingmate -either wingmate- run off half-cocked and get lost in this wreck of a city. That never had been fun, no matter what planet. The sooner he had the two of them in the same room, the better – once past those first awkward moments, they generally either patched it up or, more likely, pretended the whole thing had never happened.

Really, how did they ever get along without him?

"We could," Thundercracker said, making no move to dislodge Skywarp, "but I'm waiting for a call and I really don't want him screeching in the background."

"It's Starscream. Whoever it is will understand."

Thundercracker poked him. "It's for a job. I wasn't going to tell you until they gave me a start date."

"Oh, that's cool," Skywarp settled in for the wait. "What sort of job?"

"Road construction" Thundercracker shrugged. "Better than nothing, and I didn't need his help."

"Yeah," Skywarp said, letting the insult pass. He was sure Thundercracker didn't mean it, not when Thundercracker was still playing with his hair and not grinding his teeth in place of his engine. "You should come by the Aerialbots' sometime. Let them see that you're cool, not that I'm running away from you being scary all the time." It was better to change the subject, away from their disappointing jobs and definitely away from Starscream.

Thundercracker grunted, falling back into contemplation, which was never a good thing. Well, sometimes it was, but not now. "Maybe you could help me get into Fireflight's shirt. I think his, what do you call them, boobs, I think they're magic."

"Magic body parts."

Skywarp nodded, laying Thundercracker's hand on his chest where his boobs would be, if he had them. He wondered what they would feel like, all soft and squishy and bouncy, so different from anything he'd ever experienced. What would it be like to have them, swinging from his shoulders? "They've cast a spell on me! Like on your tv show. I burn with a desire to touch them."

"How do you say these things with a straight face? I'm not helping you seduce anyone, not after last time."

"C'mon, will you at least talk to him? I bet you'd get along." Thundercracker had calmed down considerably after the dishwasher fiasco, once Fireflight had talked to him. Skywarp hadn't heard what Fireflight had said, but whatever it was, it worked. Thundercracker spent too much time pretending he wasn't missing his wings already, and Skywarp was running out of tricks. Silverbolt was too suspicious still, Skydive too shy, and Air Raid had far too much fun winding Thundercracker up.

Well, torquing his nosecone was fun, Skywarp had to give Air Raid that. But the half-performance, half-earnest befriending of the Aerialbots ran on its own schedule, and it couldn't wait for Thundercracker to pull his processor out of his aft and get with the flightplan already. Fireflight, aside from the charms of his temporary form, was far more easygoing than Slingshot and possessed by a wickedly awesome sense of humor. And fascinated with Thundercracker already, a blind mech could see it. Not that Skywarp could blame him. "Just for getting along, no seducing. Unless you want to, which you totally will because I know you like them young and impressed, which he totally is by you."

"I have talked to him before," his wingmate reminded him.

"And he's pretty cool, right? Almost as fun as Air Raid and less annoying?"

"He's not so bad," Thundercracker agreed.

"So you'll come with me and talk to him?"

"Yeah, sure," Thundercracker said. "Not like I have anything better to do."

Seeker hands weren't particularly sensitive. Responsive, yes, because all warriors' motor systems were set to hair-triggers and tight controls, but a human hand held more haptic sensors in the thumb than in both of a Seeker's hands put together. Skywarp thought exploring the full implications of that was, if not better than talking to Fireflight, at least something worth doing. And there wasn't really a clear place where hand stopped and arm started, wasn't really a clear line anywhere, and once Thundercracker decided turnabout was fair play, well.

They used Skywarp's shirt to clean up, and Starscream was still plugged into his lab when they came in. He stuck his head out long enough to inform them both that the lightbulbs had been changed. Presumably by lightbulb-changing gremlins, because the great and mighty Starscream would never lower himself to changing lightbulbs himself, Skywarp added silently. Thundercracker just grunted at him, and Starscream shrugged him off; apparently, the fight had never happened.

All in all, Skywarp considered the afternoon an unqualified success.

Chapter Text

A good landing is one you can walk away from. A great landing is one where they can use the plane again afterwards. —Common aviation proverb

It took Thundercracker a klik or three to realize his phone was dancing on the table from an incoming transmission. Skywarp had kept him up most of the night, then disappeared on some errand known only to Skywarp, and then Starscream had drank all the coffee, and really, of all the reformats he'd ever had, this was the absolute worst. At least on Hydrus Five they'd all needed to be jumpstarted in the morning.

Also, Hydrus Five had plenty of people to shoot, and he didn't have to pretend to be civil first thing in the morning. "Hello," he managed, with some degree of politeness.

"Can you come pick me up?" the person on the other end asked in a rush. It sounded so much like Starscream over tightbeam, Thundercracker checked over his shoulder to make sure his wingleader was still there. But Starscream was still wiring together the remains of the microwave, trying to kill him with dirty looks alone, and refusing to share the last cup of coffee. "Please? It's...there really isn't anyone else I can call."

Fireflight, his processor helpfully supplied, Fireflight's voice was much higher now, high enough to sound like Starscream in pain. "You have brothers," Thundercracker said, reaching for his keys. Well, Starscream's keys; his car was starting to make funny noises

"I know, but they can't come, I have the car." It wasn't the pitch of his voice alone; the underlying strain matched Starscream hiding pain, the depressingly frequent times Starscream was reduced to asking for help. "If you can't, that's okay, I'll find another way, but..."

"I'm coming," Thundercracker interrupted him. Scraping Starscream off the ground was first nature at this point, and he wasn't quite far enough along his boot sequence to come up with a reason to say no.

"Thank you," Fireflight breathed, and that was certainly never a sentiment that ever left Starscream's vocalizer.

Thundercracker shrugged. "Where are you?" he asked, picking up one of Starscream's ubiquitous pens. Fireflight gave him the address, and thanked him again, and then had to give the phone back to whoever he'd borrowed it from. Didn't he have his own phone?

Starscream didn't say anything as Thundercracker left, still mad about the fight from a few days ago. Or completely engrossed in his work, having forgiven Thundercracker for quite rightly pointing out the flaw in his plan of calling Skyfire. Or, for all Thundercracker knew, because Starscream was completely fragging insane, Starscream was annoyed because Thundercracker was ignoring questions over comm. that he couldn't receive and Starscream couldn't send.

Probably still mad about the fight. Well, let him. Thundercracker would go rescue Fireflight, who was a hell of a lot better company than Starscream, and then Fireflight would be appreciative, like Starscream never was, and they'd go off and get coffee together, because there was something deeply wrong with whatever subspecies of caffeine-dependent human he was. Thundercracker's phone had some sort of primitive satellite connection, enough to get directions, and Starscream's car had a full tank of gas, and Skywarp had wanted him to talk to Fireflight. This must count. This, to paraphrase Skywarp, was totally a plan. Wasn't there a word for showing up when someone was hurt and winning their eternal friendship? He didn't think it would go quite that far, but Skywarp was right, the friend project needed more attention. Not that the Aerialbots were openly hostile (except Slingshot, and that was more good sense and, well, Slingshot), but if Skywarp said they were thinking of him as someone scary, someone to run from, then he needed to change that. Skywarp tended to be right about those kinds of things.

The phone directed him to the highway, which wasn't too bad. No worse than any other form of taxiing around, anyways. Starscream hated driving. Presumably he'd done it at some point, since he could only walk so far, but he didn't like it. He didn't say anything about it, either because after five and a half million years he didn't need to, or after five and a half million years he still didn't trust them. Skywarp wasn't too fond of it either, especially on the highway where everyone just did whatever the hell they wanted, or so it seemed, and Skywarp couldn't just warp out of the way if some bright red behemoth decided that he needed to get off two exits ago.

Which meant Thundercracker did most of the driving. He didn't like it any more than Skywarp, but he probably owed Skywarp more than a few turns behind the wheel. He owed Skywarp an entire war's worth of dodged missiles and traded shifts, being scraped off the ground and Primus alone knew how many interrogations. Owed Skywarp from before, too, owed him more on Starscream's behalf, but Skywarp owed him the roof over his head and a good part of the energon in his tank, so they were almost even.

Thundercracker wasn't exactly keeping track, not with debt piled on favor repaid with interest and borrowed against. Not when promises, drunken or not, weighed heavy on his spark. So Thundercracker covered his six, shared his energon, and drove the car.

Fireflight's directions ended a good fifteen minutes north, up past some academy. Thundercracker parked in the body shop's parking lot and went inside. Fireflight looked up when the door opened, spinning a lighter between his fingers. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Thundercracker said back. Fireflight looked pale, one arm folded awkwardly across his chest, and really, Thundercracker had never seen someone who was that pale outside TV, except Skywarp that one time.

"You her boyfriend?" the man behind the counter asked. They ignored him.

"Ready?" Thundercracker asked.

Fireflight nodded, stood up and slipped his lighter back in his pocket. "Yeah, thanks for coming."

Thundercracker made a noncommittal noise, and Fireflight shrugged. They left, and as soon as Fireflight was buckled in the front seat, he sighed and closed his eyes, curling around his arm. "Are you okay?" Thundercracker asked. He'd seen Fireflight with all sorts of stuff that shouldn't see daylight hanging out of him, and Fireflight generally seemed more concerned with inflicting the same upon whatever Decepticon was unlucky enough to be in his sights.

"Yeah," Fireflight said in the general direction of his knees. "But not great. Do you think you could drop me off at the medbay?"

"You mean the hospital?" Thundercracker asked. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him to take them down to repairs. Usually, there was kicking and screaming and half the time Thundercracker gave in and patched his wingmates up himself, unless it was really bad. And, since landing on Earth, he and Starscream had gotten really good. Just hearing someone admit they were damaged without visible flames was a surprise.

"Yeah," Fireflight said. "I think I might have done something to my arm. If it's not too far out of the way, I mean."

"No, no, it's fine," Thundercracker said, "It's just, medbay could have meant a lot of things." He frowned at his phone's low battery warning and plugged in the car charger, thankful Skywarp had appeared with them after his first day of work. On the way, he had seen signs pointing towards a hospital on the side of the road, but he asked the phone anyways, both for precise directions and for the novelty of free information. And maybe a little because of the haze still clogging up his wetware.

"Thank you," Fireflight said again. It was very possible Fireflight had now thanked him more times in the last half-hour than Starscream had in his entire life. He could get used to it.

"It's not a problem," Thundercracker said, starting the car. "I figured you were hurt, when you called. You sounded..." He trailed off. Fireflight had sounded like Starscream, but few people took that as anything but an insult. "Familiar," he settled on. Fireflight turned his head to look at him. Thundercracker offered him a smile. "If you were desperate enough to call me."

"Not desperate," Fireflight said. "Well, not that way. I dropped my phone in the car, and yours was the only number I could remember."

Thundercracker tried the raising-eyebrow trick. There was something wrong with his, they insisted on working in tandem. "You don't know your brother's numbers?"

"I do, but I had the car, and Silverbolt," Fireflight was interrupted by a bump in the road. The Aerialbot winced as his arm bounced. "I thought I was getting the hang of this."

The voice on the phone told Thundercracker to turn. "Well, if you want to call them once we get there, I don't have their numbers. It's up to you."

Fireflight nodded. "Can I just give you a blanket thank you for everything?"

Thundercracker pretended to consider it. "I don't know," he said. "I did drive all the way out here instead of stranding you, and now I'm taking you to the medbay." To be sure that Fireflight got the joke, he added, "And I had a full day planned of bitlet eating and wanton destruction to wreak and helping Starscream overthrow Megatron. You owe me at least three more thank yous and lunch."

"Slingshot and Silverbolt plotted to overthrow the Ark once," Fireflight said slowly. Thundercracker blinked. Fireflight wasn't joking. After a minute, he added, "Slingshot thought they could do a better job of it, then he got distracted by Omega Supreme." Thundercracker blinked again, like rebooting his sensor suite would help the data make sense. "You know, you look just like Hot Spot when you do that."

"Hot Spot?"

"Big blue fire truck? Spends an indecent amount of time doing indecent things with Silverbolt? The middle of Defensor? "

"I know who Defensor is," Thundercracker said. "Everybody knows who Defensor is."

"He is kind of hard to miss," Fireflight nodded. "Though, most of your guys manage to."

"We don't shoot him either," Thundercracker said, hoping to leave it at that. The Protectobots weren't covered by Starscream's horror of shooting sparklings, but Thundercracker was under strict orders, to not explain even the Superion rule of the medic game.

"Because they're younger than us?"

It was a damn good thing they were at a stoplight, or Fireflight would have been in a second crash. The Seekers didn't speculate much on the Protectobots: they'd shown up some time after the Combaticons, after Vector Sigma, and everyone had figured they had been in stasis or hidden away somewhere. They couldn't be younger than the Aerialbots, it was simply impossible! There were too many witnesses to the Aerialbot's sparking, the date was fixed, Megatron had the Key the whole time, perhaps Fireflight was mistaken or...

"Thundercracker?" Fireflight tipped his head towards the front of the car. "The light changed."

"Right." Thundercracker filed that away for Skywarp to follow up on, behind the coffee-fog. The hospital was on the other side of the intersection; luckily they avoided the dreaded Michigan left. Thundercracker pulled in, around to the side that said "Emergency," and found a spot as close to the door as he could get. He parked the car and turned it off.

"You don't have to come in with me," Fireflight said, one hand in his pocket again. Thundercracker could see him fiddling with his lighter through the fabric, and didn't know if it was because he wanted Thundercracker to leave him or because he didn't want to go in there alone. "I mean, if you have something to do today."

Fireflight was part of a gestalt, and not opening the car door, and if he had been Starscream Thundercracker wouldn't have let him out of his sight. "Nothing that can't wait," Thundercracker said firmly, since being loudly ignored by Starscream could always wait.

Fireflight made it to the door by himself, but Thundercracker figured it was mostly pride keeping him on his feet. There was a distinctive sort of precision that went with stubborn refusal to fall. They were directed to a waiting room, empty of people but staffed with two vending machines...and a coffee pot. Thundercracker headed straight for the dark brew, not even caring that he was enslaved to his organic instincts; he was running on less than four hours of sleep and half a defrag cycle.

The coffee was hot, hot enough to burn, and tasted like it had come out of the wrong end of an Insecticon, but Thundercracker didn't particularly care. The two facts actually fit together quite nicely. He drained the small paper cup and refilled it before sitting down next to Fireflight. The Aerialbot offered him a wan smile. "We ran out of coffee this morning," Thundercracker said, feeling the need to explain.

Fireflight just nodded, biting his lip.

"Do you want some?"

"No, thanks," Fireflight said. The silence stretched, not quite awkward, and Thundercracker sipped at which passed for coffee, letting it burn off the fog clouding his head. A medic came to fetch Fireflight, and nobody said anything as he followed the Aerialbot back to a room made of curtains, with two uncomfortable-looking chairs and what Thundercracker supposed was a medical berth attached to a dark monitor. Fireflight leaned against the foot, and Thundercracker took a chair. Another medic came in, and Fireflight started spinning lies as well as any Autobot, lies backed up by ID cards in his purse. They seemed to want to get his ability to pay straightened out before they even looked at his arm, and Thundercracker had an uncomfortable memory-flash. He hadn't paid much attention before, but television had given him the impression that the emergency rooms were where humans who couldn't afford treatment otherwise went. Fireflight had an insurance card they accepted, though. Thundercracker wondered where he got it. Was it fake, like the Seeker's car insurance, or did the Autobots pay?

"And you're the boyfriend?" one of them asked Thundercracker.

"I'm the neighbor," said Thundercracker at the same time Fireflight said, "He's just a friend." Thundercracker wondered how true that was while Fireflight kept answering their questions. He was the neighbor who'd spent the last twenty years hurting Fireflight, was Fireflight's mortal enemy, what was he doing here anyways? Would anyone really believe that he was capable of doing these kinds of things anymore? He blamed the coffee, and the biology that made it so hard to think without, and Skywarp for keeping him up all night without even half an interface, and Starscream because everything was his fault anyways. And, on further reflection, it was also Starscream's fault for training him to fetch injured jets and ferry them to the medbay first thing upon onlining. At least Fireflight hadn't fought him, which was a nice change.

Thundercracker waited until they sent Fireflight off for a urine sample (and why did they want one of those?) before texting Skywarp, "I confused F and S and now I am sitting in the ER with him. How did this happen?"

"U RLY NED 2 BE MOAR SPECIFIC," Skywarp sent back after a few minutes. "IM GONNA BUY MOAR COFFEH. WUT DID U DO 2 HIM?"

"English."

Skywarp resent the message, in English, "You really need to be more specific. I will buy more coffee. What did you do to him, besides be unfun."

"The one we're cursed with," Thundercracker typed, not wanting to risk more on an unsecured line, "I didn't hurt him, he needed a ride."

"I have no idea what you're getting at," Skywarp sent immediately, "but if you mess this up I will push you down the staircase."

"He crashed the car and needed a ride to the chop shop."

It took Skywarp a minute to respond. "Where does S come in?"

Thundercracker sighed, and tried to find a phrasing that wasn't completely pathetic. "Before coffee, they sound alike on the phone." he settled on. Still pretty pathetic, but if anyone would understand, it would be Skywarp.

"Okay, ratchet that makes no sense. make friends with him now. Your good with the whole sitting around the medbay thing."

Thundercracker didn't make friends. Starscream made friends, and look where that got him. Skywarp made friends, and shared the worthy ones. Between the two of them, Thundercracker hadn't needed to make a friend for most of his life, hell, he usually had the opposite problem. "That's because you're an idiot whos given me plenty of practice."

As bad as Starscream was about admitting he needed repairs, Skywarp was ten times worse about, well, everything else. He was infantile about his wings to an embarrassing degree, with all the pain tolerance of a grounder's spare tire and a terrible habit of overreacting; getting Skywarp in front of a proper medic instead of whining around Starscream's lab was something saved for the direst of circumstances. (Though, that spoke more to Starscream's fondness of their wingmate than anything else.) And afterward, coaxing him back out never got any easier. It wasn't malingering or cowardice, though. It was just...Skywarp. He hadn't been hurt enough to realize pain wasn't the end of the world. He was skilled enough, with the luck of the twice-cursed moons and his two wingmates watching his back, that needing actual repairs was rare. Or used to be, before Earth, before the Autobots surrounding Prime had been honed into something resembling an army.

Thundercracker's phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. Skywarp wanted the last word, apparently -he'd only sent one. "Boobs."

Fireflight came back in, looked at the med berth, and hesitated. Thundercracker stood up and stood behind him. "Need some help?"

Fireflight turned around and nodded, his good hand on the berth. Thundercracker boosted him up by the hips, noticing that Fireflight was soft in a way utterly foreign, much softer than any human part he'd touched before. His hands lingered, and Fireflight looked at him, with his head tilted the tiniest bit to the side.

It was strange how someone so unlike Starscream had so many of his mannerisms.

Thundercracker took his hand back, quickly, and to cover picked up his phone. "Did you want to call your brothers?" Gestalts were all creepy-close like that, closer even than wingmates. Surely Fireflight wished at least one of his brothers was here, even if he didn't seem to mind the Decepticon thing.

"Not right now," Fireflight surprised him by saying, hunching in on himself. "Maybe, once I know if I need a new arm. I mean, there's not anything to tell them, except that I broke the car for good and got another ticket and I'm pretty sure 'Bolt's going to kill me." Thundercracker must have looked confused, because Fireflight added, "not kill me to death, but he won't be happy."

Every Decepticon was very familiar with Silverbolt angry at this point. Especially anyone who'd met him in a thunderstorm. Still, what was the worst Silverbolt would do, to his own brother? Surely he wasn't as bad as Motormaster, and surely this wasn't as bad as half the slag the Combaticons got up to.

"What would I even say," Fireflight said, a rhetorical question. "I'm in the medbay, but I don't know what's going on, I broke the car and they say they can't fix it so you can't come? They'd just..." He trailed off, spreading one hand. "Exceptions would be thrown. With great force."

"Well, if you change your mind," Thundercracker said. If Fireflight didn't want to call them that was weird, but his choice. And it would be far easier for Thundercracker himself for however long he had Fireflight isolated.

"It's not that I don't want you to have their numbers or anything," Fireflight said. Thundercracker hadn't even thought of that. "But, you're here and you don't really care like they would, and that's a good thing, it really is. You're not going to freak out on the medic or anything. It's not better this way but, oh, now I've insulted you."

"No," Thundercracker shook his head. "I know what you mean." He wasn't totally innocent himself of not telling Skywarp or Starscream when he was hurt, if he could make it to the medbay under his own power. It was just easier, sometimes, to get it over with alone, especially once medics started asking questions; who wanted to choose between pain relief and making a wingmate fail a bug check? Though, if Skywarp was right about Fireflight's babbling, the Aerialbot was nervous about something. Perhaps Silverbolt really would hurt him, perhaps it was simply that there was no way his brothers were physically able to come so far north without a car. "I could scare the medics for you if you want, though."

"It's okay," Fireflight said, and smiled, though it was a little strained.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the medics from before, accompanied by yet another new one, who introduced himself and shook hands all around. Thundercracker instantly hated him, even before he asked if he was Fireflight's boyfriend. Still, he kept quiet for Fireflight's sake, as they poked his swollen and stiff arm. Fireflight made a very quiet noise, and the sadists didn't even seem to notice.

"What did you do to it?" one of them asked.

Fireflight gave a half-shrug. "The car was still in reverse," was all he would say.

The medics conferred briefly, and Thundercracker tried not to hear. It didn't sit quite right with him, to hear the details of Fireflight's weakness, even if the Aerialbot didn't seem to mind. One offered him pain relief -Thundercracker thought it was about slagging time, but Fireflight turned it down- and another said he'd be back to fetch Fireflight for X-rays in a minute.

"It doesn't hurt?" Thundercracker asked.

Fireflight made a face. "No, it does, but if it does nothing for me the way it doesn't for Skydive, that would really blow the cover."

"True," Thundercracker agreed, thinking about the amount of tequila it took to knock out Skywarp.

The silence stretched. It wasn't precisely awkward, and some other time Thundercracker would have appreciated company that let him think, but now his thoughts were twisting in on themselves. It must be horribly transparent what he was trying to do, and he was horrible at it. Make friends? Thundercracker didn't make friends. Starscream made friends for him, because he was so pathetically terrible at it. And even if he wasn't, what was he doing sitting in the medbay with an Autobot, except with some ulterior motive?

Then again, Thundercracker could remember more than a few times when he knew Fireflight was watching him tape Starscream back together. At the time, it never seemed important, compared to Starscream's burning death wish. Fireflight never started a fight, not by himself, and after six or so years Thundercracker had fallen into the habit of ignoring him.

Well, except for the part where Fireflight was the worst flier to ever strap on a jet engine, including most organics, Misfire, and that blue flying ego the Autobots had. It was just good sense to maintain awareness of him, in case he decided to bend the laws of physics enough to put a wing through your cockpit. Half the time or more, he did it to one of his brothers, so it wasn't worth starting a fight over, but eventually Thundercracker started registering him as a very large bird –something that could move unpredictably, but otherwise not worth worrying about. Especially if Starscream had been used for target practice by Megatron again. How many times had Fireflight seen them piecing the Air Commander back together, and they hadn't even noticed he was there?

Perhaps it wasn't so odd that he'd called after all.

"I did almost same thing once," Thundercracker said, after the fourth time Fireflight had looked at him, then away. "I thought the car was in drive, but it was in reverse. There wasn't anything behind the car though, so it wasn't quite so bad."

It had been worse, since Skywarp had a bullet in him and Starscream's eye was half-swelled shut. They hadn't been able to go to a medbay then, too afraid of being found out, too afraid of being caught. Starscream had been screeching fit to drop birds from the sky, and Skywarp hadn't been saying anything, and it just...there was no reason to go over that nightmare again, Skywarp did it enough for all three of them. Maybe, if they had risked it, instead of Starscream's hands around his wrists, instead of a ripped shirt and a dull needle, maybe if Skywarp had been surrounded by the strange hospital smell, by distantly friendly medics and fluorescent lights, maybe things could have been different.

And maybe Megatron would have shot him twice. Starscream thought so; Starscream was well-practiced at predicting Megatron's violence, and they trusted his judgment ninety-five percent of the time. Seventy percent, on the ground. "Starscream hasn't crashed yet, but he doesn't drive. I'm sure once he does, he'll explode the car."

"Silverbolt keeps trying to prevent Air Raid from driving. He thinks he's being subtle about it, but I caught him."

"What's wrong with Air Raid?"

Fireflight gave him a level look. "I know I'm not the greatest, but at least I'm trying. He took out a stop sign on purpose." He sighed. "That was a really good car for crashing."

"Ours aren't that great," Thundercracker said. "They got them off of King Craig's list, as cheap as they could find."

"I thought you were just trying to blend in."

Thundercracker shrugged. "Well, that's Starscream's car. The one I'm supposed use is…memorable. And three different colors."

"Why isn't it Starscream's then?" Fireflight asked. "He's three different colors."

"Because they're blue, white and rust. Maybe now that we have legitimate work, we can buy better ones."

"Work? I know Skywarp was filling out applications, but," Fireflight paused, casting around for the right way to phrase it. "Well, you're Decepticons."

"We're honest Decepticons, though." Thundercracker said. "At least, I'm an honest Decepticon, Skywarp wants to stay out of prison, and Starscream is until he's got a reason not to."

"Honest Decepticons," Fireflight repeated, shaking his head.

"Don't you know where the name came from?" It was an honest question, after Air Raid had revealed they didn't know about, well, anything.

Fireflight shook his head again. "No, they never told us beyond, "here are these guys who are trying to kill you," and then, well, things got complicated."

A medic came in, interrupting them, wanting to take Fireflight alone for X-rays. "I'll be here when you come back," Thundercracker felt the need to promise.

Fireflight went off, and after a minute Thundercracker decided he was hungry. He didn't know how long X-rays would take, he didn't want to risk not being there when Fireflight came back, but surely they had a vending machine. Mindful of the way Skywarp had funded their first weeks in Detroit, he took Fireflight's purse with him. He got more than a few strange looks for it, but the machine had M&Ms, and he hadn't eaten all day.

It was only noon. Primus' rusty camshaft, it was only noon. Thundercracker bought two bags and a bottle of cola.

He did beat Fireflight back to the cubicle, but not by much. Fireflight came behind the curtains alone, and when he saw that Thundercracker was still there, his shoulders slumped in something that might have been relief. The Seeker helped him back up again, without saying a word. He stood in front of Fireflight for a few seconds, until Fireflight's eyes opened again, and for a few seconds more. "I thought X-rays were painless."

"They wanted to see how far my wrist would bend," Fireflight said, closing his eyes again. "Turns out it doesn't." He cycled a long vent, and didn't say anything about how Thundercracker's hands had drifted to his knees. Fireflight's knees were soft, too. "Can I ask you something?"

Thundercracker recognized someone trying to distract himself. He'd have to remember, when answering the question, that Fireflight wasn't likely to absorb much of it. "Sure."

"Why do Seekers come in threes?"

"Because Starscream." Fireflight didn't move, didn't open his eyes, so Thundercracker continued, "In the Academy, they teach you squads of four: squad lead, wing lead, and two wingmechs. We didn't have a reason to find a fourth before we joined the Cause, and for the first part of the war, there wasn't enough in the air to make it worth it. So Skywarp fell into the habit of winging for both of us at the same time."

"Because he teleports?" Fireflight asked, looking up at Thundercracker. His eyes were very blue.

"That, and we're just that good," Thundercracker said. Starscream was insane in the air, he barely needed a wing in the first place, Skywarp could watch his own six, and Thundercracker could knock almost anyone out of the air, and out-turn those who managed to stay up. "They couldn't find another mech who could even keep pace, much less one we could put up with. So Starscream just rewrote the book for a trine."

"And the rest of them followed?"

Thundercracker shook his head, not really fighting his smile. "After a lifetime of flying in foursomes, most couldn't make the switch. And a lot of them who tried, died –the Autobots used to have fliers of their own, plus everything you've flown next to. Right now, there's us, and the Coneheads and the Rainmakers, and maybe one or two other trines by now."

"Oh." Fireflight didn't ask about the old Aerialbots, for which Thundercracker was thankful. "So you don't have to come in threes?"

"Not officially, but if you want any notice, you do. When we left, Starscream flat-out refused to take anyone who needed a fourth. That didn't make for a lot of choices."

"So that's why you brought the Coneheads," Fireflight nodded solemnly. "We wondered what they were doing on Earth. Since, you know."

Since they were an embarrassment to anyone on wings, or so Fireflight must believe? The Coneheads weren't designed to fly in the thick atmosphere of a life-supporting planet; few Cybertronians were, and most of the winged Decepticons on Earth relied on anti-gravs as much or more. Starscream had modded himself back when he was a scientist, though, and once it was clear they were sticking around, he'd done Skywarp's too. Thundercracker just adapted. "The Coneheads have never been able to find a fourth person to put up with them, so they've flown as three almost as long as us." And Ramjet was a sorry excuse for a treacherous backstabber. Starscream hadn't dared leave him on Cybertron, for fear –well-justified caution- that Ramjet would try to take the mantle of Air Commander from him. He'd fail, of course, but if he could fail while being cannon fodder, the only duty he was fit for? No contest between him and Acid Rain, who once had a nice long close-up view of what being Megatron's Air Commander entailed. Acid Rain, Starscream explained, may have been less suited to hold the line, but that wasn't always a bad thing.

"What about the Rainmakers?" Fireflight asked, watching the circles Thundercracker was absent-mindedly tracing around his knee.

"I don't know," he said, jamming his fingers in his pockets and trying to pass that off as a shrug. "There were three of them when they caught Starscream's optic, but I never heard their story."

Fireflight nodded and looked around. "I wish they'd get this over with," he said, his first real complaint. Skywarp would be climbing the walls by now. Starscream would have escaped. Fireflight just sat and waited patiently, neither begging for his creator or demanding everyone notice how tough he was, to not be whimpering after who-knew-what happened to his arm. Few Decepticons waited on repairs so serenely.

No, not serene. Resigned. Fireflight would have waited in triage, after every battle he finished conscious, and more than a few he didn't. He only knew what it had taken the rest of them ages to learn, that all the histrionics in the universe didn't make the medics move any faster. His wingmates still hadn't learned that. But they'd seen to it that Fireflight had.

"What's the longest you've ever gone without flying? Thundercracker asked, to distract him.

"Five weeks. I was lucky, though. We couldn't raise Superion for eight months."

"What happened?"

Fireflight shrugged. "Somebody thought we were Decepticons."

"Humans knocked Superion out for eight months?"

"Well, the thing about Superion is, sometimes he's a little behind everyone else," Fireflight smiled innocently. "So by the time he realized that playing robo-chicken with a nuclear warhead was a bad idea…I think for a while he was just hiding from Silverbolt. Silverbolt was really mad."

Thundercracker thought about that for a minute. Surely, somebody would have noticed Superion out of action for a stellar-cycle. "You're making that up," he said.

"You believed me, though," Fireflight pointed out.

"Why shouldn't I?" Thundercracker demanded, a little shocked at the vehemence of his own reaction. Usually, he could take a joke, hell, he'd held the camera before while someone else did that very same thing.

"I'm sorry," Fireflight said, and he really did look sorry. Not in the way Starscream did when Megatron cornered him, more like when one of Skywarp's stupid pranks went off at the wrong moment. "It really was five weeks, though. Most of it was waiting because Ratchet had to buy me a new Phantom." Fireflight didn't say anything more, looking off to the side. Not looking to see if Thundercracker would get mad and leave so obviously it was almost painful.

Thundercracker stepped away, because turnabout was always fair play, but only far enough to turn around and lean against the berth. "We don't fly on transport," he began, "so for most of us, the longest at one time is twenty, thirty stellar-cycles. I've gone seventy. Spent a good part of it in a CR chamber, but once I was stable, they kept moving me to the bottom of the pile." He looked to see if Fireflight was looking at him again, and then looked at the ceiling with exaggerated casualness. "I heard that Starscream may have done something to displease the medics."

Fireflight giggled, then stopped abruptly and touched his arm. "I think I hear someone coming." Thundercracker didn't move, but he did stop blowing their cover wide open.

Someone was coming, three of the medics from before, one wheeling a tray stocked with supplies Thundercracker couldn't easily put names to. He faded into the background as they congratulated Fireflight on his broken wrist –a hairline fracture, thin but long, from where the steering wheel had cracked the bone with all the engine's force behind it. From what he knew of humans, it was a fairly common injury, but Thundercracker couldn't help but draw comparisons to if Fireflight had cracked a strut in his natural body; depending on time and supplies, that meant either a couple of orns' worth of surgeries or a whole new arm. Hard to say which would be worse; Thundercracker personally would take integrating a new part over spending that long in repair any day, but he was somewhat biased.

One of the medics wrapped Fireflight's arm in layers of wet white bandages, and an outer layer of blue. Another went over several pieces of paper that Thundercracker could see Fireflight wasn't paying the slightest bit attention to. The third, the one in the white coat he hated instinctively, stood there and supervised.

When the medics finished, they left the paperwork with Fireflight and told him he could leave as soon as he felt up to it. The curtain hadn't settled before Fireflight was on his feet, looking around for his purse.

"Ready to go?" Thundercracker asked, handing it to him.

"Hours ago," Fireflight said, smiling a little. There was blood on his teeth, from where he had bitten his lip. "Maybe I can buy you lunch now?"

"It has been my experience –completely secondhand, but still my experience- that while "I was in the medbay," often dampens the fires of anger, not reporting immediately after being released negates that."

"Starscream?"

"Skywarp."

"Thank you," Fireflight said, and for a moment Thundercracker was afraid he was going to get hugged. "I'll try to convince them it's not your fault. And I will take you out to lunch, or dinner, sometime. I won't forget."

Thundercracker wanted to say something, about how he knew Fireflight had taken a chance trusting him and what that meant, how it wasn't that big of a deal even though it was, how he would like to spend time with Fireflight that didn't involve one of them in some degree of pain and humiliation, but the words didn't come. All he could say was, "Let's get you back where you belong."

Chapter Text

Communication breakdown, it's always the same. – Led Zepplin

In the end, it took five microwaves, two cell phones, the insides to the TV remote, an aluminum foil-covered saucepan for a Faraday cage, and fifty-five cups of coffee to contact Cybertron.

Well, fifty-three. The last two were just to annoy Thundercracker. He was a meddling glitch who deserved it for sulking, though. Starscream could talk to whomever he damn well pleased.

Right now he didn't want to talk to Skyfire, didn't want to crawl to him empty-handed. He'd talk to Acid Storm first, and Misfire, and come to him with the single piece of the puzzle Skyfire was missing, and together they would solve this irritating riddle, would restore themselves to the glory of metal.

Skyfire would insist on repairing everyone else, wouldn't he? Sweet, naïve Skyfire, so young when he had once been so old. Discounting The Ice, Skyfire had been online less than nearly every Cybertronian left alive, and maybe that, not betrayal, was the exception that threw him to the Autobots.

Starscream hadn't cared much when Vector Sigma shut itself down all those eons ago. He had a war to win, and nobody he wanted to raise a sparkling with, and no time to do it on his own. He and Skyfire had spoken of it once or twice, enough to know they felt the same but now he couldn't remember if they wanted one or not. He supposed they must have. Vector Sigma coded most of its creations to want to raise a sparkling of their own, wanted its creations to be loved and cared for, whether in families or batches. No, Starscream hadn't cared when it shut down, but he certainly wasn't surprised.

It had come back online for the Stunticons, though, and the Aerialbots, and something small and scientific in Starscream ached that he'd missed its last sparkings. He could have been there, had he not been lying in the medbay after Megatron's latest show of displeasure. What had Megatron been so incensed about? He couldn't even remember.

Starscream shook his head. It didn't matter now. Once he was leader of the Decepticons, once he'd brought the Autobots under his wing or his thruster, whatever they insisted on, he'd find a way to get it back online. Perhaps, with no war, it would come online of its own accord.

There was still the small matter of the Key Silverbolt had destroyed, damn his optics. Oh, the sparkling hadn't known what he was doing, couldn't have to do it, but still! And they called Starscream a war criminal! He should tell the Autobot Air Commander, share just how much the two of them had in common. They might get along better then.

He taped down the last connection and ran the cord to the wall socket. It was always good to have a built-in hardware malfunction when communicating.

Starscream didn't think Acid Storm would give him much trouble. He would simply say that the weapon Shockwave had sent rendered the base uninhabitable, and that he was choosing the immediacy of text over any form of video or voice communication that would take longer. It wouldn't be the first time he'd used that particular lie.

Acid Storm should have the numbers Starscream needed ready to hand, about who could be counted on to back a play against Shockwave, who could be swayed and who needed to be silenced before they struck. He might even have data on Shockwave's experiment already that he could tightbeam over. And if not, Acid Storm would track it down for the sheer joy of new information. Hopefully, too, he'd know where Misfire's miserable carcass had gotten off to.

Starscream rather liked Misfire sometimes. Anyone who could take on both his wingmates when they were in that peculiar mix of boredom, anger, and playfulness deserved a commendation for surviving alone. Misfire came out on top half the time, and came back for more. Still, Starscream avoided him as much as he could, because sweet rusting Primus below his feet, Misfire was thesingle most obnoxious mech he'd ever had the misfortune to cross flight paths with, and Starscream had been working with Soundwave and his deranged children for the entire war.

Also, Misfire thought he was funny.

Misfire couldn't hit any side of a cityformer, much less the broad side, and he flew almost as badly as Fireflight, but he was damn useful at finding things. Starscream didn't need to know how to fix their situation to know that if he wanted to rebuild Skywarp's warp generator, or Thundercracker's specially reinforced armor, or his own thrusters, Misfire better start sourcing the parts now. As good as Misfire was, he needed time, unless he was carrying around an entire space bridge in his bomb bay.

And if he was, Starscream was going to have words with him. The kind of words that ended with a trip to the medbay, because Misfire was still useful, but hopefully he'd get the hint.

Starscream settled himself in front of the ansible. Acid Storm first, the data from Shockwave and reinforcing his powerbase back on Cybertron priority, and he'd worry about the pink embarrassment to jets later. He flicked the power switch, choosing his words as the device whirred and spun, chipping away at the focus point until it ripped open a hole in the fabric of reality. The stabilizer clicked on, holding the microscopic portal open just wide enough for a tightbeam…and the power went out.

Starscream swore.

It wasn't a total loss. The ansible itself was adequately insulated from power surges and, of course, unexpected power cuts. It just had drawn too much power for the building's system to support. Starscream reached for his notebook and flipped past the doodle of Skyfire's number surrounded by stars. He'd have to build a battery for it to draw power from, or he wouldn't be able to run the ansible and the coffee pot at the same time. Now, what could Skywarp acquire that could be used for that?

Fireflight stood outside the door, digging through his purse in the gloom of the hallway. He was beginning to suspect that he'd left his keys in the car. The Aerialbot's car, not Thundercracker's, though if he'd left them six flights of stairs down, he'd still be tempted to leave them.

He sighed, and knocked on the door. Hopefully someone was home to let him in. Thundercracker handed him back the paperwork from the hospital he had tried to forget. Fireflight gave him his very best my-processor-was-removed-to-make-takeoff-weight smile, even though at the moment he'd rather face Menasor on his own than Silverbolt. "I'll talk to you later?"

Thundercracker put his hands in his pocket and shrugged. "Yeah, okay," he said. Then he caught on, and unlocked his own door, before any of Fireflight's brothers could see him and jump to the wrong conclusion. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Fireflight said, and hoped really hard someone was home.

Air Raid opened the door, turned around and yelled inside, "See, I told you he was fine!"

Fireflight went inside, and Silverbolt was just behind Air Raid, with the faint frown he always got when he was worrying, and the end of his braid was damp. He scarcely waited for Fireflight to put his stuff on the counter before hugging him, and if it wasn't as tight as it used to be it still felt good.

He must have walked home, from the very faint sweat-smell, walked the whole mile when Fireflight wasn't there to pick him up. Fireflight wondered if he had been angry, if he had known Fireflight hadn't just forgotten. Did he wait very long, hoping his little brother was just late? Silverbolt stepped back, holding Fireflight at arm's length, and his fingers were as light on his shoulders as if he was made of glass. He wasn't mad now, if he'd ever been, just relieved and worried and that weird one Fireflight only knew second-hand, when Silverbolt panicked about something that ended up not happening.

Fireflight felt very small, and faintly sick, and his wrist ached. He wished Silverbolt would be angry. Anger he could have dealt with; he could defend himself as well as anyone, but none of them knew what to do with a worried Silverbolt, except avoid it as much as they could.

"What happened?" Air Raid asked, his chin on Fireflight's shoulder and his weight heavy on Fireflight's back. "What's on your arm?"

And Fireflight knew what would happen next. He'd tell them, and they wouldn't be angry, even though Air Raid always went down to the medbay with Fireflight if he could, even though it was all Fireflight's fault. He'd pop the bubble of almost-happiness, of relief that he was home safe, because he wasn't. Fireflight shrugged out of the half-circle of his brothers, and sat on the couch, and crossed his ankles in the approved female way of sitting Ratchet had taught them even though he was wearing pants, and said to his shoes, quick as he could to get it over with, "I broke the car and my wrist."

Silverbolt was next to him, as fast as thought, with a hand on his back and Air Raid on his other side examining the cast.

"And I lost my phone," Fireflight continued, "and I got more tickets, and a hospital bill, and, I was really far away so instead of calling you I called Thundercracker."

They didn't say anything. Fireflight risked a quick look at Silverbolt. He still didn't look mad, even though he should have been.

"Well, it was him or Starscream, because I had the car and I broke it so you couldn't have it two ways. The closest person after that whose number I know off the top of my head is in New York." He cycled a vent. "And, I broke the car really good. Really bad. They said it was totaled and they couldn't going to fix it."

"Wow," Air Raid said quietly, or as quiet as Air Raid ever got, still poking at Fireflight's cast. "Blue for the sky?"

"Blue because there was no way I was walking around in neon pink, or safety orange, or Constructicon green." Fireflight pretended to shudder at that. Constructicon green, aside from being the same color as Devastator, was a terrible fate all on its own. Maybe it even explained the Constructicons.

Silverbolt didn't say anything, just rubbed circles on Fireflight's back.

"They said they'd give me money for scrap, but I said it wasn't my car, and then I got yelled at by the cop some more, but at least he stopped writing tickets. He wrote me a ticket for not paying enough attention, even though I didn't hurt anyone else and I only damaged the car, I didn't hurt the lamppost any. And then he wrote another ticket because I had the brights on in the middle of the morning."

"Don't tell Slingshot that," Air Raid pleaded. "Because if I have to hear about him whine about someone else's driving one more second, I'm going to run him over like he ran over the squirrel."

"The squirrel fit under the car, though," Fireflight reminded him, and that was a little funny and a lot cool now, how the squirrel had timed it so perfectly to run under the car.

"He's ridiculously short enough," Air Raid said, grinning.

Silverbolt didn't say anything about not hitting Slingshot with a car, and Fireflight's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry I broke the car."

"It's just a car," Silverbolt said, brushing some of Fireflight's hair back. He'd have to get someone to cut it; it kept falling in his eyes and distracting him. Air Raid might do it later, if he asked. "What did you do to your wrist?"

Fireflight couldn't look Silverbolt in the eye and tell him that he wasn't okay. He leaned against his brother, and closed his eyes, and noted that his face felt hot. "I just sorta spaced out and when the tire hit the lamppost it turned the steering wheel funny and I cracked the bone a little," he admitted. "But not very bad at all, and I went and got it fixed right away!"

"You broke yourself?" Air Raid said, loudly. "That's what this is?"

Silverbolt squeezed Fireflight's shoulders, and touched the cast. "How'd they fix it?"

"They said that if they put this on me, then my wrist couldn't move and it would fix itself eventually," Fireflight said. "They gave me a whole bunch of paperwork about it. It'll be fine."

Silverbolt sighed, so quietly Fireflight didn't hear it, only felt it. He could hear Air Raid's phone, the buzz as Air Raid tapped out a message to somebody, the way the couch shifted when Air Raid bounced up.

"You could be mad at me," Fireflight pointed out after a minute. "'Cause I called Thundercracker but I never called you."

"Maybe later," Silverbolt said, quiet relief in his voice, and another emotion Fireflight knew how it felt but not its name. Knew second-hand, that is; Fireflight wasn't nearly as familiar with the shades of panic and its aftermath as Silverbolt. "We'll have to get you a new phone, and deal with the car, and get a new one." He looked down at Fireflight. "More than one. But that can wait, and then I'll find out how Slingshot got fired his first day of work, and I'll just be mad at him."

"Okay," Air Raid said, coming back. "Aid says that you can take the stuff we got for Skydive the first time but you'd be better off with the orange pills and if those don't work you can double up the dose on the box and you won't die. But not more." Fireflight heard a hiss as Air Raid opened a can of soda.

"It doesn't hurt," Fireflight lied, biting his lip. It tasted funny where he'd drawn blood earlier.

"You know, you bite your damn lip when you lie still," Air Raid half-growled, "and you're not getting a sticker for pretending to be okay when you're not. Is he?"

"No stickers," Silverbolt said, "but if you take your medicine, I won't let Air Raid get pineapple on the pizza."

Pineapple on pizza was a, what had Skyfire said was the word? Sacrilege. Fireflight could swallow the pills, and his pride, to avoid that. Air Raid didn't say anything about pizza toppings, just rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you go get the other two, and then order us a couple of pizzas?" Silverbolt suggested.

Fireflight wondered why Silverbolt was using his calm-Slingshot-down voice. "Aren't they supposed to be at work, looking out for Megatron?" he asked, while Air Raid pulled his shoes on –somebody's shoes on- and left.

"Slingshot got sent home," Silverbolt said, "and went up to the roof to shoot things. Skydive skipped to keep him shooting the right things."

Slingshot must be really upset, Fireflight thought, if Skydive was playing hooky his first day. Or Skydive hadn't wanted to walk and came up with an excuse. "I think I learned stuff, from Thundercracker," Fireflight offered. "I mean, I learned lots of stuff but I haven't had any time to think about it and put all the important bits together."

"So calling Thundercracker was taking advantage of the opportunity for a scouting mission?" Silverbolt sounded sarcastic, but Fireflight couldn't tell if it was because he was mad at last, or because that's what he'd tell Prime later, only serious.

"Yes," Fireflight said, because it had occurred to him that having a brother show up might make Thundercracker stop talking. "I'm allowed to, um, what did they call it? Act on my own initiative. And now I know why Seekers come in threes."

"That's good," Silverbolt said, squeezing him. "That's exactly what we're supposed to be doing with them. I do trust your judgment, 'Flight. I just don't always like the way the wind blows."

Fireflight nodded, and sank into Silverbolt's side. "I don't like it either," he said. "This was a really not-fun thing, but I think he likes me now. He kinda reminds me of Slingshot."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and I'm half-sure I know why, and I think there might have been some other things there." Fireflight fell silent, and turned his attention inward. Silverbolt waited, and when Fireflight didn't say anything else, he took out his phone and called someone, occasionally rubbing Fireflight's uninjured arm, while he thought of the way Thundercracker wore the heavy denim jacket even though it was still really warm out, and the way he'd been so out of it before he drank the coffee, and the strange way the awkwardness ebbed and rose between them. Before, when they'd met peaceably, Thundercracker had been distantly polite and more than a little haughty, like Mirage used to, but now that was gone, and there was no way the Seeker was comfortable enough in a human body to fake his new dorkiness. It seemed familiar, like one of his brothers had lived it before, and he felt around the edges of it until he had the full shape and color and texture of what he'd learned.

Jazz had given him a crash course in it, when he'd found out that Fireflight watched the Seekers, in how to watch what a mech was doing and figure out a little of what he was feeling and thinking. It came easy to him then, and easier now that they couldn't repress all the little subconscious things humans did. Now Fireflight put together the way Thundercracker's hair had needed a brushing, and the bags of M&Ms he carried around, and the quiet way he'd glared at the medics with everything else he knew and the way Thundercracker had barely talked about himself or his wingmates, how he'd needed a direct question. It didn't add up to anything certain, it was as solid as cloud, but it was more than they'd had before and it knocked a few things out of the sky.

Fireflight heard the others come in, heard the way Air Raid and Slingshot were fighting again, and not the good kind of fighting but the kind where they were really trying to hurt each other. And it didn't take a brother to know that, not when Silverbolt and Skydive had to intervene to pull them apart. Skydive curled up on the couch next to him but he must have known what Fireflight was doing, as Fireflight reviewed the subtle flavors of the expression Thundercracker had when he talked about his own accident, the weird pause and the way he'd looked around the room. Silverbolt said something to Air Raid and Slingshot, and he still didn't sound very angry though Fireflight didn't hear his words.

"Boss is feeling creative today," Skydive said.

"Huh?" Fireflight asked, quite intelligently.

"He sent Air Raid and Slingshot out to pick up the pizza and I guess he rented a car somehow because they get to walk and pick it up. Together. Without killing each other."

"Oh." Slingshot could be a jerk, but Air Raid fought dirty, and Fireflight wasn't quite sure what had upset either of them but there was no way he was getting in the middle.

"Yeah, Slingshot deserves it," Skydive continued. "I'm sure he'll say something to you when he gets back, don't take it personally. He's having a bad day."

"So am I," Fireflight said, leaning against Skydive.

Skydive took the hint and hugged him. "Yeah, you're having a worse one, but that doesn't make his any better, and our brother is as Vector Sigma coded him."

"Vector Sigma glitched him up," Fireflight agreed. "Can I borrow your phone? I'll tell you why Seekers come in threes."

"You can borrow my phone anyways," Skydive said. But by the time Fireflight finished telling him about the way Seekers really came in fours, Slingshot and Air Raid had come home with pizza and beer, and he had meant to call Skyfire and tell him what happened, Fireflight really did, but Slingshot did say something to Fireflight, and then Air Raid got mad all over again, and then Silverbolt finally got mad, and by the time all the yelling was over, Fireflight forgot.

But they still had time to run out and get Fireflight a new phone, and Skyfire was the first person he texted, so that all worked out in the end.

Prime answered his phone like he had for nearly thirty years; on the second ring with, "Hello, Optimus here."

"Hello, it's Silverbolt."

"Silverbolt!" Prime sounded genuinely happy to hear from him, even though it had been only four days since Silverbolt had called with his last report. "How is Detroit? Has Slingshot shot any bears?"

Silverbolt borrowed a little of Air Raid's confidence, a lot of Fireflight's faith, and said, "Fireflight totaled the car."

"Is he okay?" Prime asked, without hesitation.

"No," Silverbolt said. "He needed medical treatment, there'll be a hospital bill. Plus two new traffic citations, and the tow bill. And a new phone."

"Silverbolt," Prime said, "I know I told you we couldn't offer you much assistance in Detroit, but money is the one thing we can help you with."

"We have jobs," Silverbolt said, which was half-true.

"Do you remember the Christmas they had the twentieth anniversary Superion giftset toy?"

Silverbolt remembered that. He and his brothers had flown down to California for the day when they were producing it, so reference pictures could be taken. Fireflight had knocked Skydive into the ocean on accident, Slingshot had thrown Fireflight in as payback, Air Raid had pushed Slingshot in, laughing like a lunatic, then jumped in himself. And while all that was going on, nobody noticed Silverbolt's half-panicked gear up landing. Twenty years and he still couldn't stay up sometimes. Now, he couldn't even stand too close to the window.

"Don't worry about the money. Can I assume Fireflight will be okay soon?"

"Yes," Silverbolt said, because human self-repair was nothing if not amazing. "Also, he managed to get Thundercracker to share why Seekers come in threes. Basically, they're showing off. Skydive can send more details to Prowl, if he wants them."

"I am sure he would appreciate anything that might be helpful," Prime said gravely. "Skydive has always made contributions of great value to our strategy." Prowl frequently consulted Skydive about aerial tactics, much as Jazz was fond of borrowing Fireflight and the science team asked for Air Raid's protection on field trips. Nobody ever sought out Slingshot, but sometimes he'd tag along with Silverbolt when the Protectobots needed a couple of extra sets of wings. "Speaking of Seekers, how are things progressing?"

"We still think this is one of Starscream's temper tantrums," Silverbolt said. "Fireflight has some new intel, but he's not ready to make a full report just yet. I'll see to it that you and Jazz get copies." He left out how Fireflight had scouted out this new information. Fireflight, all the Aerialbots except Silverbolt, were accused of being half-Decepticon enough already.

"So you are getting along with them?" Prime sighed. "It has been a long time since Autobots and Decepticons have coexisted peacefully for so long."

"It's not been very long, sir."

"That's exactly my point. Things were…bad on Cybertron before." Silverbolt wondered how much it cost Prime to admit that. "The Autobots changed things, but it never seemed enough for Decepticon principles. It is possible they have changed, much as we have, though I don't believe they are beyond reach. And what you've done is so much more than any other Autobot has, since the very first days of the war."

Silverbolt recognized the tone Prime took. "What do you want us to do?"

"Nothing you're not comfortable with, of course," Prime said. "But they seem open to you. Maybe, you could find a way to reach them. I hope, if we could just understand them…" Of course Prime would think the Aerialbots could reach them, could understand them. They were half-Decepticon, after all, and if Prime didn't hold it against them, he at least took it into account.

"We're doing our best," Silverbolt said. It wasn't a lie. Fireflight and Air Raid were certainly friendly enough; Slingshot and Skydive were trying, but they were just naturally shyer. Which was kind of like saying the Protectobots naturally had a lower service ceiling than the Aerialbots. "They're making an effort as well."

"There are not many Autobots I could trust to set aside their dislike of Decepticons. It gives me hope to see the Decepticons reciprocating your advances."

Really, was that what it was called when Skywarp came and hid? Silverbolt would have called that "using the Aerialbots as mech shields." Though, the other two weren't openly hostile either. Fireflight could be right, he probably was, that they were simply feeling the strain of humanity and trying to hide it. "They certainly seem serious, though Starscream isn't known for his consistency."

"Starscream is known for many things," Prime said. "He may very well change his mind about peaceful co-existence."

"We're preparing for that eventuality," Silverbolt said. Prepared physically, yes, with the two guns and the home-cooked napalm, but Air Raid was already attached to Skywarp, at least enough to hesitate.

"I hope you prepare in vain. Please tell Fireflight I wish him a speedy recovery."

Silverbolt promised he would, and that he would call with his report on Saturday morning, and that he wouldn't worry about money, and that he was eating his vegetables and wearing matching socks and everything was okay and he was okay before Prime let him go.

He wasn't really, not after midnight when all his brothers were asleep. Or at least being quiet in the bedroom; none of them were the greatest sleepers at the best of times. Skydive had said something to Slingshot, Silverbolt didn't know what but it worked, and Air Raid hadn't managed to hold on to his anger once Fireflight asked him for help with his hair.

Fireflight hadn't even noticed Air Raid was angry. To be fair, Air Raid had hidden it well, how hurt he was that Fireflight had gone for repairs without even calling him. Fireflight had some terriblyconvenient blind spots.

But no, that wasn't fair. Fireflight did have a blind spot where Air Raid was concerned, just as Skydive had a hard time understanding that he could accidentally push Slingshot's buttons sometimes. It was harder without merging to remember how everyone else thought, harder still without Superion to translate. They'd never gone this long without his gentle reminders that Skydive hadn't talked to anyone in three days or Firefight didn't space out and crash into a mountain for the attention, or that Silverbolt really needed to pull the stick out of his aft and have fun before the other four mutinied.

Gentle was a relative term when applied to Superion.

But they weren't doing that bad. Air Raid and Slingshot were making an extra effort to get along, Fireflight was paying far more attention to his surroundings than usual. Skydive, well, Skydive had always taken his turns as problem child, and Silverbolt wasn't planning to hold the explosion against him. Silverbolt was trying to keep his temper, trying to remember that they knew this wasn't a game. He thought, since he could avoid heights, it would be easier.

The other four weren't doing that bad.

Silverbolt knew he should go to bed, but instead he called one last person. Hot Spot answered with, "Rule four?"

"Rule four?" Silverbolt repeated.

"It's two in the morning where you are," Hot Spot said. "I'm really hoping it's rule four, because it's that or you're calling me from the ER."

"Oh." Silverbolt supposed that made sense. "Well, we're just starting to realize how much Superion kept us from killing each other."

"I see your fratricide and raise you Streetwise wanting to have a Colorado River Toad as a pet."

"None of my brothers would ask if they could have a pet. They'd just show up with one. But a toad doesn't seem too bad."

"Around here, they lick the toads to get high. He got it from a drug bust. My brother wants to keep a hallucinogenic toad, I cannot make this up, it is for licking."

"Does he know about the toad licking?"

Hot Spot paused. "I'm not sure he does," he said eventually. "I think that makes it worse. My brother the cop doesn't know that people lick hallucinogenic toads even though he rescued one from drug addicts and wants to keep it."

"Slingshot got fired five minutes into his first day. He wouldn't take off his gun."

"Well, he does have a permit, and you are looking for Decepticons," Hot Spot said. "First Aid just figured out where meat comes from, so we're all vegan now. He doesn't want Streetwise to keep the toad, either. Also, he's almost thirty years old and he just figured out from where meat comes, did I mention that?"

"Fireflight totaled the car," Silverbolt said. He meant to leave it at that, but he couldn't, not when Fireflight had flown himself so deep into the storm. "Fireflight broke the car so fragging badly that they cannot fix it. Just, completely irreparably broken. And he broke himself. He could have been hurt worse, he got out of it and to the medbay by himself, mostly, he could be dead right now, he could be in traction or dying or dead. He didn't call us, he called slagging Thundercracker before he called any of us, to take him to the medbay and I don't have the slightest clue why, by Vector Sigma's t-cog, and that had hurt the worst, because I can understand calling someone with a car to take him to medical right away, but he didn't call on the way or while they were waiting or on the way home or at all, and there's no way Thundercracker drove all the way across town to pick him up and stayed with him and was, I hear, really nice, while at the same time not letting Fireflight borrow his phone. None of us had the slightest clue that anything was wrong, not until he showed up in a cast, Hot Spot, we were so lucky that a slagging Decepticon was there, what would we have done without Thundercracker of all mechs?"

"Is that it?" Hot Spot asked.

"If you tell me but at least he's okay now," Silverbolt said, and he wasn't going to cry thinking about Fireflight wrapped around a tree, smoking and sparking, he wasn't, "I will hang up on you."

"I just wanted to make sure that was the end. First Aid heard a little from Air Raid, but rust and scrap iron, that's, Silverbolt," Hot Spot trailed off. "If you were here, I would hug you and make coffee."

"Why didn't he call, Hot Spot?"

"I don't know." Silverbolt could imagine the way Hot Spot was shaking his head, the earnest brightness of his optics, the way he'd put his arms around Silverbolt and hold him together. "Maybe he was afraid you'd be mad."

Silverbolt did cry at that, drew his knees up and stopped fighting the tears, because he didn't mean to be angry with his brothers, it just happened when he got scared, and he was young and afraid and he was already afraid of heights, a plane afraid of heights, what sort of sick joke was that? He wasn't allowed to be afraid of anything else, not of losing his brothers or letting them down, or letting them down and then losing them, and somewhere along the way he'd lost Fireflight to a Decepticon.

"You haven't lost him," Hot Spot said. Silverbolt hadn't been aware he'd been speaking aloud. "He just made a poor choice, you're always telling me he doesn't think. He should have called you."

"How was I supposed to get up there, though?"

"You would have found a way," Hot Spot said firmly. "It wasn't for Fireflight to decide there wasn't a way."

Silverbolt sighed. "It'll take two months to fix completely, but he's free until then. He just can't use his hand much."

"Right or left?" Hot Spot tended to focus on the practical. Silverbolt liked that.

"Right, but he's left-handed."

"And you'll get another car?"

"We rented one until we can buy a new one. More than one."

"I would have called you," Hot Spot said. "Even though you're two thousand miles away. I would have called someone else to come get me and then I would have called you."

Hot Spot listened to Silverbolt cry about Fireflight's betrayal, Fireflight's accident, and it was almost as good as having him there on the couch with him, good enough for Silverbolt who'd spent his whole life settling. Even when it took more than an hour, and Slingshot was dragged into it, because everybody took their frustrations out on Slingshot and Silverbolt didn't know how to stop it, and Air Raid, because Air Raid hated not getting his way, and Skydive, because Silverbolt was leaning too hard on him and he knew it, he just knew it. It wasn't until Silverbolt caught himself yawning that Hot Spot even suggested he go to bed.

Silverbolt wiped his eyes. Tears were a terribly uncomfortable automatic function. "You should go sleep," Hot Spot said.

"Things will look better in the morning?" Silverbolt asked. He needed to recharge; he was too tired to be properly embarrassed at his own melodrama.

"I think you're seeing things just fine, but unless Detroit has twenty-four hour car shops, you can't do anything for the rest of the night."

"You're right," Silverbolt agreed.

"You know I…" Hot Spot started. "I'm always here."

"Yeah," Silverbolt said, and it was on the tip of his tongue, but Hot Spot deserved to hear it in the intimacy of speech. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Okay," Hot Spot said, easy as falling. "I'll be waiting."

It was time, Air Raid knew in the quiet space before dawn. It wasn't quite the time he'd have chosen, but they needed the gestalt link back, he needed to at least try, before something else like this happened. All his brothers were recharging finally, even Fireflight; their sparks would be as open as they ever were, as close as they got without merging. At the edge of the pile, he shut off as many external sensors as he could and reached.

There were no tailwinds, in the place between sparks, and he was blind to the familiar landmarks. Still, there were no holes in his spark, no smooth blocks of walls, no limp broken strings. His brothers were still there, impossibly far, but there. He just had to reach them through the muffled distortion of flesh.

Superion was once the hardest to reach, his spark drifting through subspace, but now he wasn't wrapped in a layer of insulating polyderma. Air Raid pushed himself along the current that led to the big guy, pushed and yelled and flared his tiny field. He pushed until it hurt, until he couldn't feel his feet and couldn't hear his own thoughts, pushed harder than he'd ever in his life...

and at the very edge of awareness, he felt Superion, felt the cool brush of his spark against Air Raid's own, felt icy desperation and unfamiliar fear. For two sparkpulses, they touched, and Air Raid threw as much information as he could before the connection was lost, missyouneedyouhelpme, and Superion cast back as strong as he was able, worryangerholdtight, and then...

and then they were falling apart, stars pulled by gravity too weak, and Air Raid was left with cold frustration not his own.

He pushed it away with six vents and long practice. Superion was there, he wasn't dead, Air Raid told himself. He could be reached any time Air Raid had a quiet minute. And, the important thing was, Superion was in the loop now. He'd just thrown a lot for the big guy to chew on, Superion probably dropped back in shock; he was absolutely terrible at rolling with the punches.

He walked, with his mind and his spark if not his body, towards Skydive. Superion's other leg, and they worked together like no-one else, needed to be in sync too close for words. Skydive was far, farther than he'd ever been, or Air Raid was slower than he'd ever been, and the more he walked the harder it was, walking uphill through an endless swamp, steeper and deeper, until he had to turn back or drown.

Skydive was hard to get through to, sometimes. It wasn't that he felt apart from the rest of the Aerialbots, not like Slingshot or Silverbolt would, it was simply the way Skydive was. More self-contained than the others, he was the hardest for Air Raid to touch. Though, before now, that hadn't meant anything, had been barely noticeable. Skydive was right there, he could feel Skydive's warmth against his leg, he wasn't dead and that had to be enough. Had to be.

Slingshot was always a prickly little knot of bitterness and anger held together with overcompensation and sheer stubborn guts. He was the right to Air Raid's left, serious where Air Raid was fun, jerkface where Air Raid was cool, strong in the places Air Raid wasn't.

And he was slow as all get-out, so slow Air Raid had to drop back, back, back, until he barely had enough thrust to stay up. Slingshot turned a hell of a lot quicker than Air Raid, too, turned in dizzying circles just out of Air Raid's reach, until Air Raid gave up and took off. Well, let him. If Slingshot didn't want to be caught, it wasn't that Air Raid couldn't. Just…not worth the bitching.

Fireflight was easy to find. Fireflight was always forward of Air Raid's wing, drifting between him and Silverbolt, when he wasn't off chasing butterflies or following an interesting-looking river or just plain spaced out. Or sliding along in his jetwash, keeping anyone from sneaking up on him or warping in behind him, or just wandering that far out of formation.

Fireflight should have been right behind him, his wingman watching his six, but Fireflight's attention span was closely related to how many people were trying to kill them at the moment. So Air Raid didn't debug it, just circled 'round and 'round, searching him out like he had a million times before, and would a million times again, but Fireflight wasn't there, wasn't in reach, he couldn't find him.

Fireflight sulked, sometimes, and pretended everything was okay and refused to explain until he was good and ready. Air Raid could wait. Not happily, but he could.

Silverbolt was never sulky or whiny or ever ignored Air Raid. He was their center, safe stable home ground when the winds were against them and flying was impossible, his solid gravity their reference point in the air, no matter what he'd drop what he was doing and come if Air Raid called, Primus and Ratchet have mercy on anyone that got in his way. Silverbolt was the closest, right there always, and reaching for him was easy as falling, cut the engines and drop the flaps, Silverbolt would be right there to catch him even if in the real world it was always the other way around, nothing smoother than stretching out as instinctive as transforming, shifting his weight and Silverbolt, Silverbolt, Silverbolt…

Air Raid blinked, pushed everything away with six slow vents. He reached down and touched Silverbolt's bare knee, cold if not hard, across to linger on Skydive's shoulder, smoothed Slingshot's fingers out from a fist across Silverbolt's chest, and stretched up to grab Fireflight's hand. And he fell into recharge, Silverbolt's hip his pillow, Skydive's arm his blanket, as close to plugged into something as he could get, and if it rained on his face, it was dry by morning.

Chapter Text

Sadly, I do not have a pithy quote for this chapter.

The power was out when Skywarp came home with donuts and more coffee, but Thundercracker still hadn't come back from sitting around the medbay with Fireflight, so at least he wasn't complaining about the lack of television. On the other hand, that left him alone with Starscream and absolutely nothing to do.

Normally, that wouldn't be so bad, Starscream had one really good idea for every three terrible ones, except Starscream was sunk into his notebook again, sitting on the floor between his laptop and …something scientifical and indescribable, scratching out science or shopping lists or whatever else he kept in there. He'd looked up when Skywarp opened the door, but then he'd made the ancient Cybertronian warrior hand signal for "watch my stuff, I'm taking a nap," with two fingers and written Skywarp out of his mind completely before Skywarp had dropped the plastic bag on the counter. Maybe not completely completely because he wasn't doing the talking thing Thundercracker had mentioned, and Skywarp didn't know if he should be insulted or flattered that Screamer apparently thought he needed to be watched at all times. Probably flattered, and a little annoyed that now he couldn't entertain himself by dyeing Starscream's hair funny colors. He'd picked up some green Jello, that would have been interesting.

Skywarp threw himself on the couch, and dropped a donut next to Starscream. This was so slagging boring. "I'm bored."

"That's nice," Starscream said.

"Super bored."

"Go across the hall then."

"Don't wanna," Skywarp said –which was not a whine, whining required a pitch his vocalizer wasn't capable of reaching. "Don't feel like making nice."

Starscream didn't say anything, flipping back a few pages to tap his pen against underlined numbers. The power never went out all the way on the Nemesis, and even when only the backup backup generators were working, there was duty shifts and cassettes to superglue to the ceiling and triple-changers to teleport behind and shove down a flight of stairs and the option of leaving. Proper-leaving, not just across town. And he didn't have to be careful about scaring off babies that turned into a giant robot that could rip his tailfins off and shove them down his intakes. Okay, Menasor, but Starscream hadn't ordered him to make friends with the Stunticons.

"I'm really bored," Skywarp repeated, since Starscream clearly didn't understand his dire predicament. "I wanna go home."

Starscream ignored him, so Skywarp poked him.

"Go battle the one-eyed purple warrior or something," Starscream mumbled. "Busy with important stuff here."

"Isn't that what you're doing?" Skywarp asked, puzzled. He could almost grasp that somehow, pages upon pages of mathematics was fighting against Shockwave, but since that was totally a Starscream thing how was he supposed to help?

Starscream paused in his scribbling and twisted around. Satisfied with whatever he saw on Skywarp's face, he didn't say anything before returning to his utterly boring work, leaving Skywarp alone.

"I wanna go home," Skywarp said again.

"I'm working on it!" Starscream snapped. "Turning on a planet isn't like flicking a lightswitch."

"That's not what I mean and you know it." Skywarp rolled over and let his head hang off the side of the couch. "I wanna go home."

"I am quite sure I have no idea what you mean then," Starscream said, with the edge that meant he knew perfectly well what Skywarp meant but was giving Skywarp one last chance to not get screeched at. "Find some way to entertain yourself and stop whining."

"'M not whining," Skywarp mumbled. Starscream ignored him, and it didn't take too long before Skywarp was bored enough to find himself launching cartoon birds at green cartoon pigs and eating all the donuts. Even Starscream's, while his wingleader doodled in his notebook and pretended he was alone.

Thundercracker did come back eventually, and he'd brought Skywarp a bag of candy. Well, he had a bag of candy with him, and he'd left it in the pocket closest to Skywarp, so it worked out to the same. Starscream was ignoring Thundercracker so hard, it was a tangible force, strong and invisible like a re-entry shield, and Thundercracker was ignoring him right back with a stubbornness that nobody else could hope to match. "How'd the thing with Fireflight go?" Skywarp asked, when Thundercracker settled himself on the couch and their mutual refusal to acknowledge each other threatened to crush their poor, innocent wingmate.

Thundercracker shrugged; he'd pushed Skywarp around until Skywarp was laying in his lap. He'd tried to push Skywarp off the couch entirely, or at least upright, but Skywarp was having none of it. "You know how you get in the repair bay, and how fragging annoying that is?"

"I do not get like anything in the repair bay, and it is not nearly as annoying as you," Skywarp huffed.

"You are terrible in the repair bay." Thundercracker tugged on Skywarp's hair, not ungently. "You are the textbook terrible patient. They do case studies of your visits to teach new medics how to deal with difficult patients. You've been banned from repair bays before."

"I am a model patient and a joy to repair."

"You are the benchmark by which all other terrible patients are measured."

Skywarp folded his arms. "Well, some people are worse. Like, um, Thrust."

"Thrust may be worse, but they measure in milli-Skywarps. He's twice as bad as you, so he's two thousand milli-Skywarps. You are so legendarily horrible of a patient, they've named a unit of measure after you."

"That's pretty cool," Skywarp grinned. "They don't have milli-TCs, now, do they?"

"Yes they do," Starscream said from the floor. "It measures how likely a mech is to stick his nosecone where it isn't wanted." Apparently, while he wasn't going to acknowledge Thundercracker in the same room, he would at least admit that their wingmate existed, which put him one step closer to forgiveness than Thundercracker. Shiny Cybertron, Thrust never had to put up with this sort of slag. On the other hand, Thrust had to deal with being Thrust.

"So how many milli-Skywarps is Fireflight?" Skywarp asked.

"None. He's a model patient. You should take lessons."

"There is nothing an Aerialbot can teach me."

"Aside from how to make your phone play terrible music when someone calls," Starscream reminded him.

"That is a stupid human thing and I would have figured it out eventually except you want them to think I'm all helpless and junk. Which I'm not."

"Whatever you say."

Skywarp did not rise to the bait, because he was a better mech than Starscream. "So how bad is he hurt?"

Thundercracker shrugged. "Dunno. The medics didn't seem too worried; they sent him home to let his self-repair work."

"But…" Skywarp prompted.

"But he cracked a strut." Thundercracker touched Skywarp's wrist. "And it was weird. It was almost like it didn't hurt."

"So not all Autobots whine. We knew that."

"No," Thundercracker waved vaguely. "He wasn't pretending it didn't hurt. Fireflight just…didn't seem to mind or something."

Skywarp looked up at him. "You are making no sense. Again."

"Look," Thundercracker sighed, frustrated with Skywarp not getting it or his own inability to express it, "it hurt a lot, and it distracted him, but it didn't upset him. He was more worried about what Silverbolt was going to do to him."

"Silverbolt is scary." Skywarp nodded thoughtfully. "I could like him. I want to see him lose it on someone else, that would be awesome."

From the floor, Starscream made some weird noise.

"Do you really think Silverbolt's going to throw him out the airlock?" Skywarp continued.

"No, but…it was weird."

"Hey!" Skywarp sat up. "You're impressed! He was supposed to be all awed by you, and you were supposed to eat it up like energon goodies, and now you're impressed!" He waved the bag of candy at Thundercracker to make his point.

Thundercracker stole it back. "So? He's not a complete scatterhead like some people I could name."

Skywarp stopped, trying to parse everything wrong with that sentence. He failed. "Okay, one, do you know how many walls I've seen him walk into since we got here? Two, have you met Fireflight? Three, did you at least ask him about the boobs?"

"It's too early to ask him about the boobs."

"Well, you've taught him how to make coffee and rescued him from being abandoned wherever he was and sat with him in a medbay, so what else do you have to do before you think he'll say yes to the boobs?"

"It doesn't work like that!" Skywarp rolled his eyes and mouthed along to the next words that came out of Thundercracker's mouth. "There is not a magic number of nice things to do for people before they owe you boob-touching." Originally, it was wing-touching, but Skywarp guessed the substitution easily.

And it wasn't like Skywarp thought it did work like that. He just had enough of a grip on reality to know his odds of getting to touch Fireflight in what was, from his research, a sexual way without Thundercracker being involved somehow. Also without being set on fire, or zapped, or shot, or who knew what the other two had up their sleeves, but Thundercracker was really good at pacifying irate wingmates.

When he felt like it.

"Fine," Skywarp said, "when will it be time to ask the guy who's been staring at you for his entire life about boobs? Because there is no way he's letting me do it when he thinks he's got a chance with you."

"I don't know," Thundercracker said, looking down at the bag of candy and tearing it open. "Maybe not while I'm in the middle of doing him a favor?"

Like that hadn't been the perfect time. "You want to ask him about boobs," Skywarp guessed, from the way Thundercracker didn't look up at him. "But you don't want him to say no."

Thundercracker didn't confirm or deny it, but went for the distraction. "He said something else, too. Said the Protectobots were younger than the Aerialbots."

"That's not possible, though," Skywarp frowned. "Unless he meant they've got shorter uptime."

"No, he thought we didn't shoot Defensor for the same reason we didn't shoot Superion."

Nobody with enough processing power to put a name to a target shot Defensor, not after what Superion did to Dirge. A good quarter of the Decepticons didn't meet those requirements, but he had no point value, and with other, better, targets on the field few mechs would risk it without substantial gains. Or a fusion cannon pointed at them. Or the Stunticons, but there was something deeply wrong with those lunatics.

"I thought they had to have been in stasis." Skywarp poked the back of Starscream's head. "Didn't you say they had to have been in stasis because they had to have come from Vector Sigma before?"

Starscream tipped his head back. "I only said that to shut you up. They're a fusilateral quintrocombiner with full gestalt mind integration. Shockwave didn't finish kludging that up until after we woke up from our long nap."

"Huh?"

Starscream sighed. "You know how Menasor is more of a person than Bruticus? He does things on own?"

Skywarp screwed up his face as he tried to think about that. Normally he didn't pay a lick of attention to the gestalts, though, and while he could tell them apart, that was about all. The only thing he could think of was…"You mean like how Bruticus doesn't care what he's told to hit but Menasor hates Superion so much it's scary?"

Starscream smiled proudly. The smile was gone quicker than it came, but he did smile, Skywarp saw it. "Exactly. That has to do with how Vector Sigma created their sparks. Menasor has opinions about the Aerialbots, Defensor has opinions about squishes. What does Bruticus like? Nothing. He doesn't have the mental capacity."

"So because Defensor likes to help squishies, the Protectobots are sparklings." Not that the squishy-liking proved anything in and of itself, but it was a thing Defensor liked, much like Menasor liked punching Superion, and neither Devastator nor Bruticus liked anything enough to do it on their own initiative, so reality lined up with what Starscream was saying for once. Starscream was weird like that, could take something one mech said and something another mech did, and stick them together into a truth. Skywarp nodded in understanding, and then suddenly realized something important. "Wait, First Aid's a Protectobot!"

"And so..?" Starscream asked.

"I've held a gun to his head and threatened to shoot him." Skywarp buried his face in his hands, like Thundercracker did all the time. It didn't help. He'd threatened to kill a sparkling! He was supposed to be one of Megatron's Elite, he was supposed to have standards, and he'd taken a sparkling hostage! "You let me take a sparkling hostage!"

"If he's old enough to choose a side, he's old enough to get shot," Starscream said. "And whatever else you may say about Prime, he at least lets them choose for themselves." Which was kind of the exact opposite of what he'd said about the Aerialbots not having seen enough to make a truly informed decision, but then again he was a slagging hypocrite who'd done all sorts of nasty things to the Protectobots. Who were, apparently, sparklings, he was never so much as looking scary at them again. Except for the helicopter, because he was a jerk. But he was only going to look.

"You also told him every dirty joke you knew until they handed it over," Thundercracker reminded him.

Skywarp perked up at that. "I did, so at least he got some education out of it." And surely First Aid hadn't really been all that scared. They called him the stupid one, but not even Skywarp was dumb enough to kill one component of a gestalt when the other four were standing around watching, especially one who was as practiced at missing an arm as Defensor. First Aid must have known it was a bluff. And if First Aid hadn't been terrified, that was okay then. He hadn't threatened a sparkling, not really. He hadn't sunk to the Autobot's level. He hadn't.

"How is this my life?" Starscream asked the ground.

They were baffled. Utterly, completely baffled. Shockwave had beaten them.

The quantum wave had, somehow, shrunk their sparks. And when Powerglide had assumed root-mode, the extra energon dumped into his spark chamber had overwhelmed his spark to the point of extinguishment. Before they could even think about reversing the reformats, (which was difficult enough,) they had to reverse the spark-shrinkage. Somehow. Even though the new alts that didn't exactly have room for expanded spark chambers. To do otherwise was to risk death from a too-big frame.

But at their core, they were still machine covered by polyderma, not fully organic. This was still an alt-mode of a sort. There was a way to format themselves back into their proper bodies, even if it was a bit more complex than asking Teltraan I the way they had back when they first awoke. Science had reformatted them more than once, in some cases many more times, science would reformat them again. They just had to figure out how.

"Well," Wheeljack said, far too cheerful this early in the morning, "Shockwave had a lot more time than us to work on it."

Ratchet snorted into his mug. "He couldn't have been working on it that long. Menasor was the first to utilize spark-shifting in any context, and he has to be using a form of that."

Skyfire didn't understand all the talk about sparks; he was an explorer first, geologist and astrophysicist second. At this point, he was probably better at fighting than he was anything to do with sparks. Scientifically, anyways.

"It is unfortunate that we cannot inspect a miniaturized spark," Perceptor put in.

"Why not?"

Everybody turned and looked at Skyfire. "You can't just crack open someone's chest and look inside," Ratchet said, very patiently.

"Humans do it," Skyfire said. "I've seen videos." He left out the context of said videos; like so many things involving Air Raid, it had seemed like a good idea at the time but was impossible to explain later.

"You can't crack open someone's chest just to look inside," Perceptor clarified. "We'd never get clearance from the ethics committee."

Skyfire ceded the point with a nod; while he knew the Ark had an ad-hoc ethics committee, he didn't know who was on it. His own experiments hadn't needed review since he was a student, not with his specialties. Skyfire assumed, given some of the other things the committee had okayed, a routine human procedure wouldn't need more than perfunctory defense, but Perceptor, who had a far wider field of study than Skyfire, would have had that much more experience with them.

"You know what we could do," Ratchet said slowly. "We could program Teltraan I to reformat us into cassettes. Still small, but at least no longer organic."

"But we'd be rectangles," Wheejack protested. "Kinda hard to do…anything with no hands."

"Hoist and I can program it to swap root and alt mode. It won't be any harder than Defensor's torso was." From the looks the other two were giving him, Skyfire didn't think Defensor's torso had been easy. "It would be a step in the right direction, and for certain mechs, a great improvement on their mental state."

"I can help with that, unless you still need me, Percy?" Wheeljack said.

Perceptor shook his head. "I will continue to attempt to contact our colleagues on Cybertron, for whatever insight they can provide. I fear Shockwave's interference may make that a rather lengthy endeavor, though. Skyfire, are you having any more success with the extraneous chromosome?"

"I've learned all I can from the raw data," Skyfire said. "I think it might govern some sort of structural abnormality. Next I plan on splicing it into the zebrafish to see how it plays with other structures."

"At least somebody's making progress," Ratchet grumbled.

The power was still out when Skywarp stopped his daily shift of pretending to be human, and it was Thundercracker's first day of work, so he headed across the hall rather than spend another day bored out of his mind watching Starscream science. When Slingshot opened the door, Skywarp gave him his very best "please don't shoot me" smile.

"So this is a thing now," Slingshot asked, "the power is down and you show up?" He didn't wait for an answer, but he did let Skywarp in.

"I hope the power doesn't go out that often," the Seeker said. "What are you guys up to?"

Slingshot went back to clearing cans off the counter into a plastic bag, Skydive was peeking around the corner with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, and Fireflight was sitting on the couch. Skywarp sat next to him, waving to Skydive as he passed. Skydive returned the wave and retreated back to the bathroom.

"We're going grocery shopping," Fireflight said, not looking up from the shoe he was trying to tie one-handed.

"Here, lemme help." Skywarp took the laces from him, and let Fireflight put his foot in his lap. "How's your arm? TC told me what happened."

Fireflight shrugged. "It's not so bad, just really hard to only have one hand, you know?"

"I could tell you stories," Skywarp said, trying to figure out how to tie a shoe from the other direction. His stupid wet brain had completely blanked on how to make a knot. "He was totally impressed, though."

Fireflight flushed red. "Well, it's not like I'm used to this."

"Huh? No, not like that." Skywarp's processor jumped over to what red humans meant, then how Fireflight could be mad about what he'd said, and when it jumped back, it managed to pull up how to tie the laces. Upside-down, but it was better than staring stupidly at them. "No, he was sincerely impressed by how you were all not-hysterical."

"Oh."

Skywarp patted his foot, leaned down and picked up the other shoe. "Switch," he prompted.

Slingshot walked by as Fireflight smiled at him and said "Thank you."

"Do you really have to flirt with both of them?" Slingshot demanded, collecting the pyramid of cans from the desk.

"Well, yeah," Skywarp answered for Fireflight. "Flirting with Thundercracker is flirting with me by proxy, didn't you know that? Switch," he repeated.

"At least Starscream's not involved," Slingshot muttered, walking away.

Fireflight put his bare foot in Skywarp's lap, and hugged his other knee to his chest. "So I'm taking you out to lunch too?"

"If you want," Skywarp shrugged, slipping the shoe on Fireflight's foot. "Unless we're going to get you in trouble?"

"Oh, no," Fireflight rolled his eyes. "You are not going to believe me, but he approves of you."

Skywarp tied the laces. "You're right, I don't believe you."

"Well, he didn't say anything to you." Fireflight shrugged. "He didn't know about the proxy thing. I did, because I hear better than he does. And he's got this thing where he assumes everyone is a hot mess like he is so in his head, it made sense. And he knows that he's, um, sharp, so he…you look confused."

Skywarp grinned at him. "As long as we're on the same screen with the proxy thing, 'cause that'll save a lot of time." He patted Fireflight's foot and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

"He really does like you though," Fireflight said, not taking his foot back.

"As long as he's not going to shoot me, I don't care if he likes me," Skywarp said, sliding his hand up just as far as Fireflight's knee. Even if the Aerialbot had never been a Seeker, surely he couldn't mistake it?

"I like you," Fireflight said, shyly, putting his hand over Skywarp's.

By the door, Slingshot dropped the bag of cans. Twice. "You guys coming or what?"

"Do you want to come with us?" Fireflight asked, standing up and offering a hand to Skywarp.

Skywarp took it, and stood up very close to Fireflight, close enough to feel the warmth of him. Fireflight was a few inches taller than him, he wasn't used to having to look up even that little bit. "We could let them go, and we could go…get lunch."

"They'll need help with all the bags if the elevator's still out, though." Fireflight stepped away, tugging Skywarp along. "Besides, I don't owe you lunch."

"Ah, but I helped you with your shoes," Skywarp said, ignoring the silent looks Skydive gave their hands. And how Slingshot tried to hand off the bag of cans to him.

"That is coffee, tops," Fireflight said. "Maybe coffee and a donut."

"Does this donut have sprinkles?"

Between breaking up the food fight that morning –not a real fight, just the regular cyberhorseplay that tended to occur when all five Aerialbots were in the same place at the same time without some sort of distraction- picking up a second car, and the time difference, Silverbolt didn't call Hot Spot until after his shift on Decepticon-watch. It was a bright day, warm but not too hot in the shade, and it reminded Silverbolt of the time when he and Hot Spot had sat outside, Hot Spot's back to his chest and his arms crossed over the fire truck, plugged together at the wrist and they'd 'faced slowly, sweetly, all afternoon long. And nobody had interrupted them, and nobody had said anything when they came in together, even though Hot Spot had still been glowing, and nobody had put the fear of Ratchet into their brothers to make it happen.

And then in the middle of a meal that was dangerously close to all ten of them getting along Blitzwing had stomped all over a Raiders game, but nothing was perfect. The Raiders had been having a good season, too.

Hot Spot answered the phone with, "So Streetwise convinced First Aid that the toad, being used to humans taking care of it for its entire life, would never survive in the wild. Now we have a pet toad."

Silverbolt laughed, for the first time in far too long. "Well, they say pets teach responsibility."

"Now they're arguing about putting crickets in the fridge. How are you?"

"I'm…okay," Silverbolt said. "Better than last night."

"I'm glad," Hot Spot said, and Silverbolt could hear the smile in his voice. "You can always call me."

"I will," Silverbolt promised, and that was the end of it. If Silverbolt wasn't quite a hundred percent ready to forgive Fireflight for that little stunt, or up to dealing with Air Raid's latest drama, he could at least fake it well enough until it was real. And Hot Spot knew that, had to know that after so long, but Hot Spot cared enough to spare Silverbolt's pride, and trusted Silverbolt to tell him if it was different.

So now Hot Spot would tell some completely ridiculous story about his brothers, and Silverbolt would, depending on the ridiculousness of the story, perhaps remind him of that first time they'd spent together in the shadow of the mountain without being interrupted, for as long as they wanted.

But Hot Spot wasn't saying anything, and after thirty seconds of silence, an eternity for the Protectobot leader, Silverbolt asked, "What did Slingshot do?"

Hot Spot hesitated, and then said, "How did you know it was Slingshot?"

Because it was always Slingshot. "Because he spent half the night hunched over his phone, even though the power was still out and he didn't have a way to charge it." Silverbolt had left the car charger with them, but he drew the line at driving in circles just to charge a phone.

"You know how Blades and Slingshot tell each other everything?"

"You mean when they're speaking to each other?" Silverbolt asked. Slingshot tried to keep his relationship with Blades private, something that he didn't have to share with his brothers, and as much as they tried to respect that, merging still meant Silverbolt knew far too much about what Blades like to get up to. And even without merging, whenever the right arms fought, the rest of the gestalts suffered for it.

It wouldn't be so bad, except both Superion and Defensor were right-handed. That made for a lot of fights, between two mechs who knew exactly how to make it hurt. "Wait, are they speaking to each other?"

"They haven't fought since First Aid got mugged," Hot Spot said. It wasn't that Silverbolt doubted Hot Spot, but it would have been nice to just know that, to know Slingshot would have kept him updated on the on-again off-again of his best friendship. It also would be nice if Fireflight didn't make poor choices and if Skydive made a friend who wasn't part of one gestalt or another, while Silverbolt was wishing for the impossible. "Blades didn't tell me this until this morning, I would have told you right away," Hot Spot continued, and his dancing around the subject gave Silverbolt a horrible falling feeling in his tanks, "and I'm not trying to get him in trouble, neither of us are, I want you to know this."

"Where did he hide the body?" Silverbolt said, hoping it was just a joke that fell terrible flat.

"What? No, there was no body, he didn't kill anybody. He told Blades that he told you he was fired because of the gun, but he also told Blades that he really got fired because he refused to take off his sunglasses."

"I suppose that makes more sense than Slingshot being irresponsible with a gun," Silverbolt sighed in relief. "I knew I could trust him."

"But he lied to you!"

"He got the important part right," Silverbolt said, "so it's okay."

Over the line, he could hear Hot Spot shaking his head. "I can't believe you're okay with him lying."

"Triage," Silverbolt said, wondering what was in the text Air Raid had sent. Hopefully he hadn't been arrested. "You taught me that. This isn't new, in fact, he told Blades the whole truth so that's actually an improvement." He'd tried to explain this to Hot Spot before, but Hot Spot never seemed to get it. "He's never quite been on speaking terms with the truth, and things haven't changed enough that it's not for the same reason. But Fireflight's hiding injuries and calling Seekers for help, which is new and not something we know how to work around."

"I guess that would be worse," Hot Spot said, though he didn't sound completely convinced. The Protectobots were all funny about the truth sometimes. Superion had said once it was because none of them had ever had areason to lie, so they didn't understand why people did.

"And, honestly, it's harmless," Silverbolt said. "Like I said, triage." Triage, and tiredness, and at least Slingshot was talking to someone. Last night, he'd even agreed to join the jet-pile instead of dragging Air Raid off to the couch. Fireflight, on the other hand, had taken the missing link, and the authorization that Silverbolt should have never gotten for him, and twisted that into…Silverbolt wasn't even sure what, but he'd totaled a car. He could have died and he didn't even bother calling? That wasn't a scouting mission, that was hiding and he knew better. Slingshot at least had the decency to be ashamed of himself.

No, Silverbolt wasn't quite ready to forgive Fireflight yet.

The store was big, the parking lot big, bigger than any building Skywarp had been in yet except the airports. It was very near the store Starscream had made him work at, and from what the Aerialbots said, near where Air Raid worked as well. It was fairly crowded; Skydive ended up parking rather far from the door. "So this is where you guys do grocery shopping?" Skywarp asked, getting out of the car and stretching.

"Where do you get food?" Slingshot asked, his head in the trunk.

"Fast food, mostly. The one with the big number on the corner for coffee and stuff."

Fireflight frowned at him. "But, they don't have real food."

"They have coffee." Skywarp shrugged and grinned. "I give up. Why are you carrying around a bag of empty cans?"

"Doesn't he know about the deposit?" Skydive asked.

"Maybe they don't drink out of cans?" Slingshot suggested.

"Why would I know about their drinking habits?" Skydive wondered.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching them?"

"Am I supposed to be watching them more than you?"

Fireflight sighed and looked at Skywarp. "Do you know how long they can go on like this?"

"Sixteen hours, twelve minutes and eight seconds?" Skywarp guessed.

"How did you know that?" Slingshot demanded.

"Maybe he just got lucky?" Skydive speculated.

"Maybe he's a spy?"

"Do you two mind if we go start without you?" Fireflight asked. It was kind of funny, watching him twitch, and kind of weird; this was the closest to flustered Skywarp had ever seen him, and for no good reason.

"Where are they going?"

Pausing to wait for a car to pass, both Slingshot and Skydive grinned at Fireflight. "I really hate this game," he muttered. "They're going to go return the cans, they'll get ten cents back for each one."

"Bye, loser," Slingshot waved. Skydive passed a slip of paper –Skywarp assumed it was a shopping list- to Fireflight and followed him.

Skywarp blinked. "What was that?"

"That was a stupid game they play," Fireflight said, leading Skywarp towards a different door. "You answer a question with a question as long as you can. It's really stupid."

It sounded like an awesome way to torque someone's nosecone. "Yeah," Skywarp agreed, walking through the automatic doors, "sounds pretty…"

He stopped.

There was a pile of apples in front of him. A whole pile, taller than he was, and another behind it, and another behind that, and off to his left was a bank of cash registers but to his right was just stacks and stacks of food. Food just sitting there, no guards, no cages, no tethers, just lying out where anyone could pick it up and walk off with it. More vegetables than he'd seen in one place, he could just walk right up to it and pick up an apple or a banana or he didn't even know what that green thing was, but there was nothing stopping him from taking them all.

"Hey," Fireflight nudged him. "Hey, you okay?"

"There's a lot of food," Skywarp heard himself say, as if from a great distance. He needed to report this, or make sure it wasn't a hallucination or something.

"Yeah, this half's all food," Fireflight said, taking his hand and steering him away from the door. Half of this building was devoted to food? Skywarp had known that humans didn't have fuel shortages quite the same way as Cybertron's energon shortages, that Earth's problem was more distribution than supply, but this was the first time he'd actually seen it.

"There's a lot of food," Skywarp repeated, squeezing Fireflight's hand. He reminded himself that he was a Decepticon, a goddamn Seeker, and he didn't embarrass Starscream by standing around staring like some idiot who'd never seen a plant before. He could take one of those carts and put all the food in it and push it right out the door and nobody could stop him. There were no guards. No guards at all. Just a giant pile of unguarded food right by the door.

Fireflight brought one of those carts over to where Skywarp was standing. Right, he had come with the Aerialbots, who had very definite opinions about Decepticons resupplying themselves. Okay, he still had some of his allowance in his pocket. He could buy food, with money, and take it home, and eat it, and come back later and they would still have it. There were prices posted, and he wasn't up on how expensive food was compared to rent, but out of his allowance he could buy…a lot of apples. He could buy three apples and three bananas and three of those green things.

"Do you know," Skywarp shook his head. No, Fireflight didn't know, he remembered, and it was Thundercracker's job to tell him, not Skywarp's, thank Primus and Starscream for small favors. "Gimme a minute, I have to…just gimme a minute."

He took a picture, and texted it to his wingmates without a comment. He could just walk over and pick up an apple and eat it. Starscream texted him back and asked him to buy a potato. Thundercracker told him "I'm at work this is hard enough leave me alone ill look at it later."

Well, Starscream was an idiot and Thundercracker hadn't opened the attachment. Did they even have potatoes? Also, how hard a time was Thundercracker having that he'd forgot grammar?

"Are you sure you're okay?" Fireflight asked.

"Yeah," Skywarp said. "I'm supposed to bring back a potato."

"Okay." Fireflight smiled at him. "Those are…this way?"

There were four different kinds of potatoes; Skywarp grabbed one of each for Starscream, and three apples, and three of those green things, and something called a yam Fireflight said was good when microwaved. Skydive's list had apples on it, and onions, and a few other vegetables Skywarp couldn't match the names to. There must have been something wrong with the cart; it kept pulling itself towards the right and bumping into the displays. Or Skywarp's ankle. It reminded Skywarp of the time with Wildrider, except this time nobody was going to come beat someone half to death with his own arm.

Bread was next on the list, and on their way to that aisle, Fireflight stopped the cart. "I don't think they have any donuts with sprinkles."

There was a glass display case full of donuts in front of them, and it took Skywarp a second to remember. "Oh, hey, these have jelly." He found the waxed paper and took one.

"You are seriously buying him a donut?" Slingshot asked. "Seriously?" Skywarp did not jump. He was in no way surprised by two Aerialbots sneaking up on him. And he definitely didn't check to see if he'd been shot when he wasn't looking.

"Yes," Fireflight said, unconcerned by his brothers' sudden appearance. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Even for you, that's fast."

Fireflight smiled at him, and something about the way he tilted his head reminded Skywarp of Starscream receiving a comm. "You know the best thing about being gestalt?" he asked. "I get to learn from his mistakes, too."

Slingshot scowled, and for a moment Skywarp thought he was going to just punch somebody. He went as far as curling his hands into fists, before jerking the cart away from Fireflight and heading towards the bread.

Skydive said, "Take your time with the donut," and followed him, nearly running to catch up.

They disappeared around the corner, and Skywarp turned to Fireflight. "What the hell was that?"

Fireflight held out a small paper bag for Skywarp to drop the donut in, and shrugged. "Just 'cause he can't help being a jerk doesn't mean he gets to get away with it."

Skywarp folded the bag shut. He recognized history when he heard it, though he wouldn't have thought the babies had been online long enough to have history. "I thought you guys," he said, meaning Autobot gestalts in general, "were supposed to like each other and get along?"

He had the feeling Fireflight was making the effort to not laugh at him. "What does one have to do with the other?"

Skywarp spread his hands and shrugged. If he knew the answer to that, he wouldn't have to worry about his wingmates killing each other.

"Besides," Fireflight said, heading off in the direction the other two had gone, "he's jealous of me getting hurt."

"That doesn't make sense," Skywarp said, following Fireflight. They passed more aisles, more food just sitting out.

"Yesterday, he had a bad day, but mine was worse so I got all the attention and now he's all jealous."

"Okay," Skywarp said slowly. He caught a glimpse of Skydive going around the corner at the other end of the aisle and headed towards him. "Sure, that makes sense."

Fireflight followed. "He is as he was coded. Do you think the power will be back on soon?"

"I hope so," Skydive said. He had a faint frown on his face, like he was wishing for eye lasers.

"There was an electrician's truck in the parking lot earlier," Slingshot added. He didn't so much as look at Skywarp funny.

"How did you know it was an electrician?" Skywarp hadn't seen one, but he'd left before dawn.

"Because it said "electrician" on the side, geek." Slingshot rolled his eyes hard enough that everyone could tell, despite the sunglasses.

But that was it; Slingshot wouldn't take any bait Skywarp dangled for him, no matter how stupid the question. Skydive stepped on his foot once, when Skywarp volunteered to go drag Fireflight away from the candy display, but didn't say anything to Skywarp himself. Skywarp gathered that was just the quiet Aerialbot's way, and didn't mind. Maybe he'd throw Thundercracker at him, they could sit there and be quiet together, or maybe Skydive was smart enough for Starscream to talk to. Skywarp wasn't smart enough, and Thundercracker couldn't think sideways enough, and though Starscream generally found something else wrong with whoever Skywarp dug up to talk to him, that didn't mean Skywarp was going to stop trying. It wasn't healthy to not have friends outside the wing.

And while Skywarp would bet that at least three of the Aerialbots weren't going to hurt him, and one wasn't going to hurt Thundercracker, he had no such confidence about Starscream. Then again, Starscream seemed to still be busy with science –he'd given Skywarp another list of stuff to bring home and he was getting to the end of his notebook.

His musing were interrupted by Fireflight –Fireflight had kept nudging him along through the whole store, which somehow managed to not be annoying. Mostly because the Aerialbot was so earnest about it, not mocking at all. Skywarp suspected that Starscream secretly wanted to poach the Aerialbots entirely, and if they did, wow, Fireflight would be eaten alive.

Then again, he was really hard to shoot down and apparently really good at getting Slingshot to shut up, so maybe he'd be fine.

Also, Skywarp had kept getting distracted by the sheer variety of food. Not just more than one breakfast food, but more than one kind of cereal. And more than one brand of each flavor. There were more choices of tortilla chips than Skywarp could remember forms of energon. So it wasn't like Fireflight was asking out of the sun. "I'm still okay," he said.

"Did you need anything besides the potato?" Fireflight asked him. "Because we're done and they're in line."

"No, I'm good," Skywarp said, then remembered, "My stuff's all on the bottom. Lemme get it out."

Skydive waved him off. "Don't worry about it," he said. "We'll just put it all together and figure it out later."

Skywarp was going to argue about Autobot charity, or possibly thank him, but before he could decide, his phone went off. "I really hope that's not TC bugging out and shooting people," Skywarp said, poking open the message.

"call me," it read. "i is glad hearing yous alive. Astrotrain."

Chapter Text

If it's crazy, and it works, it's not crazy.

"So did Thundercracker massacre his co-workers?" Skydive asked, setting the potatoes on the self-checkout station.

"No," Skywarp said, not looking up from his phone. "Wasn't him." He stood there, texting someone, until Fireflight took him by the elbow and steered him past where Skydive and Slingshot were bagging groceries, over to the bench. He'd had to lead Skywarp through nearly the entire store like that, the Decepticon fascinated by the sheer variety of food.

Maybe the amount, too. Not all the Decepticon raids were about energon, but a good portion of them had been. Skydive squashed down the plume of sympathy trying to bubble up in his spark; the Autobots got by just fine by working with organics. Surely the Decepticons could have done the same?

Or perhaps it was just Skywarp. Fireflight had herded him through the store quite effectively, considering. Then again, they were at the store nearly every day, buying one thing or another to keep their human bodies in reasonable condition. Meijers was now familiar enough that Fireflight didn't need to touch every last thing, and after so long being on the receiving end, was it so surprising he was so effective at keeping Skywarp moving?

Skydive put the last of the bags in the cart and waved at the two on the bench. Fireflight waved back, nearly clonking himself in the head with his own cast.

Skydive loved his brother, he really did. And he knew that Fireflight didn't get himself in trouble for fun –that was Air Raid. But he was not taking Fireflight back to the hospital if his brother gave himself a concussion out of sheer spacey-ness.

Skywarp was still focused on his phone; Fireflight had to tug on his arm twice to get him following. He'd been bad throughout the store, but nothing like this. Only Slingshot's reflexes kept the Seeker from walking off the curb in front of a car. He did come down enough to help load the bags in the car, at least until his phone played the distinctive ringtone Fireflight had selected for Starscream.

"The power's back on," Skywarp said. While a text from Silverbolt a few minutes later confirmed the restoration of electricity, humans generally didn't turn white as Skyfire used to be after hearing good news.

Skydive was driving, so Slingshot had checked Skydive's phone. Slingshot hadn't sulked much throughout the trip –well, sulked much for Slingshot, which meant he only tried to start two fights even though Fireflight was intentionally aiming for glass. Skydive was downright proud of his brother's self-control. He wasn't surprised by it though; of all the Aerialbots, Slingshot was the best at putting aside his emotions to focus on the mission. Taking Skywarp, a Decepticon more known for pushing mechs down staircases gleefully than standing around disgruntledly, taking such a mech anywhere in public certainly counted as a mission. Aside from the trap they were laying for Megatron, none of the Aerialbots wanted to explain to human authorities their current situation. That was a political minefield best left to Prime and Jazz.

"Silverbolt says he knows," Slingshot whispered to Skydive a moment later, pulling him out of his reverie. "Did you tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"About what I told you?"

"Have I ever before?"

"How else would he know?"

"Maybe he's psychic?"

Fireflight had been staring out the window the entire way back, hypnotized yet again by the swoop of power lines, but Skydive felt his head thunk against the back of the driver's seat as the two of them went around and around in verbal circles until they arrived back at the base. Skydive hadn't told Silverbolt about the sunglasses or the shampoo, but Silverbolt had a way of finding things out, a certain gimlet stare he'd picked up from Prime that strongly encouraged volunteering information before he got angry. Perhaps Air Raid had told, Air Raid folded like a cheap suit if anybody looked at him sideways. Or perhaps Fireflight had; Silverbolt hadn't said anything yet about totaling the car or ducking into the repair bay with a Seeker instead of a brother, and diverting Silverbolt's attention was certainly in his repertoire. Fireflight was more likely to have found out on his own too, he was far more observant than Air Raid. There were rocks and minibots more observant than Air Raid.

With Skywarp's help, even though he was almost as distracted as Fireflight on a bad day, they were able to get everything in one trip, and the elevator was working. On the top floor, it opened to reveal Silverbolt and Starscream, standing side by side, with identical, unhappy expressions. Thundercracker was there too, lurking on the other side of Silverbolt, and he handed a chocolate milkshake to his wingmate after Silverbolt relieved Skywarp of the six-pack of beer.

Silverbolt turned Prowl's patented unamused "if you tell me now I may show you mercy" stare onto a nonplussed Starscream. "Now, what is this all about."

"Not in the middle of the hallway," Starscream said, leading the way to the Aerialbot's apartment. He didn't have a key, and Silverbolt took his time letting them in.

Air Raid was in there already, and he made a beeline for Fireflight. Skydive knew why; he felt better on Slingshot's six himself.

The Decepticons positioned themselves in the living room like they always did –Thundercracker by the window, Skywarp on the floor in front of one end of the couch, Starscream claiming one of the chairs as a throne. All three separated, all three in Slingshot's line of fire, the Aerialbots between them and the door. Casual superiority, rubbing it in that the Aerialbots were not a threat? Or trying to disarm, by putting themselves at Autobot mercy? Skywarp slurped his milkshake. There was a third option –Thundercracker liked windows, who knew what went on in Starscream's head, and Skywarp was equidistant from the two of them. It could just be a coincidence.

And it could be a coincidence that they were in Detroit, in the same building, across the Primus-damned hall.

"Astrotrain has contacted us," Starscream said, timing Silverbolt's breaking point perfectly. "There is a slim chance the elite Decepticon forces might descend upon Detroit."

Slingshot snorted a laugh. "Good. We can take them."

Starscream raised an elegant eyebrow at Silverbolt. "I thought you might appreciate the time to prepare."

"Thank you for the warning," Silverbolt said, so chilly Skydive half-expected snowflakes to fall from his lips.

"You're welcome," Starscream said, meeting Silverbolt's coldness with mocking warmth. "I look forward to seeing what you do to them."

"I guess you guys are leaving," Fireflight said to his hands, folded in his lap. Slingshot nudged Skydive's ankle; sure Fireflight was laying it on a bit thick, but he was the one who'd been trained by Jazz, and whatever else he said, Skydive trusted his brother's judgment.

Skydive missed how Starscream's eyes flicked to Thundercracker, so fast no-one but Fireflight and Skywarp caught it. He assumed it happened, and Fireflight confirmed it later, when Skywarp asked, "Oh, you two are talking now?" Skydive thought he wanted to throw the milkshake.

"Nothing's changed," Thundercracker ground out. Skydive could practically see his wings flare.

"Of course we're not leaving," Starscream told Air Raid, Air Raid being the person farthest away from Thundercracker. "Why would we do that?"

"Because, um, I don't know," Air Raid said. "I'm not as crazy as you."

Skydive stepped on Slingshot's foot before he could say something indelicate about Air Raid, Starscream, and the relative insanity of both. Silverbolt sighed, and said, "Slingshot, do you have something you want to share with us?"

Slingshot huffed, folded his arms, realized how much that made him look like Thundercracker, scowled and unfolded them. "It's like hunting Breakdown," he told his brothers. "You make a big noise and see if he spooks. If they stay, Buckethead might think they're just regular weird humans. If they take off, he'll know it's them for sure."

Something, Skydive didn't know what, made Fireflight perk up. "If they come anyways?" he asked.

"You can take 'em," Skywarp said, staring mournfully into his now-empty milkshake.

"You mean we can shield you, while they put on a show," Skydive said, more bitter than he wished. He needed all the fact to formulate a strategy. That didn't mean he had to like them.

"Huh?" Skywarp asked. Starscream rolled his eyes.

"We put on the show," Thundercracker said, indicating himself and both his wingmates by waving his hand in a chandelle. "They…don't."

Silverbolt looked at him. "Really," he said, putting whole paragraphs of meaning in the single word.

"They might avoid you altogether; they'll certainly know you're here," Starscream said. Skydive had said Superion was a terrible alias, but nobody had listened to his suggestion to come up with a better one. "They have a healthy respect for your abilities. Something about a giant purple griffin and the Combaticons versus three of you?"

All the Aerialbots looked at Fireflight. He gave them a sheepish smile. "I got lost," he said for the ten thousandth time. "And anyways, Slingshot was there, he could have helped."

"I was missing my weapons console! And I still took out that …tentacled thing!"

"Took it out on a date, maybe," Air Raid snickered. "It sure liked you."

Slingshot threw a potato at Air Raid. Air Raid grinned, and Silverbolt raised his eyebrows and pointed at the two of them, the warning as clear as it was silent.

"Oh, for the love of," Thundercracker said, when Silverbolt resumed trying to kill him with eye lasers. "Look, what do you think would happen if Starscream told Ramjet "hey, we're going easy on those new Autobot planes?"

"He would fail spectacularly and blow the ruse?" Air Raid guessed.

The Seekers considered that for a minute. Starscream nodded, Skywarp smirked, and Thundercracker agreed, "Yes, if the Coneheads tried, they would fail. But they wouldn't try. They'd run right to Megatron and we'd be given two rotations to bring him your heads, or ours would be his shiniest new energon decanters."

"That's…pretty specific," Skydive murmured.

Starscream smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Skydive –not you, another Skydive- and his trine weren't very good at tracking."

"So you're changing your story?" Silverbolt asked.

"Refining it," Thundercracker growled, frustrated. "Since you didn't understand the first time. You really thought there was an armada-wide conspiracy to save your sorry afts?"

It had seemed plausible enough, given what other Autobots had said, minus the part where Starscream was involved. Silverbolt conceded the point to Thundercracker with a nod, though, since anyone with wings could easily see the yawning chasm between the Coneheads' skills and Starscream's, and there had been more than a few close calls for each of them under Ratchet's hand.

Starscream clapped his hands together. "So if you hear gunfire, please feel free to intervene. We'll be staying put." He stood up. "And we can take care of ourselves, should you be busy." Skywarp left his cup on the floor and followed his wingleader to the door. Thundercracker did too, tossing Skywarp's cup into the garbage as an excuse on his way.

"Wait," Silverbolt said, and Skydive knew the look in his optics. It was the look he got right before he came up with some brilliant plan to get them all killed. "Skydive, go with them. Make sure their base is defensible."

Starscream raised an eyebrow at Silverbolt.

"Have you ever studied defense on the ground?" Silverbolt challenged. "Skydive has."

"If you don't mind me borrowing his…talents." Starscream managed to make that sound vaguely obscene. Air Raid thought the same thing, whispered something in Fireflight's ear that made him flush. Thundercracker's hand twitched, as if he was repressing the urge to facepalm.

Skydive didn't bother. "I need Slingshot and Fireflight," he said from behind his hand. Silverbolt would explain later, he trusted. It wasn't that he doubted Silverbolt's decision. There was something behind it, there always was. But that something bore no resemblance to any form of logic Skydive had ever heard of, and sometimes led to large stockpiles of energon exploding. But if it kept the Seekers where they could keep a couple of sensors on them, Skydive wasn't going to argue.

"Fireflight, go with them." Silverbolt looked at Slingshot. "Slingshot will be along in a few minutes."

Air Raid snickered; the sound echoed oddly, and Skydive realized Skywarp was snickering too. Silverbolt wasn't very good at keeping a straight face, Slingshot was worse, and everyone was suddenly aware that Silverbolt had been upset before he heard about Astrotrain. Well, Skydive had tried to pull Slingshot out of the fire.

"Do you want me to set up the thing like I did here?" Fireflight asked. "Because if you do, I'm going to need more non-dairy creamer after."

"Non-dairy creamer?" Starscream repeated, hand still on the door handle.

"Don't ask," Skydive said. "He'll demonstrate."

Fireflight just smiled.

Skyfire spent six years in deep space for the Autobots once. To him, it was simply a brief trip out to survey Jupiter's moons. He hadn't expected much to change while he was gone –assuming he didn't crash into ice again. And even then, the Autobots needed him too much to leave him.

Nothing had changed substantially while he was gone; the war continued, the Decepticons searched for new sources of energy with which to wipe out the Autobots, and the Autobots attempted to negotiate enough energy from the inhabitants of Earth to retake Cybertron, plus supply all the Autobots off-world. The Aerialbots all became experts at medical transport. Starscream betrayed Megatron and ran away, but was welcomed back after the Autobots defeated him.

The exact details Skyfire never asked for. All he knew was that there had been a human accused of colluding with Starscream, and when the Autobots dismantled their underground lair, they saw too much potential in the machines to destroy them. As near as Perceptor could tell, Starscream had been tweaking bacteria into producing energon. Pink alchemy had been dismissed in Skyfire's day as only theoretical, and not worth the investment, but Starscream was the first to try it in single-celled organisms. He'd had some success with the Bifidobacterium family, before the Autobots had put a stop to him. Even if it seemed harmless, they couldn't risk Starscream throwing a temper tantrum and trying to blow up the planet. Again.

Starscream had invested a lot in the idea of pink alchemy with lower forms of life, creating a machine dedicated solely to manipulating genes. It was, surprisingly easy to convince it to work on zebrafish zygotes. Maybe not, they had been partners when Starscream was a scientist.

The survival rate of specimens took a hit, but given the sheer number of zebrafish gametes he had, Skyfire didn't have any shortage of embryos to watch develop over their three-day gestation period. Still, there was a lot of tinkering with just how much of that extra chromosome needed to be inserted, and where to insert it, and then he discovered that the models needed nearly twice the iron of the control group. Finally, he had one generation of breedable specimens, and their eggs were just as transparent as the control generation.

Skyfire watched, in real-time, as the cells divided, and at the fourteenth somite stage saw the first anomaly. Most, or all, of the extra iron was collecting in the third somite pair on each specimen. As they uncurled through the pharyngula phase, the iron shifted and moved, becoming more angular, more mechanical. Then the pigmentation clouded over, blocking his view through the microscope. Some of them Skyfire set aside, for dissection, and some he observed hatch. The transgenic fish seemed no different from the control fish; after three days, those that survived the larval stage swam and ate and bred much as the control fish. The next generation did as well.

In the sectioned larvae, Skyfire found two tiny bits of metal that had, impossibly, grown into specific shapes –a wobbly sphere and a more rectangular prism. An iron-wide filament, no wider than spider's silk, connected the two. He mounted one on his most powerful microscope –almost as powerful as Perceptor should be- and zoomed in as much as he could.

But he couldn't see anything other than iron, arranged by cellular forces he only dimly understood, for a purpose he could not guess.

By the time the Aerialbots left to purchase more non-dairy creamer, Skywarp felt considerably better.

Starscream had taken their phones back into his laboratory-slash-personal quarters, to extract whatever header data he could from the message each of them had received from Astrotrain. Fireflight had received one as well, halfway through setting up his bombs, and Starscream took that as confirmation that Astrotrain was simply sending out mass texts, hoping for a response.

Skydive stood in their apartment silently for a few minutes, until Slingshot came in the unlocked door with his ears burning. Then the strategy-minded Aerialbot had directed his brother and Skywarp into re-arranging the furniture for maximum defensive cover, while Fireflight showed Thundercracker how to mix up something close enough to firefog using stuff from the grocery store. Thundercracker liked weapons as much as the next Decepticon, which was to say less than his wingmates, but he paid attention and didn't get distracted by Fireflight's chest or impossibly blue eyes.

Which was, of course, why he built the bombs and Skywarp moved the couches.

He'd expected it to end up looking like the Aerialbot's apartment –after all, they had the same furniture- but Skydive had them stretching cords across paths and blocking offensive routes to the back, where the Aerialbot's layout was easier to walk through in the dark. Skywarp didn't know the first thing about groundpounder fighting, but Skydive put considerable thought into the placement of each piece of furniture, and Skywarp could appreciate the effort well enough.

Also, now they had bombs. Skywarp always felt better with bombs close to hand.

Starscream came out, inspected the arrangement, and returned to his lair without a word, which Skywarp helpfully translated as his version of a thank you. It wasn't, but no need to tell the Aerialbots that. Fireflight grinned at Thundercracker, and Slingshot all but dragged him after Skydive to get more supplies. Fireflight waved to Skywarp on the way out, a little waggle of his fingers that Skywarp couldn't help but return. Then they sat down on the couch, and waited.

Waiting was the worst. Waiting was always the worst. Thundercracker flipped on the television, but neither of them were paying much attention. "So," Skywarp said.

"I'll get some guns tomorrow," Thundercracker grunted. "Legal and everything."

Skywarp leaned against his wingmate. "Pistols?"

"Yeah, maybe a shotgun," Thundercracker shrugged. "Depends on how many they let me buy at once."

"That's good." Skywarp didn't really care. He just hated sitting in one place, waiting to get shot.

They watched a few commercials in silence, until Starscream came out and dropped their phones on Skywarp's lap. "I've narrowed them down to Miami," he announced, his back to Thundercracker. Skywarp wondered what would happen if he locked them in a closet together. Tonight, before they could shoot each other again. "I've got a tracer on the phone number now."

"Sure, fine, whatever. Where's Miami?" Skywarp asked. Thundercracker picked up the phones, fiddled with his.

"About thirteen hundred miles away," Starscream said. "I'll tell you if they come closer."

"Thanks for the warning," Skywarp said, sincerely, and then went back to staring at the television. So their execution would take a few days.

"They're firing in the dark." Starscream's voice was quiet. "They won't find us."

"You're the expert." Why wouldn't Starscream just go away?

Starscream huffed. "Look, he has to forgive us if I restore him."

"Forgive us for what?" Skywarp didn't look at his wingleader as he asked. Next to him, Thundercracker kept on ignoring Starscream because the two of them were fragging geeky rusty aftheads and he ought to hand them both over. "Milkshakes?"

Starscream didn't say anything, just turned and left. The door had barely closed behind him before Thundercracker dropped into Skywarp's lap, heavy and warm and here. Not something to take for granted, not always something they had, Thundercracker's weight on his legs –and he didn't always have legs, Thundercracker didn't always have knees on either side of Skywarp's hips, didn't always have arms to come up around his shoulders. Thundercracker reached up, cradled Skywarp's head in his hands, and Skywarp had a head, always had a head, but Thundercracker didn't always have hands, and quick as terminal velocity, soft as solar wind, they came together.

There was no use offlining sight, too much had changed, smell and feel and sound and Skywarp had hair now for Thundercracker to weave his fingers through and Skywarp didn't really understand his fascination with it but he didn't mind it in the least. They pressed their foreheads together, close as they could get, so close Skywarp couldn't focus, so close Thundercracker turned into a one-eyed shadow, and when Thundercracker blinked, Skywarp could feel the air stir. Close enough that long, stuttering ex-vent came out of Skywarp's mouth now and ghosted into Thundercracker's, obscenely intimate. Flesh gave under his fingers, and he was as gentle as he could be in a still-unfamiliar body, as he explored the still-new curves of Skywarp's jaw.

Kissing wasn't something a lot of Decepticons did, but Thundercracker guided Skywarp's head to the side and covered the teleporter's mouth with his own with the ease of long practice. They had mouths, had for a long time now, and kissing meant things. Meant they were both in the same place, at the same time, with arms and legs and heads and privacy, not precisely safe but not actively in danger, not going to die in the next five klicks. As good as they ever got.

Thundercracker had to break the kiss to talk to him though, and he said against Skywarp's mouth, "Like this, we can't survive the punishment he'll dole out."

"Dole out for what?" Skywarp demanded, fisting his hands in Thundercracker's shirt. They didn't have wings. It wasn't the first time for either of them but it was the first time it was the same time. They couldn't fly.

Thundercracker smiled, though Skywarp couldn't imagine what he was possibly smiling about. "For looking too much like Starscream." He kissed Skywarp again, thoroughly, not quite enough to make Skywarp's brain turn off. "He'll fix this, and we'll go home, and then it will be just another funny story, like Hydrus Five."

Hydrus Five hadn't been very funny.

But there was heat pooling in his belly, and far too many clothes on, and this was so much more complicated than it ought to be. Skywarp pulled away to tug Thundercracker's shirt off over his head and dragged dull claws down his back, where his airbrake was once. Thundercracker pressed back against the movement, shifting on his lap in interesting ways. Skywarp pressed his mouth to Thundercracker's bare chest. "I told Fireflight," Skywarp said, thinking about how doing this with the Aerialbot would be different.

"Told him what?" Thundercracker asked, undoing Skywarp's pants with an easy flick.

"About proxy flirting and he bought me a donut."

Thundercracker froze.

"He's cool with it," Skywarp said, looking up at his wingmate, who was shaking his head.

"Why would you even…"Thundercracker took a deep breath and put his hands on Skywarp's shoulders. "What were you thinking?"

"That he wants to swap paint with you, and I want to play with his boobs, and he said he likes me, and you want to do things with him that you don't even have words for," Skywarp said. It was screamingly obvious, but sometimes Thundercracker missed the screamingly obvious. That was okay, Skywarp was there to point it out to him. And push him along where he would stall and think too much.

Thundercracker shook his head. "Aerialbot, Skywarp. He's an Aerialbot."

"So?" Skywarp reached up to his wingmate, wrapped his arms around him. It wasn't quite a wingrub but it would have to do. "His brothers don't seem to mind."

"He's a baby Autobot," Thundercracker said into Skywarp's neck. That was good. That meant he wasn't sure he could say it with a straight face.

"Wouldn't be the first Autobot we shared," Skywarp reminded him, moving his hand in slow circles. "Do you not want him? Tell me I'm wrong."

"But he's a baby," Thundercracker repeated. "Do they even know what's going on?"

"They've learned the hard way," Skywarp said. "He knows. Do you want this?"

Thundercracker ignored the question, blindly finding Skywarp's hair. "What if he gets the wrong idea?"

"Well, TC, there's this thing I do called talking," Skywarp said, very patiently. "And then everyone's on the same jetstream. It's kinda like how you attempt to beam information into people's heads with your broody staring except it works."

Thundercracker stifled a laugh with Skywarp's shoulder. "We're going to get shot."

"Nope. Slingshot's totally cool with it," Skywarp said, turning his head against Thundercracker's and wiggling his hips. Thundercracker wasn't saying no, and usually he'd leave it at that, but he wanted to demonstrate the talking thing that Thundercracker failed at so spectacularly. "So you want this and I want this and he wants this, are we doing this?"

"Yeah," Thundercracker said, kissing him because he was there and they weren't going to die in the next five klicks and they were going to rediscover the best part of being human unless the television lied again. "Yeah, we're doing this."

Chapter Text

The bases of a baseball diamond are ninety feet apart.

After Astrotrain's text message, Silverbolt enjoyed three whole days without a crisis, for a given definition of "crisis." Nobody ended up in emergency repairs, nobody was arrested, and nobody hit anybody else. Nobody hit anybody else on purpose. And Slingshot was far more worried about his (thankfully unbroken) visor than the ugly purple mark on his forehead.

Fireflight had been truly sorry anyways.

Across the hall was quiet, though either Thundercracker or Skywarp turned up at least once day to see how Fireflight was doing. Skywarp had an odd fixation on the state of the Aerialbot's shoes, and Thundercracker had spent an entire afternoon hiding from Starscream on their couch. Silverbolt hadn't the heart to kick him out, not when the Seeker was talking to Skydive.

Silverbolt couldn't remember the last time he saw Skydive talking to someone who wasn't family or Prowl. Or Bluestreak, though that was more being talked at by the sniper than an actual conversation. He tried not to make it obvious that he was watching them, not wanting Skydive to remember that he was painfully shy, but he hadn't been able to resist texting Fireflight and asking him to run an errand, just so that Skydive would have someone's full attention that much longer.

And even after Fireflight had come home, drawing everyone's attention to himself without meaning to, Thundercracker kept asking Skydive to verify Fireflight's more outlandish stories. It wasn't that Fireflight lied, precisely. It was just that, when someone lived with a mech that built giant firebreathing robot dinosaurs who didn't have enough brains to tell their collective aft from a hole in the ground, it was hard to tell the difference between the truth and a joke. Especially when the truth was a joke. Apparently Rumble had once been turned into a tree, and that topped pretty much everything the Aerialbots had ever seen, except the Giant Purple Griffin. Nothing topped the Giant Purple Griffin. Hot Spot wasn't entirely convinced the whole episode wasn't an elaborate joke.

Silverbolt was cautiously optimistic, unlocking the apartment door. Skydive was at yet another job interview, Slingshot was at a different one, and the day before Fireflight had been called in by the company he interviewed with before his accident. The power was on, he couldn't smell any smoke, and there were no bubbles coming out from under anyone's door. He'd received an odd text from Air Raid about an hour ago, but Air Raid had meant to send that to Sideswipe.

Why Air Raid was sending Sideswipe pictures of himself, Silverbolt didn't know. Perhaps Sideswipe had forgotten what he looked like.

Still, it had been three whole days, so Silverbolt wasn't surprised when he opened the door to find Fireflight on the floor in front of the window, curled against a thoughtful Skydive, while Air Raid hovered above them.

"Maybe you can tell him at halftime?" Air Raid suggested.

"No," Skydive said, "it's the Eagles and the Cowboys, he's not emotionally invested enough in either."

"Emotionally invested enough for what?" Silverbolt asked, dropping to the floor next to them, his back to the window.

Fireflight just handed over a piece of paper silently. Silverbolt didn't unfold it quite yet. "Skydive, aren't you supposed to be...not here?"

"Er," Skydive said. "About that. You know how I was going to take the bus?"

"Was the schedule not right?" Silverbolt asked.

"The bus came," Skydive said. "It just didn't stop." Silverbolt blinked, waiting. "The light was green and it drove right by."

"Seriously," Air Raid said after a second. "You sure you didn't just have a Fireflight moment and not go to the right spot?"

Silverbolt felt Fireflight flinch. Whatever was on the paper must be pretty bad, though nobody was dented and nobody was in a hurry to get him to fix it, so it couldn't be too terrible. Sometimes his brothers didn't have much perspective, especially without Superion's experience to ground them, and Skydive mentioned skipping another interview like it was nothing, so clearly they thought it was a big deal. Next to the idea of Decepticons murdering them in their sleep, how bad could it be? Perhaps they were seeing ambushes in storms.

Then again, the Giant Purple Griffin had been backed up by Bruticus.

"I'm sure," Skydive said. "I'm not an idiot." Fireflight flinched again.

"Guys," Silverbolt said. "You mean the bus just drove right by and left you standing on the corner?"

"Yes," Skydive said. "No wonder nobody takes public transportation. It won't take them."

"We'll have to get two more cars then." Prime had said not to worry about it. Silverbolt planned on worrying about it anyways, but not out loud. He hadn't liked the idea of Skydive taking the bus anyways, didn't like the idea of him being trapped somewhere. "Then we can each have one."

"One more," Fireflight said, leaning against Silverbolt, which quite conveniently made it impossible for him to look his brother in the eye. He nudged the paper in Silverbolt's hand. "I guess here, they have rules about tickets and I didn't hurt anyone except myself, I don't even know why they care and it's not fair I paid the tickets and Air Raid knocked over a whole tree on purpose just because he could and I'm sorry I didn't do it on purpose and I didn't know and I did the best I could and nobody told me and I'm not a danger to other people, I'm not, you know I'd never hurt anyone, Silverbolt, not on purpose, and they can't…"

Silverbolt had to raise his voice and shake him a little to get his brother's attention, "Fireflight!" He continued, much softer, ignoring Skydive and Air Raid to focus entirely on Fireflight. "Fireflight, what did they say? Who said it?"

"The Secretary of State, I don't know who he is, he says that my license is suspended because I got too many tickets, and I can't drive for a year and then I have to retake the test and I thought the point of taking it the first time was proving…"

"Okay, okay," Silverbolt said, cutting him off before he could work himself back up. Fireflight's eyes were wet, and Silverbolt hugged him. "Okay, it's okay. It sucks, but we'll work around it."

"I'm sorry," Fireflight mumbled into Silverbolt's shirt, hugging him back.

"I know," Silverbolt said, tamping down the brief flicker of anger. He wasn't angry at Fireflight, not when he trusted that his brother to be careful –and Fireflight hadn't hurt anyone else. But this was going to be one rusty headache to work around.

"It wasn't like it was a big tree," Air Raid started.

"Go…get a pizza or something, Air Raid, please?" Silverbolt asked, feeling Fireflight wince. He looked to Skydive for backup.

"We need to go buy more chocolate ice cream and maxi pads," Skydive said. "Today."

"Okay, you two, go resupply and bring back dinner." Silverbolt nodded. "Thank you for keeping track, Skydive."

Air Raid reached down and squeezed Fireflight's shoulder before they left. Skydive didn't need to be told to take Silverbolt's purse with him.

Fireflight didn't seem inclined to move, and with his back to the window Silverbolt wasn't inclined to make him. "Are you mad at me?" Fireflight asked after a few minutes, worrying the hem of his shirt.

"No," Silverbolt said, "I know you tried your best. I can't be mad at you for that." He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out, and longing for Superion to come and fix this awkward inability for any of them to comfort Fireflight hit him strong and quick as lightning. "I wish I knew how to fix it."

"Are you going to get mad at Slingshot instead?"

"Not unless he does something stupid," Silverbolt reassured him. "I'll call Hot Spot later, do you mind if I tell him?"

Fireflight shrugged. "I guess not. It's not like everyone won't know soon enough."

They sat there until Air Raid and Skydive came back with supplies, pizza without pineapple, milkshakes, and Slingshot. Silverbolt was extra-careful to not flare up at anyone, even when the little jerk drank the last beer that he'd been saving for the football game.

"Thundercracker," Skywarp said, flinging himself upon his wingmate's mercy and knees, "you need to help me."

"No."

"But you made this hard!"

Thundercracker eyed him. "Made what hard?"

"Fireflight," Skywarp said, waving in the general direction of the front door, and the Aerialbot's apartment beyond it. "He refuses to let me do anything without you. 'Cause he thinks you'll be mad."

"He said the same thing about you." Thundercracker muted the TV. "And here we thought both of us at once would scare him off."

"I guess not." Skywarp shrugged. "Also a little bird told me that they might come over here later and we'd better be wearing pants around eight."

"That's awfully specific. And in five minutes."

"Raider's bringing Chinese food. He says it's not like real Chinese food so not to get too excited."

"Raider?" Thundercracker asked, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"It's open," Skywarp yelled.

"Hey," Air Raid said, bearing plastic bags of takeout. Slingshot was with him, carrying a half-empty box of soda cans, and Fireflight brought up the rear with chips and salsa.

"Where's Skydive?" Thundercracker asked. He snagged Fireflight as the Aerialbot walked by and pulled him unceremoniously down. Fireflight squeaked as he fell and again as Thundercracker wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against the Seeker. He looked to his brothers for help, but Slingshot just smirked and Air Raid handed him one of the bags of food.

Skywarp reached across Thundercracker and plucked the takeout from Fireflight's hand. "What's in here? Rice, soup, is that sweet and sour pork?"

Air Raid confirmed it at the same time Slingshot asked, "What the hell are you watching?"

"Some show of TC's, I don't know, it teaches you Spanish with horror or something."

The Aerialbots regarded the bright cartoon suspiciously as an anthormophoric map danced on the screen. "Real scary looking," Slingshot snorted, filching one of Air Raid's egg rolls. "Why?"

Thundercracker shrugged. "The people I work with speak Spanish; I seem to be a bit rusty." He caught Fireflight around the waist with his free hand. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I was just, um, going," Fireflight began, but Skywarp interrupted.

"Nope. Staying here." Thundercracker laughed when Skywarp manhandled Fireflight across their laps. Skywarp rested his chin on Fireflight's shoulder long enough to say, low so his brothers wouldn't hear, "Now we're all together."

Air Raid flashed his wingmate two thumbs up and asked, "So, how's this show go?"

Skywarp let Fireflight go long enough to take a can of soda from Slingshot, then pulled him back against his chest. "This five year old girl, she's going to a birthday party but there's monsters. Some of them only speak Spanish, which is totally a real language."

Thundercracker didn't repress the facepalm, but when he brought his hand down from his face, it not quite accidentally landed on Fireflight's knee. "Spanish is a real language spoken by millions of people, including my new coworkers."

"Remember our fifth birthday?" Fireflight asked, setting his can of soda down and leaning into Skywarp with a cup of soup.

Air Raid laughed. "That was the best."

"Maybe for you. First Aid passed out on me. He's heavy."

"You're heavier," Air Raid reminded Slingshot.

"What happened?" Skywarp reached around Fireflight to take some vegetables from Thundercracker. Thundercracker categorically refused to eat anything green, though the color didn't bother Skywarp at all.

"I don't really remember," Fireflight admitted. "We were in the medbay, and Ratchet gave me some of his good stuff. But Air Raid tells it the best."

"It was after Starscream and Dr. Arkeville tried to cure cancer, do you remember that fight?"

"Is that what they claimed?" Thundercracker murmured. "No, we had an unrelated difference of opinion."

"We did?" Skywarp asked, not recognizing the reference. Three years after the Aerialbots' creation, five after they woke up on this mudball, Starscream had gone manic again and they'd spent two whole years protecting him from himself while he tried to turn Cybertron back on single-handedly with nanobots or something. Skywarp didn't quite grasp all the science behind it, but Starscream had managed to free the Seekers left on Cybertron from Shockwave's energon stranglehold. Then the Autobots had come and stomped all over everything, and then Starscream's pet had died and he'd swung into self-destruction mode again.

"He sent you to Cybertron to pick up supplies and you sulked there for a while," Thundercracker reminded him. Skywarp hadn't sulked; he'd arrived on Cybertron with a bomb bay full of science and Starscream's authority. Skywarp had spent cycles on Cybertron supervising the construction of Starscream's pink nanobot generators and the reawakening of several more Seekers. Then he'd stuck around because introducing Misfire to ping-pong balls and superglue was something that couldn't be done when he was officially representing Starscream.

Starscream hadn't minded, he knew, or he wouldn't have put the scavengers at the top of the online list and sent the package over the space bridge, wrapped in glittery purple paper with a huge silver bow. Let it never be said Screamer didn't have a sense of humor.

Skywarp ran his finger idly across the top of Fireflight's cast. "We didn't put you in the medbay," he said. "What happened?"

"We had cake," Fireflight said, offering Skywarp some of his soup. "And Ratchet mixed the drinks because he felt sorry for us."

"You were high as Cosmos," Slingshot added, "and First Aid passed out on my legs."

Air Raid swallowed. "At least you had legs," he said. "But Wheeljack made a cake out of energon goodies, and Hoist brought paper party hats –somewhere's a picture of Silverbolt wearing one."

"I remember the hat." Fireflight nodded. "He tried to convince me that I'd hallucinated it but I saw the picture."

"Were you hurt badly?' Thundercracker asked, offering Fireflight some pork.

"No, one of the Dinobots mistook me for Thrust. Skydive got stepped on by Devastator though."

Thundercracker grimaced. "Been there, done that." Fireflight pressed closer against Thundercracker in silent sympathy. Skywarp followed, mostly to steal some meat for himself.

"Yeah, he kept forgetting what was going on," Slingshot scowled. "He'd ask, "where is Streetwise's torso plate?" every time he woke up and then wouldn't stay awake long enough for an answer."

"Where was Streetwise's torso plate?" Skywarp asked.

"Uh, for part of the dance it was on Silverbolt's lap, then Hot Spot put it up for safekeeping when Groove brought out the energummis of doom and First Aid fell over on it."

"The dance?"

"He's a really good pole dancer," Fireflight said. "You wouldn't think it to look at him but he is."

Thundercracker shook his head. "You guys have an interesting life."

Air Raid shrugged. "Streetwise owed me."

"Remind me to never be in your debt," Skywarp laughed.

"You already are. You owe me twenty bucks, remember? From the dishwasher."

"No?"

"Totally," Air Raid said. "When you were filling out the application."

"I do remember that," Thundercracker said, putting down his now-empty takeout carton and picking up the remote. "Tell you what, Air Raid, when I get my allowance Friday, I'll pay you back and then take it out of his plating."

Well, that had interesting implications, Skywarp thought.

"You get an allowance?" Slingshot asked.

"You don't?" That seemed mean, even for Autobots. Probably figured that their mechs had food and shelter and ammo, what else did they need?

"No, we do, it's just…who gives it to you?"

"Starscream, who else? We give him our money and he pays all the bills and then whatever's left over we get an allowance."

"And you trust him?" Slingshot demanded.

Skywarp shrugged. "Of course. He's our wingleader. That's what it means. Hey, TC, put on that show, with the cooking and the sadistic baskets." He took the empty soup from Fireflight and dropped it in one of the plastic bags already half-full of garbage. Thundercracker flipped the channel and unmuted the television. It didn't take long for the Aerialbots to be completely absorbed in speed-cooking, especially when one of the chefs nearly cut his finger off, which was why Skywarp asked Thundercracker to put that show on and distract them from awkward questions about Starscream.

Thundercracker wrapped an arm around Fireflight's waist and slid his hand under the hem of his red tee shirt, fingers tracing little circles against his skin and setting off little tremors Skywarp could only feel because he was so close. Slingshot and Air Raid, oblivious, opened the chips and salsa. Skywarp tilted his head and pressed a kiss against the side of Fireflight's neck, light as mircofilamant. When he flicked his tongue out to taste the Aerialbot's skin, Fireflight twitched in surprise.

"You okay, 'Flight?" Thundercracker asked, looking down at him. He cupped the side of Fireflight's face with his free hand as Fireflight nodded. The Seeker smiled. "Don't be…shy," was the word he settled on, and thoroughly kissed the redhead in his lap.

Skywarp hummed against Fireflight's neck as he slid his hands up underneath the tee shirt. Fireflight was softer than either Seeker; his skin was smoother and he didn't have the hard muscles that male squishies did. His breasts were in some sort of metal and cloth contraption. There wasn't any room for Skywarp's fingers, but he found the clasp on the back. Skywarp hiked Fireflight's shirt up; the two fasteners were easy enough to figure out once he could see them.

Finally, after far too much trying, Skywarp had his hands on breasts.

Thundercracker was wrong. Breasts were fun. Especially the little round things that made Fireflight whimper into Thundercracker's mouth when he touched them. Skywarp licked the back of Fireflight's neck; a little sweet, a little salty, different from Thundercracker but not bad, not bad at all. Fireflight mewled and pulled away from Thundercracker a tiny bit, just enough to lay his head against Thundercracker's shoulder and try to catch his breath. The Seeker ran a hand through his red hair and whispered something Skywarp couldn't hear in his ear. Skywarp would bet that the shiver he felt run down Fireflight's spine was in response to it; Thundercracker's voice alone could melt glaciers. "Bedroom," Skywarp said. He wanted to see if breasts were like other parts of squishy bodies and more importantly, what noises he could get out of Fireflight if he had proper access.

"Bedroom?" Thundercracker asked Fireflight.

"Bedroom." Fireflight swung his feet down to the floor –and kicked his forgotten can of soda over, spilling it over Slingshot.

Slingshot swore. "Why are you so fragging clumsy?" he asked, jumping up. "I'll be right back," he said, heading for the door. "I gotta change my shirt now. Thanks, bro."

Thundercracker sighed and headed for the kitchen to fetch the napkins. "I know why you're clumsy," Skywarp snickered. "What?" he asked at the looks the Aerialbots gave him. "He has that effect on me, too," he said, moving to help Thundercracker clean up. Air Raid rolled his eyes and dragged Fireflight over to the corner.

"Stay out here?" he whispered. Skywarp tried to not make it obvious that he was eavesdropping.

"Why?"

"So's I can keep an eye on them."

Fireflight stood up straight, looking down all two inches at his brother. "You don't need to keep an eye on them."

"'Course I do."

"I'm a big boy, Air Raid. I can take care of myself."

"I know," Air Raid said. "But I've gotta give them fair warning. It's my right. As a brother."

Fireflight looked like he wanted to argue, or at least like he wanted Air Raid to shut up, but Slingshot came back in with Skydive and, surprisingly, Silverbolt in tow. He must have said something when he went back to change; the Aerialbots surrounded Fireflight and didn't let the Seekers alone with him for the rest of the night.

But they didn't make him leave the couch between the Seekers, though neither of them were stupid enough to try anything. Soon after Starscream came home and kicked them all out, Thundercracker's phone beeped an incoming message.

"So when am I taking you two out for dinner?"

As near as anyone could tell, Starscream was immortal, had the vast yawning chasm of eternity to return himself to proper form.

That didn't make him patient.

Powering the ansible entirely off a battery would take far more sophisticated supplies than Starscream had the patience to acquire, especially when Skydive had inadvertently handed him something that was half clue, half hope. "This is the worst altmode ever; I miss being a leg," he'd said quietly to his brother, not knowing or caring that Starscream was close enough to overhear.

That had to mean something. Starscream didn't know what –he'd tried transforming that first night, the one he was repressing as hard as he could –but Skydive was very precise with his language, clearly the brains of the poor doomed Aerialbots. He should take them home with him, Starscream thought. It would be doing them a favor, truly instead of a lie afterwards, and then he'd still have a gestalt even if Onslaught turned on him.

Youngest children of Cybertron, they deserved…better. And they would be a potent rallying symbol, a callback to the days of revolution.

But first he had to contact Cybertron.

The ansible drew the most power waiting for a connection from Cybertron. Once the connection was established, the stronger machine on Cybertron could hold it open and the ansible would run off the wall without blowing out power to the entire building. He'd have to leave it on, but that wasn't such a bad thing.

The indicator lights on the battery glowed red in the morning light, then blinked. Starscream cursed and grabbed Skywarp's keys off the table, using the slight weight of one to hold the connection closed without crushing the delicate components. Served Skywarp right for disappearing with the duck tape.

Once the lights held steady, Starscream flicked on the ansible. It hummed to life, the stabilizer clicked on smoothly and the power stayed on long enough for the portal, too small to be seen by the naked eye, too small to be seen by the unaided optic, tore open across space-time. He didn't dare twitch as the access code for Acid Storm's lab dialed, as the remote connection was established. Only when the all the lights save two on the battery went out, indicating that it was charged and connected but no power was being drawn from it, did Starscream reach for his laptop and begin to type the message to Acid Storm.

He didn't go into the details of why the Nemesis was uninhabitable, simply that it was thanks to Shockwave's failed experiment, and that Megatron's refusal to admit his precious sycophant was an incompetent idiot who'd lost them every scrap of resource on Earth was the last straw. Acid Storm, his note read, would send him listings of all the personnel currently awake on Cybertron, and prepare for an attack on Shockwave once Starscream had reversed his mistake. Not Megatron, though he didn't explain his reasoning to his lieutenant. This would be no challenge to the leader of the Decepticon. This would be revenge for the insult to science that had led to his alt changing from what had been a perfectly serviceable jet plane –fast, agile, deadly- to, to, to…

Starscream wanted to see Shockwave crushed under someone's foot. His own, Bruticus' or Superion's, he didn't really care.

Acid Storm must have been standing in his, formerly Starscream's, laboratory. He sent a message back within the hour. The Rainmaker promised to draw up a list of energon stocks, awake Seekers that could be trusted with such politically risky infighting, weapons stock, and strongholds of troops more loyal to Shockwave. He asked if Starscream needed anything else.

"The notes for the superweapon Shockwave shipped over the space bridge on 248.691.9000," Starscream sent him back. "And get Misfire in touch with me."

Starscream returned to his work on calculating the energy required to generate his own quantum surge. They'd hoarded energon for years to power Shockwave's device, on the promise it would end both the Autobots and their most pressing crisis in one fell swoop, like some great predatory bird. What crisis could Shockwave be thinking of? How droves of Decepticons were flocking away from his sparkless rationing to Starscream's relatively more compassionate rationing algorithm?

Skywarp had commented once that he'd cheerfully trade Cybertron for Earth if they woke everyone up and brought them over. It was the people that were important, not the planet. Starscream filed that away in the back of his memory banks until he had devised a way to extract energon with pink alchemy, the bacteria fed by plants he sent to Acid Storm under the guise of xenobotanical study. It wasn't nearly enough energon to renew Cybertron, but it was enough to bring more Seekers out of stasis, Seekers Shockwave deemed not useful enough to justify the energon expenditure.

A large number of Decepticons, maybe enough Decepticons, looked at it and saw simply one commander who would feed them and one commander who wouldn't. Acid Storm wasn't one of them, though Starscream trusted him just as much as, no, more than Onslaught. Like Onslaught, Acid Storm had burned so many bridges, or Starscream had burned for him, that even if he wanted to betray Starscream, he wouldn't find a better place under anyone else. And unlike Onslaught, Acid Storm had no desire to deal with the headaches and constant assassination attempts of ruling.

Before Acid Storm could respond, the power in the apartment died with a sharp pop. Starscream knew it wasn't because of him, and in the dark he threw a truly spectacular fit, even by his standards, for the entire ten minutes it took to come back on.

It wasn't hard for Air Raid and Slingshot to corner the Seekers before Fireflight took them out to dinner. It just took a lot of lurking in the stairwell. When the two came up, Air Raid and Slingshot were waiting, standing side-by-side across a step. Thundercracker suppressed a very human sigh of annoyance. He'd been up for fourteen hours straight with neither food nor caffeine, thanks to Skywarp and his goddamn libido and his turning off the alarm and his forgetting his keys and his being Skywarp. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with Skywarp's long-lost twin and…whatever Slingshot was. He was too irritated, tired, and cranky to come up with something witty. Grunting at him, he attempted to telepathically will them to get out of his way, before someone opened his mouth and Thundercracker started swinging.

Skywarp, unfortunately, didn't pick up on his wingmate's brainwaves. Or he did and didn't care. Or he did and was being a sadistic bastard. "Hi, guys!" he positively chirped. "What's the haps?"

He couldn't strangle Skywarp. If he strangled Skywarp, there would be no one to make coffee in the morning.

Air Raid smiled, or at least showed his teeth. "We just thought we should have a little chat," he said. "About you two, and us, and our brother. Fireflight," he added unnecessarily.

"Isn't he a sweetie?" Skywarp gushed.

Maybe Fireflight would make him coffee. He seemed like a morning person or at least less of a zombie before noon than either of the two about-to-be surviving Seekers.

Slingshot growled in Skywarp's general direction, and took a step backwards to make himself taller. "That's not for you to find out."

Air Raid elbowed his brother. "He doesn't really mean that." Still grinning in that deranged way he added, "But we don't trust you. At all."

"Well, golly gee, why not?" Thundercracker closed his eyes. He was still sleeping. He was dreaming. He was taking a line out of Skywarp's code and throwing him down the stairs.

"Because you're Decepticons!" Slingshot exploded. Complete with Dramatic Arm Flailing, from the sound of something soft clunking against the wall. Starscream, acknowledged master of that particular art, would never make that mistake. He stepped on Skywarp's foot to forestall the instant reaction; that was a conversation he wanted to have even less than the one they were currently having. And five seconds ago he wouldn't have thought such a thing possible. "It's in your slagging name!"

"That's not where the name comes from," Thundercracker grunted. "Besides, what are we going to do to him?"

"If he'd listen to me, nothing!" Thundercracker finally opened his eyes. Slingshot's hands were tightly balled into fists, the cords in his neck standing out from the physical effort to not launch himself at the two on the landing, his face red. "But you got him believing your lies and, and, deceptions! Because you're Decepticons!"

"Maybe you're not lying," Air Raid cut in smoothly. "Fireflight doesn't think so, and that's what really is important, isn't it? But," and here he started stalking towards Thundercracker in a way that registered as Megatron's Pissed Walk No. 14 (as Skywarp had termed it) before registering as vaguely threatening, "if you are lying, we're going to kill you." Air Raid tried to stand on his toes to deliver that last line at something resembling eye level, but tripped and fell back flat-footed. "We clear?" he asked, and Thundercracker gave him points for not missing a beat. The whole situation was laughable; he was being threatened for something he had no intention of doing by two sparklings who couldn't hurt him if they tried. The last time he'd been in a situation this ridiculous, Starscream had threatened to kick him out of his own apartment.

"Good," Air Raid said, switching off the anger quick enough to give Thundercracker snapback. "You want to come over later, I'm making dinner at seven." He dragged Slingshot bodily away from his staring contest with Skywarp, and Thundercracker shook his head at the absurdity of it all, wondering if he was the last sane mech left.

As soon as the door closed behind the Aerialbots, Skywarp collapsed on the landing in a near-hysterical fit of laughter. "That, that, that was just cute!" he gasped finally. "They honestly think we'd be scared of them? Hey!" Thundercracker could see the light go off in his optics. "Slingshot was cool with it, like, four days ago. Why's he hate us now?"

"He doesn't," Thundercracker gritted. "They're just warning us. Get up."

"Oh. That was…a pretty terrible airlock chat. Possibly the worst I've ever gotten." Skywarp grinned cheekily up at him. "C'mon, TC, you gotta admit it was hilarious. Especially when Slingshot hit the wall. He's like a little Thrust. A tiny drunken Thrust."

"I am leaving you here, on this dirty floor, and I am going to get coffee. And if you are lucky, I will not remember to lock you out."

"You wouldn't," Skywarp said, but he picked himself up off the floor and followed Thundercracker.

"Try me."

"You wouldn't 'cause then you'd be locked in with Screamer."

Thundercracker, unable to refute that logic, unlocked the door and headed straight for the coffee pot. Starscream was frowning at the computer screen, talking to himself, and didn't bother to greet the wingmate he was talking to beyond a vague mumbling about not wanting the Aerialbots running around underfoot while he was working sandwiched between some sort of chemical equation and a desire to do something physically impossible to Shockwave.

Chapter Text

All Bette's stories have happy endings. That's because she knows where to stop. She's realized the real problem with stories-if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death. – Neil Gaiman

In the end, it took Fireflight three days of texting before a date and time had been set for the dinner. Or, rather, The Dinner Mission.

It totally deserved capital letters.

Silverbolt spent a lot of time with the patented faintly-forced smile he reserved for when he was resigned to letting someone have a "learning experience." Skydive drew up extensive plans and backup plans and tried to get Fireflight to let Air Raid tag along as backup. Fireflight suspected Air Raid had put him up to it, a suspicion strengthened by Air Raid's not so innocent suggestions of where to take them. It looked like Silverbolt was going to agree, but Fireflight insisted that backup would be detrimental to the success of the mission.

He could use big words too, and use them correctly, which put him one up on Air Raid.

Slingshot couldn't decide if he thought Fireflight was a horrible traitor to everything the Aerialbots and Autobots held dear, or if he was the only one who thought this wasn't going to end in disaster, death, and large parts of Detroit catching on fire. Fireflight smiled, told himself that Slingshot was merely pulling double-duty as Superion's current avatar, and told Slingshot that depending on which parts of Detroit burned down, that would be a service to the community.

Even when the two Seekers took shelter in the Aerialbot's base from Starscream's fits of brilliance, or when they ran into each other in the elevator, it didn't seem right to talk to them about it. Under the watchful sensors of their wingmates, it felt more proper to confine the planning to their phones, and the illusion of privacy.

Also it was pretty handy to have everything all written down already.

The driving question was neatly side-stepped by Thundercracker being, in Skywarp's words, "a Constructicon-level control freak." The date was set for Wednesday so Silverbolt sneaked a few extra maxi pads in Fireflight's purse when he though no-one was looking, just in case it lasted longer than it should. Slingshot refrained from asking for the three hundredth time if this was an actual date, not merely a thank-you. Skydive acquired pepper spray for Fireflight's keychain. Air Raid gave Fireflight his trademarked grin and said, "I want all the details tomorrow."

"Of course," Fireflight said, or tried to, but Air Raid frowned at him moving his lips while Air Raid was painting them. Air Raid had steady hands, and he'd spent far more time looking at internet videos about the mysterious ritual of makeup than the other four put together. He'd also sent so many texts to Skyfire Fireflight had to change his ringtone, just so that he heard two songs for three straight hours, not one for five.

Air Raid stepped back, considered the overall effect, and picked up the eye shadow. Fireflight took one look at it and said, "No."

"C'mon, 'Flighty, Skyfire said you'd do good to have some war paint."

"That is purple glitter."

"Skyfire said that the fancier you make it, the more serious you are. I got red too, if you wanna do that and black instead."

"Yeah, well," Fireflight stalled, trying to come up with something that was bizarre enough to be within shouting distance of Air Raid's logic, or what passed for it. He wasn't ever very good at that, though. Abandoning all pretext, he called out, "'Bolt, help, Air Raid's trying to Decepticonize me!"

"Air Raid," Silverbolt sighed, leaning against the bathroom door, "how are you trying to…that is the same color as the giant purple griffin."

"Yep," Air Raid chirped. "I was gonna do wings, 'cause Skyfire said really complicated stuff is impressive. He sent me pictures and everything. I wanna ask Starscream about the glow in the dark paint."

"Giant purple griffin wings, on his eyes," Silverbolt repeated. "That would…certainly make some sort of impression."

Fireflight tried to signal his desperation to Silverbolt via his eyebrows, and some subtle hand-waving. Air Raid nodded enthusiastically. "See, Skyfire said, that you'd want to show something you're proud of! And taking on a drone army and a giant purple griffin death machine and all five Combaticons was really hard!"

Silverbolt nodded as well, gently leading Air Raid to a form of bobbing that made his head less in danger of falling off his neck. "Fireflight wasn't there for the drones, though. Do you have silver eyeliner? For Bruticus? He's mostly grey."

Fireflight wasn't quite sure what he'd done to tick Silverbolt off lately, or at least what on that list he was being punished for. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting it thunk against the wall.

"Or," Silverbolt said, "Why don't you do the battle in Canada where he held them off single-handedly until you and I got there and evac'ed Slingshot?"

Fireflight cracked one eye open to look at Silverbolt. Oh yes. He was on the cliff list again. Fine, he'd never unload the dishwasher again, dirty or clean.

"That's beautiful, boss. Green and pink?"

"I don't want to propose marriage to them," Fireflight said through gritted teeth, hoping he'd hit upon the magic bullet to stop Air Raid in his tracks. "Let's not scare them off, please?"

In the name of the mission, Silverbolt reluctantly agreed, and made Air Raid settle for something that wouldn't draw quite as much attention among squishies. Skydive came in at the end, and in his near-calligraphic handwriting traced "Superion" high on the back of Fireflight's neck, under his hair, where no-one could see it but as close as he could get to the big guy riding along. Slingshot helped Fireflight tie his shoes, and made him promise to call if it turned out they lived up to their reputation and he needed some heads knocked. Silverbolt stopped him on the way out, for one last hug and to hand him his phone –fully charged, because even when Silverbolt was mad, he was thinking of everything.

And so, armed and supplied and prepared as best he could be, Fireflight stood outside the door to the Seeker's base, cycled a deep vent, and knocked on the door.

Skywarp was loitering in the living room, attempting to murder baby-killing pigs with bird slingshots in space, when Fireflight knocked on the door. It was only five minutes past the appointed time, and the level was a cheating son of a toaster and a two-cred pleasure bot anyways.

Ignoring Starscream's melodramatic eyeroll, he answered the door, and yes, it was Fireflight, and yes, he was alone. Skywarp had half-expected Air Raid to be hovering over Fireflight's shoulder like usual, but no, they'd let Fireflight out by himself.

"Hi," Fireflight said, shuffling his feet. There was something different about him, something Skywarp couldn't quite put his finger on. But it was hard to think around Fireflight, when his processor was underfueled and running…certain subroutines.

"Hey," Skywarp said. Had Fireflight's mouth always been so shiny?

"Are you ready?" Fireflight asked after a klik of mutual staring.

"Yeah," Skywarp said, standing back so Fireflight could come in. "But TC isn't, so why don't you come…not stand in the hallway?"

"Thank you," Fireflight said softly. Behind them, Starscream vacated the room with his computer, coffee, and a string of mumbled curses about quantum chance and chocolate. Skywarp just grinned and escorted Fireflight to the now-empty couch.

Thundercracker, perhaps alerted by Starscream's door slam, perhaps simply finally done messing with his hair, dropped down next to Fireflight. He smelled, not unpleasantly, like soap. He smiled at Fireflight, and Skywarp smiled because seriously, Fireflight was magic. Skywarp had figured he'd be prying Thundercracker out of bed with a crowbar at this point, not dressing him up for a date.

"Hi," Fireflight said.

"Hi," Thundercracker replied, and Skywarp was going to learn how to make a word sound like sex one day, he really was. "You're wearing makeup."

"Uh, yeah," Fireflight said, turning a little red. "Skyfire told us about it."

"Really?" Skywarp said. He hadn't seen someone paint themselves since Cybertron went dark. But he remembered the elaborate designs people used to wear. Starscream had been really good at doing other people's. "What's that for? Cosmic rust?"

"No, that was a little, dramatic? I went with flobsters."

"What's a flobster?"

"It's a flying lobster," Fireflight said, as if that meant anything. Lobsters didn't fly. Even Skywarp knew that.

"I need to hear this story," Skywarp said. "I'm not going anywhere until I do." He leaned against Fireflight, not quite trapping the Aerialbot under his weight.

Fireflight didn't mind, just shifted minutely closer to Thundercracker. "There's this little town in Maine, on an island, and they have lots of science. And an annual Lobster and Technology festival. I was flying over it one day, I didn't know about the parade, and there was some sort of accident –I wasn't involved in that one! And then there were flying lobsters. So I helped them catch them. Lobsters are all pinchy and there were a bunch of little kids."

"Flying lobsters," Thundercracker said, slowly, taking Fireflight's hand. "Did they have wings?"

Fireflight shook his head. "No, they had some sort of antigrav chemical compound in them. Somebody knocked it in the tank."

"Oh, well that makes perfect sense." Skywarp could hear the sarcasm in Thundercracker's voice, though he didn't know if Fireflight could. "Science made lobsters fly around Maine and you caught them."

"Blades was there too," Fireflight said. "Ask him if you don't believe me. It was a lucky thing, too, we both needed the cookie points."

"No, we believe you," Thundercracker said, squeezing Fireflight's hand. "It's just an unusual choice. Though I don't know what else you could have done that wouldn't have scared the natives. Makeup-wise."

Fireflight shrugged. "I wanted something that didn't have anything to do with, you know. Shooting."

"A good choice," Skywarp said, because really, wasn't that the point? Advertising a story to tell that would sweep away a little of the awkwardness? "C'mon, let's go, and I'll tell you about Starscream's glow in the dark paint."

BREAK

Like Skyfire had said, the stories broke the ice, and one would lead naturally to another, until Skywarp was telling Fireflight about some of Starscream and Thundercracker's other disagreements. Much to Thundercracker's dismay, though he deserved it for banishing Skywarp to the backseat.

"One time, on that planet with all the snakes, they refused to talk to each other," Skywarp said cheerfully. "It was hilarious! Screamer would be all, 'tell your idiot buddy it's his turn to fly patrol,' and TC would pretend he didn't hear him, and then when I told him he'd go, 'tell the Air Commander that he's blown himself up one too many times if his geeky aft thinks it's that easy to trick me into taking his shift.' The best part was our base was just this little hanger, so they were in the same room the whole time! If they weren't careful, their wings would touch and then—"

"Enough, 'Warp," Thundercracker said.

Fireflight giggled. "Once, Slingshot and Air Raid got into a fight, and Air Raid decided he was going to be the bigger mech and just ignore Slingshot. And while he was explaining this to 'Bolt and 'Bolt was praising him for being mature about it, Ratchet came in spitting nails because Slingshot had worked himself up so much over being ignored he overheated to the point that some of his circuits melted. The doctor said next time to just punch him, it was easier to fix!"

Skywarp howled in the back seat, and even Thundercracker laughed. "Your brothers are special," he said.

"Yes, they are," Fireflight agreed, though the Seekers couldn't tell if he had picked up on the undertones. Probably not.

In the parking lot of the restaurant, Skywarp bounded out of the car almost before it stopped and opened Fireflight's door for him with a bow. Thundercracker took Fireflight's hand again, and that made him feel a little better. Still, it was strange to be out with only Decepticons for company, moreso when they walked in the room and two large men at the bar looked straight at him. He told himself that he was being silly, as he clutched his purse closer, that he was only imagining the stares and the target painted on his back. Air Raid would have laughed if he had been there, laughed and thrown an arm around his shoulders and made it clear to the rest of the room just who Fireflight was with. Slingshot would walk behind him and scowl at anyone who dared to look too long, scare off anyone who wished his brothers harm. Skydive didn't look as scary as the other two, but he had a knack for talking his way out of every situation and making anyone and everyone leave them alone with a smile. And Silverbolt, commander since birth, could just tell someone to lay off, and they would. Even Cliffjumper.

It was ridiculous, he told himself, barely noticing that the Seekers had led him to a booth, that Thundercracker had sat between him and the rest of the room, or that Skywarp was talking to the waitress. People went out to restaurants without terrible things happening all the time. There was absolutely nothing to worry about. He was a fully trained and perfectly capable Autobot warrior and a big boy and who was he kidding? This was the worst idea ever, and he didn't even have the twin excuses of terrible, terrible pain and Silverbolt's anger.

"…Fireflight, you with us?" Thundercracker was calling him, he realized, and had been for how long?

"Sorry."

"S'okay," Thundercracker said. "We got you root beer. Is that okay?" Fireflight nodded, and Thundercracker twisted open the bottle for him.

"Thank you," Fireflight said, smiling shyly.

"You're welcome," Thundercracker smiled back, and Skywarp laughed at the display in front of him. Thundercracker flipped him the bird, but that only made Skywarp laugh harder.

"C'mon, let's get food," he said, taking a swig of soda from his bottle. "What?" he asked.

"That's…neon green," Fireflight said slowly.

"It's just food coloring," Thundercracker said.

"Yeah, TC's drinking pink stuff. Humans like to color their drinks. Makes them feel tougher or something," Skywarp said. "You should see aquatinis."

"No," Thundercracker said, "you should stay far, far away from neon colored drinks. Women drink dangerous alcohol."

"Really? I've only had beer, and it wasn't very good. I don't know why anyone would want to drink it." Fireflight shuddered at the memory, on purpose.

"To make babies, of course," Thundercracker said.

Fireflight tilted his head at him. "To make babies?" he repeated.

Skywarp rolled his eyes. "Humans make no sense."

"Humans need to drink alcohol to procreate," Thundercracker explained. "It kicks off some biological process. Or they can use birth control, now."

Fireflight took a slow sip of his drink. "This is beer."

"Root beer isn't real beer, though. It's non-alcoholic, and tastes much better."

Fireflight didn't disagree.

"Can we get food now?" Skywarp asked plaintively.

"Get food?" Fireflight asked.

"You'll see." The Seekers stood up, and led Fireflight to the back of the restaurant. "You take a bowl," Thundercracker explained, handing him a wooden one, "and you put food in it, and over there you get a cup for sauce. And then they stir-fry it."

"With swords," Skywarp added. "It's really cool!"

"Sounds really cool!" Fireflight chirped. He put fish in his bowl, because he'd never had fish before.

"You can come back as many times as you want," Thundercracker said, taking steak for himself, "so don't be afraid to experiment."

Fireflight nodded, and at the vegetable bar took some vegetables he knew he would like. For sauce, he took something called "lemon pepper;" he had heard lemon went with fish. An employee directed them to stand at a circular counter, behind which there was a metal circle, nearly ten feet across, surrounded by men with swords. The men took the customer's food and cooked it on the metal disk, using the swords to flip and stir the ingredients. As much entertainment as food preparation, they joked with each other and the customers, and whenever a customer tipped them a gong was rang.

Fireflight had never seen anything like it before. It was new and interesting and cool –and also terribly, terribly loud; all he could think was that someone could come up behind him, and his brothers weren't there to watch his back.

He wasn't alone, though. Thundercracker leaned up against the counter next to him, watching the crowd, and Skywarp stood behind him, his arms around Fireflight's waist. "Toldja it was cool, cupcake," he said, kissing Fireflight's hair.

"It is," Fireflight said, giggling a little and relaxing. He was safe enough with these two, who'd kept Ratchet in steady work as long as he'd known them.

Silverbolt was surprised to walk in and see Slingshot hanging upside-down over the arm of the couch, talking on the phone. Not by the upside-down part; Slingshot was less affected by inertial acceleration than the other Aerialbots, which was a fancy way of saying Silverbolt was used to finding him balanced in improbable, uncomfortable ways. It wasn't even the phone that surprised him. Three of his brothers had taken to spending most of their free time with the little devices.

No, it was the talking that stopped Silverbolt up short. Slingshot never talked when he could text, not over comm. lines and not now that he had a cell phone.

"Well, it's a good thing Primus loves you, because everyone else thinks you're rusty slag," Slingshot said into the phone. "Hold on, the boss just walked in." He pulled the phone away from his ear and covered it with his hand. "Will you please call Hot Spot before he spontaneously combusts?"

Silverbolt retrieved his phone from where he'd left it charging on the kitchen counter. There were four missed calls in the twenty minutes he'd been gone from Hot Spot, and one from Groove. Cold dread wrapped around his spark, and he grabbed two beers out of the fridge before sitting down next to Slingshot and calling Hot Spot back.

"Streetwise is in surgery," Hot Spot said.

Next to him, Slingshot took one of the beers and told Blades an off-color joke.

"What happened?" Silverbolt asked, twisting his bottle open.

"He was walking home with First Aid, and someone wanted their wallets." Hot Spot's voice was made from air and…however humans did it, without the tell-tale flatness of a vocalizer sans emotion modulation. Instead it was thick, with worry and weakness only Silverbolt was allowed to hear. "Streetwise tried to reason with him. Now his lung has collapsed."

"Is First Aid with him?" Silverbolt asked. He'd get the complete story later, if not from Hot Spot himself, from one of the other Protectobots or Slingshot. It didn't change what little he could do to know exactly how Streetwise had been hurt.

"They wouldn't let First Aid stay because he's his brother. The police are talking to him now. Groove is sitting on Blades. Blades wants to take the knife, find the person who did this, and stab him until his lung collapses."

Slingshot sat up, reached out and took Silverbolt's hand. Because if they were on the Ark, Silverbolt would be holding Hot Spot's hand, and Slingshot would be the one sitting on Blades. "Alright, I got it," Slingshot said into his phone. "Dunno how it's gonna do any good, but whatever spins your rotors."

"I'm guessing a collapsed lung is bad?" Silverbolt asked Hot Spot. He wasn't entirely sure what a lung even was.

"I don't know," Hot Spot admitted. "I think so, it means take them to First Aid immediately, but they're still back in there with him, and they won't let any of us back there! It's not fair, we're always with him!"

"Did you try playing the Autobot card?"

"You'll have to ask Slingshot about that. He was rather clear on what he thought would happen. I need more water."

"Slingshot." Silverbolt squeezed his hand to get his attention. "What did you think would happen?"

Slingshot swallowed his mouthful of beer before answering, somewhat confusedly. "Perceptor would pick it right out of his hands for even suggesting the grapefruit?"

It was good to hear that in the middle of chaos, some things never changed. Even if they were things Silverbolt wished would. He took a deep breath. "What did you think would happen if Hot Spot played the Autobot card?"

"Oh, that. Best-case scenario, they're told no."

"Is that how you expressed it to Hot Spot?"

"No, I said if he did that, they'd think he was crazier than Vortex hopped up on Mixmaster's goofballs trying to jack into Soundwave with a neon-green extension cable and a bouquet of wildflowers."

Silverbolt had to stop and think about that for a minute. "That's…disturbingly specific. And bizarre." And he wished for a third hand, to facepalm.

"That's the point." Slingshot turned back to his phone. "No, I don't think that's a good idea Blades, you have to stand too close to people to stab them. Shoot him."

Did Slingshot even know what was going on? Maybe nobody had told him the details and he was just going along the best he could. Yes, Silverbolt was choosing to believe that, because otherwise he was going to defenestrate Slingshot for being an insensitive jackass. "What if he dies, 'Bolt?" Hot Spot asked, interrupting Silverbolt's thoughts.

"He's not going to die," Silverbolt replied automatically.

"Ratchet's not here, though."

"Give Streetwise some credit."

Hot Spot sighed. "I do, but now he's so…we're all so fragile."

Silverbolt didn't really know what to say to that, but he stayed on the line until Streetwise came out of surgery, until Hot Spot hung up to go talk to him, and then Silverbolt sat up and waited until Hot Spot called back to tell him Streetwise was going to live.

Probably.

They stayed at the restaurant for nearly three hours, long enough for Skywarp to try everything at least twice, except for the squid. Fireflight noticed that Thundercracker got the same thing every time, steak and potatoes and soy sauce, and that Skywarp always seemed to be ready for a new bowl when Fireflight was. He didn't notice that Thundercracker kept turning the conversation back to Fireflight, or that Skywarp was laying it on with a trowel. He'd been chatted up and flirted with before, but never double teamed like this, with Thundercracker asking questions, deep ones (but never deep enough to hurt) and Skywarp calling him anything he could think of, smart or funny or cute. To be fair, the Seekers didn't lie, just pointed out things that were more or less obvious; this was a technique they had practiced over centuries, and Fireflight, less than thirty years old, didn't stand a chance.

They left the restaurant, and Thundercracker put a CD in the car's player. "Oh, man, not this slag," Skywarp complained.

"What don't you like about it?" Thundercracker asked. "The part where the lead singer isn't kicked in the testicles before the song starts or the part where they're wearing pants?"

Fireflight giggled. "I kinda like it," he said, bobbing along to the music unconsciously. "It reminds me of the stuff Streetwise plays. We all had to learn to like it, or go crazy."

"Liking music to preserve your sanity," Skywarp mused. "Hey! You tricked me!

"What the hell are you on about?"

"You," Skywarp accused, waggling a finger at Thundercracker, "made me like Peruvian Death Metal solely to keep from losing my mind!"

"First off, I didn't like Peruvian Death Metal, Starscream did. Second off, you can't lose what you don't have."

"Peruvian Death Metal?"

"Trust me," Thundercracker said, "you don't want to know." He turned up the music, over Skywarp's squawking about how he wasn't the crazy one, and at least he had musical taste.

No-one said anything when they got back to the apartment building, though Fireflight was humming. Thundercracker let them in, but the silence stayed with them in the elevator and down the hall. "Thank you for dinner," Fireflight said, suddenly shy. "It was…I had fun."

"Do you want to come in?" Skywarp asked. "We could make coffee. TC can make coffee."

"Sure," Thundercracker said. "Whatever." Fireflight didn't miss the tiny quizzical look Skywarp gave him as Thundercracker held the door for them. Thundercracker headed to the kitchen, and Skywarp towed Firefight over to the couch.

"So what time do you turn into a," Skywarp began, then swore. "You know. The thing. Grapefruit?"

"Why would I turn into a grapefruit?" Fireflight asked, slightly bemused. Only slightly.

"You know, the story where he loses his shoe and then his car turns into some sort of plant. TC, help me out here!"

"I haven't the slightest clue what you're going on about." Thundercracker sat on the couch, neatly sandwiching Fireflight in. Fireflight didn't mind in the least, even reaching out to take Thundercracker's hand, the first time he had initiated any sort of contact. Pleased, Thundercracker rubbed Fireflight's knuckles with his thumb, and Fireflight all but saw his mind wander off, not afraid of the Aerialbot setting him on fire.

But wherever Thundercracker's thoughts were wandering wasn't a happy place; Skywarp leaned into Fireflight's ear and whispered, "We need to distract him."

Fireflight, too, had noticed the frown Thundercracker wasn't even trying to hide, the distance in his eyes, and the all-too-familiar twitch of a jet who had lost his wings. He tugged Thundercracker's hand to catch his attention, and when he had it Fireflight gave him his very brightest smile. "So you like human television?"

Thundercracker sighed. "So much potential they have, so much variety, and they waste it on sex and drinking and more sex and money. They could be worthy foes, great allies, but no, they're focused entirely on their short, ridiculous little lives. They can change so much, we've seen them change since we landed here, but they still aren't capable of more than the shallowest scratch on the surface."

"A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?" Fireflight quoted.

Skywarp laughed. "You're real smart, cupcake, to understand him. Primus knows I can't. But don't listen. He's just being mopey; he really likes the stuff even if it's not up to his usual standards." He reached around Fireflight to grab Thundercracker's other hand and pull him closer. "Just, now all his old movies from home are under a million miles of water."

Fireflight took the hint and slowly, giving Thundercracker plenty of time to back away, pressed against him in as close as an embrace as he could get with both hands occupied. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't imagine how much that sucks."

"It's not your fault, Fireflight," Thundercracker rumbled somewhat awkwardly. How long had it been since he was the comforted instead of the comforter? "Don't worry about it." He let go of Fireflight's hand and cupped the back of his head, stroking his blonde hair, and the familiar motion grounded him a little. "Human television's better than nothing."

"But it's not your stories," Fireflight said earnestly, tilting his head back to look Thundercracker straight in the eye. "And I can see how much that upsets you. I wish I could do something to make you feel better." He wasn't just saying it, Thundercracker could tell. Were he still a mech, hope would have lightened his optics to almost-white without actually increasing their brightness. The human eyelids converted optic signals surprisingly well, if somewhat metaphorically and less precisely; Thundercracker couldn't doubt the way Fireflight's eyes widened, with the slightest tightness underneath.

"You can," Skywarp said. "Let him play with your boobies."

"What!" the other two said at the same time. Skywarp rolled his eyes.

"When a human starts thinking about sex, he stops thinking about everything else, and sex makes you happy."

"You just want to get your hands on his tits again," Thundercracker grumbled, pulling Fireflight closer and wrapping his arms around the Aerialbot protectively and only half-mockingly.

"So everyone wins!"

"You cannot be serious. What did I ever do to deserve you?" Skywarp knew that was a common thing for Thundercracker to wonder. Sometimes hourly, and he grinned. The mere suggestion had been enough to irritate Thundercracker back to the here-and-now, annoyed about things he could change rather than worrying about things he couldn't.

Fireflight, however, hadn't spent enough time around the Seekers to know this, and he slipped off of Thundercracker's lap. "Where ya going, cupcake?"

"I don't think the couch is big enough for all three of us," he said, a little shyly, but without hesitating at all.

Chapter Text

Screwdriver: one glass of orange juice with a generous splash of vodka. Or two. Or more.

Acid Storm's note was disappointing.

Not the lists of supplies and personnel; Starscream's powerbase back on Cybertron was, if not as strong as it could be, certainly enough to take out Shockwave. He might have to split the trine temporarily, but unlike certain other wing leaders, he could trust his wingmates out of his direct line of sight for whole minutes at a time.

And either of his wingmates could lead in a pinch, with Starscream's ghost hanging over their wings.

No, the disappointing part was the results from Acid Storm's skim through Shockwave's computer. Project Vector Tau, whatever that meant, was kept isolated from the central cortex. It existed, but that was all Acid Storm could confirm.

Which meant he would need Misfire to scavenge up the data for him. Starscream couldn't deal with this without coffee. Not that he was dependent upon the beverage, no. He just would take any excuse to delay writing to Misfire he could find. Perhaps there would be an Aerialbot lost in the living room again.

On his way past the other bedroom, Starscream peeked in the open door. His wingmates had brought Fireflight home and all three were naked in the bed. Skywarp was in the middle, head pillowed on Fireflight's shoulder, Thundercracker pressed against his back. Well, good. That would keep them busy, and hopefully the Aerialbots would be less likely to shoot them. A thought occurred, and Starscream went back to his lab to retrieve his phone. It wasn't the best camera, but the picture came out clear enough. He tucked the phone in his pocket and poured himself a cup of coffee. One could never have too much insurance.

There was a trick to communicating with Misfire. Short sentences, clear instructions, and always, always remembering that the mech wasn't half as dumb as he acted. Starscream was going to pay for this mission, one way or another, and he hoped Misfire would take a delayed payment.

Starscream heard the alarm in the other room go off, heard Skywarp head for the shower. He knew it was Skywarp, even before the singing, because Thundercracker on a good day required a bribe, a threat of grounding, and occasionally Long Haul to get his aft moving. Most mechs needed a few klicks to boot up all the way, but Thundercracker took it to the extreme. Skywarp, was on the other end of the bell curve; his feet barely touched the ground after recharge before he took off. It wasn't battle-ready programming either, like all Seekers had now. He was simply that quick to boot up all the way. Starscream wasn't sure if it had something to do with how fast his processor spun to keep up with his warp drive, or if he just didn't have that much going on inside his head to load.

The computer chimed to tell him he had a new message, and Starscream shook his head to disperse thoughts of his impossible wingmates. Swindle must have something important to tell him, if he was risking a message. Swindle had written to tell him that Brawl had taken up knitting and Swindle himself had to share the pain. Starscream stared at the screen for a minute, then dropped his head on his folded arms.

He needed more coffee.

Fireflight woke when the alarm clock went off at quarter after six, but Thundercracker grabbed him before he could get up and rolled on top of him. "Five more minutes," he mumbled into Fireflight's hair. Skywarp kissed both of them and headed out the door, grabbing clothes out of a laundry basket on the way. Fireflight listened to him rattling around the kitchen and heard him talking to Starscream, but couldn't hear what they were saying. Also he was in bed with Thundercracker. When did that happen?

His processor helpfully provided a highlight reel of the night before and, oh, had he really let him stick that there? And then kissed him afterwards? Well, couldn't have been any grosser than what Silverbolt and Hot Spot wanted to get up to and wow, they hadn't been kidding about Thundercracker. Fireflight wasn't sure Air Raid could have kept up.

On second thought, no, Air Raid was certainly competitive enough to keep up, even if he didn't have quite the same oral fixation. Then again, who did? Besides Streetwise or possibly Drift, if the rumors were true. Fireflight had never held the Autobot gossip mill to be very accurate when it came to affairs of the metal, but if they were right about Thundercracker…

"Rise and shine, TC," Skywarp said when he came back in with a huge travel mug of coffee –it must have held the whole pot.

"No." Thundercracker wrapped himself tighter around Fireflight. Too tightly; Fireflight waved frantically to Skywarp, unable to talk or even breathe.

Skywarp set the mug on the dresser. "You're cutting off Fireflight's air!" he said, whacking Thundercracker with a pillow.

"Sorry," he said, grabbing the pillow and rolling over to strangle that instead.

"You alright, sparkles?" Skywarp asked, sitting on the bed and stroking Fireflight's hair.

Fireflight leaned into the touch, and moved his head to Skywarp's lap. After last night, it didn't seem too forward. "Sparkles? I thought I was cupcake?"

"No," Skywarp grinned. "Cupcakes aren't as good when they're naked. Doesn't fit you." He ruffled Fireflight's hair. "I'm gonna jump in the shower. If you're feeling brave, you can try getting that one to move." He stood up and flashed Fireflight a grin. "Don't get discouraged if you can't, though. He's just as bad as that little brother of yours." Skywarp kissed Fireflight's head, right where he had been stroking, and left for the shower.

Fireflight rolled over and looked at Thundercracker. The older seeker was hunched around his mug of coffee, inhaling the fumes in a way that was very reminiscent of Slingshot. His eyes weren't even open yet, just like Slingshot. He giggled a little at the thought, and Thundercracker opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to find the source of the sound. Fireflight giggled again, but stopped abruptly when Thundercracker pinned him with a very Decepticon stare. Fireflight giggled a third time, but this one was nervous, and he drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He held his breath, suddenly feeling like nothing so much as a tiny sparrow in the sights of some great raptor.

Thundercracker blinked, and reached out to touch Fireflight's arms. He blinked again, more sleepily, and said the first vaguely reassuring thing that popped into his head. "You have beautiful eyes." Fireflight relaxed a little, at the way Thundercracker's eyes stopped giving him that terrible, terrible stare more than anything else, and Thundercracker used the opportunity to tug him closer. Setting his coffee back on the dresser, Thundercracker pulled Fireflight back down, curled around him, and went back to sleep.

That's when Skywarp started singing. Loud and off-key.

Thundercracker, without really waking up, grabbed Skywarp's pillow and plonked it over his and Fireflight's head. Now thoroughly trapped, Fireflight couldn't really do anything but shrug mentally and take the opportunity to cuddle closer to Thundercracker.

Some five or fifteen minutes later, Skywarp woke Fireflight again. Fireflight blinked sleepily as Skywarp set his clothes in a pile on the bed, now short one Thundercracker. "You're welcome to stay and sleep in, sparkles, but Starscream." Skywarp grinned at Fireflight's wide-eyed look. "We gotta go to work, sorry."

"It's okay," Fireflight assured him. "I should have gone home last night." He bit his lip. "I hope they didn't stay up waiting…"

"Well, they better get used to it," Skywarp said, turning to the mirror to fuss with his hair. "You're warm, which is handy when you're in the same bed as the universe's most notorious blanket thief."

"Really?" Fireflight asked, getting dressed.

"Oh yes," Skywarp assured him, helping him with the buttons. "It just wasn't a problem before we got changed."

"No, I mean, there's someone worse than Skydive?"

Skywarp laughed. "Oh, trust me, your brother is sweetness and light compared to any big scary Decepticon," he said. "If you want coffee, there's some in the kitchen, where, by shiny Cybertron did my phone get to?"

Fireflight went out, and picked his way through the grey living room, around the counter, into the kitchen where the coffee pot's clock glowed Decepticon-red. There were mugs lined up next to it, and Fireflight poured himself a cup. He was intending to find his purse –had he left it on the couch or in the car? when his foot caught on something and he gave an undignified squawk as he tried to not dump boiling hot liquid all over himself.

"Be careful," Starscream said from the couch, and Fireflight almost fell over Skydive's trap again. "Watch your step."

"Thank you," Fireflight said, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. "I didn't think you cared, because I'm an Autobot and all, but thank you."

"It's not you I'm worried about." Starscream sipped his coffee. "I'm not worried about anyone. Just watch your step."

"Oh!" Fireflight said. Starscream wasn't talking about Skydive's traps, he was talking about something else entirely, he realized, as Starscream's eyes flicked to Skywarp coming up behind the Aerialbot and draping himself over a shoulder. "This is like when Wheeljack showed up at Skyfire's door, and he didn't see me, no, wait, this is Skydive's memory, but Wheeljack showed up to remind Skyfire that he builds bombs for fun. And then thank Skyfire for making sure we knew how to do it right, because when you gestaturbate,"

"Gestalturbate?" Skywarp asked no-one in particular.

"If you try doing that to someone else, it hurts," Fireflight continued, not wanting to give away more than he had to.

"Skydive interfaced with Skyfire?" Starscream asked. Had Skyfire been in the room, Starscream would have killed him with that look. Had Skydive been in the room Starscream would have killed him with that look. Fireflight was his brother and he feared Starscream might kill him for the association.

"Yeah, Skyfire figured he would complete the set but later we found out Air Raid put the idea in his head because Skydive was feeling left out," Fireflight said. What was the worst Starscream could do now? Fireflight wasn't afraid of him, and he wasn't going to let Starscream scare him away from his wingmates.

"You all interfaced with Skyfire?"

"Yep," Fireflight chirped, and this was worth it for Starscream's overreaction alone. He almost wondered if Skyfire had left out a detail or two about his relationship with Starscream, but the shuttle had been very specific about how their plans had fallen through. "Except for Superion, he doesn't interface with anyone," Fireflight nodded, very serious. "Before Skydive it was Slingshot. Air Raid kept making jokes about how Slingshot would be terrible in the berth because he learned how from Tracks or Skywarp or the Giant Purple Griffin, so Slingshot went and demanded Skyfire jack into him so he could make Air Raid shut up with the truth."

"I must have thought he was Ramjet," Skywarp murmured, all but hiding behind Fireflight.

"It made perfect sense at the time," Fireflight said, in the face of Starscream's rising ire. "And that wasn't long after Skyfire taught Silverbolt what he called an "old Academy tradition" of sex marathons while waiting. Which was a good thing, because all four of us weren't going to die so Ratchet kicked Silverbolt out to refuel and recharge, but there was no way 'Bolt was going to because he worries. So Skyfire distracted him and wore him out."

Starscream was so angry, he was speechless. Someone really should be recording this, to prove it happened later.

"Skyfire's really good at distracting and wearing out, I know, because when Air Raid said it was different, I went and tried it with him, and it was really good." Fireflight smiled at the memory, "really, really good. But he doesn't like, well, you don't need the details, you wanted to know if we all interfaced with him."

Starscream looked like he needed the details very much indeed.

"Air Raid was the first, and there's a whole story behind it. See, he was complaining to Skyfire how everyone treated us like a bunch of sparklings when it came to stuff like history questions or remembering Silverbolt is Air Commander or not being jerks in the common room, but when it came to getting shot at and following their stupid rules and minibots punching Slingshot we were suddenly all grown up. And then Skyfire said he didn't think Air Raid was a sparkling in the least, and then they swapped cables. And I guess after what happened with Sideswipe the one time Skyfire volunteered to teach us how except he insisted on waiting until we asked him 'cause he wasn't going to make us jack into him. But that didn't take very long, because Air Raid's always wanted to ever since he saw how fast Skyfire was."

Starscream was paralyzed with rage. "We need to go. Now," Skywarp said, pulling Fireflight backwards and back into the bedroom. "Do you have a processor in there? Do you have a death wish?"

"No." Fireflight smiled at him. "I just wanted to give Starscream something to think about."

Thundercracker, damp from the shower and dressed for work, appeared to have fallen asleep on the bed. But as Fireflight watched, he pulled on a pair of socks in slow motion. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, Starscream was just telling me to watch out for Skydive's traps," Fireflight said, trying to not laugh at Thundercracker. "You are really not a morning person."

Skywarp shook his head. "I'll tell you when you're once again among the living."

From the other room, they heard Starscream throw something heavy against a wall and stomp off to his room, slamming the door. Fireflight drank his coffee as the other two finished getting ready. Once they were, and they were fairly certain Starscream wasn't going to ambush Fireflight with a miniature null-ray, they left. The three of them walked together to the elevator, and Skywarp kissed Fireflight positively indecently, not even coming up for air until the doors opened and Thundercracker yanked him inside.

"We'll see you later," he said, and even half-awake, those four words were heavy with promise.

In the Aerialbot's apartment, Slingshot was watching a rerun of Law and Order, several empty cans of beer on the floor by his feet. "Hey," Fireflight said softly.

"Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," Slingshot spat. "Have fun last night?"

"Yes," Fireflight said, smiling and kicking his shoes off. "They're really nice, when they're not trying to kill you."

"They're Decepticons!" Slingshot exploded. "They're always trying to kill you! Unless you're sucking their –you did! You, you had interface with them!"

"I didn't, I mean. I kinda did but Slingshot…" Fireflight trailed off as Slingshot's face turned red and he stood up.

Still shorter than Fireflight, but he was angrier than Fireflight had seen him in weeks, and coming right towards him. Fireflight froze, more out of his own guilt than his brother's fury.

"All night with the enemy?" he hissed, stopping just short of touching Fireflight. "Really, Fireflight, what reason could you possibly have to trust they wouldn't kill you? Even for you, that's a new level of stupidity, or did you-"

"Slingshot." Silverbolt cut him off with a single cold word. In the hallway behind him, Skydive was staring with a half-awake, half-horrified expression and Air Raid was trying to get around the immovable air commander. "Come here."
Even after six cans of beer, Slingshot wasn't able to disobey that voice. He followed Silverbolt into the bedroom, and Silverbolt closed the door behind them with a quiet but firm click that said more than any slam.

Silverbolt leaned against the door and listened, not to what Slingshot was saying, because that usually made him want to take the smaller Aerialbot and shake him until he broke, but to what he wasn't saying. What he was going out of his way not to say. Slingshot ranted for fifteen minutes without pausing to breathe about Fireflight's poor taste in mechs, his stupid blind trust in anything that moved, and his masochistic tendencies before moving on to what was really bothering him.

"He couldn't even send a text?" he demanded. "Not like we knew he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere with a flat lung. Can't trust them to take care of him."

"You're right," Silverbolt said quietly.

"I am?" Slingshot said, shocked.

"Yes," Silverbolt said, leading Slingshot toward the bed with a hand on his brother's shoulder. "But freedom is the right of all sentient beings," he quoted, "and that includes the freedom to do stupid things. Did you stay up all night?"

Slingshot allowed Silverbolt to push him down gently and pull the blankets over him. "He's gonna get hurt."

"And when he does," Silverbolt said, "he's going to need us." He sighed and smoothed the blanket over Slingshot's shoulders. "I don't like it anymore than you do. You should get some sleep."

"They're gonna hurt him," Slingshot repeated, since Silverbolt clearly didn't get it. "Like a tree."

Silverbolt didn't think so, but he knew that was mostly wishful thinking. "Let me worry about that," he told his wingmate firmly. "Sleep." He stayed with Slingshot until Slingshot fell asleep, all twenty minutes.

When Silverbolt left the room, though, he wasn't worrying about Fireflight.

Air Raid had a stack of blueberry pancakes already, and was making more. Someone had made coffee, and Fireflight was doing something that involved two knives that were sharper than Silverbolt was really comfortable with and a very mutilated pancake, chattering brightly about stir-fry. Skydive had disappeared.

Silverbolt removed the knives from Fireflight's hands without saying anything and tossed them in the sink. He did not want to know. He was not going to ask. There were far more important issues at hand. "What were you doing to that poor pancake?"

In his defense, he wasn't going to get much done until the question was answered.

"It's what they were doing last night!" Fireflight explained.

Clearly, this morning called for coffee. Lots of coffee. Air Raid, well familiar with the many flavors of Confused Silverbolt, handed him a cup. Silverbolt shoved the worrying observations of what humanity had done to Air Raid next to the worrying observations of what life in general had done to Slingshot and, under the cover of savoring his coffee, regrouped and focused on the whole issue of Fireflight, Decepticons, and, apparently, knives. "Who was doing what last night?"

"We went to this restaurant," Fireflight started, "actually, first we had to wait for Thundercracker to get out of the shower and did you know Starscream plays Candy Crush? Then we went to this place," he continued without really giving Silverbolt time to process that little nugget," and it was a restaurant and you got a bowl full of stuff like carrots and squid and peanuts and they put it on a huge plate with fire in the middle and chopped it up with big knives until it was cooked. And then you ate it. And there was neon-green soda that told Skywarp to clean his room."

"Wait. Go back. Squid? What's squid?"

So Fireflight went back, and with the help of coffee and blueberry pancakes, Silverbolt managed to tease out that "they" with the knives were employees of the restaurant, not the Seekers, that squid was a fish with suction cups, and that Skywarp had a habit of interrupting Thundercracker every time Cybertron was mentioned and changing the subject.

"It was really obvious, too. He really didn't want Thundercracker to talk about Cybertron at all, which was weird because he accidently brought it up a couple of times."

By this time, Silverbolt and Fireflight were doing the dishes, Air Raid was in the shower, and Skydive had performed the traditional Five Minute Dance of I Forgot I Had An Interview Today back at the point with the yams. "Why do you think was that?" Silverbolt asked.

Fireflight paused to consider. Silverbolt recognized the familiar tilted head and glassy-eyed stare that meant his wingmate was replaying the last night in his head, fast-forwarding through most of it but going over the relevant parts byte-by-byte. "I think it was personal," he said. "Sometimes he'd let Thundercracker get a little way through the story before he'd interrupt. And if Thundercracker said something like "that was the year they banned nitros," Skywarp wouldn't interrupt, but if he said something like "that was two months before I moved," Skywarp wouldn't even let him finish where he moved to. I think it was really big. Does alcohol really make you pregnant because if it does then nobody should have sex with Slingshot because he's my brother and I love him but one of him is plenty."

"I don't think males can get pregnant," Silverbolt said, wondering when things were going to start making sense again.

"Well, some of the Decepticons are female," Fireflight tried to make air quotes around the word "female" but used all his fingers. "Actually a lot of them. Do you think they would have little baby robots because the only thing worse than a baby Slingshot would be a baby Devestator and Onslaught is female –isn't that weird, all the torsos are?"

Silverbolt paused to consider. "It could be a thing, yes. Is Motormaster also female?"

"All of the Stunticons are female, apparently. And a whole bunch more. Starscream didn't seem to have a problem with me. I mean, he tried to scare me off but not very well. And they want to see me again. I think this worked really well, is it okay if we do this again?"

It was not okay. Silverbolt needed to tell him it was not okay and he should stop this right now. It was a stupid, dangerous idea and he should never have allowed it in the first place. No intelligence could be worth the risk.

"I trust your judgment," Silverbolt said. "I can't promise that I like it, but you've spent the most time with them out of all of us." And while Fireflight could miss oceans, when it came to other people he'd never been wrong (aside from the chronosphere incident, but that just might have been when the seed was planted.) He closed the dishwasher and started it. Then he opened it, put the dishwasher soap in, and closed it again. Fireflight, who had handed him the jug, put it away.

"Are you okay?" Fireflight asked him.

"Yeah," he smiled at his teammate. "Slingshot and I were up late last night talking to Hot Spot and Blades."

"Is everyone okay?" Fireflight asked, shadowing Silverbolt as he picked up the accumulated mess of four Aerialbots.

"Yeah," Silverbolt said, throwing empty soda cans in a trash bag already half-full. "Streetwise got hurt, and the doctors wouldn't let his brothers back with him, so they were real worried until they could get back there and see him."

"Oh," Fireflight said, voice very small. Part of Silverbolt wanted to say something about Streetwise's collapsed lung being a worse injury than Fireflight's broken wrist, part of him thought to not say something would be cruel. Part of him thought a little cruelty to Fireflight now could save a lot of trouble in the long run. But Superion stirred in the back of his mind, and reminded him that the point had been made, and that part of being the leader meant letting it go no matter how mad he was.

"They didn't like leaving him all alone," Silverbolt side-stepped. Let Fireflight take that as he would, either that it was different because Thundercracker had been with him, or that it was the same because his brothers hadn't. Fireflight would assume whatever made him happier. He always did. "He's going to be okay, though."

Air Raid bounded out of the bathroom then, cutting the conversation short. "Details!" he demanded, dragging Fireflight over to the couch.

Silverbolt didn't particularly want to hear Fireflight rehash the last night with play-by-play color commentary by Air Raid so he headed for the shower instead. He misjudged either Air Raid's curiosity, or how much detail Fireflight would go into, or something, because when he came out of the shower forty-five minutes later (maybe that was what he misjudged?), Fireflight was saying, "no, Skywarp's penis was definitely bigger than that."

"But you said it was smaller than a can of soda. You can't have it both ways."

"It's taller, but it's not that thick."

"You're not describing it very well," Air Raid said.

"Well, it kept changing size," Fireflight protested. "They do that, you know."

"Raider, are you still going to the movies today?" Silverbolt said, cutting off that entire line of conversation. Hopefully Air Raid would forget.

"Yeah, me and Slingshot are meeting Skydive there after work. Don't worry, we'll be home by six. Can I brush your hair?"

Fireflight looked like he was going to say something, but was ambushed by a yawn. "Go to bed," Silverbolt said. "I hear you need it." He handed Air Raid the hairbrush and sat in front of him. Air Raid tried to be gentle, but Silverbolt's hair tangled easily –and badly.

"Are you going to stop him from seeing them?" Air Raid asked as soon as the bedroom door closed.

"I'm considering all options," Silverbolt said. "I've already heard Slingshot's opinion."

"They're not going to do anything unless they know he's okay with it, I don't think," Air Raid said, pushing the first detangled section over Silverbolt's shoulder. "They got weird about it."

"Howso?"

"I guess they really like to make sure everyone's okay with everything, even more than Skyfire. Almost enough to be offensive he said, like they didn't trust his answers, but it might just have been because it was the first time. Why does that make you feel better?" Air Raid asked when Silverbolt let out the breath he hadn't realized he had held.

Silverbolt was seized with the sudden urge to confess to Air Raid how off this whole situation made him feel. He didn't, not wanting to upset Air Raid, not knowing what would upset Air Raid, and hating that he didn't know. He silently cursed Megatron, all Seekers, Megatron again, Thundercracker and Skywarp specifically, and threw in Superion for good measure. "I don't like trusting them," he said, reclaiming the hairbrush and pulling his hair back.

"But they haven't given us a reason not to, not since they came to Detroit. You're not going to make them go away?" Air Raid asked. "Fireflight hasn't been this happy since, like, before the last time Sandstorm left."

Silverbolt didn't need Superion to hear the questions unspoken, (are you going to make him stop? Are you going to tell Prime? Do you still understand?) or to know that Air Raid didn't even know he was asking them. "Of course not," he said. "As long as they're not hurting him, all I can do is sit here and worry."

Air Raid refused to be pacified so easily. "But you don't like it."

"I don't have to like it," Silverbolt pointed out, patience stretched thin. "I don't have to approve, I don't have to think it's a good idea, I can sit here and plan his funeral, and it doesn't matter because stopping it is not the Autobot way!" He stopped before he started yelling. Yelling had about as much effect on Air Raid as gravity, but that didn't make it right.

"But the information is worth it?" Air Raid asked. You're not totally against it.

Everything was moving too fast and Silverbolt could barely keep up. He was exhausted, waiting for the other missile to fall, and at every turn the Seekers were going out of their way to befriend the Aerialbots. They should be his priority right now, not the last time he heard Skydive speak. When was that, anyways?

It wasn't that he didn't think the information wasn't worth it. Silverbolt just didn't know how much it was going to cost. Were the Seekers playing a long game, like some of the deceptions he'd heard about that lasted for years? Or was turning them human the last straw, were they done with Megatron's incompetence? "I have to get going," he said. "My increasingly weird day cannot hold still for questions you know the answer to."

"It's not even ten o'clock," Air Raid said, but what he meant was, you're dodging the question.

"I trust Fireflight's judgment," Silverbolt repeated, half a reminder to himself.

"But does he think it's worth it?" Air Raid asked, but Silverbolt was already out the door.

When Fireflight woke, some three hours later by the sun on the wall, Slingshot was watching him sleep. "Good morning?"

"You're on my arm," Slingshot said.

"Oh. Sorry." Fireflight scooted back towards the wall, off Slingshot. Slingshot didn't get out of bed, though. He just kept looking at Fireflight.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

Fireflight pulled him close, and Slingshot tucked his head under Fireflight's chin. "It's okay," Fireflight said, giving absolution as easy as a kiss. "I'm sorry I stayed out all night."

"Did you have fun?"

"Huh?"

"Did you have fun?" Slingshot repeated.

"Lots." Fireflight smiled, though Slingshot couldn't see it. "Thundercracker reminds me of you."

"Really?" Slingshot perked up at that, like Fireflight knew he would.

"Yes, really," Fireflight said. "Will you help me wash my hair?"

When Skywarp got off work, ten minutes late, Thundercracker was already in the parking lot with a milkshake for him. Skywarp looked at it suspiciously. "Who died?"

"Nobody died," Thundercracker said. "I just thought you'd want one without the world about to come to an end."

Skywarp took it, sipped it cautiously, like he was expecting it to be drugged or strawberry. Thundercracker rolled his eyes at the way Skywarp's face lit up once it passed muster, then hit the brakes and the horn as he nearly rear-ended the car in front of him. He navigated the Michigan left, automatic now, and then asked, "So did we get lucky last night?"

Skywarp shrugged. "That's what they call it, isn't it? Unless you're asking if we both got lucky even though I didn't get to stick it in. I got off and I got to play with his boobs, so I'm happy." He slurped his milkshake. "Really happy."

At the red light, Thundercracker gave him a speaking look. And continued to give him the look while Skywarp squirmed, sucked on his straw a little more, set the cup in the cup holder, stretched, and finally said, "No? We didn't get lucky?"

"How didn't we get lucky?" Thundercracker asked.

"It was the successful execution of a well thought out plan?" Skywarp quoted, because quoting Starscream ever worked. Even when he was right. Thundercracker just kept looking at him. The effect was a little ruined because he had to keep an eye out for idiot Fords attempting to become one with his trunk, but Skywarp couldn't hold out forever. The bigger problem was that there were so many possible answers, it wasn't really fair to drag it out until Skywarp hit upon the right one. "He didn't scream at the sight of your naked body, summoning his brothers who then didn't electrocute, shoot, shoot again, or stab us?"

That was close. It touched on screaming, at least. "Should I be chaining him to the bed?"

"What?!" Skywarp screeched, in a fair imitation of Starscream. "No, no, that is a terrible plan! What is wrong with you! This is why Starscream comes up with the plans, you can't just chain him to the bed!"

"Would it help?" Thundercracker had no intention of actually chaining the Aerialbot to the bed, but asking Skywarp straight out without some ridiculous hypothetical…was not the Decepticon way. "Or did I just get lucky last night? If it would, that doesn't mean I'll never do it again, you know. It doesn't taste that bad."

Finally, finally, Skywarp got it, and he shrugged. "Dunno," he said, picking up his milkshake again. "Don't think so. Can we keep him anyways?"

"Sure," Thundercracker said. He knew the odds of it being that easy had been slim, but he'd hoped anyways. Not even Starscream could fix everything, and it gnawed at Thundercracker -at both of Skywarp's wingmates- like scraplets. "Though, you're right. We shouldn't chain him to the bed. I don't want to move the tv."

Skywarp didn't say anything to that, nor did he respond when Thundercracker called his name. He just stared down at his cup.

Thundercracker swore, silently, and turned down a side street. He pulled into someone's driveway, parked the car, and called Skywarp's name again.

"My chest hurts," Skywarp mumbled, pressing one hand over where he'd been shot. Thundercracker plucked the milkshake out of his hand, set it in the cupholder, and when that didn't snap Skywarp out of it, yanked his wingmate against his shoulder.

Thundercracker didn't have wings to hide Skywarp under, but Skywarp didn't have wings to get in the way, either, and while he was missing the sensor vent on top of his helm stroking his hair had the same calming effect. This was so much worse than the first time Skywarp had been shot –then again, the first time hadn't been nearly so bad, and it had been an Autobot. Could Thundercracker really blame him?

No, Thundercracker had only himself to blame, for failing to fix this properly, and Starscream, because everything was Starscream's fault. He didn't know what to do, but he knew not to leave, not to tell Skywarp to snap out of it, not to even imply that Skywarp had a choice. Thundercracker had seen this before; every mech who was seriously hurt should act like this. On the battlefield, this sort of behavior would keep Skywarp alive, especially if it was a long runner rather than a raid. From a certain point of view, they still were in the thick of the fighting, and even if they weren't, well. This was a damn sight better than it could have been, and though Thundercracker might curse his wingmate's programming he'd never blame Skywarp for this. The wound hadn't healed, even if the plating had, and taking care of wounded wingmates was his job. It could just as easily been Starscream, not even Starscream was glitched enough to be immune. It could just as easily been Thundercracker himself.

Eventually, far too slowly for Thundercracker's liking, Skywarp transformed from a corpse-cold statue to a warm, limp, weak human. No weaker than Thundercracker himself, and that made protecting him a thousand times harder. Skywarp pushed himself away from Thundercracker's shoulder, but he left a hand on his wingmate's knee all the way back to their temporary base.

Silverbolt dried his hands off, but he hesitated before answering the phone. Not because he didn't want to talk to Prime, not because Fireflight had done anything wrong…but he didn't want semantics to trip them up and get his brother in trouble over a misunderstanding. They may have called Slingshot and Air Raid Decepticons for the fighting spirit they'd programmed the Aerialbots with, they may have looked askance at Skydive's reading of Decepticon literature that was pretty much the only place he could find anything on Cybertronian air tactics, but only Fireflight had been directly accused of sabotage.

Wheeljack had defended him back then, and Ratchet had refused to on grounds that it was too ridiculous to acknowledge, and both of them had given Silverbolt a crash course in what they called "clear and effective communication" and Skyfire later recognized as "denting the truth to get the grant money." Silverbolt didn't have the vorns of experience that the older mechs had, however, and he had considerably higher stakes. The Aerialbot commander had hoped to have more time to organize his thoughts before he was called to the carpet.

Actual information from Fireflight beyond Decepticon anatomy would have been nice too.

Prime had asked for the Aerialbots to reach out to the Seekers, though, and Silverbolt didn't need to be specific about how Fireflight had learned about the sex ratio between the Decepticons. He pressed the button. "Hello, Silverbolt here." Maybe he'd be lucky and this was entirely unrelated. It wouldn't be the first time Optimus Prime called just to say hello.

"Silverbolt," Optimus said, and he sounded quite serious. "I need to put you on speakerphone with Prowl, Ironhide, Jazz, Red Alert, and Ratchet." Silverbolt waited, and pretended not to hear Prime remind everyone that the Aerialbots were trustworthy Autobots, and that surely there was an explanation. "Okay, Silverbolt, can you hear us?"

They sounded a little strange, as people on speakerphone always did, but he could hear them clear enough. "Yes."

"How long has Megatron been in Detroit?" Ironhide demanded. Silverbolt heard the muffled grunt as someone, probably Ratchet, kicked him under the table.

"There are rumors of a man in Detroit calling himself Megatron," Red Alert said. Silverbolt could hear his fingers drumming on the table, a habit he'd had as long as Silverbolt had known him. Fireflight had pointed it out, and added that he only did it when he was ninety percent sure this was a routine security check that would turn up nothing.

"You mean Calvin Johnson?" Silverbolt asked, confused. The Lions had signed Johnson years ago, nicknamed him Megatron years ago. Even if they hadn't known that, surely a few seconds on the Internet would have proven that unless he could be in two different places at the same time, Calvin Johnson was not the ruler of the Decepticons.

The drumming continued, faster now. "So you have heard of him," Jazz drew out the pause far, far too long. "Were you planning on telling us about him?"

"No," Silverbolt said, because really, why would he waste his time? He heard the front door open behind him and covered the phone with his hand, twisted around to look over his shoulder. Fireflight was still writing his report back in the bedroom (or more likely playing that damn number game, and Silverbolt was going to have words with him if he was), and the other three were supposed to be at the movies.

"Forgot my wallet," Air Raid said, grabbing it off the counter with one hand and blowing Silverbolt a kiss with the other.

Silverbolt nodded, and returned his attention to the phone. "Silverbolt," Prime was saying, and oh, did he sound disappointed, "why?"

"Because you didn't need to know." Silverbolt picked up the stained piece of cloth, and questioned the effort he was putting into cleaning it. Part of the problem was Hot Spot. No, that wasn't fair. Part of the problem was that Hot Spot had actual things to deal with, and Silverbolt would never call him to whine about how penises were once again making his life difficult. He'd thought, as a Cybertronian and then occupying a female body, he'd never have to deal with that particular human mystery. But first Slingshot refused to touch it unless absolutely necessary, and then Air Raid discovered he really liked touching it, and now Fireflight had gone and found himself two to play with!

Being human was horribly, horribly messy, with a seemingly endless number of bodily fluids that needed to be washed out by hand. Silverbolt looked at the clock. By human standards, his time was worth eight dollars an hour. Anything more than twenty minutes trying to get this stain out was officially not worth it. Cotton decomposed, right?

"What led you to believe we didn't need to know," Prime asked. "When we sent you to Detroit for that very reason?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Silverbolt said, wringing out the water so it wouldn't drip all over the floor. "I'm afraid I don't understand." He threw it away. One pair of underwear ruined, three salvaged. Not bad for someone who'd only menstruated twice, far better than the first time.

"You're supposed to be looking for Decepticons, you-" Ironhide was cut off, by Ratchet from the sound of it. Only Ratchet would dare to actually put his hand over Ironhide's mouth mid-obscenity.

"But we found them," Silverbolt said, now thoroughly lost. "Fireflight's learned a lot from them, and so has Skydive."

Prowl finally spoke up. "Silverbolt, how many did you find?"

Suddenly, Silverbolt understood, and his confusion turned to burning anger. "We found the three Decepticons in Detroit, who claim to be unaffiliated with Megatron," he said. "Calvin Johnson was born in 1985, as a human, and has played for Detroit since 2007, well before our…accident. Since he is obviously not Megatron, I didn't think to waste anyone's time."

"That's not your call to make," Prowl said. "We should have heard that information from you immediately, not two weeks ago from Smokescreen."

"And when you heard it from someone else, did you think my team had betrayed you? Or that we're just that stupid?" Silverbolt demanded. He didn't yell. He didn't swear. And the question definetly needed to be asked.

"We've never thought you were stupid before," Ratchet muttered. Whatever he said next was lost as someone switched off the speaker.

Prime thanked him for clearing up the misunderstanding, and hung up the phone.

Silverbolt spun on his heel and punched the fridge. He only allowed himself one, but he made it count, denting the thin metal.

"Silverbolt?" he heard a small voice say. "What's wrong?" Fireflight leaned on the counter. How much had he heard?

Silverbolt shook his head. What would they have said if he told them about Fireflight interfacing with Decepticons? They went from a rumor that one man out of three million in the tri-county area might be Megatron to the Aerialbots switching sides. Even Ratchet had thought that. What would they think of his brother, who still thought Prime and Prowl and Jazz weren't capable of doing wrong?

No, he had to protect his brother. The other Autobots weren't lining up to do it, after all.

Fireflight came around the counter, and Silverbolt hugged him. "Nothing's wrong, 'Flight," he said. "Everything's been straightened out."