Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hound was on patrol, enjoying his drive through the desert when he picked up the scent of a mech he didn’t recognize. It held the base scents of metal, oil, and Energon that all mechs had, but he couldn’t match the scent to any mechs he knew. It could be a trick, mechs were able to change their scent by adding additional smells that overpowered or complicated their natural scent, but why would the Decepticons specifically target him? Hound knew he was the only one with sensors sensitive enough to tell mechs apart by scent, but he didn’t think the Decepticons knew just how accurate his sensors were.

If it wasn’t a trap the only other portion was that a mech he didn’t know was here on Earth, either on accident or by design. The question of what to do briefly flashed in his processor before Hound decided to follow the scent. Everything else on patrol looked fine, but this was odd, something worth investigating. If it was a Decepticon trap he would be able to inform Optimus about what was going on. If a new mech ended up on the planet they might have a new ally if Hound got to him before the Decepticons.

Decision made Hound followed the scent. It wasn’t long before he found its source, a small cave in the ground. Hound almost drove past it but froze in his tracks when his sensors picked up faint mechanical whines and clicks coming from the cave. He knew those noises, but it seemed insane to hear them on Earth. Those were the cries of a sparkling in distress. There hadn’t been any new sparks since a thousand years into the war. Fighters shut down their forges to avoid putting a new spark in danger during the fighting, and the noncombatants all died.

This couldn’t have been a trap. No Decepticon, no matter how vile, would pretend to be a sparkling in distress to lure someone into a trap.

Hound approached the hole but made sure there was some distance between him and the hole’s opening. He didn’t know if the sparkling would want space. It would be best to play it safe for now. Tuning his voice to be the softest he could make it, Hound asked, “Hey little one, what’s wrong?”

The cries stopped when he spoke only to be replaced by a questioning chirp. He was hoping the sparkling would talk to him, but at least they were responding.

“I’m Hound, an Autobot scout. I was patrolling the area when I heard you crying. Do you need help?”

It was quiet for a few klicks before Hound heard the faint noise of mechanical limbs moving. A head popped out of the tunnel and Hound nearly had a pump failure at the sight. The sparkling looked like they were dead with their gray unpainted armor. The only color on them were their yellow optics. That combined with Hound being able to feel their spark faintly humming were the only reasons he didn’t think he was looking at a corpse. Even with those things it was hard to push down his discomfort.

What kind of slagger left their sparkling unpainted? Before the war even the poorest of mechs were painted. The only one crazy enough to want to look like a walking corpse was the great slagmaker himself, Megatron.

Pushing down his discomfort Hound smiled at the sparkling. They were looking up at him, optics wide with wonder. They were adorable once he got past his instinctual reaction. Their round cheeks and wide eyes combined with being small enough to fit in Hound’s hand was worth cooing over.

The sparkling didn’t need to be cooed over, though. Not now, at least. “Since you know I’m Hound can you tell me your designation?”

The sparkling looked down sadly giving off an aura of dejection. A quiet, warbling wine left them that would have been hard for most normal mechs to pick up on.

“Is it because you can’t speak, or do you not have a designation?” Hound asked.

The sparkling held up two servos. They didn’t have a designation. That was odd and concerning, especially when combined with their apparent inability to speak.

Hound really wanted a way to refer to the sparkling that wasn’t just the sparkling or nicknames. He deserved to have his own designation. “Would you like it if I gave you a designation? We could always change it later if you find something you like better.”

The sparkling lit up at Hound’s suggestion, clapping his hands together and clicking in delight.

“Now, for a good designation. . .” Hound wracked his brain, trying to think about a good designation that was fitting for the sparkling. Maybe something to do with sound or noise? They sure made a lot of it, even without being able to talk. “What do you think about Click?”

A high-pitched whine came from the sparkling—Click—as they vigorously nodded.

Hound chuckled at the sparkling’s enthusiasm. “Okay Click, what do you think about coming with me? As I told you, I’m an Autobot. We have a base on this planet, and our medic—Ratchet—could take a look at you. See if he could fix your vocalizer so you can talk. We can take care of you. What do you say?”

Click’s faceplate morphed into a look of awe as he stood still half in that cave staring at Hound. Then, Click ran to Hound, hitting his leg plats with an echoing clang as he tried to wrap his arms around it in a hug. Click’s arms could only reach halfway around Hound’s legs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hound laughed. “Take a step back so I can transform into my alt form. I’ll drive us back to base, it’ll be quicker.”

Click did as he said and soon enough Hound had Click buckled into his alt form. Driving away Click looked at everything in excitement. This was nice. It had been a long time since Hound had seen a sparkling. Even Bumblebee, the youngest of the Autobots, was an adult when the war started.

“I need to call our leader, Optimus Prime, and our medic, Ratchet, to let them know I’m coming back to base early with you. I’ll be focused on talking to them and heading back to base for a bit. Is that okay?”

Click nodded with a little chirp. Taking that as agreement Hound pinged Ratchet first. He may trust and respect his leader, but Ratchet was always in charge where patients are concerned, and Click was going straight to med bay.

::Ratchet, this is Hound. I’m heading back early and I have someone who needs a checkup.::

::Who is it? What happened?:: Ratchet snapped, demanding the information.

::I found a sparkling.:: Hound admitted, letting his nervousness blead into his voice. Click couldn’t hear this and he needed reassurance about what to do. Ratchet handled plenty of sparklings before the war, he would know what to do. ::They can’t speak outside of baby talk, you know, clicks, whirrs, whines. He, he didn’t have a designation and he’s unpainted.::

Ratchet’s end of the comm was quiet for several klicks before he slowly said, ::You found an unpainted sparkling that doesn’t have a designation and can’t speak.::

::Yeah. Well, I gave him a designation since he didn’t have one. He’s Click now, and I told him he could change it if he found one he liked better. But he didn’t have one when we met.::

::How did you find him?::

::I was on patrol and smelled a mech I didn’t recognize. I can recognize all the mechs on Earth now, so I knew it had to be someone new. I investigated and found Click. He was hiding in a little cave, more like a hole in the ground, clicking and whining in distress. I tried talking to him and he popped out of the cave and he’s so tiny. Clicks even smaller than Spike.:: The realization of just how tiny and fragile Click was struck Hound. If he tipped over Click would end up smashed to pieces. He adjusted his course slightly lowering his speed and going to smoother terrain. The slight increase in time to get back to base was worth it with the slight decrease in chances that he’ll tip over. The chance that he’d tip over was already miniscule, but he won’t take any extra risks to Click’s safety.

Why was Click squirming now? Was something wrong?

::Hound, stop panicking. What happened next.:: Ratchet calmly asked.

Right, he was telling Ratchet about how he met Click. He had lowered the chances of tipping over. Everything was fine now. He could do this, he was calm. ::I figured out that Click didn’t have a designation and offered to give him one. He’s really happy with his new designation. Then I offered to bring him back to base and have you give him a checkup, see if you could fix his inability to speak. He ran to me to give me a hug. He’s so tiny his arms only reached halfway around my leg. He’s so cute.::

::Well, it seeks like the sparkling likes you. That’s a good sign. When you get back to base bring Click straight to the med bay. No extra stops.::

::Understood. If that’s all I’ll contact Optimus about this.::

::That’s all. I expect to see you soon:: With that parting remark Ratchet ended their comm call.

That went well. Ratchet even mentioned that Click liking him was a good sign. That was good. Now to comm Optimus.

::Optimus, this is Hound. I’m heading back from patrol early straight to Ratchet. You need to send someone else out to finish my patrol.::

::What happened?:: Optimus immediately responded, concern clear in his voice.

::I was several breems into my patrol when I caught the scent of a mech I didn’t recognize. I followed the scent to its source and, Optimus. . . I found a sparkling.::

::A sparkling? How did he end up here?::

::I don’t know, but something’s wrong with him. He, he can’t talk, he didn’t have a designation, and his armors unpainted. I thought he was dead when I first saw him.:: Hound choaked out the last part.

Click was gripping his seat belt tightly now, quietly whining. What was distressing him? Hound couldn’t sense anything around them.

::That’s concerning. His caretaker?::

::I couldn’t sense anyone else around. I’m not sure he had one. I mean, who doesn’t give their sparkling a designation. I-I gave him a designation, he’s Click now, at least until he changes it.:: Hound was rambling now. He didn’t know why he was rambling. Everything was fine. He was on a safe course back to base with Click securely riding with him. Ratchet was waiting at base to give Click a checkup. Ratchet was the best doctor in Cybertron ever produced. If anything was wrong Ratchet would fix it. Everything was fine.

::And he’s coming with you willingly?:: Optimus asked.

::Yeah. Click hugged me when I suggested coming here. He’s just so cute. Ratchet said its good he trusts me.:: He was starting to ramble again. He needed to stop that. Optimus was his leader, that meant he needed concise reports of important information, not Hound’s ramblings. Not over a comm call.

::That is good.:: Optimus gently said. ::You made the right call, Hound. I’ll send Sideswipe and Sunstreaker out to finish your patrol and see if they can find anything else. Do you have the coordinates you found Click at?::

It was a relief to know that Optimus agreed with his decision. He would have defended it to Prowl, but it was good he wouldn’t have to. Sending the coordinates he found Click at he said, ::I sent you the coordinates. Click was hiding in a tiny cave. I didn’t look inside, but he didn’t bring anything with him.::

::I’ll let them know. And Hound?::

::Yes Optimus?::

::Get back here quickly. I look forward to meeting Click..::

::Will do, Optimus. Hound signing out.:: Ending the call Hound focused on Click again who still looked nervous. He needed to cheer the sparkling up—it was upsetting to see the sparkling so upset.

A flock of birds flew by and Click pointed at them with a whirr of delight. Hound chuckled seeing Click so happy at seeing some birds. He loved the organic life on this planet, it was nice that the sparkling enjoyed it as well. This could be Clicks first time seeing birds.

Hound began explaining what he knew about those birds and birds in general on Earth, all his worry from earlier disappearing. Click soaked up what he was saying with a focused gaze and happy chirps, his earlier nervousness completely gone.

They began making a game of it. Click would point at something with a questioning whirr and Hound would do his best to explain it to Click. He pointed at everything there was in the desert, form the sand and stone, to the rare plants and animals. He even pointed at Hound himself. He just chuckled and started explaining his past and what he does now to Click who was an attentive listener. It was a very pleasant drive back to the Ark.

Chapter Text

Driving up to the Arc Hound was surprised to see no one standing around to meet him. He thought the base would be blowing up with the news of a sparkling being found. There weren’t even mechs off duty hanging around the Arc. Optimus must be distracting them so he wouldn’t be stopped on his way to the med bay. Several Autobots would be eager to take a look at Click even if it held them back from their appointment with Ratchet.

Whatever the reason, Hound was thankful that when he drove through the Arc to the med bay, he didn’t meet another mech. Click looked around trying to take everything in on their drive through the Arc, constantly clicking in excitement. When they finally arrived, Hound transformed back into his root mode, holding Click in his arms as he changed. Knocking on the med bay door Ratchet responded with a distracted “Come in.”

Walking in, the med bay looked the same as always. The only difference was Ratchet. Instead of greeting them or looking over his tools one more time like he normally did when Hound came in for a checkup, he was completely focused on a data pad. He didn’t even realize they were here.

Was Ratchet looking up information on sparklings? Sparklings were rare even before the war. Most mechs were sparked by Vector Sigma directly into their fully grown frame. Sparklings, on the other hand, rarely split off of their carrier’s spark when two mechs spark merged. The new spark would stay connected to their carrier’s spark as their own body formed before emerging. They were even smaller than a cassette and both their body and mind needed time to grow.

“I’m here with Lil’ Click for his appointment.” Hound said.

That finally caught Ratchet’s attention as he looked up looked up from the data pad. “Good, set Click on the berth and give him some room. I want to get a spark reading before I do anything else.”

Following Ratchet’s command Hound set Click on the berth. As he walked away Click reached up to Hound with a little whine. Hound couldn’t help but smile at how cute the sparkling was acting. “I can’t sit with you while Ratchet takes your spark readings. There’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be here the entire time.”

Click slumped over in defeat. Thankfully he wasn’t a fussy sparkling. Hound had heard stories of sparklings that would cry if their caretaker ever set them down for longer than a klick. Ratchet walked towards them with a large machine that looked similar to Reflector’s alt form, a camera, but bigger and on a pole with three legs to hold it steady.

“This,” Ratchet said holding the camera up to Click, “Is a spark scanner. I point it at you, and it’ll read your spark. It won’t hurt at all, and all you need to do is stay still. Can you do that for me Click?”

Click gave an affirmative click before straightening up and freezing in place. Ratchet set the camera down and turned it on. It thrummed to life with a hum, and from behind Ratchet Hound could see the screen. It was full of numbers and abbreviations that Hound couldn’t understand at all, but that was why Ratchet was the doctor, not him.

Eventually the camera began to beep, and Ratchet picked it up and plugged it into his data pad. “You can sit with Click. I need to look at this.”

Permission finally given, Hound sat next to Click, the sparkling immediately leaning into his side with a pleased purr. Hound chuckled as he began to pet Click’s head. “That wasn’t too bad, right?” Click just increased the volume of his purr as he leaned even harder into Hound’s side.

“Congratulations. Your spark is perfectly healthy.” Ratchet cut in.

“What next, Ratchet?” Hound asked.

“I want to take a look at Click’s vocalizer. Physically, he seems to be healthy, but the fact that he can’t speak is concerning. Sparklings emerge with a fully functional vocalizer. If his vocalizer was functioning, Click should be making some sort of noise with it.” Ratchet said. “Click, can you move away your neck plating so I can take a look?

Click was silent as he tipped his head forward in concentration. Soft shirks came from Click as his neck plates moved out of the way. Click looked up at Ratchet with a now unprotected throat. It was disconcerting to see such a delicate part of cybertronian biology exposed to the world, even if Click’s plating was too thin to be very protective yet.

“Good job. I’m going to look at your vocalizer and poke a few things. It shouldn’t hurt at all. If it does, let me know and I’ll stop.” Ratchet said.

Ratchet waited for Click to nod with a little chirp before he began looking at Click’s throat. He immediately frowned, but he began gently poking it with a small tool that emerged from his finger that Hound didn’t recognize.

Eventually, satisfied with what he found, Ratchet pulled away. “You can close up your neck plates.”

The small shirk of Click’s neck plates reengaging came immediately after Ratchet said he could. Click looked up at Ratchet with a little whine.

“I found what’s wrong with your vocalizer. It’s damaged beyond repair; I’m going to have to fabricate a new vocalizer to replace your current vocalizer.” Ratchet said. “Click, did someone do this to you?”

Click was silent, head tilted down as he refused to look at Ratchet or Hound. Hound was very concerned about what Click’s caretakers did to him. If they destroyed his vocalizer before abandoning him on a random planet. . . Hound wasn’t one to enjoy violence. He joined the war because people needed help, and he could help them with the Autobots. But, looking at Click he wanted to put his tracking skills to use hunting them down to make them hurt.

Click flinched and all of Hound’s anger left him leaving only his worry for Click. Scooping Click into his arms Hound’s engines instinctively began to purr as he said, “It’s okay Click. I’ll protect you; no one will hurt you anymore.”

Slowly, Click relaxed in Hound’s arms, leaning back into him. A quiet purr rose up from Click matching his as Click began to nod off into recharge.

“It’s been a long day for you two.” Ratchet softly said in front of him. Hound startled, when did he get so close without Hound noticing? “Go to your room and recharge. You need it to integrate your caretaker programming. We can finish Click’s checkup and get him painted tomorrow.”

“Caretaker programming?” Hound asked. He hadn’t heard of that before.

“Yeah, it seems to have gone online when you met Click. Every mech has it, but it’s offline until you have a sparkling to care for. It’s why you were panicking so badly when comming me earlier. A good recharge will allow the programing to integrate and you won’t have any more major emotional fluctuations because of it.”

That did sound nice, but. . . Hound held Click closer to his chest. Click instinctively nuzzled into him.

“I’m not telling you to leave Click here, he already sees you as his caretaker. Bring him with you.” Ratchet said.

“I can do that?” Hound asked. He thought that they would try to get someone who didn’t do much fieldwork to take care of Click. Hound was their best scout, loosing him to being a caretaker would be a big blow to the Autobots.

“Of course you can. It’s pretty clear you’re his caretaker now. We can figure out the details tomorrow once you’ve settled down. Now leave me alone, I have a new vocalizer to make, and those can be tricky.” Ratchet said.

That sounded really nice. In the back of his mind Hound worried about what would happen to Click, but he ignored it. Picking up Click Hound said, “I’ll talk to you more tomorrow.” Then he left for his room.

Thankfully the halls were still empty. Entering his room Hound went straight to his bed and curled up around Click. With Click safe in his arms Hound went into recharge.

Chapter Text

Hound left recharge early to Click squirming in his arms. According to his chronometer he had only recharged for a few Earth hours, not enough for a full recharge. Sitting up Hound asked, “Is something wrong?”

Click whined pointing to his mouth.

Oh, he was an idiot—so focused on the sparkling he found and getting them a medical checkup that he didn’t even think about their other needs. “You’re hungry.”

Click nodded, a quiet whine of agreement rising from him.

Of course Click was hungry. Who knows how long it had been since he last ate before Hound found him. How often did sparklings even need to eat? How much did they need to eat? Click was tiny. Smaller mechs normally consumed less fuel, but would Click need more because he’s growing? Spike joked that he ate a lot because he’s a growing boy. Was Click the same?

He needed advice. Coming Ratchet Hound immediately said, ::Click’s hungry. How much Energon does he need and how often?::

::Your up earlier than I expected. I made an Energon mix for Click, come by the med bay with him so he can refuel, and we can finish his check up and finally get him painted before the whole base meets him.:: Ratchet said.

::I’m heading over.:: Hound said before disconnecting the call. Standing up Hound picked up Click and said, “We’re heading back to the med bay. Ratchet has some Energon mixed up for you, and then we can finish your checkup from yesterday and finally get you painted.”

Click rapidly clicked his happiness but let out a curious whine when he mentioned paint.

They were walking to the med bay now. Hound could sense that mechs were out in the halls again with his sensors and deliberately avoided them so they wouldn’t make a fuss over Click. He didn’t know how much Optimus told them, or if they even knew a sparkling was here, and he wanted to talk to Optimus before introducing Click to everyone. He just knew that showing Click off to everyone would distress the sparkling with all the attention.

Knowing they were far enough away from everyone that they couldn’t be heard Hound said, “You need a proper paintjob. Everyone might start off grey, but it isn’t a good color to keep. Why don’t you think about what color and design you want? You get to choose your own paint job.”

Click nodded before shoving his head into Hound’s chest. Click really was cute with how shy he acted, but Hound couldn’t help but worry that it was another sign of abuse by his previous caretakers. From the stories sparklings were curious, fearless creatures. Click may have been curious, but he certainly wasn’t fearless.

They made it to the med bay when Hound was lost in thought. Knocking on the door Hound said, “It’s Hound.”

Unlike last time Ratchet opened the door for him. Walking in Hound didn’t wait for Ratchet’s instructions to sit on the medical berth, setting Click down in his lap. Click began kicking his legs out, peds lightly landing on his legs with each swing.

“Well, at least the little one seems to be in good spirits.” Ratchet chuckled, picking up a small cube filled with Energon from the desk, but it was in a bright blue Hound had never seen before. Ratchet handed the cube to Click who carefully grabbed it and looked at it in awe.

“It’s your Energon Click. It has some mineral additives to help you grow up strong and healthy.” Ratchet said. Ratchet insisted on adding mineral additives to their Energon to help support their self-repair nanites, but that made the Energon purple.

Click hesitantly brought the cube up to his lips, but at his first sip his engines began to purr, and Click threw the cube back chugging it down.

“It’s really good, huh Click?” Hound chuckled.

Click eagerly nodded handing the cube back to Ratchet. Ratchet set the cube back on the table and said, “Its mid-grade mixed with mineral additive, I’ll give you the mix when we’re done here. It has instructions on how to mix it and how often Click needs to eat. We’ll go over it when we're done here."

“Sounds good. What else do you need for your checkup?” Hound asked.

“Interfacing, including medical interfacing, is dangerous for sparklings until they’re at least 1,000 vorns old. Instead, I’m going to ask you a few questions Click. I'll only give you a physical checkup if somethings wrong, like with your vocalizer earlier. Can you answer me truthfully? This is important.”

Click slowly nodded without speaking. Ratchet began asking a barrage of questions, writing Click’s answers on his data pad.

“Has your vocalizer been broken for most of your life?”

Yes.

“Have you been hurt in the last few mega-cycles?”

No.

“Does your frame normally hurt?”

No.

“Have you ever had a virus?”

No.

“Have you ever had rust?”

No.

On and on the questions went until Ratchet smiled at Click and said, “Congratulations. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong outside of your vocalizer. If you ever start hurting come to me immediately. You shouldn’t be in any pain, so if you are something is wrong. My job is to fix whatever’s wrong.”

Click nodded seriously at Ratchet’s request.

“Good. If you can do that, you’re better than most of the mechs here. They refuse to come in for any issues.” Click clicked in an imitation of a laugh.

Hound chuckled at that, safe knowing that Ratchet wasn’t taking a jab at him. He was one of the few mechs that came in for all of their regular checkups and whenever they were hurt. Ratchet was more likely grousing about Ironhide and the other bots who often fought on the frontlines. They only willingly saw Ratchet when they had a dangerous injury. Half the time they didn’t even see Ratchet of their own free will, either being dragged in by someone else, or from Ratchet coming to them directly.

“Now then, since you were so good I think you deserve a treat.” Ratchet said, pulling a rust stick out of his subspace. He handed it to Click who looked at it curiously. He held it up to Hound clicking.

“It’s a treat. Your supposed to eat it.” Hound gently explained. His spark hurt at Click’s blatant confusion when given a simple treat. Even with how hard times were now it was an easy treat to make. Ratchet always kept a supply on hand to bribe others.

Click hesitantly took a bite and instantly began to purr. Unlike with his Energon earlier Click didn’t immediately devour his rust stick. Instead, he slowly ate it one small bite at a time. Savoring it. His engines purring loudly in contentment.

Once Click finished his rust stick Ratchet spoke again. “Now, I wanted to talk to you two about Click’s new vocalizer. There’s nothing to worry about, it’ll just take an Earth week to fabricate. It’s a very delicate part so it takes time. However, I need to know. How old are you Click?”

Click’s brows furrowed as he thought before he tentatively held up eight fingers.

“Is that eight vorns?” Ratchet asked.

Click shook his head and Rachet asked, “Than are you eight mega-cycles old?”

Click nodded. That was so young.

“Eight mega-cycles is good.” Ratchet said.

What could be good about Click being abandoned at such a young age. Not even a full vorn old and abandoned by his caretakers on a planet they wouldn’t have expected him to survive.

Ratchet didn’t seem to notice Hound’s frustration as he continued saying, “The big problem with a sparkling’s vocalizer not working is that they are learning how their body works. The first vorn is a crucial part of that process—it’s when you make the first important connections to your frame.”

Focusing on Click Ratchet continued, “If you were older than a vorn, it’s highly likely that you wouldn’t be able to use your vocalizer, even if we replaced it with a new one. We can talk about it more before we replace your vocalizer, you should be able to use it just fine.”

The tapping of Click’s pedes on Hound's legs had gotten harder as Click swung his legs excitedly.

“You ready to be able to talk soon?” Hound asked.

Click enthusiastically nodded at the question.

“Good. Now, what about Click’s paintjob? Who’s doing that?” Hound asked.

Ratchet grinned like he always did when he thought something was funny.

“Alright, what did you do?” Hound asked.

“I didn’t do anything. I just told Optimus that Click needed a paintjob, and he called Sunstreaker back from patrol early. He should be arriving soon with Optimus and Prowl so they can figure out your schedule.” Ratchet said in a fake innocent voice.

That’s right. If he was taking care of Click his available time to help patrol would be severely cut down. Prowl would probably have to redo the entire schedule to account for it. A tugging on his arm made him look down at Click who was whining. Hound could tell Click was asking what was wrong with Sunstreaker.

“Sunstreaker is a good mech. He can just be a lot when it comes to painting, it’s his passion you see. Don’t let him push you into a paintjob you don’t want.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Sunstreaker isn’t bad.” Ratchet said.

Hound groaned, “You don’t understand Ratchet. He’s always trying to convince me to get a new paintjob. I like how I look now; I don’t need more colors or designs.” Whenever they saw each other Sunstreaker brought it up. Ratchet was lucky medics usually had similar paintjobs to keep Sunstreaker off his back. Otherwise Sunstreaker would be bothering him as well.

As if summoned by being spoken of there was a knock on the door and Optimus said, “It’s Optimus. I’m here with Prowl and Sunstreaker.”

“Come in.” Ratchet said.

As they walked in Click immediately focused on Optimus with a surprising intensity.

“That’s Optimus Prime, our leader.” Hound said. “On his left is Prowl, his second in command. Sunstreaker is on his right, he’ll be giving you your new paintjob.”

Optimus kneeled in front of Click. “That’s right, I am Optimus Prime leader of the Autobots. It is nice to meet you Click.

Click started clicking rapidly as he reached out and grabbed Optimus’ battle mask.

Chuckling good naturedly Optimus asked, “Do you like my mask?”

Vigorously nodding Click whirred in agreement.

“Thank you.” Optimus said.

“Wow, I can see why you need a new coat of paint pronto.” Sunstreaker cut in, leaning over to get a look at Click. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you all sorted out.”

Setting Click on the ground Hound encouraged him. “Go with Sunstreaker and follow his directions. I’ll be here talking to Optimus and Prowl if you need me. And remember, don’t let Sunstreaker push you into anything you don’t want. It’s your paintjob not his.”

“Come on I wouldn’t push anyone into a look they don’t want.” Sunstreaker whined.

“Tell me that when you don’t try and talk me into a new paintjob every time we meet.” Hound flatly said.

“I’m not forcing you. I’m just saying, you could look so much better if you add a little variety to your look. It’s just so flat and one note.” Sunstreaker said.

“Just listen to what Click wants, even if you don’t agree with it.”

“Fine,” Sunstreaker sighed before turning to Click and excitedly saying, “follow me. I have so many colors and basic designs to choose from, and I can do something a little more custom if you want.”

Sunstreaker rambled about the paintjobs he could do was he walked to the room he normally used for his paintjobs with Click hurrying to keep up with him. The room was directly connected to the med bay and had all the painting equipment already installed. Hound was pretty sure the only reason that room was connected to the med bay was so that in the rare case something went wrong with the chemicals getting somewhere dangerous Ratchet would be there to help. Salons on Cybertron always had a medic on hand in case of an emergency from what he remembered. He rarely went to salons, but there was always a medic there with their own small med bay that never got used specifically designed to handle chemicals.

Hound couldn’t understand the mechs who got a touch up or new paint job every week. It was so much upkeep when his solid green paintjob served him just fine.

“Now then,” Prowl spoke up for the first time since he entered the room, “we should discuss Click and your schedule going forward.”

Hound wasn’t looking forward to this talk, but Prowl and Optimus were good mechs and his friends. They wanted this to succeed just as much as he did. That’s what he told himself to try and push down his anxiety as their meeting started.

Chapter Text

“Sorry for messing up your plans Prowl.” Hound sheepishly apologized, ducking his head after Ratchet went to the other side of the med bay and started reading something on his data pad to give them at least a veneer of privacy. Hound knew how much effort the second in command put into his plans, and his sudden absence would throw a wrench into at least some of them, forcing Prowl to redo his calculations. Even if Prowl didn’t feel angry Hound needed to apologize for making more work for his friend.

Prowl blankly looked at Hound, and he could feel confusion bubbling in Prowls’ field. It was rare to feel anything like that from the stoic mech. He was able to keep up with Jazz when he was being deliberately confusing. “Why are you apologizing? Taking in an abandoned sparkling is good. If you didn’t find Click the Decepticons would have, or worse, he would have starved to death.”

Hound flinched at the image of Click starving—nanites stripping his body of minerals and breaking them down in a desperate attempt to keep him fueled. Plating becoming so brittle even a human would be able to break it. He had seen mechs like that before and he never wanted to see it again.

“I’m not sorry for finding Click.” Hound firmly defended himself. He would never be sorry for finding Click. “What I am sorry for is immediately becoming his caretaker.”

“Becoming a caretaker is an honor—there’s no need to apologize for that.” Optimus said.

Hound frowned. “I think we’re having different conversations. I’m not sorry for any of my actions around Click—I’d do it all again in a pulse. What I’m apologizing for is the fact that I won’t be able to go into the field anymore. I know I’m your best tracker by astromiles.”

The confusion in Prowl’s field disappeared, but his expression was unmoved. “That does make more sense, but you don’t need to worry. Click’s safety and development is important, and we can work around your absence in the field.”

“Really?” Hound asked.

“Of course. I made contingencies in case mechs are unavailable. Your absence is not an intolerable loss.” Prowl said.

The worry that filled Hound’s frame since Optimus and Prowl first walked in left at the reassurance. Prowl wasn’t a mech who softened the truth to spare other mechs’ feelings, and there was no hint of a lie in his field. If he said it was fine, it was fine. “Good. So, what exactly is going to happen to me and Click. I haven’t had much time to think about it since finding the little spark.”

“Like you said, you’re Click’s caretaker. Before the war, caretakers were either taken off duty until their sparkling grew up or they were honorably discharged. Prowl has a different idea about what we could do if you agree.” Optimus said.

Prowl nodded. “I want to transfer you form field work to data work. After Click settles in and there are some mechs you trust to watch Click while you are away, I will start sending you into the field if a situation needs your skills. This will only if your expertise is required. No more joining in the big battles unless the Decepticons are at our base or we need everyone in the field.”

“That does sound nice.”

Hound joined the Autobots because he believed in them, in Optimus. To leave them stranded after fighting by their side for the whole war just because he had a sparkling to take care of felt wrong. And yet, to keep throwing himself into battle where he might die and leave Click alone was also wrong. Focusing on helping outside of battle seemed like a good compromise between his safety and helping the Autobots (of course it did, Prowl came up with it).

“So you’ll have me doing limited field work, and no big battles?” Hound asked.

“Correct.” Prowl said.

“What type of datawork am I doing? I don’t have the processor for the things you do.” Hound asked Prowl.

“You will be in charge of compiling the reports from our patrols and scouts—everything except for spec ops. I have full faith in your ability to do this. You already know the signs to look out for with your extensive field experience. Compiling these reports and sending me the results would be well within your abilities.” Prowl said like it was fact. Like Hound would obviously be good at such an important job.

“I’ve never compiled reports before. I wouldn’t know where to start.” Hound dumbly said, his processor lagging behind still trying to rationalize Prowl thinking he would be good at data work.

“The process is simple. I will show you how and help you for your first reports. You can always comm me if you have any questions afterwards.”

“Do you accept Prowl’s plan?” Optimus asked.

“I. . . if you really think I can do it. Than yes.” Hound said. “I-if I’m not working in the field as a scout anymore would my position change?”

Optimus chuckled good-naturedly. “I believe congratulations are in order Officer Hound. Welcome to High Command.”

Him? In High Command? “No matter how good I am at my job I’m just a scout. There’s no way I’m worthy of—”

“Nonsense.” Optimus firmly said, cutting Hound off. He put a reassuring hand on Hound’s shoulder. “I will not stand here listening to my friend being insulted, even if the one insulting him is himself. I would have promoted you to an officer position mega-cycles into the war, but you seemed happy with your position. Was I wrong?”

“But my processor isn’t upgraded for that sort of thing, and you know my past Optimus. There’s no way. . .” Hound trailed off. Prowl and Ratchet were here, even if Ratchet acted like he didn’t hear anything. This was something Hound only told Optimus when he joined the Autobots. The Prime’s reaction proved that he was the mech Hound wanted to follow.

He knew that the mechs on the Arc believed the same things as Optimus. That didn’t mean Hound wanted it to spread across the Arc. Prowl and Ratchet understood discretion, and Hound couldn’t sense any mechs lurking, trying to listen in. But, Hound couldn’t risk it.

“There’s no way what?” Optimus prompted when Hound trailed off.

There’s no way the nobles would ever agree with me becoming an officer.” Hound admitted. “The only reason they didn’t make a fuss when I joined the Autobots was because mechs die in war.”

It was a reality he never told the other Autobots, but he lived with it his whole life. Unable to find any good work since no one wanted to hire a mech the nobles would disapprove of. His credentials clearly spelt it out. He was undesirable. Optimus may have removed that mark, but that didn’t change the fact it used to be there.

Hound fondly remembered his childhood, crawling out of a hotspot in the wilds of Cybertron and living there for his first few vorns. When he was found my other mechs and brought into “proper society” his credentials were marked with what he was. Every proper business refused to hire him, and unable to return to the wilds of his childhood he either had to turn to private work or crime.

Hound was luck, able to leverage his advanced senses and tracking abilities to act as a private investigator. It was a depressing job. Mechs only turned to a private investigator when something was wrong and nothing else was working. So many mechs asked him to follow their conjunx endura. Most of them were cheating, those who weren’t were doing something illegal instead. It turned Hound away from the idea of conjunxing. That a bond meant to last forever was easily broken in a flight of fancy was just sad. Hound had no wishes to put himself in such a sparkbreaking position.

The nobles that made it difficult for him to find any legal work were also the main funding behind the Autobots. They funded the building of the Arc and were the ones who sent them supplies so they could keep up with the more numerous and powerful Decepticons. They might be fine with him as a foot soldier there was no doubt in him mind they would throw a fit when they learn that he was part of High Command.

Anger pulsed through Optimus’ field. Not irritation or upset, but raw burning anger that not even Megatron drew out of Optimus. “Why would I care what those viruses think? Last I checked I am the Prime and leader of the Autobots, not them.” Optimus coldly said.

“But they’ll withdraw their support.” Hound hesitantly said.

“They won’t.” Optimus said, his voice was as hard as titanium. “They know that I don’t agree with them on most matters when they first supported me. The only reason they support me is because they know Megatron will kill them if he wins the war, and I won’t.”

“Are you sure?” Hound asked, feeling unbalanced. He knew that Optimus didn’t agree with the nobles. It was one of the reasons why he joined the Prime. But, Optimus never openly disparaged the nobles around him before.

“Of course I’m sure. Hound, once the war is over, I’m getting rid of them. I may not kill them, but they are not keeping their power. That the nobles must go is one point I agree with Megatron on, even if our methods differ.” Optimus said.

Hound wanted to believe that. He desperately wanted to believe that Optimus would be able to make it happen. “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.” That was the motto Optimus spoke of at the beginning of the war, that motto was what first drew Hound to the new Prime. He never wanted to make Optimus’ dream harder to be made into reality, but, “If you’re sure it won’t hurt us than I accept.”

Prowl smiled. “Congratulations of your promotion, Officer Hound. Your new job starts in three days.”

That would be a good amount of time to show Click around the Arc and introduce him to most of the Autobots. In that line of thought, “What does the rest of the base know about Click?”

“I called a meeting after we finished our comm.  I told everyone that you found a sparkling named Click that you were brining back to base, and that they shouldn’t crowd either of you.” Optimus said.

“So basically nothing.” Hound said.

“It would be beneficial if you used your free days to introduce Click around the Arc.” Prowl suggested.

“I was already going to, but I need a full recharge first. Click interrupted my recharge earlier. He should also recharge before I start introducing him to everyone. He’s already had a stressful orn, adding all those introductions on top of that as well wouldn’t be a good idea.” Hound admitted.

“I agree. You haven’t finished integrating your caretaker protocols. It would be better to get those sorted out before you introduce Click to everyone. We don’t need you attacking someone to ‘protect’ your Sparkling when he’s not in danger.” Ratchet said walking back to them now that their meeting was over.  “Oh, and before I forget, congratulations on the promotion Hound.”

“Thanks.”

“Take all the time you need before introducing Click to everyone. I’ll tell everyone not to bother you.” Optimus said.

“Thanks.”

“That was everything we needed to do here. Comm if you need any help.” Prowl said heading to the door.

Hound nodded. “I will.”

With that goodbye Optimus and Prowl left the med bay.

“So, what makes you so undesirable to the nobles.” Ratchet asked with a forced casual air. “I’ve never heard of this, and it certainly isn’t in your medical files.”

Hound flinched. He thought Ratchet was one of the mechs he could trust not to pry. Apparently not.

“I’m not mad or anything, just surprised.” Ratchet hurried to say. Shame bubbled up in the medics EM field. “I’m only asking because if it’s a medical issue I really should know.”

“It’s not something I like to talk about. I know there’s only good mechs here, but I struggled to find any legal before the war because of it.” Hound admitted. “You don’t need to worry about it, it’s not medical. Just their stupid prejudices.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m always here to talk.” Ratchet gently said.

“Thanks, but I’ve only told Optimus about it, and I don’t intend to share with anyone else.” Hound said.

“Well, whatever it can’t be that bad. I’ve been your doctor for almost the entire war, and I’ve found nothing concerning—even in your regular checkups.” Ratchet slowly said. Giving Hound a slow one over he said, “If it ever becomes too much Optimus would be happy to talk to you about it.”

Before Hound could respond the painting room’s door flung open and Click ran out. His solid gray was replaced by an eclectic blue, white, and green paintjob. His torso, shoulders, and helm were all painted a solid dark blue. The bottom half of his legs were painted a green that exactly matched Hound’s own paintjob. Everything else was painted white.

Click ran straight to Hound, slamming into him and hugging his leg as tightly as the sparkling could with his tiny arms that couldn’t fully wrap around him. Click was trembling letting out little whines as he pressed his face into Hound’s leg.

“What’s wrong sweet spark?” Hound asked. Picking up Click the sparkling turned into his chest, clinging to him.

When Click didn’t even try to answer Hound turned to Sunstreaker who had walked into the med bay after Click. “What happened?”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “I don’t know. It was going well; Click was happy to choose his colors and get painted—but I do wish he was at least more cohesive with the saturation of his colors and how they work together. The white and blue he picked out were really nice together, and then he had to add your green. It doesn’t fit with his other colors at all.”

“Click being happy with his paintjob is the only thing that matters. You really shouldn’t worry about it being cohesive, he’ll probably change it as he grows up.” Hound said, cutting off Sunstreaker’s oncoming rant. “Why did Click get upset?”

“I don’t know. I was putting my last touches on his paintjob, cleaning up the edges, when he started crying out of nowhere. He was fine one moment and the next he’s crying and won’t tell me what’s wrong. I don’t even think he knows what was wrong.”

Hound hummed. Being rocked in his arms, Click now looked happy and relaxed, the opposite of the upset sparkling that ran to him a klick ago. “Is something wrong Click?” Hound asked.

Click shook his head.

Gently petting the top of Click’s head Hound said, “I think we can attribute it to Click having a very long orn. He’ll probably be better after a full recharge.”

Hound was about to leave when Ratchet said, “Are you forgetting something?”

What could he be forgetting? Hound racked his processor when he remembered what Ratchet promised when he entered the Med Bay earlier. “That’s right, you were going to go over Click’s Energon requirements.”

“That’s right.” Ratchet said holding out the small cube Click drank from earlier and a smaller metal tin. “Preparing Click’s Energon is easy. Just fill the cube to the fill line with mid grade and add a scoop of the mineral powder in this tin. Use the spoon that comes with the powder, I already have everything proportioned correctly. Than just stir the powder in and Click can drink it.”

Hound put the cube and powder in his subspace. “How often does he need to eat?”

“Once a day. Just schedule a regular feeding time and you’ll be good.” Ratchet said.

Fueling once a day was a lot. He could comfortably go a whole week on Earth without refueling as long as he wasn’t part of a firefight with the Decepticons or had to use his more intensive sensors. “Why not give Click a bigger cube?”

Ratchet shook his head. “You can’t just give sparklings a bigger cube. Click is tiny and that means his fuel tank is small as well, and growing up uses a lot of energy that needs to be replaced. Together that means that Click needs to fuel a lot and often. That powder should last a month here, I’ll take a look at Click then and make any adjustments then.”

“Understood. I’ll be going to my room now, tell me if anything happens. I’ll call if I need any help with Click.” Hound said. Waving goodbye with his free servo, he walked back to his room, avoiding anyone who passed by. He might need to introduce them to Click, but he wasn’t feeling up to handling them.

Entering his room Hound went straight to his berth. Dropping down he curled up around Click who had already curled up against his chest on the walk and was already dropping into recharge. He would have to turn his berth into a proper den later. He never bothered to before. A berth was enough to sleep on, and he didn’t want to waste materials when they were at war. Now he had a sparkling, and sparklings needed a proper den.

Hound’s processor focused on how he would make his new den as he fell into recharge.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready to meet everyone?” Hound asked Click as he carried the sparkling down the hall.

Click happily began clicking, squirming in his arms.

“Whoa, calm down.” Hound tightened his grip around Click as he squirmed. “What’s wrong?”

Click struggled for a few klicks before he settled down. Click’s body was turned to face everyone rather than curling up against Hound’s chest which was his favorite position.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hound asked.

Click nodded.

“Let me know next time you try to move around. I was scared I would drop you.” Hound chided the sparkling. Click wasn’t as fragile as a human, but his plating was thin and could easily break. It wouldn’t start becoming more durable for a few more vorns.

Whining Click twisted around to press his face against Hound’s chassis in apology. Click’s EM field pulsed in a way that Hound didn’t understand yet. He tentatively labeled the pattern as shame or sadness and filed that tentative identification in his processor. He normally didn’t intentionally read EM fields, especially his friend’s fields, but Click was his sparkling. His sparkling that couldn’t speak.

No matter how smart Click was, using sparkling noises to communicate could only go so far. Knowing what Click was feeling could only be helpful. Even when his vocalizer is replaced in a week Click would need to learn how to speak. Ratchet didn’t bring it up, but Hound could tell that learning how to speak will be a long process—Hound needed better communication now.

Filing Click’s EM field away in his processor Hound asked, “Now are you ready to meet everyone?”

Click nodded, his clicking forming a happy background chatter.

The halls were empty as Hound walked through them. Most mechs were either working or hanging out somewhere on break at this time, and that was Hound’s first stop—the break room. He knew Jazz was on break right now, and he liked hanging out with other spec ops members in the break room affectionately labeled as the land of mystery.

It got its name because it was spec ops preferred break room, and no one could figure out what they were talking about half the time. Was the mission they were talking about real, an altered report, or completely made up? No one could tell! He loved listening to Jazz’s stories. As far as Hound could tell the main idea of what went down on the mission was true, but many of the little details were fake.

Jazz was always delighted when he was telling these stories. Pulling one over on the entire base was hilarious to him, and Hound loved basking in his friend’s field in those moments. It didn’t hurt that Jazz also had the best stories.

The break room was empty except for Jazz and two members of spec ops—Bumblebee and Mirage.

“Jazz, Bumblebee, Mirage! I was hoping to introduce you to someone!” Hound called. The trio already noticed he was there, but it was polite to say hi let them know why he was there.

“Really?” Bumblebee asked standing up. “Could it be our new celebrity on base?”

Celebrity? “I haven’t been paying attention to the latest gossip, but if that celebrity’s name is Click than yes.” Hound said shifting Click in his arms to hold the sparkling up higher.

“Well, isn’t he just a cutie.” Jazz cheerfully said walking over to them. Tilting his head to Click Jazz said, “I’m Jazz, Hound is a good friend of mine.”

Click’s face lit up at the introduction. He pointed at himself and gave a single deliberate click.

Amusement bubbled up in Jazz’s field as he seriously said, “It is nice to make your acquaintance Click.”

Emboldened by Jazz’s introduction Click pointed at Bumblebee and Mirage with a little whine.

“I’m Bumblebee. It’s nice to meet you Click.”

Mirage looked at Click for a second before he said, “I am Mirage. Hound is also a good friend of mine.”

Click nodded seriously before turning to look at Hound. Tilting his head, Click whined.

“I wanted to introduce you to some of my friends first before you met everyone.” Hound explained.

Mirage’s face was turning an odd shade of pink. It always did that when he talked to Mirage. Just why did the noble’s face change colors so often? He asked Ratchet about it before, but the doctor just huffed and said it wasn’t a medical problem. Hound knew the others could see the change, it wasn’t on a spectrum they didn’t’ have the sensors for, but they never mentioned it. His best guess was that it was a reaction to the emotion that caused the odd flipping movement his spark did whenever his cheeks flushed. It was one of the few field fluctuations he hadn’t been able to connect to an emotion.

“We’re your friends, eh?” Jazz poked.

“Of course you are. I consider you and Prowl to be two of my best friends, and Prowl already met Click, even if it was brief.”

“Aww. What about us?” Bumblebee whined.

“The rest of you my friends as well.” Hound said.

“Well then, why don’t you both join us in a card game?” Jazz asked, his charming grin plastered on his face.

“Is it an Earth game?” Hound asked. He had never played a card game before, but he had been busy ever since they landed on Earth. Without the surveillance they had on Cybertron Hound was sent on patrol a lot more to find any Decepticons trying to sneak into the Arc. Ravage already snuck in once when they first landed on Earth.

“It is. The humans were even nice enough to make some decks in our size.” Bumblebee said sitting back at their secluded booth.

The booth was nice, but looking at it Hound noticed a problem. Click was too small to reach the table from the seat. He wouldn’t be able to see the others, even if he was sitting on Hound’s lap.

Nuzzling the top of Click’s head one last time Hound set him on the table.

“Hey now. I thought we weren’t allowed to put out pedes on the table.” Jazz joked.

“You, Jazz, are a full-grown mech. Click can’t reach the table from the chair.” said Hound dryly. That got a laugh out of Jazz and Bumblebee, Mirage didn’t say anything, but his face was turning pink again.

Hey, I’m small. Does that mean I can sit on the table too?” Bumblebee asked through his laughs.

“No.”

Jazz and Bumblebee laughed even harder.

“Do you want to sit on the table too, Mirage?” Hound asked.

Mirage held both of his hands up. “Of course not. Unlike some mechs I do not have the mentality of a sparkling.”

Hound gave in and started laughing at Mirage’s dry response.

Jazz pulled out a deck of cards that really were cybertronian sized from his subspace and began shuffling them. “So, what game should we play? I don’t think it’s a good idea to teach Click how to play poker.”

“Why is teaching Click poker a bad idea?” Hound asked.

“It’s a gambling game. Humans don’t let their children play them.” Jazz explained. “They have a lot of other card games that children can play.”

“What about Old Maid?” Bumblebee suggested.

What was a game named after an old, unmarried, childless woman about?

“The dealer distributes the cards evenly amongst everyone and your goal is to get rid of all your cards by pairing off matching cards and discarding them. Three of the queens are discarded, leaving the last one to act as the old maid. We go around in a circle taking a card from the person before us and letting the person after us take a card from our hands. In the end the old maid will be the last card remaining and whoever is holding it loses.” Mirage explained.

“That sound easy enough.” Hound said. It sounded like it would turn into a mind game with spec ops playing it, but that was the fun of playing with these mechs. Hound never had to feel guilty about reading EM fields when he played with them, mind games were one of their favorite parts. He wouldn’t play those tricks on Click, but with the others he would go all out. “You want to give it a try Click?”

Click nodded, clicking rapidly.

“Great. You can’t let each other see your decks, so separate a bit.” Jazz said passing cards out between them one at a time. When his deck ran out, he picked up the pile of cards next to him and started looking through them, putting two pairs of cards on the table. Click grabbed his pile and walked to the edge of the table between Hound and Mirage so no one could see his cards. That left Hound playing against Jazz, this would be fun.

Hound picked up his deck and noticed he had the queen. Not showing any reaction, he looked through the rest of his cards. There was a pair he put down, but only the one. “So, who draws first?” He asked.

Jazz held out his cards, fanned and facing down to Bumblebee. “Since I’m the dealer Bumblebee draws from me first.”

Jazz and Bumblebee engaged in an intense stare off as Bumblebee’s servo hovered over different cards. Eventually Bumblebee grabbed a card, looked at it, put it into his deck which he shuffled, and held the cards out to Mirage. Mirage did the exact same thing, but the card he drew was part of a pair that he promptly discarded. With no new card to hide he held his deck out to Click without shuffling.

Click stared between Mirage and the cards intently before grabbing his card. Another pair. Click held his deck out to Hound. Not wanting to be too hard on Click and knowing he was safe from grabbing the queen Hound confidently grabbed a card at random. It made a pair that he discarded onto the table.

Jazz was confident as he looked over Hound’s cards. Hound was careful not to give any reaction as Jazz looked over his cards. The confidence in Jazz’s field began to fade as Click didn’t give him any reaction, but the confidence didn’t leave his face. Hound allowed himself to smirk a little at Jazz. Jazz only grinned and snatched a card from his deck. It was the old maid.

Jazz didn’t react to the card, lazily shuffling his deck before holding it out to Bumblebee.

The game went on like that for a while. Surprisingly though, the first mech to match all their cards was Click. By that time Hound was sure that Mirage had the old maid with how gleeful Bumblebee’s field was while Mirage’s field was upset. Hound was more careful about what cards he grabbed after that and kept track of which one was the old maid from the spikes of excitement in Mirage’s field as his hand hovered over the queen.

In the end Jazz cleared his deck out second, Hound was third, and Mirage was fourth. Bumblebee ended the game as the loser with the old maid in hand.

“You should work on reading mechs Bumblebee.” Jazz joked.

“Yeah. You grabbed the old maid from Jazz and Mirage.” Hound said.

“Wait, how do you know I grabbed it from both of them?” Bumblebee asked drawing Jazz and Mirage’s attention.

“Oh, that’s easy. I started with the old maid and Jazz grabbed it in the first round. It was obvious when you grabbed it with how upset you were and how absolutely gleeful Jazz was. Same for when Mirage grabbed it and when you took it back from him.”

“Wait, you could tell what we were feeling? What sensors were you using?” Jazz asked leaning into Hound’s space.

“It’s just my basic sensory suite. I keep everything else off on base to save on Energon.” Hound said, leaning back.

Mirage’s pink cheeks were back full force as he squeaked, “You can tell what we’re feeling?”

“Of course I can. Can’t you guys? I know my basic sensors are more advanced than most mechs, but surely what you use for missions can as well.” Hound said.

“No. We can’t.” Jazz said, his field sinking.

“What’s wrong?” Hound asked.

“You can read my emotions. You can read me.” Jazz quietly said in realization. “How?”

“I’m just reading you EM fields. Everyone’s spark is different, even split sparks, so I need to be familiar with whoever I’m reading. But I’ve known everyone on the Arc long enough that even though I didn’t try to learn their fields I can read them.” Hound said.

“Even split sparks?” Jazz asked in quiet horror.

“What about the Decepticons?” Bumblebee asked leaning over the table.

“I have a read on the ones we meet most. Megatron, Starscream and his trine, Ravage and her group. It’s a good way of tracking mechs since it can’t be hidden or disguised, so I made sure to learn their fields.”

Jazz grabbed Hound’s shoulders and Hound yipped in surprise. Dragging Hound close to him Jazz said, “I have never heard of a mech being able to sense EM fields, let alone read them. Theoretically it’s possible, but it’s never been done before. And you call that part of your basic sensors?”

“It really is. My other sensors are a lot more sensitive.”

Jazz groaned, slumping over. “You would have been perfect in spec ops. I don’t understand why Optimus wouldn’t let me recruit you.”

What.

“You wanted me in spec ops?”

“Yeah. When I was first making the team, I got to see everyone’s files—see who’d be a good fit y’know? Your holograms alone were enough for me to want you, let alone with your tracking skills and history as a private investigator. But when I gave Optimus my list, he said to take you off of it, and not to bother you about joining. Wouldn’t even tell me why.”

“Really?” Mirage asked. “I would have liked working with Hound.”

Why would—oh. “I think Optimus was trying to respect my wishes.”

“What wishes? It can’t be that you’re uncomfortable with spec ops. Your friends with all of us after all.” Jazz asked.

Hound groaned. He didn’t think about it for most of the war, why was it coming up so much now? His meeting with Optimus and Prowl earlier, and now here. He never wanted to talk about it ever again, and spec ops were the nosiest people in the Arc—it was their job to be nosy. But. . . they were also his friends. If he said he didn’t want to talk about it, they wouldn’t push. “I wasn’t in a great place when I joined. Optimus removed it all from my records, and I never want to talk about it again. If you have to know, ask Optimus, but I don’t want you to even mention it to me.

Jazz’s field began oozing concern as he backed away, but Hound was blindsided by Click tackling him, his engines purring. Instinctively Hound wrapped his arms around Click. “Sweetspark, are you trying to comfort me?”

Click’s purring got louder as he nodded.

“Thank you. It helped a lot.” Hound said. He wasn’t lying, the quiet dread that was smothering his thoughts moments ago was wrong, replaced by contentment at having Click in his arms.

“I won’t ask Optimus about it.” Jazz seriously said. “I just want you to promise me that, if whatever this is starts causing you problems, you’ll come to me for help.”

“If something is causing you problems, I will do whatever I can to help.” Mirage said.

“Hey, don’t leave us out. You know that everyone in spec ops would help you, right Hound?” Bumblebee butted in.

“I. . . it hasn’t come up since the beginning of the war, but if it does start causing problems I’ll ask for help.” Hound said. They really were great friends.

“Great, now that that’s out of the way you want to play another game?” Jazz asked, holding up the queen.

“Sure. What about you Click?”

Click nodded, clicking happily.

They spent the next groon playing various card games. Click was happy just to play while the others tried to outthink Hound’s ability to read their fields, becoming an extra game for them. It was the most fun Hound had since they arrived on Earth.

Chapter Text

Jazz was shuffling the cards to start another game when Hound noticed it. An EM field at the edge of his senses. An EM field that he recognized as Ravage’s. Ravage was, according to his late-night chats with Jazz and Prowl, one of the Decepticon’s best spies. They rarely crossed paths, but Hound made sure to memorize his EM field from their sparce meetings.

Ravage was in the vents and heading towards them. Not knowing how good Ravage’s sensors were and deciding to be careful and act as though they were as good as his, Hound stopped himself from physically reacting to his presence. Hound slowly vented to stop his spark, and subsequently his EM field, from racing in nervousness.

Quickly he commed Jazz. ::Ravage is in the vent heading towards us.::

Jazz’s grin didn’t waver as he began flipping the cards in an impressive card trick. ::I don’t hear anything. How do you know?:: He commed back.

That—Hound turned on his advanced sensors. Without the EM field drawing his attention Ravage was almost unnoticeable. His paws gave only the faintest taps as he walked, and his location in the vent prevented Hound from locating Ravage visually or by scent.

Hound didn’t need to waste his time telling Jazz that—the commander probably already knew it. ::I recognize his EM field. I made a point of memorizing it.::

::Now I really wish you joined spec ops.:: Jazz jokingly said and began passing out the cards for another round of Old Maid. ::I’ve informed the others. We’ll attack when he’s in a better position, get your net ready—I’ll pull him out, Mirage and Bumblebee will help me corral him, and you capture him in the net.::

::Got it.:: Hound confirmed subtly shifting so his net gun was in easy reach as he grabbed his hand. He didn’t have any pairs, but he didn’t have the Old Maid either. He couldn’t quite tell who had it as no one was noticeably upset as they looked at their cards. Instead, there was a blend of excitement and nervousness coming from the spec ops members.

Click was looking between them all, whining curiously.

“Is something wrong?” Hound asked.

Click shook his head, quickly picking up his deck and hiding his face behind it.

Chuckling Hound pet Click’s head. “Okay Sweetspark. Just make sure to tell me if something is wrong.”

Click nodded before turning to Mirage who was already holding out his hand. He and Bumblebee just grabbed a card at random this time. As Click focused on the hand Ravage crept closer until he was at the edge of the vent, and Hound could faintly make out the shine of a black optic staring in at them.

::He’s here.:: Hound commed.

Jazz smirked and then he launched himself up at the vent. Ripping the vent shutter off Jazz threw Ravage into the break room. Ravage landed on his side with a yelp.

Hound pulled out his net gun as Bumblebee and Mirage rushed to surround Ravage with Jazz. Pushing himself up to his pedes Ravage froze when he saw Click who was looking at Ravage in curiosity. Ravage’s field exploded with activity that Hound couldn’t understand as he lied optics on Click. Hound just knew he didn’t like it.

Shooting the net at Ravage the cybercat jumped out of the way and ran straight at Hound—no, at Click.

Panic shot through Hound. He couldn’t let Ravage hurt Click.

Bumblebee’s shouting was garbled nonsense in Hound’s processor as they chased after Ravage.

Bang!

Hound shot Ravage with his pistol, but the cybercat was unphased at being shot and continued charging at Click. The others began shooting at Ravage as well, but he kept running towards Click.

In the corner of his eye Hound saw Click scrambling to his feet on the table.

“Stay where you are!” Hound shouted at Click. Click wouldn’t be able to run away from Ravage, he was safer on the table with Hound between him and Ravage. Protecting him.

Hound didn’t wait to see how Click reacted. Ravage was closing in and not slowing down. If guns weren’t working Hound would have to stop Ravage another way.

No time to think.

No time to doubt.

Dropping his guns, Hound launched himself at Ravage. Grabbing Ravage by the muzzle Hound slammed the cybercat onto his back, kneeling on Ravage to hold him down.

Ravage thrashed in his grip, trying to squirm away, but Hound didn’t let go. Holding tightly, he shouted, “Help me hold him!”

The others made it over. Mirage was carrying the net that missed Ravage. Kneeling next to Hound they locked eyes, “Ready?”

Hound nodded. Quickly he let go of Ravage as Mirage wrapped him in the net.

Ravage snapped the moment Hound let go, but it was too late. He was trapped in the net, unable to escape despite his squirming. Hound vented, relaxing. The worst of it was over.

Hound turned back to Click who was standing on the table, shaking as he stared at Ravage with dim optics. Gently, Hound asked, “Are you okay Sweetspark?”

Hound’s question snapped Click’s processor into action. Click’s engine loudly whined in distress as he reached out for Hound.

Hound scooped Click into his arms, holding the sparkling tightly to his chest. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’ll protect you.” He soothed.

Click began trembling violently, his whines getting louder.

Unsure what Click needed; Hound went with his first instinct. Purring his engine Hound guided Click’s head to the crook of his neck. Surrounded by Hound’s rumbling frame and deep soothing purr Click immediately went slack, his whines cutting off. Slowly he nuzzled into the crook of Hound’s neck.

Hound stood there, rocking Click for a tick, before he refocused on Ravage. Bumblebee was carrying Ravage who was laying limply in the net staring intensely at Click. Hound turned his body to hide Click from Ravage’s view, glaring at the cybercat. Whatever Ravage wanted Click for couldn’t be good, and he wasn’t letting Ravage lay even a paw on his sparkling.

Ravage was quickly hauled out of the room by Bumblebee who was excitedly talking to Mirage.

“That was impressive.” Jazz said next to him.

Hound jerked. When did Jazz get so close to him? His sensors were still on, Jazz’s EM field, his scent, the sound of him moving, they were all there. How did he not realize Jazz was next to him? He had never stopped processing sensory data, not even when he was newly forged. Was it his caretaker programming? Click was clearly in distress and he forgot to even keep track of Ravage—a clear threat to his sparkling.

Hound’s fuel tank rolled. If he ignored his sensors whenever Click was upset, he would be putting Click in danger. If Ravage broke out of the net, would he have even noticed?

Focusing on his hearing, Bumblebee was complaining about being the one to haul Ravage to the brig as Mirage followed him out of the break room. His senses were still working. Hound gently rocked Click back and forth for a few ticks focusing on what he could hear and feel around the base. Proving to himself that he could still keep watch for Click. That his sensors were still in working order.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked, bringing Hound’s attention back to the room.

“Ravage saw Click, charged straight at him. I. . . I don’t like how much he was focusing on Click. How, if he gets a message out or escapes, the Decepticons will know about him.” Hound admitted. He could never forgive himself if he made Click a target in their war. He was sure that most Decepticons wouldn’t deliberately kill a sparkling. But that would not stop the worst of them if they thought killing a sparkling would help end the war quicker.

“It is concerning.” Jazz agreed. “But I know you too well Hound, what else is wrong?”

“I. . . I think it’s my caretaker protocols.”

Jazz’s face turned serious as he asked, “What’s wrong with them?”

“When Click started crying all my focus went to him. All of it. I stopped processing my sensory data. I ignored Ravage’s presence; I wasn’t aware of where you were. That’s dangerous. If it happened during a fight. . .” Hound quietly confided, unable to make himself finish the sentence.

Tensing up Click whined, shoving himself closer to Hound. Instinctively Hound’s grip tightened around Click, and Click relaxed in his hold.

“Hmm.” Jazz looked between Hound and Click. “I’m not really surprised. There has to be a reason why caretakers are kept away from fights—outside of the chance they might die and leave their sparkling. But you seemed perfectly fine when Ravage was charging at you. Wasn’t Click afraid then as well?”

Click nodded at Jazz’s assessment.

“Yeah but. . . I don’t know how this works. If how I react changes based on my current threat assessment, or if it is based on Click’s distress alone.” Hound said.

“Yeah. You should probably ask Ratchet about it.” Jazz cheerfully said, but focusing on Jazz again his field was tinged with sadness.

“I will. Now, to turn the question back on you, ‘what’s wrong?’”

Jazz laughed. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Oh? Did you already forget?” Hound asked amusement dripping from his voice.

“I, no.” Jazz’s cheerful voice dropped to match the sadness in his EM field. “I just really wish I could have snapped you up for spec ops. There’s no way you can join now when you have a sparkling, but you knew Ravage was in the vents. I couldn’t even tell he was there, even after you pointed him out.”

“O-oh.” To hear such blatant praise of his skills was embarrassing but nice.

“How far away can you sense EM fields?” Jazz asked, looking at Hound in awe.

“It depends, but in the best conditions here on Earth I could identify you from 3,500 miles away. That uses my best sensors though, and those take a lot of energy and processing power.”

“3,500 miles?” Jazz choaked. “That’s farther than all our sensors on the Arc can reach here.”

Hound shrugged. “Like I said, it’s a lot for me to handle. I could pull it off here, but that scale of processing. . .”

“That bad?” Jazz asked with a wince, no doubt remembering Prowl’s worst days with his tac net.

Hound nodded, remembering the first time he stretched his senses too far, unaware of his limits. He was lost in the raw data he was absorbing, insensate to the outside world for an entire orn. His world was reduced to what his struggling processor could understand of his sensory data. It felt like a really bad defrag. When he lost himself in his senses like that he couldn’t escape on his own. Someone needed to find him and turn off his advanced sensors for him. He could probably handle extending his range to cover Earth entirely if he interfaced with Teletraan-1 to help handle the load, but the idea of potentially losing himself in the data again made him nervous.

“How far do you normally sense?” Jazz asked.

“I’d say a few hundred feet out on the Arc. Like I said, I only use my basic sensors here, and generally only on lower power. If I’m on patrol, I usually bring that range to 20 miles. It’s a decent range I can accomplish that doesn’t need a lot of extra Energon or processing power making it perfect to keep up for long patrols.”

“And no one knows about this.” Jazz quietly said.

“I thought you guys did, but yeah. Ravage probably knows though.”

“Why do you say that?”

Hound shrugged. “He always avoids me, and every time he breaks into the Arc, I’m on patrol. He at least knows I can find him.”

Jazz hummed. “Your probably right,” before groaning.

“What’s wrong now?” Hound asked.

“I’m going to have to try and find how Ravage broke in, but I can never find anything.” Jazz whined.

Properly tracking Ravage’s trail through the Arc. Hound’s spark ignited at chance he could go on a proper tracking mission. He didn’t resent being sent on scouting and patrol missions all the time—he was good at them. But his spark yearned for the thrill of tracking something down, the stealthier it was the better. It was the reason why he decided to become a private investigator despite how much he hated his jobs. With Ravage already locked away in the brig this would be the perfect chance to start teaching Click the basics of tracking without needing to worry about being hunted in turn.

“I’ll help.” Hound immediately volunteered.

Jazz shifted minutely away from him. “You sure about that Hound? You have a few days of leave, and you want to use it following Ravage’s trail?”

“Of course I am! I wouldn’t have volunteered otherwise!”

“Well. . . if you're sure about it you can get started after the meeting.” Jazz said.

“Meeting? What meeting?” Hound asked.

“The meeting we need to be at now.” Jazz said.

Hound frantically checked him comm for any messages about a meeting he might have missed and found nothing all the way back to mega-cycle ago. “When was this meeting scheduled?”

“Oh, just now after I told Optimus about Ravage attacking us and being captured. We need to explain what happened to, y’know, Optimus, Prowl, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Red Alert. Then we’ll all discuss our next move.” Jazz casually said as if it wasn’t the highest ranking mechs in the army he was talking about. Sure, Hound considered all of them as some sort of friend, but he never had a meeting with all of them before.

“Now, let’s get going, everyone’s in the conference room already.” Jazz said without any worry that he was holding up a meeting with Ratchet and Prowl.

Chapter Text

The meeting room, as Jazz predicted, was full when they arrived. Red Alert was more stressed than normal, frantically looking over their cameras from his datapad. Ratchet and Optimus were whispering to each other in a private conversation that Hound turned his audials away from. Just because he could easily hear what they were saying didn’t give him the right to listen in on people’s private conversations. Prowl and Ironhide, however, were not having a private conversation and instead were very loudly arguing.

“Your ‘genius’ new patrol schedule is way to confusing.” Ironhide snapped.

“It’s meant to be.” Prowl shot back. “It’ll keep the Decepticons from figuring out our schedule and attacking the humans while we’re gone.”

“Yeah, and it’ll also keep our people from figuring out their schedule as well. Cliffjumper was complaining ‘bout it.”

“Cliffjumper complains about everything.”

“Well, he had some good points. Besides, he wasn’t the only one.”

Prowl recently changed their patrol schedule completely. Instead of the consistent times and routes they were used to Prowl sent them out more erratically with a different patrol route each time. It was annoying, but their schedules clearly laid out what they were supposed to do.

“How did you manage to catch Ravage?” Prowl asked when they entered the room, cutting short his argument with Ironhide and catching the other’s attention. Ironhide and Red Alert’s gazes immediately snapped to Click.

“Why are you bringing a sparkling to our meeting? This is classified and not a conversation fit for a sparkling to hear.” Red Alert cut in to frantically ask.

“I can’t just leave Click alone after Ravage, and the only mechs he’s met are here, bringing Ravage to the brig, or is Sunstreaker. I don’t exactly have someone lined up to watch him in an emergency yet.” Hound snapped back. He might consider Red Alert his friend, but he wouldn’t let the security director race forward and make decisions about Click without his input.

“I thought you were supposed to be introducing the little guy to everyone.” Ironhide said leaning forward to get a better look at Click.

“I was. He was meeting Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee before this whole mess. I was going to give him a tour of the Arc and introduce him to everyone, but Ravage got in the way of that.” Hound shortly explained.

“Well, he can’t stay here for our meeting.” Red Alert said, twitching in his seat, but he wasn’t snapping like he normally would. Was he trying to reign in how upset he was so he wouldn’t upset Click?

Hound knew the head of security was right but, “Who’s going to watch him? I can’t just leave him alone after that, and I’m not leaving him with a stranger.”

“Bumblebee and Mirage should be done moving Ravage to the brig. I could call them over and have them watch Click for the meeting. Or we could ask Sunstreaker to watch him.” Jazz suggested.

That was actually a good idea—the former, not the latter. “What do you think about that Click? Are you okay with Bumblebee and Mirage watching you while I’m in this meeting?”

Jazz’s laughter echoed around the room as Click nervously looked at everyone, his gaze focusing on Red Alert longer than the others, and then back at him. Whining he pointed at Hound.

“Are you worried about me?” Hound softly asked. Click nodded, slowly sinking into himself. It was cute, but Click didn’t need to be concerned. “There’s nothing to be worried about, I’m not in trouble and these are my friends.”

Click stared up at Hound, trying to see if he was telling the truth before slowly nodding.

“Great. Call them over Jazz.”

“Will do. Now, since we’re waiting, I have a question for all of you that isn’t classified and that Click here already knows about.” Jazz cheerfully said, pointedly smiling at Red Alert at the last part. Jazz’s insistence on bringing Hound along made sense now. It was to make time at the beginning of a meeting he could as a question in without being scolded for ‘going off topic.’

“What do you want to ask?” Optimus asked in curious amusement.

“Did you know Hound can sense EM fields?” Jazz gleefully asked, his field bubbling in amusement as he watched everyone’s reactions.

Oh, he really wasn’t letting this go. Was he really that upset that Hound hadn’t told him? He thought they all knew. Sensing EM fields wasn’t even that impressive. It was the best way to hunt in Cybertron’s wilderness. Almost everything out there had some sort of EM sensor.

At Jazz’s question Optimus froze, Prowl’s eyes began rapidly flickering on and off, Red Alert grabbed a datapad and began rapidly flipping through its files while Ironhide stared at him in confusion. Ratchet’s reaction was the most explosive. Slamming his servos on the table as he stood up, Ratchet shouted, “Why didn’t you tell anyone Hound!”

“This isn’t in your records.” Red Alert added, optics focused on his datapad. He wasn’t supposed to have access to medical information, but Hound could make out schematics from a medical scan.

“I-I really thought you all knew. It’s really not that impressive.” Hound nervously said, slowly backing away from Ratchet. Click shoved his face back into the crook of Hound’s neck with a whine at Ratchet’s outburst.

Ratchet faltered when he saw Click’s reaction. “I. . . sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m just worried about your health, Hound. No mech has been able to handle processing the EM field data when they’ve been given EM sensors.” Ratchet grimaced at the end.

“How bad?” Prowl grimly asked, focusing his optics on Hound. Everyone was looking at Hound now, their reactions a mix of sadness and worry.

Ratchet sadly glanced at him as he said, “Sensory data takes priority in our processors, and it takes a lot of processing to handle all that data. . . too much processing. Every attempt to give a mech EM sensors ended with their processors crashing or shutting off everything except for essential processes for functioning in an attempt to handle the load. Even mechs specialized in processing large volumes of data haven’t been able to handle it.

“Wait—did you just give them the sensors and nothing else?” Hound asked horrified. If he had to process all his data without any data refinement making it easier to handle, he wouldn’t be able to act on what he found making his sensors actively detrimental.

“What do you mean ‘nothing else?’ You just get the new sensors and use them, right?” Ironhide asked.

“No, it doesn’t work like that.” Hound faintly said. “You need data refinement programs to cut out the unintelligible data and sort what is useful. It dramatically lessens how much processing it takes to actually process the data, and it makes the results a lot more understandable and useful. You have to do a lot more pruning with EM sensors than with visual and auditory sensors, not to mention that EM sensors take in a lot more information as well.

“Hound, how much of your processor is normally used by your EM sensors?” Ratchet slowly asked.

“What’re you thinking?” Ironhide asked Ratchet.

“Let Hound answer the question. I’ll tell you what I think after I get my answer.” Ratchet shot back.

How much of Hound’s processor was dedicated to reading EM fields? Why would Ratchet want to know that? “It depends on how large and detailed my range is. On the Arc I tend to keep everything on the lowest levels I’m comfortable with so probably 10% of my processor.”

Ratchet choaked. Resetting his vocalizer he weakly asked, “And on the field?”

“Here, around 30%. On Cybertron it would go up to 50%, there’s a lot more data to work through there. Everything gives off an EM field on Cybertron, EM fields are sparcer here, especially in the desert.”

 “Hound, do you know how your processor compares to other mechs?” Ratchet carefully asked. Was this supposed to be a trick question?

“It’s pretty average, right?”

“It is nowhere near average.” Ratchet snapped. “Your processing power is comparable to Prowl and his tacnet. You’re just focused on processing your sensory data instead of tactical data.”

“Oh.” Hound didn’t know how to react to that information. He was never considered a very smart mech. Prowl was the smartest mech Hound knew. Hound admired how Prowl planned the war for the entire army. Optimus may have led them to victory, but it was Prowl who made it possible. To have his processor be on the same level as Prowl’s in any way was absurd.

“What’s your maximum range for sensing EM fields, and how much of your processor does it use?” Prowl asked.

“I uh, I’ve never reached the range of my sensors.” Hound admitted.

“Hound, you told me your range was 3,500 miles.” Jazz faintly said.

“Yeah, that’s how much I can handle here on Earth if I turn down my sensitivity to the lowest useful level. My only limiter so far has been just how much I can process. I’ve never reached a hard limit for my sensors.”

“And how much of your processor would that take up?” Prowl asked.

“Oh, around 99% of it. I’d shut down everything except for necessary processes, the ability to tell you what I found, and my own ability to shut down my sensors. If I went any further, I wouldn’t be able to talk or shut it down myself—necessary processes are the only things can’t be shut off to make room for sensory data. I’d need someone to interface with me and manually turn off my sensors if I get to that state.” Hound explained to everyone’s increasingly horrified faces.

“Hound, you are never going to put yourself at risk of that happening.” Optimus immediately ordered. In that moment, Optimus looked old—like the weight of the war was finally getting to him.

“I, sure? I’ve never had trouble with it after the first few times I went over my limits.” Hound agreed. Prowl pinched his nose, shuttering his optics.

“Hound, after this meeting you're going straight to the med bay with me. I’m giving your processors and sensors a look over.” Ratchet ordered.

“Okay? But, why? You looked at them when I first joined.” Hound hesitantly asked. No one argued when Ratchet ordered them to the med bay, but he never had any problems before.

“And I want to get a good look at them again.”

A knock on the door cut their conversation short. “We’re here to watch Click!” Bumblebee cheered.

The door snapped open with Mirage and Bumblebee standing behind it, looking around the room in curiosity. They probably noticed how upset everyone was, but they didn’t mention it. They didn’t even act like they noticed it. There was a reason they were in spec ops.

“Good, you’re here.” Jazz said.

“Be good, okay?” Hound said, looking at Click.

Click nodded clicking.

“Good. Bumblebee, Mirage.” The two mech’s gazes snapped to him. “I’m trusting you with Click’s safety. Don’t make me regret it. If anything goes wrong, comm me immediately.”

“You won’t regret letting us watch Click. He’ll be safe with us.” Mirage instantly said, his cheeks flushing as he spoke.

“Yeah, you won’t regret it!” Added Bumblebee.

Nuzzling the top of Click’s head one more time, Hound handed him to Mirage. Mirage gently cradled Click in his arms, looking at him like he was a gift from Primus.

“Now, let’s get out of here before so they can start their meeting.” Bumblebee cheerfully said, pulling Mirage out of the room by his arm. Mirage’s legs followed Bumblebee, but his focus stayed with Click. The door slid closed behind them with a quiet ‘shirk.’ Jazz grabbed Hound’s shoulder and dragged him to two open seats next to each other where they both sat down to face the rest everyone else.

“Now, back to what this meeting is for, how did you capture Ravage?” Prowl asked.

A massive grin split Jazz’s face and started to brag. “It was all Hound.” Jazz eagerly explained how Hound noticed Ravage sneaking in and how, when their first attempt failed, he wrestled Ravage to the ground until they could contain him. Everyone was looking between Jazz and Hound throughout the story.

Ironhide was grinning as he looked Hound over. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a mech to get physical.”

“That is out of character for you Hound.” Prowl commented.

“I wasn’t really thinking.” Hound admitted. “Ravage was charging straight for Click and I went with the first thing that came to mind. I. . . Ratchet when we go to the med bay could you look at my caretaker protocols?”

“You think that’s why you did it?” Ratchet asked sharply looking Hound over again.

“Yeah, but I’m more concerned about what happened afterwards. Click started crying after we secured Ravage and I stopped paying attention to everyone, even Ravage. That’s never happened to me before, and if the situation was more dangerous. . .” Hound trailed off, not wanting to speak those brutal possibilities into existence.

“It’s possible, or it might be some other problem. I’m already checking your processor over later; I’ll look into that as well.” Ratchet said. Ratchet was one of Cybertron’s best doctors, even before the war. If he couldn’t find anything, Hound doubted anyone could.

“How did you know Ravage was here?” Red Alert asked.

“I felt his EM field.”

“If it’s that easy than why haven’t you caught Ravage before? He’s infiltrated our base plenty of times.” Red Alert asked, he was starting to get twitchy.

“Most likely because Hound was on patrol during all of Ravage’s known infiltration attempts. He was scheduled to be in the middle of patrol by now today as well.” Prowl cut in.

Ironhide slammed his fist on the table. “If Ravage already knows our schedule, why do you insist on keeping it so confusing.”

“Because I didn’t realize Ravage gained that information from our records, the Decepticons never acted on it before. I’ll make a new schedule.” Prowl snapped.

Ironhide groaned. “That’ll just make it worse for us. Just give us a normal schedule.”

“No, I’ve conferred with Red Alert about this. Keeping our patrols inconsistent while still checking everywhere is much more effective at catching Decepticon activity than a ‘normal’ consistent schedule. If we went with your suggestion the Decepticons could easily memorize and work around our patrols.” Prowl explained.

“It might be easier for you, but it’s fragging hard for everyone else to understand it.” Ironhide said.

“I will endeavor to make it more understandable.” Prowl said, giving in.

“Fine, but if this doesn’t work out, I’m coming for you.” Ironhide threatened.

“Good. Now, with that out of the way is there anything else we need to talk about before we make a plan of action?” Optimus calmly asked.

“No”s rang out across the table as Hound shifted in his seat. Everyone else might be good, but Hound needed to say this. “I’m worried about Click. It’s. . . none of it’s his fault, he’s been absolutely wonderful so far. But Ravage was charging straight at him, not me. If Ravage escapes or gets a message out, he’s going to tell the Decepticons about Click. If they know about Click then they’ll, I’m worried that—”

“You are worried that Click will become a target.” Optimus gently said, cutting off Hound’s nervous rambling.

“Yeah.” Hound quietly said.

Optimus looked so old and sad as he looked at Hound. “As much as I wish to, I cannot guarantee Click’s safety but know this Hound. We will do whatever we can to ensure his safety.”

“I know that it’s just—Primus!” Hound covered his face with his servos. “I can’t help but worry about Click, and we’ve only known each other for, what, a day?” It felt crazy with how much had happened, but he only stumbled into Click yesterday afternoon. Despite the short time they knew each other Hound already adored Click. He would have ripped Ravage's spark out with his servos if that was what it took to keep Click safe, but he was thankful he didn't need to.

“Peace Hound. We are here if you need help.” Optimus gently said before straightening up. “Now, for how we’re going to react to this attack. Jazz, I want you to try and trace Ravage’s path to see how he got into the Arc. Report what you find to Red Alert. I know we’ve previously been unsuccessful, but we need to keep trying.”

“Actually Optimus,” Jazz cut in, “Hound offered to help me. We might be able to find the hole in our defenses this time.”

Optimus jerked to look at Hound. “Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“You’re on leave for the next few days. You don’t need to feel pressured to—”

“Optimus, Jazz didn’t pressure me, I offered to help.” Hound said cutting Optimus off. He liked Optimus, but the leader could be a little too courteous sometimes. “I’m good at tracking. I enjoy it.” Hound empathetically added. He didn’t want Optimus to think that Jazz was pressuring him into helping.

Optimus slowly looked between Hound and Jazz. “If you’re sure than I won’t stop you. But make sure you spend the rest of your time relaxing and getting to know Click.”

“Optimus you really don’t have to worry. Tracking is a very enjoyable activity for me, and I’m going to start showing Click how to track. It’ll be a good lesson for him.”

“Don’t bring the sparkling with you.” Red Alert frantically cut in. “Ravage might have left behind traps.”

“I’m not just going to carry Click into the middle of it! Who do you think I am!” Hound snapped. He was one of the best trackers on Cybertron. He knew the tricks Ravage might play and how to keep everyone safe. “He’ll stay back with Jazz when I actually do the tracking. I’ll walk them through if afterwards when I know it's safe.”

“Wait, you’re showing me your tricks? I don’t have your fancy EM sensors.” Jazz asked, looking at Hound like he was crazy.

Hound snorted. “EM sensors are only useful for tracking live prey or for knowing if a mech is sneaking up on you. This type of tracking needs a more delicate touch. I’m sure you can pick up something useful from it.”

Jazz’s grin returned as he leaned back in his chair. “Sure thing. After your checkup with doc, you're giving me that tracking lesson.”

“Very well.” Optimus said. “Red Alert, I want you to go over our security again, looking for any holes. Hopefully Jazz and Hound will find something helpful. Ironhide, check with everyone who was on patrol, see if they noticed anything strange. Prowl, redo our patrol schedule and try and figure out why Ravage is here.”

A chorus of agreement went around the room. “Well, with that over, I call this meeting adjourned.” Optimus said.

Ratchet immediately stood up and grabbed Hound’s arm in a firm grip. “Great. Now, to the med bay.”

“Yes, sir.” Hound sheepishly agreed, allowing Ratchet to pull him along.

Jazz laughed as he followed them.

Chapter Text

“So, what are we doing?” Jazz asked, following Hound and Ratchet into the med bay.

“You,” Ratchet said pointing at Jazz, “are going to leave while I give Hound a checkup.”

“You're kicking me out doc?” Jazz jokingly asked. “I’m here to give Hound emotional support.”

“And I abide by doctor-patient confidentiality. Go.” Ratchet said pointing at the door.

Jazz sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll wait outside. We’ll pick up Click afterwards and you can teach us your magic.” He said waving his hands in the air before leaving.

Ratchet waited for the door to close behind Jazz to sigh. “He needs to learn to respect patient privacy. We may be at war, but I’m not letting him sit in during someone else’s checkup just because he’s curious.”

“I don’t think Jazz is curious. He’s worried. Besides, is he ever not poking his nose into things he shouldn’t. It’s part of his job description.” Hound said.  He could feel Jazz nervously pacing outside the med bay for a few clicks before he paused. A spark of mischief appeared in Jazz’s field before it quickly turned dejected as Jazz stopped and waited, leaning against the wall with a quiet thud.

Ratchet pulled Hound to the med berth. “Sit down, I’ll grab my equipment.”

“So, what exactly is going to happen Ratchet?” Hound asked.

“I need to get a look at your processor—check if you're having any problems with your sensors and if your caretaker protocols successfully integrated.” Ratchet said, unlocking his desk and grabbing a small metal tube. Holding up the tube Ratchet said, “This is what I’ll use to interface with you. It’s a connector that’ll keep our code separate nothing will accidently spread.”

“We’re going to interface?” Hound nervously asked.

“Oh, wipe that look off your face. This is medical interfacing; we aren’t blowing out each other’s circuits.” Ratchet groused. “I am a professional.”

“O-okay.” Hound believed Ratchet, the medic wasn’t one to mess around, especially when it came to the people in his care. “How are we. . .”

“You stay sitting there. Could you show me the main jack for your processor? I need something a little more direct for this than the wrist jack I normally use.” Ratchet explained, as he put the connector on a plug that popped out of his finger.

“Are you sure you can’t use my normal medical jack?” Hound nervously asked.

“Yes, I’m sure, now show it. These jacks tend to be in private, protected places, so there’s no need to feel embarrassed about its location. I’ve either seen it before or have seen worse” Ratchet calmy explained.

“It’s in the roof of my mouth near the back. I don’t want to accidently bite your hand off.” Hound admitted.

Ratchet stared at Hound for a moment. “Oh, that is an. . . odd placement for a jack. I’ve never seen that before, but I was right when I said I’ve seen worse.”

The wry joke got a small chuckle out of Hound. “Even if you have seen worse, I don’t want to accidentally hurt you. My bite can go right through your arm, and I don’t want to chomp down if you trigger something.”

“That is a valid concern, and one I am prepared to deal with.” Ratchet said walking over to a cabinet.

“Really?” Hound asked. “How?”

Ratchet grabbed two small, scaffolded sticks with cushions at the end and held them out to Hound. “We’re going to put these in your mouth to hold it open. This way even if you try to bite down you can’t.” The mouth guards, as Hound decided to call them, were small, but they were big enough that Ratchet’s hand would comfortably fit in his mouth with them holding it open while being small enough to actually fit in his mouth.

“Okay.” Hound hesitantly agreed, opening his mouth.

“Good.”

The mouth guards easily went in with Ratchet’s hand sliding in after them. Hound could taste the harsh cleaning chemicals and faint residue of Energon on Ratchet’s hands. It was the same smells that were the most noticeable whenever Hound entered the room. Other scents were there as well, Hound could still smell the rust sticks Ratchet pulled out for Click the other day, but the only ones that were always present was cleaning chemicals and Energon.

The tapered end of the connector brushed along the roof of Hound’s mouth as Ratchet lightly dragging it back to the jack where the edge caught. Ratchet pushed the connector in. It was odd feeling the metal pressing into his jack, and with it something else. Ratchet’s code? Or was it the connector’s code? Maybe a combination of both.

“I’m in. Don’t fight it.” Ratchet said.

Hound wanted to nod, but with Ratchet’s hand jammed into his mouth he settled for a smothered “Uh-huh” to voice his agreement.

“Good. I’m going to look around now. You should feel it, but don’t fight it.” Ratchet explained.

Hound gave another “Uh-huh” as he felt the odd presence in his code begin to dart around. It was moving everywhere, looking at everything, but it didn’t touch even a single line of code.

Finally, when the presence settled down Ratchet said, “Everything feels good, but I want to try something before disconnecting. You said this is a normal, comfortable processing level for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I want to compare it to our baseline data, but your sensors are too advanced for that. Can I bring your sensors to a normal operating level for most mechs and observe your processor like that for a while? It shouldn’t take too long.”

Hound didn’t like the idea of lowering his sensor’s sensitivity even more. His lower levels he entered when trying to conserve Energon were uncomfortable, but surely most mechs operated at a higher sensitivity than his Energon conservation mode. Besides, he trusted Ratchet. The medic must have a good reason for suggesting this.

Hound gave another affirmative “Uh-huh.”

Ratchet smiled at him. “Thanks. Now, you’re going to feel me touching your code and changing things without your input. Don’t try and fight it, that’ll just hurt us both.”

With those final words Hound felt the other presence begin to gently poke at his code, moving things. Hound listened to Ratchet’s advice and didn’t fight it as one by one his senses began to dim.

His EM sensors went first, Jazz’s bright spark disappearing as the sensor turned off. It was strange having Ratchet in front of him and being unable to feel even the faintest hum of his EM field. How could other mechs live their lives like this?

Dozens of other specialized sensors were quickly shut off as well.

The world was becoming quiet.

Then, one by one, his other main sensors were dimmed to nearly nothing. It was even worse than the few times he was at the edge of Energon depletion.

Taste went first, quickly dropping to the point Hound could only taste hints of the chemicals Ratchet used to wash his hands where it was directly shoved against his glossa.

Scent followed shortly after leaving only hints of the same cleaning chemicals. Yesterday’s rust stick now only a memory.

Touch went next. The weave of the blanket under his fingertips was gone. All he could feel was smoothness.

Hearing dropped down after that. Jazz’s shifting against the wall was gone. Jazz was completely gone. It was wrong, he knew his friend was back there, but he couldn’t tell. Ratchet was saying something, but Hound couldn’t understand. All he could focus on was how he couldn’t hear the buzz of his vocalizer as he talked.

Finally, sight. The room didn’t dim, not quite. It was like everything went out of focus, but he could still clearly see all the shapes. But the details were all gone, too small and fuzzy to make out. He couldn’t see the whirls in the walls and ceiling that were part of the metal, all he could see was a solid shine.

It was wrong.

It was worse than his nightmares.

It was so quiet.

So still.

So bland.

It was a mockery of the world.

It was so quiet.

Hound couldn’t stand it.

Panic.

Why was it so quiet?

Was he being stalked?

Hunted?

Ravage could have escaped.

Could be watching him from the vents.

He wouldn’t know.

It was so quiet.

He wanted to trust Ratchet, but he couldn’t do it.

“Soop ih! Urn ih ooh! Soop ih!” Hound shouted, using all his willpower to lock his body in place so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt Ratchet. He could barely feel his body, was he locked in place?

Ratchet was saying something, but Hound couldn’t hear it over his panic.

“Soop ih! Soop ih!” He repeated, optics blurring further out of focus. Distantly he thinks he’s crying, but the trails his tears made down his face were featherlight touches.

There was more noise. Raised voices saying things Hound couldn’t understand.

Quickly one after another Hound’s senses returned to him and Ratchet’s hand left his mouth. As soon as it was gone Hound ripped out the mouth guards and clamped his mouth shut. There were voices speaking to him, but he didn’t pay attention to them, focusing instead on his returned senses. The taste of Energon lingered in his mouth again just like how he could smell rust sticks again.

Slowly taking stock of his body Hound realized he had unsheathed his claws and pierced his hands with them. It was a good thing he didn’t claw at Ratchet. It would have left some nasty gashes in the medic. Sheathing his claws again, his hands were quickly grabbed by Ratchet who started putting a paste on them.

Finally, Hound began integrating his EM data. Ratchet was upset, nervous, guilty. Hound didn’t know what to think of that. Emotionally he just felt. . . numb.

Next to Ratchet was Jazz who was furious. Wait, Jazz? Finally looking up Hound saw Jazz standing next to Ratchet. Jazz wasn’t even pretending to be happy. Instead of his perpetual grin a scowl marred his face as he glared at Ratchet from behind his visor. Jazz was angry, yes, but also protective of him.

It felt nice to know that Jazz was willing to run in here and risk Ratchet’s wrath if he needed help.

Feeling like his mind was in a better mode to understand what people were saying Hound weakly said, “Hi.” His vocalizer gave a little sputter as he spoke, and his voice was quieter than he meant it to be. He must have blown something in his shouting earlier.

“Are you. . . feeling better?” Ratchet hesitantly asked, letting go of his hand after covering all his cuts in a nanite paste and wrapping them.

“Somewhat. What happened?” Hound asked.

Ratchet flinched.

“Ratchet was being an idiot.” Jazz snapped. Another, bigger flinch. It wasn’t like the medic to be cowed by anyone, let alone in his own med bay.

“Ratchet’s not an idiot.” Hound slurred. His vocalizer must be more damaged than he thought.

“Don’t speak for at least a day. You need to give self-repair a chance to fix the damage or else I need to make you a new vocalizer as well.” Ratchet hurried to say.

Hound meekly nodded.

“As for me being an idiot.” Ratchet said, “While I wouldn’t put it like that Jazz isn’t wrong. I was so focused on your processor that I didn’t even stop to consider how. . . lackluster our sensors are compared to yours, and how you might handle our sensors.”

“And you're never doing that to Hound again.” Jazz firmly said.

“Of course I’m not doing that to Hound again. I wouldn’t have done that in the first place if I knew what it would do to him.” Ratchet defensively said.

“Good. Now, can we leave. I think Hound needs some rest after that and he’s not doing it here.” Jazz said.

“Yeah, I have everything I need. I’ll get back to you about your processor and caretaker protocols in a few days. For now, don’t speak for at least a day and actually spend the next few hours resting and relaxing. Don’t immediately try and track Ravage’s trail.” Ratchet said.

“We won’t.” Jazz said with a sharp smile. “We’re grabbing Click and immediately going to my room for a nap. I’m not letting Hound go until he’s better.” He sharply threatened.

“Good.”

Jazz turned to Hound and softened, the boiling furry instantly disappeared leaving overwhelming worry and concern in its wake. Gently gripping Hound’s forearms Jazz helped pull him up, stopping his unsteady legs from stumbling forward. “Good job. Let’s go to my room, I’ll have Bumblebee and Mirage bring Click to us.”

That sounded good. Hound nodded, following Jazz as he led them out of the med bay. Jazz caught him from stumbling a few times as they walked, but soon enough they reached Jazz’s room. Hound was quickly ushered in and onto the berth before being covered in blankets, a worried Jazz fretting over him.

It was safe and comfortable under Jazz’s watch. Hound quickly drifted off into Recharge.

Chapter Text

Warmth. Safety. That was what Hound felt waking up. Jazz was there keeping watch. Click was safe in his arms, nuzzling into him despite being in recharge. The rumble of the Arc’s engines was soothing.

The berth wasn’t his. The texture and smell were different than his berth. The whole room smelled different. Instead of the cocktail of organic scents he trudged into his room from long patrols on Earth, this room smelled cleaner. Like everything was regularly scrubbed down, but despite the regular cleaning the whole room smelled like Jazz and—

Onlining his optics Hound noticed that he was in one of the Arc’s many berthrooms. Jazz was sitting at a desk his stare focused on the door.

“How are you feeling?” Jazz asked turning to him as Hound sat up.

Hound felt exhausted. “I am functional.”

Jazz snorted. “Being functional doesn’t mean you feel good.”

Hound nodded. “Where am I? What happened.”

Jazz startled. “You don’t remember?” He quietly asked suddenly upset. Why? What happened? Hound knew he had a checkup with Ratchet, but what happened after that? His memory storage was scrambled.

“N-no.” Hound stuttered.

“Oh.”

“What happened?”

“I. . .” Jazz shifted uncomfortably. “What do you last remember?”

“Ratchet was giving me a checkup. He was. . . interfacing with me. What happened?” Hound desperately asked. Did something go wrong during the checkup or while following Ravage’s trail afterwards?

“Ratchet messed up.” Jazz growled, anger flaring in his field.

Hound jerked up; cradling Click to his chest so the sparkling wouldn’t wake up from Hound’s sudden absence. “What went wrong?”

Jazz shifted uncomfortably under Hound’s gaze. “Ratchet wasn’t thinking. He. . . well, he turned down your sensors to what our normal levels are. You. . . did not handle it well.”

At Jazz’s reminder Hound faintly remembered it. All his senses becoming diminished to near nothing. It was so quiet, and Hound couldn’t tell if he was safe. He felt defenseless. Exposed. Stuck in his own processor. “I am never doing that again.” Hound spat.

“Good.” Jazz nodded. Standing up he went to Hound and started looking over him. “Now, how are you feeling?”

Taking stock of his body everything felt fine, but now that he was paying attention his processor felt. . . off. Like his sensors were taking in more data than they should at the levels they were set at. Hound didn’t feel like tuning them down. “My sensor net is oversensitive, but workable.”

Jazz frowned. “Ratchet said recharge should fix the issue.”

“How long have I been recharging?”

“Two hours.”

That sounded right. “I need a full recharge cycle to completely reset my sensor net to normal, but like I said, it’s workable. Just a little more sensitive than normal.”

“You don’t need to work now; take all the time you need.” Jazz rushed to reassure Hound, his servos hovering over him as if unsure if he should touch Hound.

“No, I promised to track down Ravage’s trail. It’s completely doable for me now and the trail will be fainter if we wait for tomorrow.”

Jazz hesitated. “Are you sure it’ll be fine?” He asked.

Hound nodded.

Glancing between Hound and Click, Jazz said, “Fine. But if something is wrong tell me immediately. I don’t care if we lose Ravage’s trail, I’m not letting you get hurt over this. Optimus wouldn’t want you risking yourself for this either.”

Hound wouldn’t need to, but it warmed him to see how much Jazz worried about him. Standing up he casually asked, “How was Click for Mirage and Bumblebee?”

“He was an angel for most of it, fell into recharge while Mirage was carrying him.” Jazz said with a little smile. Hound focused on the most important information.

“For most of it?”

Jazz shrugged. “Bit before I commed them to bring Click over the little spark got upset and put up a big fuss. Wouldn’t calm down until he saw you. Then he just crawled onto your chest and fell into recharge just like that.”

That was concerning. “It isn’t healthy If Click is already that attached to me.” Others might say that a sparkling being attached to their caretaker was cute, but Hound knew he wouldn’t always be there for Click. Being overly attached to him would just hurt Click in the future and Hound didn’t want that to happen.

“I don’t think it’s that surprising.” Jazz sadly said. “I mean, the little guy probably lost whoever was taking care of him when he ended up here. He imprinted on you as you’re the mech who found him and started taking care of him. He probably sees you as his new caretaker already. Of course he’s clingy after that, just give it time and healing.”

Privately Hound didn’t think Click’s previous caretaker was doing a good job. No caretaker would let their sparkling be in the condition he found Click in if they had a choice. He didn’t even have a name; what kind of monster wouldn’t give their sparkling a name? At least Click seemed happy to be with him now.

When Ratchet gets Click his new vocalizer they would have a talk about Click’s past so he could figure out what the sparkling needed. As smart as Click was, using gestures and sparkling noises to communicate wasn’t good for anything more than broad details and confirming guesses. Did they have a psychologist that Click could see? Hound would look into that, Ratchet probably knew.

“Let’s go.” Hound said instead of responding to Jazz. He had never been in Jazz’s room before but leaving it he recognized where in the Arc they were. “Near the engine room, really?”

“Hey!” Jazz protested. “Next to the engine room is an excellent place to have a room.”

“No one sleeps here.”

“Exactly!” Jazz proudly said. “And the engines are loud enough to cover up any noise.”

“Is that supposed to hide your planning sessions with Ricochet?” Hound asked.

Jazz almost tripped over himself at the question. “Don’t bring that up where anyone can hear!” Jazz sputtered.

Hound laughed at how flustered Jazz became at a single question. Totally worth it. “Relax Jazz. The only person close enough to hear this is Click and he’s deep in recharge.” As if to illustrate his point Click curled deeper into his chest and released a quiet little purr.

“I know you have super senses, but please have mercy on us normal mechs. No one else knows about this and I don’t want it accidentally spreading around. It would completely ruin all the work we put into Jazz’s image.” Jazz complained.

“Wait, no one else knows?” Hound asked. That was really surprising. “Aren’t you and Prowl conjunx? I would think he of all mechs would know.”

Jazz’s face turned pink. “How do you know about any of that? I thought we were being discrete.”

“About you and Ricochet, you and Prowl, or both?” Hound asked.

“Both!”

“Well, everyone’s EM field is different, even split spark twins. I made a point of memorizing the EM fields of everyone in high command when I first joined the Autobots—just in case I needed to track one of you down. And then I noticed that ‘Jazz’s’ EM field would completely change sometimes as if there were two different people acting as Jazz. I was suspicious that you were a Decepticon spy or something, so I started stalking you.”

Jazz choaked. “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit to stalking someone.”

“What’s wrong with saying that? You were my prey, and I was stalking you. It’s a hunt.” Hound asked, confused about the sudden reaction that word got out of Jazz.

“Hound, buddy, please tell me you don’t casually stalk people.” Jazz hissed.

“Jazz, you know what my job before joining the Autobots was.” Hound dryly said.

Jazz groaned. “You investigated people, not stalked them.”

“What’s the difference?” Hound asked.

“Stalking is always personal, and usually only done by crazy exes or fans. Your reason for spying on us wasn’t personal at all. You were investigating a potential security leak.

“A lot of my jobs as a private investigator was looking into a mech’s personal relationships for their partner. Would that be stalking?” Hound asked. The differences Jazz said stalking and investigating had was confusing. Where did the personal end and the professional start? Where would his hunts go?

“No.” Jazz hissed. “You investigate people, I never want to hear you say you stalked someone ever again. A lot of people can get the wrong idea from what you said—stalking is viewed a lot more negatively that investigating or spying.”

Oh, this was a context sort of thing. Silently Hound bemoaned the fact that his language packets didn’t come with information about the contextual meaning of words. He learned most of that from similar mix ups, though most people he messed up around weren’t as understanding as Jazz.

“I. . . okay. I was suspicious that you might be a Decepticon spy, so I started investigating you. It took me an astro-cycle to realize that you were split spark twins, and that instead of spying on us you were taking turns to spy on the Decepticons. I figured it was one of your secret spy things, so I never brought it up and stopped investigating you.” Hound said finishing the story.

“An astro-cycle. You figured out our biggest secret in an astro-cycle. Even Prowl didn’t figure it out, I told him when we started getting serious.” Jazz groaned. It was funny seeing all of these reactions from the normally unflappable spec ops commander. Jazz pointed at Hound. “Don’t laugh.”

“But I never get to see you act like this.”

“And you never will again. Now, how did you figure out Prowl and I are conjunxed.” Jazz demanded.

Hound hummed, taking a few klicks trying to figure out how to word it. “I try not to spy on other Autobots—”

“Except for me.” Jazz snipped.

“—Without good reason.” Hound finished. “However, I am not comfortable turning my sensors down too far as you learned from Ratchet. I filter out private conversations, deleting that data before I know what it is. Other data isn’t as easy to tune out.”

“What do you mean?”

Hound shifted in place. Jazz would no doubt be embarrassed to learn this but, “Scent isn’t something I can easily filter out. That means that even if I don’t hear it I can smell when two mechs have been. . . intimate.”

“You can smell when we’ve been interfacing.” Jazz dryly said.

“Yeah. Interface has a fairly distinctive scent, and of course partners stink of each other for a while afterwards.”

“Wait, is that why you don’t participate in bets.” Jazz cut in, pointing an accusing finger at Hound.

“I have an unfair advantage when it comes to that sort of bet.” Hound defended himself.

“But that’s kind of the point. The mech with the best information wins. Say,” a wicked grin graced Jazz’s face, “what do you feel about—”

“No.” Hound firmly said cutting off Jazz.

“But you didn’t even listen to—”

“I don’t need to listen to know that you are going to ask me to investigate people to win bets. I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Jazz sighed. “But how do you know Prowler and I are conjunxed and not seeing each other?”

“Part of the conjunxing ceremony is exchanging a sliver of your spark with your partner. EM fields are mainly a reflection of the spark so I can feel it. There’s a tiny bit of Prowl in your EM field, while Prowl has a tiny bit of you in his. It’s not really something I can ignore.”

“Oh. That’s actually. . . quite romantic. I expected something a little more. . .”

“What, the fact that you cuddle with him every night?”

Stumbling again at the comment Jazz’s face started blazing red. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about that. If you do I’ll. . . I’ll make your life utterly miserable.”

Hound knew Jazz wasn’t actually threatening him. He was just embarrassed that someone knew he was a cuddler. Between his laughs Hound agreed, “I won’t tell anyone. I haven’t told anyone about it for the last 500 vorns and that’s not going to change just because you know I know.”

“Good.” Jazz hissed before turning around and taking the lead for the walk to the break room silently declaring that this topic was over. Still laughing Hound followed after Jazz. Slowly Hound’s laughs died down and the embarrassment in Jazz’s field leeched away to nothing. The rest of their walk was spent in a comfortable silence.

Chapter Text

The break room was just how they left it, a few burn marks in the floor from missed shots and the vent cover lying on the floor. Tossed carelessly aside with a large dent where Jazz grabbed it.

“Ready to work your magic?” Jazz asked.

He was but first, “Can you carry Click for me?” Hound asked holding the recharging Click out to Jazz.

Jazz startled. “You’d trust me with the little guy?”

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend, Jazz. Besides, Red Alert was right, Ravage might have left some traps behind. I’m not letting Click get hurt because I was careless. You two can stay back and I’ll go over it with you afterwards.” Hound said.

Jazz tamped down on showing his emotions, but Hound could tell he was happy. Holding out his arms he said, “I’ll take good care of him.”

Chuckling Hound put Click in Jazz’s outstretched arms. Jazz drew Click back towards his chest and Click sleepily nuzzled into him. Wonder overtook Jazz as he stared down at Click. “He’s so tiny.”

“He is. Now stand back and let me work.”

“Yes sir.” Jazz jokingly said stepping back to the entrance.

Now with some space Hound jumped up into the vent and focused on his olfactory sensors. As much as mechs might protest, saying they didn’t smell as that was a thing organics did, mechs absolutely did smell. They even had their own unique ‘base’ scent that was influenced by their cleaners, Energon, environment, and other factors. This made it less useful for identifying individual mechs by scent as large portions of a mech’s scent can change due to these outside factors. Ravage’s current scent was sharp and noticeable against the faint, stagnant amalgamation of scents the vents have taken in.

While less useful than EM sensors for identifying mechs, it is extremely effective at finding a mech’s trail even when they’re long gone. You could only tell where a mech was now based on their EM field, not where they were. But scent trails could be used to follow a mechs tracks as long as it wasn’t too dispersed.

In a ship like the Arc that made scent the best way to find a mech’s trail. If he was outside, he could also use physical tracks Ravage left behind, but here he could only truly rely on scent.

A few hours had passed since Ravage came through so the scent was already dispersing, but despite the vents’ constant airflow moving the scent he could still identify the origin. If he waited another day like Jazz was suggesting it would be much trickier to find.

On all fours Hound stalked (investigated? That sounded wrong here) through the vents keeping his olfactory sensors low to the ground. It started out as a very direct path to their rec room as Ravage ignored all the other rooms he could spy on, mostly other rec rooms. The path, however, soon began meandering, taking a winding path and constantly poking to the other vent exits, as if Ravage wasn’t sure where he was going. What was so important in their room that Ravage went straight for them?

It was when he was in a long, straight section of vent that Ravage’s trail disappeared. No, not disappeared. They were at the edge of the ship. Looking at the wall Hound could see it was cleanly cut through. Magnetizing his servos against the cut section of hull Hound gave a little pull, and it easily slid in revealing the open sky behind it.

They needed to get this repaired and check the integrity of the rest of the hull. If they flew into space with this hole, it could cause disaster for some of their delicate internal components. Thankfully as Cybertronians they didn’t need atmosphere to survive, but it would still be unpleasant. If they brought any humans with, they would be dead.

Quickly following the trail back Hound hopped out of the vent to the sight of Jazz cooing at Click who was happily chittering at him. So cute.

“I found the breech. Ravage cut through the haul straight into a vent, we need someone to fix it and check the rest of the Arc. Red Alert’s probably going to insist on hooking up all the vents into our security system now, I don’t understand why he didn’t before.” Hound said.

Jazz laughed. “Oh, he wanted to before, but Optimus turned that suggestion down. Red’s going to use this as a reason for why he’s right to be paranoid for vorns.”

That made sense. Optimus always tried to give everyone their privacy. Red Alert’s overabundance of surveillance would rub against that, even in the name of security.

“And how was Click?” Hound asked.

“The little guy’s a delight. Woke up a few ticks after you left, but he didn’t make a fuss. I wouldn’t mind watching him if you need a few groons.”

“Both of you?” Hound asked. While Jazz was on base more often, he and Ricochet switched who was ‘Jazz’ fairly often.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind after meeting the little spark.”

“Than I might take you up on that offer in the future.” Hound said. “But for now, let’s get started on your lesson.”

Jazz brightened at that. “So, what’s first?”

Hound had never taught someone how to track before, and he taught himself by watching and imitating others. Hopefully his explanations made sense. “First, let’s go over how you can track. There are a few different ways which each have their benefits based on the situation, but they fall into two basic categories: following your prey directly or tracing their tracks.”

“We’re doing the latter here.” Jazz said.

Hound nodded. “Yes, but let’s go over the first category first. Following your prey generally happens in one of two different ways. You’re either. . . investigating them or you're chasing them.”

Jazz groaned when Hound pointedly said “investigating.” “What’s that for?” he asked.

“You told me to use investigating instead of stalking.”

“This conversation is going to follow me forever, isn’t it.”

“Maybe.” Hound said, a grin growing on his face. Click started laughing in quiet little churrs.

“Look, I think in this context, spying is probably more appropriate.” Jazz said.

Hound rolled his optics. “Fine, you either spy on prey or you're chasing them. I assume that as a spy you have these two down.”

“Yeah, how do you do it?” Jazz asked.

“I heavily rely on EM fields while hunting like this. Other sensors can be more easily tricked, but I’ve never met something that could trick my EM sensors.”

“Don’t say that, you'll give Wheeljack ideas.” Jazz laughed.

“He can try.” Hound said, smirking a little. “Anyways I doubt you need any help in this category, especially with spying.”

“Nah, I don’t. So, onto what you’re teaching.”

“Right, tracing your prey’s tracks. Tell me Jazz, how would you do that?” Hound asked. He knew Jazz didn’t do much of this type of tracking and wanted to know how he would do it.

“Normally we’re outside so I can follow footsteps.” Jazz said.

“And other than footsteps?”

Jazz shrugged. “This is why you're teaching us.”

Well, it was better than nothing, but footsteps wouldn’t help here. “How do you think I tracked Ravage?” Hound asked.

“I’m not really sure.”

“Guess.”

“Was there tracks in the dust?”

Hound groaned. “Jazz, I know you like to hang out in the vents and are aware we don’t have dust in them. Our air filters are too good for that.”

“Well, I don’t really know how you did it. Care to share your secrets?” Jazz said.

“I tracked him by scent.” Hound said.

“Scent.” Jazz looked thoroughly unimpressed. “How do you track by scent?”

“Every mech has a scent, and they leave a trail of it behind wherever they go. It doesn’t tell you who came through and they don’t stick around for too long, but it’s hard to avoid making a scent trail.” Hound explained.

“Okay, we’re tracking mechs by our olfactory sensors now. How does this work exactly?”

“To start out, find your prey’s scent. Can you pick up Ravage’s scent?”

“No, I didn’t even know we smelled.” Jazz said.

“Of course we smell. It would be stranger if we didn’t.” Hound said. How could he try and show Jazz? Oh! Pointing at the area where he held Ravage down in front of the booth Hound said, “Ravage was lying there for a while. Why don’t you try turning up your sensors until you smell something?”

“Sure.” Jazz shrugged before gently setting Click onto the floor. Walking over to the spot Hound pointed at, Jazz kneeled and started sniffing. Click looked up at him with a questioning little chuff.

“You can try this too.” Hound reassured Click. At that Click kneeled on the ground across from Jazz and started sniffing as well.

“Can’t say I smell anything.” Jazz said with a frown.

“Turn up your olfactory sensors. You need to smell Ravage to track him. No other method will work here.” Hound said. “He’s smart and didn’t leave any other trails.”

They tried for a few more ticks before Click sadly whined slumping over.

“No luck?” Hound asked.

Click sadly shook his head.

“How about you, Jazz?” Hound asked.

Jazz sighed. “I can’t find anything, even at max sensitivity.”

That was disappointing, but not particularly surprising considering what he now knew of mech’s normal sensors. “Then I unfortunately can’t teach you this. You need to smell a mech to follow their scent trail.”

Sadly whining, Click outstretched his arms to Hound.

Obliging the sparkling Hound picked him up. “There’s no need to worry. Not everyone can do this, just look at Jazz—” Jazz protested, “Hey!” but Hound continued on without paying it any mind, “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways you could track someone.”

“And you think we could use them?” Jazz dryly asked.

Hound nodded. “Tracking by scent alone heavily relies on sensors, but there are other ways that don’t rely on sensors.”

Jazz grinned as he proudly said, “Like following their footprints.”

Hound chuckled. “That’s only a small part of it. I’ll show you everything I can if you want.”

“Yes.” Jazz immediately said. Click was eagerly nodding.

“Well, we should tell Red Alert about the security breach I found, but after that let’s go outside and start on that lesson.”

“Sure, but why outside?” Jazz asked.

“It’s the easiest place to learn. The animals out there are good practice, it’ll be a good way to learn the basics.” Hound explained.

“Learning the basics huh? Well, speaking of the basics, how did you learn to track? What you did wasn’t like any technique I learned. Jazz casually asked.

Hound knew that Jazz wasn’t trying to poke at his sensitive past, he was just genuinely curious. He knew some of Jazz’s secrets, surely he could share. He trusted Jazz, and with no one else around Click was the only other mech around to hear this, and Click deserved to know this about his newest caretaker. It would stay between the three of them.

Steeling himself Hound said, “I emerged from a hotspot in the middle of Cybertron’s wilds. There were no mechs around to greet me for my emergence. . . I was the only one who came from that hotspot, so I suppose it was too small to notice.”

“The wilds?” Jazz weakly said. “But the wilds are deathtraps, it’s where cyberwolves live. Not even the roads are safe out there.”

The fear wasn’t an unusual reaction, but it hurt Hound to hear his best friend be so fearful of his childhood home. It was part of the reason why he loved Earth so much, the land reminded Hound of his vorns running through the metal forests and crystal grasslands. As alien as Earth was, its nature was strangely nostalgic. He had thought such sights were gone forever when the Energon started drying up and the wilds started dying.

Click tried to wrap his tiny arms around him in a hug. Hound cradled Click’s tiny frame in his arms, spark warming at the sparklings attempt to comfort him.

“Cyberwolves did live there, but they didn’t hunt me. I’ve never seen them hunt mechs before, they mostly avoided the roads.” Hound said.

“You saw Cyberwolves and lived.” Jazz tightly said.

Hound sighed. “Yes. I actually watched them to learn how to hunt.”

“Why?” Jazz asked.

“Jazz, living in the wilds isn’t like living in the cities.”

“I know tha—”

“No, you don’t. I don’t think anyone does.” Hound snapped. Everyone was terrified of leaving the cities that they never thought about what life outside was like. Cyberwolves were the sparkeaters that you could meet, and the wilds were a dead barren land with no minable Energon in the ground.

How wrong they were.

“What do you mean?” Jazz asked.

“I mean that Energon isn’t mined from the earth and packaged in cubes for consumption, but that doesn’t mean that the land is barren. Tell me, do you know of the plants that populated outside?” Hound asked, finally looking at Jazz.

Jazz stopped walking, pausing in thought. Slowly, he said, “I think so.”

“The wilds were filled with growth, but the only one that most Cybertronians would be familiar with are crystal flowers.” Hound spat.

“Like Praxus?” Jazz asked.

“Yes, Praxus is famous for their crystal flowers, but I remembered fields full of thousands of flowers growing up. I would sit there some days, watching the light reflecting off of the flowers as they hummed their songs.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Jazz gently said before cocking his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand that Cybertron was not a barren wasteland, not until the war began and our Energon began to run dry. Energon could not be found outside of cities because the plants consumed it straight from the earth.”

“Oh!” Jazz said in realization. “Did you eat the plants then?”

Hound shook his head. “Outside of a few types of berries my systems are unable to process the form their Energon takes.”

“Then how?”

“I hunted. I couldn’t process most Energon produced by plants, but I could process the other creatures that lived there. The prey animals, petrorabbits and the like, could process the plants and I could process them.” It was one of the things Hound missed most when he started living in Iacon. Energon, even the special drinks at bars, was tasteless when compared to a simple petrorabbit. Turbo foxes were a rare treat to catch and one of his favorites, and the berries were a lovely snack to stave off hunger when there was nothing to hunt around. He started eating rust sticks so he could have something to gnaw on within his first astro-cycle in Iacon. He also needed to start taking mineral supplements then as well now that he wasn't getting them from his meals.

“How did that work?” Jazz asked his face graying.

Hound shrugged. “I ate them whole, nothing special about it, but that’s not what’s important.”

“Not important?”

“You were asking about how I learned how to track. I watched cyberwolves hunting so I could catch something to eat, and a large part of that is tracking your prey.”

“So, you're saying you track like a cyberwolf.” Jazz dryly said before huffing. “I guess that explains why you're so good without using any spy tricks.”

“Spy tricks?”

Jazz grinned. “I’ll never tell; I need to hold something over you after all.”

Before Hound could say anything else tiny servos touched his cheeks. Looking down Click was reaching towards him, his tiny face twisted in worry.

Raising Click to eye level Hound gently cupped one of the servos against his cheek. “What’s wrong Click?”

An odd noise came from Click—it was an awkward combination of a whine and purr. It took a klick to realize that Click was trying to imitate a growl.

“Are you worried the cyberwolves hurt me?” Hound softly asked.

Click nodded; tears started dripping from his optics as his frame started to tremble.

Guiding Click’s head into the crook of his neck Hound began to purr, just like when he comforted Click after Ravage’s attack. “Shh, there’s no need to worry. The cyberwolves never hurt me. They’re actually quite nice. Shh, it’s okay. I’m safe. I’m here.”

As Hound talked Click slowly stopped shivering and went limp in his hold.

“Is that better?” Hound asked.

Nod.

“Anything else wrong?”

Shake.

“Okay. You did a good job Sweetspark, letting me know when something was wrong. Just rest for now. Jazz and I need to talk to Red Alert. After that we can have fun, and I can teach you how to track something down. Would you like that?” Hound gently said.

A pause before another nod.

“Good, let’s go. Don’t want to leave Red Alert waiting too long.”

Jazz chuckled. “You’re right. Don’t want him to bust a circuit with all his worrying.”

Leaving the room Hound felt lighter. He didn’t share everything, but Jazz wasn’t scared of him, didn’t hate him. It actually felt good to talk about it. Maybe, one day, he would tell Jazz everything. For now, he had a job to do.

Chapter Text

Red Alert was frantically flipping through the security cameras when they walked into his office.

“Hey Red, we got news.” Jazz joyfully said.

Red Alert’s head snapped up at Jazz. His optics were faintly flickering, and he felt stressed. “How did Ravage get in? I can’t find him on any of our cameras.” Red Alert hissed.

“He cut a hole in the hull directly to the vents.” Hound said.

“The hull?” Red Alert quietly screamed. “I have sensors all over the hull, where?”

“On the starboard side next to the cliffside, I don’t know where exactly you’d call it though. I could guide someone to it through the vents so they could fix it.” Hound said.

Red Alert heavily vented at his suggestion. “This is why we need surveillance in the vents. That hole needs to be patched immediately. Brawn is currently available; can you guide him there now?”

“Sure, he can meet us at the land of mystery.” Jazz said. “You need anything else?”

Red Alert’s vocalizer crackled. “Ah, yes, I actually wanted to discuss something with you Hound.”

Oh, this was new. “What is it?”

“Your range for sensing EM fields is impressive, and you have all of us memorized, right?”

“Yeah, that true.” Hound hesitantly said, spark sinking as he tried to think of what Red Alert was trying to ask. As their security director what he wanted was probably related to their security, but how?

“Could you look at the entire Arc for intruders?” Red Alert asked. Of course, Red Alert saw a way to address his security concerns with Hound’s ability to read EM fields.

“Red Alert, I have a lot of respect for you and your skills as our security director, but I’m not spying on everyone for you.” Hound firmly said.

“I’m not asking you to spy on anyone. Just periodically check the Arc for Decepticon intruders.” Red Alert hurried to reassure him. It didn’t work.

“I don’t think you understand what you’re asking of me.” Hound said. “I turn down my sensors on the Arc to give mechs their privacy. If I start regularly looking through the Arc with my EM sensors I’ll know what everyone is doing and feeling. I’m not comfortable breaking everyone’s privacy like that, and I don’t think Optimus would approve either. Did you approve this with him before asking me?”

“No, I wanted you to agree before asking Optimus otherwise he would never agree to this.” Red Alert dejectedly said. “You can’t just look for cons?”

“No. I have all of your EM fields memorized and noticing fields I have memorized is one of the first steps when analyzing my EM data. I can’t just turn it off.” Hound explained.

Red Alert slumped over. It was actually surprising that he wasn’t trying to fight Hound on the issue. Normally he was insistent when trying to implement security upgrades, and the ability to identify EM fields all over the ship was a very big upgrade—especially after Ravage’s latest break in.

Hound sighed, he could see the reason Red Alert wanted him to periodically look over the Arc, but it was so invasive to others. He knows most other mechs don’t like being spied on. “Look, Red Alert, I’m not going to periodically check on the whole ship for you. But, if we know there’s an intruder, I can help you find them.”

Red Alert perked up at that. “Yes, that does sound good. I’ll have to write up the operating procedures for this and give it to you, but yes. . . that could work.”

“Make sure you okay everything with Optimus first before you give it to Hound.” Jazz cut into Red Alert’s sudden ramblings.

“Of course I will, I’m a professional.” Red Alert shot back before turning back to Hound. “I’ll send you the new procedures on what to do in the case of a Decepticon being in base once it’s approved. Make sure to read it all.”

“I will. If that’s all we should go to meet Brawn.” Hound said preying that his future reading wouldn’t be too hard. If he didn’t understand anything he would just ask Jazz or Prowl.

“Yes, I already called Brawn to the rec room so he should be there soon.” Red Alert said, turning his attention back to his monitors.

“What are we waiting for, let’s go.” Jazz said, grabbing Hound’s elbow and pulling him out the door. Click jerked up at the sudden motion but quickly relaxed when he saw it was just Jazz. However, instead of curling back into Hound’s chest like he expected Click started looking around.

“Why’re we in such a hurry?” Hound asked when Jazz slowed down to a normal walking speed.

“I want to get this over with so we can finally get to those promised lessons.”

Hound hummed. “Could you watch Click when I go back into the vents?”

“Sure. I got a cool Earth game we could play together, just the two of us. What do you think of that little guy?” Jazz said, leaning over to Click.

Click eagerly nodded, happily chittering at Jazz’s question.

Jazz preened at the eager response. “Awesome, let’s go!” Speeding up Jazz started pulling Hound along again.

Chuckling at his friend’s enthusiasm Hound started jogging to keep up without being dragged along. The trip back to the rec room was quick, and they only passed a few mechs that Hound gave quick hellos to.

Brawn wasn’t there when they arrived to the still empty room. “Not a lot of business today, huh?” Hound commented.

“Nah, it’s normally busier here after shift. Why’re you surprised? I thought you knew everything going on here.” Jazz said.

“I’m normally on patrol during this time.”

Jazz nodded. Making his way to the booth he said, “Makes sense, now how ‘bout we get a game started.”

Click started squirming in his arms, happily chittering. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you down Sweetspark.” Hound said with a huff.

Setting Click on the table across from Jazz Hound sat down, settling in to wait for Brawn. “So, what game are you two going to play?”

“We’re going to play a little game called speed.” Jazz said, pulling the cybertronian sized deck of cards from his subspace with a flourish. “The rules are pretty simple. We each have a pile of 15 cards, and we can only have 5 in our hand at a time from that pile. There’s going to be two cards face up on the table and we can only put one of our cards on it if it’s a number higher or lower than our card, not the same number. The numbers are also continuous so you can put a queen or an ace on a king. Do you know the card order?”

Click shook his head.

“Yeah, two through ten make sense, but humans added a few other cards to a deck that aren’t numbers but have number values.” Jazz quickly pulled a full row of cards from the deck, laying them on the table in order from ace to the king. “So, here the ace is number one. Then it has 2 through 10 like normal. Finally, in order we have the jack, queen, and king. You got it?”

Click looked over the cards, his face scrunching in concentration. After a few klicks he nodded.

Jazz snatched the cards up and started shuffling them. Before quickly passing them out on the table, giving himself and Click a pile of cards with two solitary cards between them, and a small pile next to both of the single cards.

“Good, now the goal is to be the first to get rid of all our cards and yell ‘speed’ to declare your victory. Well, I suppose you’ll just give a victory shout. The only other thing you need to know is that we aren’t taking turns. Go as fast as you can, but you can only use one servo to put down a single card at a time. You ready?” Jazz asked picking up his first five cards.

Click scooted forward until he was in arms reach of the two cards sitting on the table and picked up his own cards. The cybertronian sized cards were oversized compared to Click’s tiny frame, but Click didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, he looked over his own hand before giving a nod.

“Good. Now, we turn the two cards over when I say ‘go,’ and that signals the game’s start.”

Click nodded, reaching forward to grip the edge of one card.

Jazz grabbed the other card and with the cry of “Go!” the two exploded in a flurry of chaos. The center cards were flipped over and instantly bombarded by new cards being slapped onto the table. Servos ran into each other trying to be the first to add a card to each pile. Despite the chaos, Hound noticed that Jazz wasn’t going as fast as he could, slowing to a more reasonable speed to give Click a chance to win. Eventually the fast passed game slowed down until neither of them were setting any cards down.

Frowning at his deck Jazz asked, “I’m all out of moves, how about you?”

Click nodded whining sadly.

“Since we’re both out of moves we can flip the top card of these side piles onto the pile.” Jazz said, reaching for one of the side piles.

Click reached for the other pile. They locked optics and with Jazz’s cry of “Now!” the chaos erupted again. It continued until Click slammed his final card down. Jumping onto his pedes Click threw his servos up with a loud whine before he started bouncing around excitedly chittering.

“Good job Sweetspark!” Hound said pulling Click into a hug. Click threw his arms around Hound, his little engine purring.

“Good job Click. You beat me.” Jazz good naturedly said gathering the cards from the table. Shuffling them he asked, “You want to play again?”

Click let go of Hound. Turning to Jazz he quickly started nodding.

Nodding Jazz wordlessly set up the game again, but before they could start the door opened. Brawn was here.

Jazz and Click’s heads snapped to the entrance.

Hound stood up. “You ready to close Ravage’s personal entrance?”

“Er, yeah. Who’s that?” Brawn asked.

Who—oh. Brawn was staring at Click.

“Optimus told you about the sparkling I’m caring for, right?” Hound asked. At Brawn’s nod he continued on, “This is him. His name’s Click.”

Realizing that Hound was introducing him Click waved at Brawn, greeting him with a little chirp. “Click, this is Brawn. I’m going to show him where Ravage got in so he can close it up.”

Click perked up at that and started chittering energetically.

“You two good?” Hound asked.

“Yeah, the little spark and I are going to have so much fun without you.” Jazz said, a large grin plastered across his face. Click glanced between Jazz and Hound. Steeling himself Click nodded empathetically to Jazz’s comment before striding back to their cards. Kneeling again he picked up his hand.

Hound laughed. “I see how it is. Well, since I’m no longer wanted here, let’s go Brawn. You need help getting up to the vent?”

“Err, yeah. It’s a bit high up.” Brawn replied.

Hmm. They didn’t have a stool or ladder around here, and while Hound could lift Brawn into the vent he needed to go in first to lead the way. Glancing around the room for something he could use he saw it. “If we move that table to the vent could you get up then?” Hound asked pointing at an empty table. “We can put it back afterwards.”

Brawn gave the table a serious look over before glancing back at the vent. “Should be solid enough.” He mumbled before grabbing the table and carrying it over to the vent.

Once Brawn put the table in place Hound jumped on it. “Just follow me and we’ll be at the hole in no time.” He said before crawling into the vent. He remembered the path he took last time so he wouldn’t need to follow Ravage’s trail again.

Brawn followed after him, grunting as he climbed into the vent. “So, how did you find Ravage’s secret entrance? Red Alert’s been trying to find it for forever with no luck.” Brawn asked as he started following Hound through the vents.

“We caught him coming through here a few hours ago so it was pretty easy for me to follow his scent back. I have no idea if this is his only entrance, so Red Alert’s probably going to have you searching every inch of these vents.” Hound said.

Brawn groaned. “That sounds just like him. You ready to be stuck in these small vents all week?”

“I don’t think Red Alert could pull me in to help with this. Optimus already didn’t like Jazz asking me to follow Ravage’s tracks.” Hound said.

“Really? Why?”

“I’m Click’s caretaker now and caretakers aren’t really supposed to fight in wars. I’ve got the next few days off to get Click settled in. After that my job is to help Prowl with compiling his reports. I’m not going into the field anymore unless my tracking skills specifically are needed.” Hound explained.

“But aren’t you our best scout? Why couldn’t they give the little guy to someone else?” Brawn asked.

“Doesn’t work like that. By the time I brought him back to the Arc my caretaker protocols were already turning on, and you can’t really undo that.”

“Oh.” Brawn said before falling quiet for a few ticks. “If you could always follow Ravage’s trail, why haven’t you before?” Brawn finally asked, breaking the silence that fell between them.

“I’ve always been on patrol when Ravage broke in. Since he prefers to sneak around the vents any trail he left would be long gone by the time I learned about his latest break in, so I never saw the point of offering my help.”

Brawn didn’t respond to that, and the rest of the journey passed in silence.

“We’re here.” Hound said as they reached the part where Ravage broke in. Pointing at the hole Ravage cut Hound said, “This is what you’re here for.” Before moving forward so Brawn could reach it.

“Oh, yes, I see it now.” Brawn said.

“Do you need anything else from me?" Hound asked.

“No.” Brawn said. He couldn’t turn around to see the mech, but he could hear Brawn’s servo transforming into whatever tool he would use to fix the hole.

“Then I’ll head out.”

“How?”

“Keep going forward until I reach another grate.”

“Oh, well good luck. Congrats on the sparkling.” Brawn absentmindedly said, already focused on repairing the Arc.

Knowing that nothing else would reach Brawn in this state Hound left without another word. Crawling through the vents until reaching another opening he unscrewed the vent and popped it off before sliding out into the hall. Hound secured the grate back in place before heading back to Jazz and Hound.

At least the two of them were having a lot of fun—he knew who his favorite babysitter was now.

Chapter Text

Entering the rec room Hound was greeted with the sight of Click dropping into recharge curled into Jazz’s side.

“I thought you were playing a game.” Hound warmly said, saving the image of Click and Jazz cuddling in his memory.

Click perked up at the sound of Hound’s voice. Turning around in Jazz’s lap he reached out to Hound and gave a happy little chirp.

“Oh? I thought you didn’t want me here anymore, and you look so comfortable with Jazz. Maybe I should leave you with him?” Hound asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

Betrayal crossed Click’s face as he sadly whined at Hound.

Hound laughed. Walking over to the two Hound scooped Click into a hug. “I’m just joking. I’ll never leave you.” Lifting Click up he nuzzled their noses together.

Click was not amused by his joke. Pouting Click weakly smacked Hound’s face with his tiny servo.

“I deserve that, don’t I.” Hound gently said. Click vehemently nodded before tightly wrapping his arms around Hound’s neck. A tight grip for Click that was. Click wasn’t very strong, so it felt like a hug to Hound.

Jazz laughed at Click’s reaction. “I don’t think the little guy’s letting you go any time soon.”

“No, I don’t think he will.” Hound said, tightening his grip around Click.

“So, you going to give us some tracking lessons?” Jazz asked casually leaning towards Hound in a way Hound knew was anything but casual even before he felt how excited Jazz was.

“Yes.” Hound empathetically said with a grin. “Be ready for a drive, we’re going to the forest.”

“The forest?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot easier to show you how to track there than the desert around here. Lots more life.” Hound grinned as an idea popped into his mind. Grabbing Jazz’s arm Hound pulled him up and started pulling him along. “Come on, let’s go!”

Click giggled at Jazz practically falling out of the booth and taking his first, few, stumbling steps in an attempt to keep up with Hound. Payback was sweet.

“Wh—hey! What are you doing?” Jazz protested, his legs quickly moving into action, so he was walking next to Hound instead of being pulled along.

“I’m going to the forest.” Hound innocently said. It had rained there the other day so there would be fresh tracks for them to find. A good beginner’s lesson.

“No, I—never mind.” Jazz huffed. “How far are we going?”

“It’s an hour drive to the forest. We’ll probably spend the rest of the day out there unless you have something else planned?” Hound said, pausing to let Jazz voice his objections.

Instead, Jazz responded with a cheerful “Nope.”

“Do you need to tell anyone that we’re going out?”

“Nah, I already told Prowl. If anyone needs me, he’ll take care of it.” Jazz answered.

Good. “Then let’s go.”

Speeding up to a brisk walk Hound walked the Arc’s entrance while keeping a servo on Jazz’s arm. When they first crashed the Arc’s main doors were damaged, wrenched open and unable to close. It was the first thing Red Alert insisted they fixed, and no one even tried to argue with him about it. No one wanted to leave an easy entrance for the Decepticons. Now, seeing the thick doors smoothly sliding open it was hard to remember the twisted piles of scrap they used to be. The doors quickly closed behind them to minimize Decepticon’s attempts to sneak into the Arc through the front door.

Letting go of Jazz’s arm, Hound transformed, twisting his body around Click so they ended up sitting safely in his seat. Click probably wouldn’t take being set down right now very well. Hound quietly sat there for a moment, soaking in the afternoon sun, as Jazz quickly transformed next to him. As soon as Jazz finished transforming he set off to the forest, Jazz following shortly behind him.

The drive was quiet. Click settled into his seat, dozing off into a light recharge. Jazz didn’t try and start a conversation, the low hum in his field indicating that he was deeply thinking about something. Hound, for his part, allowed his senses to expand and enjoyed basking in a place so full of life. Many wouldn’t expect a desert to be full of life, but it was.

Hound could hear every lizard scuttling across the sand, the hawks above him cawing. Dozens of tiny beetles and other bugs crawled across the sand, some unfortunate enough to cross paths with a scorpion and be eaten. Much of the life here was different, but it also reminded him of Cybertron.

By the time he was created, crawling out of a hotspot, the wilds were already dying. The overmining of Energon was draining the entire planet dry. Sometimes Hound would imagine what the wilds looked like in their prime, and the dense blanket of life covering the entire planet on Earth was similar to what he imagined—even if the types of life were different.

Lost in his thoughts soon enough they entered the forest, slowing down to navigate the rough, winding, muddy roads. Hound kept moving until he reached a round open clearing that was a camping spot humans never used. Transforming back into root mode he held Click so the sparkling wouldn’t accidentally fall from the sudden transformation.

Click was looking around the forest in wonder, his head jerking around in every direction.

“Do you want to look around?” Hound asked.

Hound’s question was greeted with an enthusiastic nod from Click, his earlier reservations of leaving Hound completely gone. As soon as Hound set him down Click started stumbling around, looking at everything in awe.

“I didn’t realize he had trouble walking.” Jazz said.

“Neither did I. He didn’t seem to have trouble walking around in the Arc.” Granted Click barely walked anywhere by himself. Hound didn’t even think before he started carrying Click around everywhere. Click was so tiny that it would take forever for him to get anywhere on the Arc, and he was scared that someone might step on him by accident. It was the same reason why they tended to carry their human friends around the Arc—no matter how much Spike complained that he wasn’t a kid.

“It could be the unsteady ground.” Jazz suggested. That made as much sense as anything. The dirt ground on Earth was strange compared to Cybertron which was an entirely metal planet, and the mud made it more slippery that Click was used to. The only part of Cybertron that wasn’t solid metal was the rust sea that everyone avoided, and their only precipitation was the rare acid rain.

“So,” Jazz loudly said clapping his hands together, “what’s first O great tracking master.”

Click perked up, turning to Hound at Jazz’s question.

“First thing’s first, I’m going to teach you how to find a spoor.” Hound said.

Jazz tilted his head. “What’s a ‘spoor?’ That word isn’t in any of my language packs.”

“It isn’t?” That was surprising. Normally Hound was the one with a lacking vocabulary. “Spoor is the trail an animal leaves behind.”

Jazz grinned as he proudly said, “Like tracks.”

“Yes, tracks are part of it, but it’s a lot more than that. It’s also things like scat, broken foliage, other environmental signs.”

Jazz’s nose wrinkled when Hound said ‘scat.’ “Why am I learning how to track organic creatures? I thought you were going to ask me how to trach mechs.”

“Because I’m teaching you the basics. Yeah, some of it won’t be useful if you're tracking mechs, or even a petrorabbit, but I’d rather you know everything I can teach you and not need it rather than you needing it and not having it.” Hound explained.

“Fine, fine.” Jazz agreed with his argument. “Now, what are we starting with?”

“Well, since you always bring them up, let’s start with tracks.”

Jazz lit up. Pumping his servos into the air he shouted an excited, “Yeah!”

“You want to fill me in with what you know about tracks?”

“What is there to know?” Jazz asked. “Someone walks around and leaves a trail of their pedes in the ground that’s pretty easy to follow.”

“That’s true, but not all there is to know. The most important thing to learn is how to tell how old a track is.”

“Wait, you can do that?”

Hound nodded. “Fresh tracks have a more definitive edge to it. Time wears those edges down, so the crisper tracks are the fresher they are.”

“That. . . actually makes a lot of sense now that I think about it.” Jazz sighed. “Earth is so strange.” If something left tracks on Cybertron it was permanently part of the metal and would only go away if someone fixed it. It wasn’t prone to the subtle changes that tracks in earth experienced.

“It’s very different. Seeing dirt for the first time was. . . disorienting. I uh, I actually read some human books on tracking to help me figure out how it worked.” Hound admitted.

Jazz startled. “A human book? How’d you find that?”

“Someone dropped their field guide to tracking on a trail. It was a little awkward to read since it was so small, but it had a lot of good information. Don’t worry though, I found the owner and returned their book afterwards.”

“You managed to find its owner? How did. . . never mind.”

“I followed their scent. It was easy to pick them out from everyone who walked the trail since the book smelled of them, and they were camping nearby. It would have been trickier if they drove away.”

“Right.” Jazz dryly said.

“Hey!” Hound protested.

Click seemed to finish looking around the small camping area because he stumbled back to Hound and raised his arms asking to be picked up. Picking him up Click immediately clung to his chest again.

“How about we look for some tracks and I can show you what to look for.” Hound suggested.

“Sounds good, where to fearless leader?” Jazz said.

“No, I’m not deciding. I want you to find them—while knowledge is important practice is even more important. I can tell you all the signs to look for, but that’ll never help if you can’t recognize them.”

“Why do you have to be right?”

“Because I’m smart.”

Jazz lightly hit Hound’s shoulder. It was light enough that Hound could barely feel it. “Excuse me, I am very smart.” Jazz offendedly said in stark contrast to the amusement brimming in his field.

“I just said that I’m smart. If you think that means you’re not smart that’s on you.” Hound shot back.

Jazz dramatically crossed his arms and walked away with a huff. He only went a few steps before stopping. “So, what exactly am I looking for?”

“Just find some animal tracks we can follow. They’re pretty small, but there’s lots of them around here.”

Jazz started looking around, his gaze passing over several tracks. There were dozens of squirrel tracks around the trees, probably from the few squirrels he spotted in the trees. There were also several other tracks from small game passing through, from the shape It was squirrels, porcupines, and the like. More interesting though were the seven wolves tracks that skirted around the camp. A pack of wolves passed through here fairly recently, their tracks were still fresh.

The wolves of Earth had several similarities to cyberwolves just like how foxes and turbo foxes were similar. However, they were much smaller and weaker. Hound sought them out when they fist ended up on Earth and was very disappointed that despite their similarities to cyberwolves he couldn’t understand them.

“I found some!” Jazz cheered pointing at the cluster of wolf tracks, the biggest and most obvious tracks in the area. “So, what are these?”

“Those are wolf tracks.” Hound said. Click’s grip minutely tightened around him.

Hound could hear Jazz’s engine start up, a thread of nervousness entering his field. “Wolves?”

“A whole pack of them, I’d say seven.”

Click whimpered and started trembling. Hound began soothing his free servo up and down his back.

“Seven wolves.” Jazz whispered to himself before jerking around, looking for them.

“Oh, relax. The tracks may be fresh, but they’re not coming back here. Besides, they can’t even hurt us if they try, and they’re not going to because we’re big and scary to them.”

“How sure are you about that?” Jazz weakly asked.

“Very. Most animals don’t attack unless they feel threatened, and wolves aren’t especially aggressive. The only reason they’ll attack us if they feel threatened and can’t escape.” Hound’s reassurances weren’t helping Jazz relax, at least if calmed down Click. “Look, Jazz, I’ll tell you if wolves start coming near us, but you really don’t need to worry.”

“How can you tell me wolves are here and that I don’t need to worry. I know you said you grew up near cyberwolves, but this isn’t something you should be so casual about.”

“Jazz, use your processor for a klick. Cyberwolves are our size or bigger and have teeth and claws that can tear through metal. Wolves, however, are Click’s size, and they can’t even dent our armor. They are not comparable threats.” Hound said, trying not to let his exasperation show.

“They aren’t a threat. We’re fine. There’s nothing to worry about. Wolves won’t burst out of the trees and tear us apart.” Jazz whispered to himself as if trying to convince himself that what he was saying was true. It didn’t seem to work.

“Do you want to learn how to track or not? We can try some other time if Earth wolves are that scary.”

“No, no. I can do this.” Jazz quickly said.

“Good.” Hound said kneeling next to the tracks and waving Jazz to join him. He set Click on the ground next to him as Jazz kneeled on his other side. Click looked at the tracks curiously and poked his finger in one of the footprints, tracing around the edges. They would both need a shower after this to clean the mud off.

“Now, looking at these tracks it’s easy to see that they’re fairly recent. The edges are sharp, and you see those mud balls at the edges? They haven’t fallen in which means these tracks are fresh. It also helps to know the recent weather, do you know what the weather here was like yesterday?”

Jazz paused to look up the information. “According to local reports it rained here yesterday. Why’s that important?”

“Because weather events like rain washes away old tracks and creates the best conditions to make new tracks. If you're somewhere that doesn’t get lots of precipitation tracks can last for years.”

“That’s a long time for an indentation in the dirt to last.” Jazz said.

“It depends on where the track is made and the weather, but in perfect conditions some tracks have been fossilized. There are fossilized footprints of dinosaurs still in the world.” Hound learned about it when Spike was teaching them about dinosaurs so Ratchet and Wheeljack could make the dinobots. The day he spent at the museum with Spike was amazing, he learned so much about Earth’s ecology.

“That’s really old. I don’t think I’m looking for those.”

“No, generally you’re looking for tracks that are 12 hours old or less. Here, I’ll show you some other tracks around here.”

“There are more?” Jazz asked.

“Jazz, this whole area is covered in tracks. You just found the biggest ones.” Hound dryly said.

“Oh.”

The next few hours were a blur of showing Jazz and Click different tracks, pointing out their different points, and the other signs that showed the animals’ presence.

“These details are so tiny.” Jazz groaned glaring at a tree that a bear rubbed its back on. Some of its fur was caught in the bark. “This has to be small even for humans.”

“It can be.” Hound admitted. The black hairs stood out to Hound, but he tried to remember that Jazz’s optics didn’t have his focus and ability to notice subtle differences. Perceptor was probably the only mech with better optics than him that didn’t have upgrades to improve them.

The way the setting sun caught on the hairs was very noticeable to Hound, but Jazz didn’t notice their gleam. Speaking of the setting sun, “It’ll be night soon. We should go back to the Arc.”

“You’re right. I have a busy day tomorrow; I can’t skip recharge tonight.” Jazz glumly said. As much as Jazz complained about the tiny details Hound was focusing on, he was eagerly soaking up the lessons.

If anything, Jazz was upset that they had to stop. “We can continue this on another day when we’re both free. I can’t promise when since I don’t know my new schedule yet, but—”

“Don’t worry about that. Prowler will give us some shared days off if I ask nicely.” Jazz cut in.

“I thought he wasn’t supposed to show favoritism in the schedule.” And it would be favoritism seeing as Jazz was his conjunx.

Jazz shrugged. “Anyone can ask to have a specific day off or share days off with someone and Prowler will give it to them unless it’s detrimental to our schedule. It’s just that everyone’s too scared to ask.”

Hound laughed. “Well then, we’ll do this on one of our free days.”

It was easy to trek back to the empty campgrounds where they first started and transform into a vehicle. Jazz followed closely behind Hound.

Leaving the forest the setting sun was beautiful, painting the sky varying shades of pink and orange. Click was enraptured by his first sunset on Earth, quietly staring at the sky. Tracking its subtle changes as the sun lowered until the sky went dark, and the stars appeared. Then Click moved to tracing the stars with his servo.

It was different than the stars that populated Cybertron’s night sky. Hound spent the drive pointing out the different constellations and telling Click the different myths behind them. Jazz added his own commentary to the stories that caught a few giggles out of Click. It was nice. Hound wanted it to last forever, but all too soon they were back at the Arc.

“Hey, Hound, thanks for everything today.” Jazz said as they transformed back into root mode outside the Arc.

Click was already in recharge when Hound transformed into root mode, carrying him in his arms.

“The lessons? It was no problem, I had fun.”

“No, well not just the lessons. I mean everything, you know, introducing me to Click, tracking down Ravage, everything.”

Had all that really happened in one day? It was such a blur of activity it was hard to believe how much had happened. “You don’t have to thank me for all that.”

“Well, I want to.” Jazz hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I just want you to know that I appreciate everything. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Oh.

When was the last time someone thanked him, told him they appreciated him, and meant it instead of saying it out of politeness or habit? He couldn’t remember. Did it ever happen?

“I will.” Hound weakly said, trying not to show how choaked up Jazz’s thanks was making him. Jazz was too good not to notice, but he didn’t draw any attention to it, instead leaving with a quick “good night” when the doors opened. Hound took a klick to himself to regain his composure before following him inside.

First stop, cleaning the mud off of him and Click. After that, recharge. Hopefully tomorrow would be less eventful.

Chapter Text

Hound woke up with his internal alarm. Slowly leaving recharge, luxuriating in those moments of peace Hound onlined his optics. Click was quietly purring, nuzzling into his chest. Taking a klick Hound tried to figure his plan for today. He had today and tomorrow off before he was back on duty, and he couldn’t spend that time lying around.

Yesterday was. . . a lot. Ravage’s attack setting off a frenzy of activity. Even if the day ended nicely that didn’t stop Hound from feeling tired.

Ravage’s attack. Where he targeted Click. Click who was terrified. Who cried afterwards. Was that the scariest thing Click experienced it, or was his life worse before this? Someone broke his vocalizer. Was that a one-off event or did he live with whoever did it? What about his caretaker? Were they dead or did they hurt Click? He wasn’t trying to go back to his caretaker—he didn’t even protest when Hound took the place as his caretaker.

He didn’t know what happened to Click, but he knew it had to be bad. Would Click need help dealing with it? A therapist should help. Did they have a therapist on the Arc? Hound didn’t remember. There was one person guaranteed to know.

Pulling his data pad from his subspace Hound wrote up a quick message to Ratchet asking if there were any therapists on the Arc that could help Click. Finishing it he gave it a quick look over before sending it. Now that he was waiting for a return message to look more into a therapist Hound turned his mind back to the question of what to do today.

Laying in his flat berth Hound itched to build a proper den for him and Click. It would need a lot of blankets and Hound only had the one his room came with and had no idea where to get more. He could ask about it next time he saw someone. If they didn’t have any spare blankets on the Arc he could see if Spike and Sparkplug could acquire some for him, human’s blankets were very fluffy if small.

He should also introduce Click to more mechs. Jazz, Bumblebee, and Mirage were great, but they could also be very busy and unavailable for long periods of time because of the nature of their missions in spec ops. It would be better if there was someone who normally stayed on base he could trust with Click.

Hound wracked his mind to try and think of someone he would trust to watch Click that wasn’t part of high command or spec ops. There was no way he was trusting Wheeljack with Click when the scientist blew himself up every other week. Perceptor, while very responsible, worked with Wheeljack and he wasn’t letting Click go anywhere near the labs without him which actually cut all the scientists from the list.

He wasn’t going to trust the Dinobots, Aerialbots, or Protectobots with Click. They were all too young for Hound to risk leaving Click with them. They could hurt Click on accident, especially with how clumsy the Dinobots were.

What about Bluestreak? Sure, he was one of the younger Autobots like Bumblebee, but they were in no way a untrustworthy due to their young age. Unlike the teams that were sparked on Earth, Bluestreak was actually older than Click. He was very much an adult, and very friendly. Click would probably get along with him, and Bluestreak would be much more available to watch Click in an emergency than the others. He wouldn't try and force Click to get along with anyone, but Bluestreak was a good chose for a sparkling watcher.

Wracking his processor Hound was pretty sure Bluestreak spent his afternoon break in the canteen. He could try and introduce Click to everyone again, and hopefully they wouldn’t be interrupted again. He could go around the rec rooms this morning ending at the canteen for lunch.

After that. . . after that he wanted to take a slow day.

He wanted to relax and spend time with Click. Learn more about him. Did Click like to make art? Did he enjoy reading? Could he read? Shouldn’t Hound know that sort of thing about his sparkling? Click seemed to love card games, but what about other games?

He didn’t know such simple information about his sparkling.

He was a failure of a care—

No.

Hound couldn’t follow that line of logic.

Click adored him, and while he was concerned Click’s clinginess came from a deeper problem Click wouldn’t be so clingy if Hound was a bad caretaker. He couldn’t allow self-doubt to drag him down. What he needed was to be there and be present. If there were problems he would work on them, not give up. Click deserved a caretaker that was there and cared for him.

They had time, Hound could use it to learn more about Click.

Click, whose EM field suddenly curled in the way Hound began to associate with fear. As if proving Hound correct Click curled into himself and began to tremble. Faint whimpers left him.

Hound lightly rubbed Click’s back. “Wake up Sweetspark, it’s just a bad night flux.”

Click’s trembling increased until he was violently shaking in place, his plating buzzing at the intensity of the shivers wracking his frame. Before Hound could start shaking harder Click jerked awake with a strangled cry.

“Click, are you—”

Hound couldn’t finish his question before Click threw himself into Hound’s arms with a spark breaking wail. Hound’s arms instinctively wrapped around Click, rocking him back and forth. “Shh, Sweetspark. It’s just a bad recharge flux. Your safe here.”

Click cried harder at his reassurances. Unsure what else to do Hound didn’t say anything else, instead he pulled Click closer to his chest and began to purr. Click’s frame went limp in his arms, but the hitched sobs didn’t stop. Hound stayed like that, gently petting Click’s back and purring as he rocked back and forth. Slowly Click’s sobs stopped, and he just lied in Hound’s arms limply.

“Are you feeling better Sweetspark?” Hound gently asked.

Click nodded from where he buried his face in Hound’s chest.

“Sweetspark, can you tell me about it?”

Click stiffened before slowly nodding.

“Okay Sweetspark. I just want you to nod yes or no. You don’t need to try and explain. Can you do that?”

Nod.

“Now, was it a memory?”

Shake.

A proper nightmare then. There was one thing worthy of a bad recharge flux that happened yesterday. “Was Ravage there?”

Click shivered as he nodded.

“Did he hurt someone?”

Another nod.

“Did he hurt you.”

Click’s shaking intensified, but he shook his head.

Oh. “Did he hurt me?”

Click nodded with little hiccupping sobs.

Hound purred even louder. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here and safe. Ravage didn’t hurt me.” They stayed like that for a while, Hound whispering reassurances to a distraught Click. Once he calmed down again Hound asked, “Was I the only one hurt?”

Shake.

Hound had a sneaking suspicion about who else was hurt. “Was your previous caretaker also hurt?”

Click keened as his trembling frame nodded.

Hound pulled Click into another hug. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.” Hound cursed whoever broke Click’s vocalizer. He wished Click could speak and tell Hound his worries and what he needed. Instead, he contented himself with holding click close, soothing him until he calmed down. He quietly cursed Ravage in his mind for upsetting Click so much.

There were a lot of people he needed to curse for Click.

After Click calmed down again, they lied there for a while before Hound brought himself to say, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Click looked up, tilting his head.

“I was wondering what you thought about seeing a therapist.”

Click gave a questioning whine.

“Do you know what a therapist is?” Hound asked.

Shake.

“A therapist is a doctor for your mind. I don’t know the details, but I know your life before coming here was rough, and I think seeing a therapist could help you.”

Click pursed his lips and looked down.

“If you aren’t sure, you can take your time to decide. We can try meeting one and if you don’t like it we can stop.” Hound suggested.

Click slowly nodded.

“Thank you Sweetspark. Now, let’s get you some Energon.” Hound said sitting up. “How do you feel about going to the canteen?” Hound had a spare cube in his room to feed Click yesterday, but he finished off what Click didn’t drink because leaving unsealed Energon out was a recipe for an explosion. That was his only emergency cube, so he’d have to get some mid-grade for Click from the canteen.

He could just grab a cube for Click, but it would be nice for both of them to go there. If Click wasn’t up to seeing anyone, he’d change his plans to stay in all day.

Click perked up at the word ‘Energon’ and eagerly nodded when Hound asked if he wanted to go to the canteen.

“Well then, what’re we waiting for.”

The canteen was full of mechs when Hound walked in. They didn’t need to fuel every day on Earth, Hound could easily go a week between each refueling, but most mechs grew into the habit of hanging out at the canteen every morning, even on days when they didn’t refuel. Most mechs used it as a place to hang out with their friends and keep up with the latest gossip.

That meant that when Hound walked in with Click curled up in his arm everyone’s gazes snapped to him. The intense attention he was suddenly bombarded with was unnerving. Lots of attention was bad in the wild, it meant you were prey, but Hound reminded himself there was nothing to be worried about here. They weren’t hunters stalking him, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike, they were mech interested in the first sparkling many of them have seen since the beginning of the war.

With everyone crowding around him there was no room to escape.

Rule one of being hunted: make sure you have an escape route.

Hound repeated that these mechs were just excited to meet Click in his mind as dozens of mechs crowded around him, congratulating him as they tried to get a good look at Click. It didn’t help. They were way too close, too crowded. Click seemed to agree as he hunched closer to Hound’s side.

“As much as I appreciate your congratulations, could you stop crowding us? I don’t think Click’s used to being around so many mechs.” Neither was he, but they didn’t need to know that.

Thankfully his request was quickly met with mechs backing off, returning to their seats with embarrassed apologies.

“Thank you.” Hound said, enjoying the return of free space around him. “While I am glad you are all so enthusiastic to meet Click, please remember that he has had a rough few days. He doesn’t need the stress of everyone crowding around him to introduce themselves.” That admonishment seemed to do its job as the canteen was filled with mechs that were embarrassed or ashamed of their behavior. Hopefully they would think a little more if a situation like this came up again. “You can meet Click after he has his cube if you make sure not to crowd around him.”

“But I need to leave for my shift in a few ticks.” Huffer whined.

“This isn’t your last chance to meet Click.” Hound firmly said. “I’m bringing him around the rec rooms today and we’ll be here this afternoon as well. If you don’t see him there, I’ll come here every morning, and I know Prowl’s schedules are different every day. You’ll have a chance to meet him if you can’t today. And yes, you can tell your friends about this. Just remember to also tell them not to crowd Click.” Hound finished.

After his little speech no one got in his way when he grabbed a cube of plain mid-grade and made his way to an empty table. Might as well have everyone choose to come to him rather than paint a target on the back of whoever he sat with.

Setting Click on the table Hound quickly got to work pouring the mid-grade to the fill line in Click’s much smaller cube and adding the mineral powder as Ratchet instructed. Stirring the powder in the Energon turned bright blue.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen blue Energon.” Perceptor commented behind him.

Hound didn’t move to acknowledge Perceptor; handing Click his cube. He waited a few moments, watching Click happily chugging his Energon, before he answered Perceptor, “Ratchet gave me a special mineral mix for Click.”

“That makes sense. Ratchet is very dedicated to his patient’s health and a sparkling would have different mineral requirements than a fully grown mech. I wonder what Ratchet blended together for the mix.” Perceptor mused, optics focusing on Click’s cube like he was trying to see into its molecular structure.

“You can ask Ratchet yourself.” Hound said.

Perceptor decisively nodded. “I will. Now, I must ask you Hound, how have you been settling into this new life? From what I understand taking in a sparkling is a very big change in lifestyle, and we are currently at war.”

“I haven’t had much time to think about it.” Hound admitted. “Prowl gave me three days to get settled in before he has me doing paperwork, but. . . well, yesterday was. . .”

Perceptor winced. “That bad?”

“I. . . I actually don’t know if it’s something I can share. If I could I’d think news of it would be all over the Arc by now.”

“Something happened yesterday? Something big?” Perceptor asked, his optics sharpening as he subtly glanced around the canteen, looking for anything out of place.

Ravage breaking into the Arc and its aftermath certainly counted as something big. Optimus and Prowl didn’t say anything about not sharing what happened, but if Bumblebee didn’t tell everyone about Hound wrestling Ravage to the ground bare servoed then Jazz was likely behind keeping the incident quiet. Hound wouldn’t interfere with whatever his plan was. “I won’t say.”

Perceptor shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Click finished his cube and walked over to the half empty cube on the table. He wasn’t stumbling, so his trouble walking yesterday was because of the mud. Click picked up the half empty cube of Energon which was so big compared to him that he needed to hold it with both servos, and he held it up to Hound.

“Are you still hungry?” Hound asked.

Click shook his head, thrusting the cube into his face.

“Do you want me to refuel?” Click nodded with a happy trill. “Sweetspark, I don’t need to refuel as often as you do. I topped up yesterday with you.” Hound gently explained.

Click frowned, looking between the cube and him before gently setting the cube down on the table and miming an explosion with his servos.

“Yes, Energon can explode if it’s unsealed and left sitting around.” Hound confirmed.

Click proudly nodded before pointing at Hound and miming taking a drink.

“Are you afraid of the Energon going to waste?” Hound asked.

Click nodded.

“You don’t need to worry.” Hound said. “We have a collector for any unused Energon. It’ll be purified and rebottled, nothing will go to waste and we’re all free to grab a cube if we’re hungry.”

Click frowned at the cube.

“If the issue is Energon going unused I can take the cube off of your servos.” Perceptor cut in. “I last refueled a few days ago and that is plenty enough to top me off.”

“Go ahead.” Hound said, passing Perceptor the cube.

“Thank you.” Perceptor said before knocking the cube back. Click watched Perceptor not angry or upset, but not happy either. His previous home likely experienced Energon shortages, they were lucky here. The humans gave them lots of energy that could be converted into Energon, other mechs weren’t as lucky. Fuel insecurity was just another thing to add to the list when he talked to Click’s prospective therapist.

Setting the cube back on the table Perceptor asked, “Why is Click communicating through gestures? Surely speaking would be much more effective.”

“His vocalizer is broken. Ratchet is making a new one for him, but it’ll take him a week to make it.” Hound shortly answered trying to keep the anger he felt at the reminder that someone broke Click’s vocalizer out of his voice.

“I see. There is no need to worry than. Ratchet is an excellent doctor. I have full faith in his abilities. I must go to the lab now, but congratulations Hound, and it was nice to meet you Click.” Perceptor said, turning to leave.

“You never introduced yourself.”

Perceptor froze, his field tinged in embarrassment. “Oh, I suppose I haven’t. I must rectify that mistake. Click, I am Perceptor, a scientist here. It is very nice to make your acquaintance. I must go to work now, but I hope I can see more of you later. Goodbye.”

With that Perceptor practically fled the canteen leaving neat line of twenty mechs behind him to deal with. This would take a while, at least they weren’t crowding them anymore.

Chapter Text

It took a groon to get through all the mechs lining up to meet Click. They were all nice and well behaved after Hound’s earlier scolding, but that didn’t mean they were quick. Even worse, many of them cooed at Click, or made a comment about how cute or tiny he was before focusing on Hound and asking him questions about Click.

Perceptor was fine earlier, he didn’t focus on Click because he was worried about Hound and was too busy to stay and chat. Even then, he offered to drink their spare Energon because the half-used cube was upsetting Click. Percy kept himself on a regular schedule that he didn’t like deviating from, and that included what days he refueled on.

These mechs were all here for Click, but they heard that Click’s vocalizer didn’t work and decided that meant he couldn’t speak for himself. That as Click’s caretaker they could focus on him instead of Click. It wasn’t that hard to work around Click’s inability to speak. He was mute not stupid.

It made Hound angry, the way mechs automatically assumed you couldn’t think for yourself when you couldn’t talk.

It reminded him of when he met other mechs for the first time.

The first mechs Hound met were a tower noble and his guards while they were on a turbofox hunt. A hunt so poorly executed Hound tracked them down out of a morbid curiosity to see the worst hunters ever. Not even pups failed at hiding as badly as they did, and Hound couldn’t imagine how they caught anything.

Turns out they weren’t even trying to hide because they didn’t need to get close to kill their prey with fangs and claws. They had guns.

Creeping through the tall grass Hound saw was mechs that looked like him. He had always been keenly aware that he had a different form from all the other mechanimals. His vents caught at the sight of a pack of mechs just like him. Talking to each other in a language he didn’t understand.

He howled in greeting like he did with the cyberwolves.

The guards shot him.

When Hound regained consciousness, he was chained to a berth in the noble’s tower with a doctor leaning over him. And then the doctor spoke, and Hound understood him. “I had to download an entire data packet of Cybertronian into your helm. Care to tell me where senator Proteus found a mech who can’t even speak?”

“Hound from—” Hound gave a series of trills that referred to the forest his den was in. “You?”

The doctor pursed his lips. “Proteus will be by soon to check on his newest pet.” The doctor spat out the word ‘pet.’ “You should talk to him while he’s here.

Hound didn’t understand what he was talking about. The data packet he had only had direct meanings, and Hound didn’t have the experience to figure out what the doctor was referring to. Instead, he looked around for a cybercat like the definition of pet talked about. Not seeing any pets in the room he asked, “What pet?”

“You if you don’t talk to Proteus and show him that your sentient.” The doctor sneered.

Looking up the definition of sentient Hound puffed up. “Hound sentient.” He protested.

“Then show it. I’ve done all I can for you, don’t mess this up.” He said before leaving Hound alone in the room with just his thoughts. There were lots of mechs like him here, and he could talk to them. He wanted to meet them, to get to know them. He could find pack here.

Hound heard Proteus long before he arrived, talking to a guest about the new pet he found. “It looks like a mech, but it’s not sentient. Can’t even talk.” He said with a laugh.

Strutting into the room Proteus was followed by Shockwave who was still senator Shockwave at this point. Hound didn’t know how to read the body language of mechs back then, but looking back on it, Shockwave was deeply uncomfortable as he looked at Hound chained to the berth.

Hound didn’t pay that any mind in the moment. He could talk to these mechs now and that was more important. “Greetings. I Hound, you?”

“Oh, Primus.” Shockwave whispered in horror.

“You can speak?” Proteus snapped. “Then why did you howl at us. We thought you were a cyberwolf.”

“Hound greeting other pack.”

Proteus’ lip curled at the word pack.

“Proteus, he’s sentient. You can’t keep him now, it’s illegal to own a mech. Let me take care of integrating him into society.” Shockwave desperately cut in.

“No, it was my mistake that got him hurt. I’ll take care of everything.” Proteus pleasantly said, quickly covering up his anger with a charming smile.

“But I—”

“I insist.”

Shockwave glanced between them before slowly nodding. “Very well, Hound was it?”

Hound nodded. “I Hound.”

“If you have any problems you can come to me for help. I am senator Shockwave.”

“Hound remember.”

“Good.”

Hound never had the chance to take Shockwave up on that offer as the senator was shadow played before Proteus sent Hound into the world.

Proteus didn’t do a good job of readying Hound to enter the world. Instead, he relished putting a collar around Hound’s and showing him off to all of his friends, forbidding Hound from speaking during those parties. Hound wasn’t supposed to speak unless Proteus told him to which was almost never.

Whenever Hound disobeyed, he was punished. He quickly learned to do as Proteus ordered.

Proteus loved acting like Hound was a mechanimal, not a sentient mech. All of Proteus’ friends complimented him for having such a well-behaved pet, and Hound could never tell if they knew he was a mech or thought he wasn’t sentient. He didn’t know what would hurt more.

After staying in Proteus’ tender, loving care for a vorn—the longest time an integration could last—the senator kicked Hound out with only a handful of shanix, a legal identity, and the offer to join his staff and stay with him. Hound declined the offer, saying he wanted to explore Iacon. What he didn’t say was that he didn’t want to sit at Proteus’ pedes or show off tricks to his friends on command every orn. He wanted freedom.

Proteus just leered at him and said that the offer was always open if he changed his mind.

He knew that Hound would struggle to find any sort of legal job and confidently let him go, believing that Hound would come crawling back to him within a mega-cycle. Proteus put a black mark on Hound’s record that caused every business to immediately reject him. It also barred Hound from leaving Iacon so he couldn’t return to the wilds and return to the life he once had. He was trapped in Iacon with no way to help himself.

Those first few astro-cycles were rough. With so little money he hunted turborats for food and tried finding secluded places to sleep in the loud, massive city. He was miserable, longing for a proper den he could safely recharge in. Every attempt he made to interact was swiftly rebuffed due to his poor speech. A pet didn't need to learn how to speak after all. It was when he was on the brink of breaking and returning to Proteus that he met Nightbeat.

Nightbeat who tracked Hound down through rumors and offered to teach him how to be a private investigator. To teach him how to interact with others. If Nightbeat didn’t offer Hound a servo he would still be Proteus’ mute, pretty pet who did everything he said.

Hound was snapped out of his thoughts by Click reaching out to him with a distressed whine.

“Is this too much?” Hound asked Hound asked picking Click up.

Click nodded.

“Do you want to go back to our room?”

Click glanced at Powerglide, the last mech who was ‘meeting’ Click and only talked to Hound after introducing himself.

“I know I said we were going around the rec rooms, but we don’t have to do that now. Most mechs aren’t even on break now. We can take a break and do it later when you feel better.”

Click’s gaze lingered on Powerglide for a moment before quickly nodding.

Hound stood up, turning to Powerglide with a sharp grin. “Unfortunately, we need to cut this short. Have a nice day.” Hound said leaving without giving Powerglide a chance to start bragging again. He was tired of being talked at.

Chapter Text

“So, what do you want to do?” Hound asked as they left the canteen. “I can grab us something to do on the way back to our room. Would you like that?”

Click eagerly nodded at the question.

“What do you want? I can get you something to draw with.”

Hound was going to say more, but he cut off when Click practically started shaking in his arms in eagerness.

“Drawing supplies it is.” Hound said with a laugh. Briefly flaring out his EM sensors he noted that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were in their room. As an artist that preferred physical mediums Sunstreaker could hopefully help him get drawing supplies for Click. He could deal with Sunstreaker needling him about his paint for Click.

Changing his direction to the twin’s room Hound looked over Click. He was much happier now, kicking his pedes as they walked down the hall. “Could you tell me what upset you earlier so I can stop it from happening again?”

Click looked up at him in confusion at the question. Pointing at Hound he whined.

What? Oh, “Did you think I was upset?”

Click nodded, looking very proud of himself. It was really smart of him to use himself as an excuse for Hound to leave.

But, “Sweetspark I wasn’t upset.”

Click shot Hound a disbelieving look.

“I really wasn’t. I was just remembering some old memories. Nothing upset me.” Hound defended himself. It really didn’t upset him. He had regular Energon and a warm berth with a roof over his head when he was with Proteus. He couldn’t really ask for more. There was nothing to be upset about. Besides, he’s not there anymore, it didn’t matter.

Click let out a distressed whine as he turned away from Hound. What did he do to upset Click? He was just telling the truth. He may not have appreciated how the mechs were treating Click, but he wasn’t upset. Click started shaking in his arms.

“What’s wrong Sweetspark?” Hound asked.

Click crossed his arms as he refused to look at Hound, his field becoming even more distressed.

He upset Click and he didn’t even know how. He was a terrible caretaker. How could Optimus and Prowl trust someone as stupid as—

Smack

Click’s tiny servo hit Hound’s face. He pointed at him accusingly and whined again.

“I suppose I was upset there.” Hound weakly admitted.

Click nodded before wrapping his arms around Hound’s neck and he started to purr. It was just like when he tried to calm down Click. Warmth spread through his core as Hound brought his free arm up to wrap Click in a hug and he began to purr. His purr drowned out Click’s purr until it was only faintly audible.

They stayed like that for a while as Hound walked through the halls. The earlier distress leaking out of his processor at Click’s comfort. He passed by a few mechs who stopped to stare, but none of them tried to stop them.

Hound only quieted down when he reached the twins’ room and knocked on the door. Click took that as his cue to let go of Hound and stop purring.

Sunstreaker was faintly annoyed when he opened the door, Sideswipe wasn’t there, his dim field farther into the room indicated he was still in recharge. Sunstreaker’s gaze sharpened when he realized Hound was at his door.

“Why’re you here? Did you take a look at my amazing work on Click and decide to let me give you a new paintjob? I heard your being promoted to a paper pusher now, so you can’t use the excuse that your current paint is for your job.” Sunstreaker asked giving Hound a once over.

Hound sighed. “For the thousandth time I am not changing my paint scheme.”

“Then at least let me stirp what you have and redo it with better paint. That stuff is the cheapest stuff you can use on a mech.” Sunstreaker said jabbing a finger at Hound’s chest.

“There is nothing wrong with my paint. I’ve used this for over 700 vorns without issue.” He didn’t need fancy paint. He hated how the thick glosses sealed the sensors on his plating making half of his sensors almost useless.

“700 vorns? With that slag? I promise you, a proper paint layer would feel much better.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about my paint. I wanted to ask you something.”

“What could be more important than fixing your atrocious paintjob?”

“Click wanted to draw, and I thought you would know where to find stuff for that.”

Sunstreaker stared at Hound for a moment before saying “Stay right there,” and closing the door in his face. Sunstreaker’s field was focused as he walked through the room, a few cabinets loudly creeking open. Sideswipe groaned at the noise. After a few ticks Sunstreaker opened the door with a box in his servo.

Thrusting out the box Sunstreaker looked at Click and said, “Here. Some human art supplies, they should be in your size.” Finally, someone was talking to Click like he was his own mech today.

Click reached out his arms and Sunstreaker gently set the box in his servos. “You better become a great artist and convince Hound to get some new paint. His current stuff is bad for his plating.”

With that Sunstreaker turned back to Hound and said, “You better not come to me again unless it’s to ask for new paint,” and slammed the door in his face.

Sideswipe groaned. “Who was there Sunny?”

“Just Hound. The fragger wasn’t even decent enough to ask for a new paintjob.”

“Hound? Why was—wait, doesn’t he have a sparkling now?”

“Yes. And that’s important, how?”

“Because you know I wanted to meet the sparkling.”

Sunstreaker scoffed. “His name is Click, and you will have plenty of opportunities to meet him in the future. Check your messages.”

“. . . oh.”

Hound tuned out their conversation as he headed back to his room. Click was busy looking inside his new box of art supplies, but he didn’t grab anything from it.

“Does it look good?” Hound asked.

Click lit up and started rapidly clicking.

“Good. I can’t wait to see what you make.”

Click lit up even more at that comment.

In his room Hound asked where he wanted to be set down, and Click pointed at the desk. It was too big for Click to reach from the chair, so Hound sat him on top of the desk. He needed to get some furniture in Click’s size. As soon as he was set down Click put the box on the table and started methodically emptying the box. Setting the drawing pad on his lap he began arranging all the pencils and markers in neat lines.

Hound took the box from Click after he emptied it and set it underneath the desk. It would be a convenient place to put all the art supplies when Click was done for the day. Then Click opened to the first page of his drawing pad and went through all the pencils and markers one by one. Testing them on the paper and painstakingly writing their names next to it. That reminded Hound, he would have to ask Click if he knew how to read later.

With Click engrossed in drawing it was a good time to check his own messages. Pulling out his data pad he was met with a flood of messages. Scrolling through many of them were mechs inviting him to bring Click to meet them with what rec room and time they were available. Only a few messages were from mechs he considered friends.

A message from Jazz confirmed that Prowl would give them shared days off. It was right next to a message from Prowl asking if he actually wanted to share a day off with Jazz, and that he’d follow Hound’s wishes either way. Hound sent a quick response confirming that he did want to share days off with Jazz.

Buried in the congratulations and invitations was a response from Ratchet for Hound’s message about a therapist he sent that morning. They apparently only had one therapist on the Arc, a mech named Rung. Hound had a good mind for names and faces, but he couldn’t remember the name Rung. Ratchet included a large portfolio of Rung’s achievements, and looking at the mech’s picture Hound couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling that he knew this mech.

His looks were noticeable. An antique style of frame that only the oldest mechs had, and most mechs were reformatted from to get heavier armor when the war began. Wracking his processor, it took a few minutes to realize that this was the mech that did Percy’s evaluations during the scientist’s short stint in the wreckers.

Thinking about it, that was the only time he saw Rung. It wasn’t that surprising; they likely just had different schedules and didn’t frequent places at the same time. It wasn’t that unusual. There were a lot of Autobots. He may know the EM fields of everyone on the Arc, but that didn’t mean he knew them.

Looking through his portfolio Rung certainly seemed to be an accomplished therapist. He had an old practice and helped a lot of different mechs, including sparklings. Even if it wasn’t on the records Ratchet sent, he was trusted enough to handle the wreckers’ mental evaluations. Rung was probably the best Hound could find, and Ratchet was offering to set up their first meeting bypassing the normally lengthy process to set up a first meeting with a therapist. As CMO Ratchet could expedite that sort of thing if he said Click needed it, and he trusted Hound’s judgement for this.

He might also still feel guilty about the incident in the medbay yesterday.

“Ratchet got back to me about finding you a therapist. We only have one on the Arc, and he offered to set up our first meeting. I wanted to ask what you thought before saying yes.” Hound said holding out the data pad to Click.

Click gently set down his drawing, which was all rough lines, but he could see the beginnings of a mech. Grabbing the data pad Click looked at it with a frown.

“Can you read?” Hound asked.

Click dejectedly shook his head.

“I can start teaching you how later.” Hound said and Click perked up at that, his field buzzing in excitement. “For now,” Hound scrolled up to Rung’s picture, “this is what he looks like. He’s an old mech whose been doing this for a long time, and he’s helped a lot of people including sparklings. Would you like to try it?”

Click pursed his lips as he looked at the picture.

“We could have you meet him before you decide.” Hound suggested.

Click hesitantly nodded.

“Okay. Would you prefer to meet him before or after your new vocalizer is installed?”

Click jerked up at the question, staring at Hound with wide optics. After a klick servo shot out holding two fingers out.

“After?” Hound confirmed to Click’s eager nod. “Okay. I’ll let Ratchet know.” Hound said taking the data pad back from Click.

Click absently nodded, picking his drawing pad back up and going back to his drawing with renewed intensity. Hound didn’t recognize whoever Click was drawing, but he wasn’t finished.

They entered a comfortable silence broken only by the scratches of pencil against paper. Hound sent Ratchet his acceptance, requesting that they meet after Click gets his new vocalizer before they try any sessions. With that finished, Hound started reading through the large backlog of meeting requests, noting down where and when they wanted to meet. He would try going to a few of them later.

It was full of mechs that he’d only spoken to a few times. However, there were a few messages from his friends. Perceptor sent a standing invitation to the science rec room, promising to make sure the room was empty of possible explosives so Click could safely meet the scientists as long as Hound messaged him a breem before coming over. Mirage was offering to hang out with both of them. Smokescreen also sent a message inviting Hound and Click to hang out with the Praxians at noon, in Prowl’s office rather than the crowded canteen.

Hound sent his acceptance for the last message. He would just go to the canteen in the early afternoon.

At the very end of the messages was a message from Nightbeat. It had the file of his latest novel recommendation, another Earth detective novel, and a challenge to figure out who the killer was before the book revealed it. Nightbeat had started sending him one of these messages every week since they crashed on Earth. It only had a little add on at the end congratulating him on acquiring a sparkling.

Glancing at Click absorbed in his drawing Hound decided they had time. Settling into his berth Hound opened up the novel and began to read.

Chapter Text

The murder mystery Nightbeat recommended this time was an enjoyable read so far. His shanix was on the aunt being the killer. While she wasn’t the character with the most to gain from her brother’s death by itself, she did have much more to gain if the son was found guilty of killing the father—and a lot of evidence was pointing at the son. Evidence that could have been planted. The complications Human’s families added to these mysteries were fascinating.

Most mechs didn’t have families like humans did as nobles were some of the only mechs that had sparklings. Instead, most Cybertronians came from a hotspot or were cold constructed. Creating a sparkling was not only rare, but it also required a lot of materials and energy for a carrier to successfully carry a sparkling into emergence. These were things nobles had in abundance. Most mechs’ frames reject a sparkling within a mega-cycle when they don’t have enough materials or energy to safely carry the sparkling to emergence—things only nobles and rich mechs had access to.

 It had been a groon or two since he started reading when Click finished his drawing. Cradling the drawing pad in his arms Click dropped to the chair, jumping onto the ground from there. Walking up to Hound Click proudly showed off his picture. The grey, unpainted, face of a mech glared back at him. The only color on him, other than his red optics, were the red triangles under his optics and the pair of wings painted onto his helm. Red paint that was only used on gladiators.

There were no more gladiators. The Decepticons cleared out all the gladiator pits, recruiting the mechs, before blowing them up at the beginning of the war. Optimus outlawed the pits when he became Prime, saying it was reprehensible to force mechs to fight in order to live.

It was a good picture. Click took his time to carefully draw the mech before slowly coloring it in, making sure his colors stayed neat and in the lines.

Looking at the shape the gladiator’s helm Hound was reminded of Megatron who used to be a gladiator before he started the war. Was this a recreation of a picture of Megatron Click saw? No, he was too excited about the picture for it to be someone he didn’t know.

“Is that your caretaker?” Hound asked.

Click rapidly clicked in delight at the question, throwing his arms up.

Taking the silent cue Hound picked up Click who immediately latched onto his chest with a hug as Hound lied back down on the berth.

“Do you want us to look for him?” Hound asked.

If there were gladiator pits that survived the war Optimus would want to know and put a stop to them. Hound was also concerned for Click’s other caretaker. Looking at the mech’s picture he looked extremely similar to Megatron. Hound wouldn’t have been surprised if the mech was created like that so mechs could watch and cheer as Megatron was hurt, forced to fight at their whims. A way of getting back at Megatron for starting the war, even if they mech they were hurting wasn’t Megatron.

Click froze in Hound’s hold, his field rapidly flickering between positive and negative emotions—Hound couldn’t figure out what emotions they were exactly, but that didn’t matter.  Click clearly wanted mechs to look for his caretaker, but he was doubtful it would work. Just how was Click separated from his caretaker?

Click’s tiny servo hooked onto his chest, and he trilled in a way Hound interpreted as a question of how they would find his caretaker.

“I know a mech, Nightbeat. He loves solving mysteries and has been complaining about not having anything to do recently. I’m sure he’d be eager to try and find your caretaker.” Hound explained. Nightbeat would love to try and track down an illegal gladiator ring.

Click peeked up at him hopefully with a little churr.

Hound smiled down at Click. “We’re meeting Prowl later. I can ask him to send Nightbeat to look for your caretaker. Do you remember Prowl? He was there with Optimus and Sunstreaker when you got your new paintjob.”

Click’s optics flickered off for a klick before they lit up and he quickly sat up on Hound’s chest. Dramatically scowling and stuck his servos out from his shoulders mimicking Prowl’s doorwings.

Hound threw his head back and laughed. “I suppose Prowl does have quite the scowl."

Click giggled at Hound’s reaction.

“Ahh, come here!” Hound said, wrapping his arms around Click, pulling him down for a hug. Landing on his chest with a little squeak Click practically melted into his chest. Gently rubbing the base of Click’s neck all the tension left Click as he went strutless and started to purr.

“Do you want to try meeting more mechs?” Hound gently asked.

Click shook his head.

“We can stay here for a little longer if you want. We have, hmmm, around a groon before we should head to the canteen. We’re meeting Prowl, Bluestreak, and Smokescreen after that. What do you think about relaxing until then?”

Click nodded before nuzzling against Hound’s chest.

“We’ll do that then, Sweetspark.”

Keeping one hand rubbing the base of Click’s neck Hound’s free servo grabbed the data pad he set down earlier. If he was going to lay around he wanted to try and finish that novel.

Click’s EM field quickly dimmed as he slipped into recharge, his limp frame purring in contentment.

This was. . . nice. They needed to do this again when they had more time.

Chapter Text

Hound finished the novel with a grin. He was right—the aunt murdered the father and was trying to frame the son. It was an enjoyable read, but Nightbeat’s recommendations always were—even if he almost exclusively read mysteries. He’d have to send Nightbeat a message that he liked it; the detective would probably want to talk to him about it afterwards. These little meetings were the only times he’s seen Nightbeat recently.

Click was a puddle of contentment recharging on his chest. According to his internal clock they needed to head out soon. Quickly checking on the EM fields in the canteen there were a lot more mechs than normal, and everyone there was excited.

Gently rubbing Click’s back Hound said, “It’s time to wake up Sweetspark. We need to head out soon.”

Sleepily grumbling Click shoved his face into Hound’s chest.

“Come on, Sweetspark. It’s time to get up.” Hound chuckled.

Pushing himself up Click pouted at Hound and whined.

“I know this is nice Sweetspark, but we need to get up. We can do this again later, I promise.”

Click huffed, sliding off of Hound’s chest, scowling at the floor. It was quite a drop for Click’s small size. He should probably get a ladder for Click so he doesn’t have to rely on Hound to get around. It would be good for Click to have the ability to go where he wanted without relying on him. For now, Hound just set Click on the ground.

Click immediately went for his drawing pad that fell on the floor earlier. Opening up the drawing pad Click weakly smiled at the picture of his caretaker before clutching it to his chest.

They should probably bring the drawing with them so Prowl could send a picture of it to Nightbeat. “Do you have access to your subspace yet?” Hound asked.

Click shook his head, looking at Hound in curiosity.

“Would you prefer to carry your drawing pad yourself or putting it in my subspace? We’re asking Prowl to send someone looking for your caretaker, so we should give them a picture of him. That way they’ll know who they’re looking for.”

Click lit up at the explanation, holding out the pad to Hound. Carefully taking the drawing pad from Click Hound put it in his subspace.

Looking Click straight in the optics Hound seriously said, “I’ll keep it safe.”

A large grin split Click’s face at that as he thrust out his arms asking to be picked up.

“Alright, just give me a klick. I need to get up too.” Hound said, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Hound could practically hear the “that’s not fair” as Click pouted up at him.

“Yes, yes. I’m sooo evil making you get up while I lay down for a few more klicks.” Hound jokingly said as he stood up. Click seriously nodded at his joke.

“Well, I’m up now, let’s get going.” Hound swung Click into the air, catching him before he could fall. Click squealed at being tossed up before devolving into happy clicks.

“Feel better?” Hound asked.

Click nodded, leaning back into his side.

Heading to the canteen Hound could hear it. It was full of people talking—most of it was gossip about him and Click. Well, since it was about them surely it would be fine to listen in for once.

“Why would they give a sparkling to Hound of all mechs? He’s always on patrol.”

“I heard that they imprinted on each other, and it’s not like Prime is going to separate a caretaker and sparkling.”

“A sparkling shouldn’t be forced to live on patrol just because Hound is a workaholic.”

“Didn’t you hear? Prowl promoted Hound; he’s doing data work now.”

“Huh. I’ll have to give him my congratulations.”

“Where can I find my own sparkling?” The mech groaned. “I’d love to get off of patrol.”

“Oh, shove off, there’s no way you can take care of a sparkling.”

“I saw Jazz leave the Arc with Hound and the sparkling, and they were gone for hours. Do you think they’re—”

“There’s no way. You know he and Mirage—”

“Mirage hasn’t made a single move.”

“Speaking of, did you see Mirage yesterday? He was so out of it.”

“Really? Do you think Mirage finally grew some manifolds and asked?”

“Seeing the sparkling might have finally inspired him.”

“Inspiration isn’t something he’s been lacking, let me tell you.”

Snort. “Yeah, inspiration. If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Where do you think the sparkling came from?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well think about it, sparklings were rare, even before the war. How did a brand-new sparkling pop up on Earth of all places?”

“He could have been from before the war. I mean, they take a long time to grow up, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s so tiny. There’s no way he was born before the war.”

“But who would have enough spare materials to create a sparkling?”

“Could be the nobles. They left Cybertron with everything they could take when they realized they weren't safe from the Decepticons.”

“No way. Those viruses wouldn’t let one of their sparklings go.”

“Who else out there has the spare materials?”

“I. . . um. Maybe some traveling mechs got lucky?”

The gossip cut out when Hound walked into the canteen. It was unnerving to be the focus of so many mechs’ attention, but Hound pushed that feeling away. He had business to attend to. Scanning the room there were small groups at every table—not a single one was empty.

“Unfortunately, I have a meeting with Prowl so I can only stay for a groon. Is there somewhere I can sit?” Hound said, trying to take control of the situation before the crowd of mechs overwhelmed them.

A barrage of mechs shouting “here!” echoed through the room. Click flinched at the sudden explosion of noise.

Hound threw up his hand in the silence sign. There were a few servo signs that every Autobot needed to learn in case they needed to communicate without comms. This was one of them. Thankfully everyone noticed and quickly quieted down.

“Could you please not be loud enough to be heard on the other side of Oregon?” Hound asked. There were a few embarrassed complaints, but no one started causing trouble. He was going to take it as a good sign. How could Optimus handle crowds like this all the time? “Just raise your servo if you want me to sit at your table.” Hound ordered, hoping to avoid the previous chaos. He could handle the noise, but Click clearly couldn’t.

Everyone raised their hand before Hound could finish his sentence which was not helpful. Knowing that trying to continue like this was just going to be a long painful road with nothing being done Hound made the decision to sit with a few mechs he recognized—Huffer, Gears, and Cliffjumper. They were normally complainers, but hopefully meeting Click would cheer them up.

He was wrong.

“Aw, come on Hound, why did you have to sit at our table? Now everyone will be bothering us.” Huffer started whining before Hound had even finished setting Click down on the table.

“Because you’re the closest mechs I recognize. Besides, didn’t you volunteer to let me sit at your table?” Hound said.

“I didn’t” Huffer complained.

“Well, I did.” Gears shot back.

“I would’ve thought you’d recognize more of these mechs. See, that’s Kinetics” Cliffjumper said pointing at a light pink racing mech sitting with two mechs that had flamethrowers.

“And why should I know him?” Hound asked, tagging Kinetics' EM field with his name and looks. He was going to have names to match with EM fields for so many mechs at the end of this, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to have names to attach to some of the things he saw. Several times while stretching his sensors on the Arc he stumbled onto Velocity and the two mechs with him interfacing, both sticky and not.

No, no, he didn’t want to remember that. There was a reason why he didn’t do that anymore.

“You don’t know Kinetics? He always sings during drinking nights!” Cliffjumper said. Well, that explained the noise. No, stop thinking about that.

“Well, that’s why I don't know him. I don’t go to drinking nights.” Hound casually said, trying to erase the memories of the trio’s flaring fields and Kinetics moaning, “So good. You two are so good to me. Keep going,” from his mind.

“Why not? Drinking night is one of the only good things to do on Earth.” Huffer asked.

Hound shrugged. “I’ve never been one for engex, and I’m often on patrol during drinking nights.” Engex always made his sensors go on the fritz, so he stayed away from it. Looking at the trio Hound couldn’t repress a chuckle at the horror on their faces. Click quietly joined him, giggling at the trio. “Enough of that, aren’t you here to meet Click?”

“Er, right.” Gears said, recovering from the shock faster than Huffer and Cliffjumper. “I gotta say, didn’t expect the sparkling to be so small. I mean, he’s even smaller than the three of us.”

“Everyone has to mention how small he is. Ratchet didn’t bring up size concerns, so I think it's natural for sparklings.” Hound admitted.

“Really? But he’s even smaller than Sparkplug.” Cliffjumper said.

“He is. That reminds me, Huffer, could you make a ladder for Click?”

“Why are you asking me?” Huffer whined.

“Because you’re an amazing engineer, and I’d rather trust you with this than risking whatever Wheeljack might make. I want Click to be able to get around my room without needing to be carried everywhere.”

Huffer puffed up. “Of course I’m an amazing engineer, why do you want me to make a ladder though. It’s a waste of my talents.”

“Well, I’m hoping you could make something portable Click could carry around. He can’t use his subspace yet, you see.”

“A portable ladder for such a small frame. It should be possible. I’ll have to change the metal to something lightweight but still durable. It could be. . . or maybe. . .” Huffer started mumbling to himself about density vs. durability ratios.

“Well now you’ve done it. We’ve lost him.” Cliffjumper groaned.

“Sorry. I didn’t expect he’d start working on it right away.” Hound apologized. He thought Huffer would need more convincing before he begrudgingly started making a ladder.

“Enough of that. What’s your favorite thing about the Arc.” Gears asked Click.

Click lit up at someone finally asking him something directly. Chittering Click pointed at Hound.

“Aww.” The mech Cliffjumper pointed out earlier, Kinetics, had walked over to their table with his friends when they were talking. Behind them was a line of more mechs, looking over each other trying to get a look at Click. Other mechs were walking around, staring at Click while leaving a large gap between them and the table.

Smiling at Kinetics Hound said, “I’m Hound, and this is Click.”

Click thrust his servo out to Kinetics with a single Click. Kinetics carefully shook Click’s servo. “I’m Kinetics, and this is Flashfire and her brother Fireclaw.” Kinetics said gesturing at the two mechs with him.

Settling into his seat Hound readied himself for a long groon of talking with other mechs.

Almost an entire groon later and Hound had worked through most of the mechs that wanted to meet Click. He had so many names matched with EM fields that he didn’t want to know. When the canteen went silent again Hound didn’t need to look over to see what caused it. “Grimlock, welcome! Are you here to meet Click?” Hound asked.

“Me Grimlock hear you Hound have new smaller mech.” Grimlock said, stomping to his table. The few mechs that were still in line ran out of Grimlock’s way while other mechs nervously leaned away from him while curiously watching what Grimlock would do. Huffer was the only one who didn’t react to Grimlock’s presence, too lost in thought designing the new ladder.

Click tilted his head back to get a good look at Grimlock.

Hound laughed. “I do. Grimlock, this is my new sparkling Click. Click, this is Grimlock, leader of the Dinobots.”

“Dinobots strongest!” Grimlock roared.

“Grimlock is right. The Dinobots are the strongest mechs I know. Only the combiners, Megatron, or Optimus can match them.” Hound explained to Click. Grimlock puffed up in pride at Hound’s explanation.

Grimlock shoved his face towards Click, and Click reeled away from the sudden intrusion. “Click tiny. Why small?”

“Click is a sparkling. He’ll get bigger as he grows older until he reaches his final frame and becomes an adult.”

Grimlock frowned. “Click grow bigger than Grimlock?”

“I doubt it, you’re pretty big. It’ll depend on who his carrier and sire were, and not many mechs reach your size.” Hound explained.

“How Click fight if tiny?” Grimlock asked.

“He can’t right now. That’s part of my job as his caretaker. I’ll fight for him and protect him.”

Grimlock stood to his full height, slamming a servo against his chest with a loud THUNK. “Dinobots protect Click too.” Grimlock roared. Several mechs flinched at Grimlock’s declaration, and Hound couldn’t tell if it was because of the volume or the thought of Grimlock trying to protect a sparkling. The last time Wheeljack tried teaching the Dinobots finesse they ended up wrecking Teletraan-1 along with the rest of the command room. Ratchet was complaining for weeks about all the repairs he had to do.

Hound wouldn’t trust them to watch Click when he was gone, but he trusted them to protect Click. “Thank you.” Hound said, trying to push all his sincerity into his voice.

Click slowly reached out his servo to Grimlock with a quiet churr.

Grimlock gently put a finger in Click’s servo, shaking servos with him. “Me Grimlock happy meet Click.”

A smile broke out on Click’s face as he started happily clicking at Grimlock.

Grimlock grinned at Click before turning to Hound. “Other Dinobots meet Click?” He asked.

“Of course.” Hound said, quickly checking the time. It was noon already. “I need to meet Prowl now, but we will be here every morning. You can see us then.”

Grimlock nodded. “Grimlock leave now. Dinobots meet Click tomorrow.”

With that Grimlock turned and left.

“Well, I have to go now. Thanks for letting me sit with you.” Hound said.

Cliffjumper snorted, “let,” but it was quiet enough that Hound knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it. Instead of reacting he picked up Click and left the canteen for Prowl’s office. Hopefully this would be the last time they had to meet a lot of mechs.

Chapter Text

Prowl’s office was in the middle of the office area, ostensibly so he was quickly reachable by everyone working in the office. Hound suspected it was so Prowl could keep an eye on the mechs doing data work—making sure they weren’t goofing off. With Prowl around no one dared skipping out on work where they might get caught. A result of this was that Prowl’s office was one of the quietest areas on the Arc—especially when they were flying through space, and everyone was stuck onboard together.

 These long space trips often left mechs charged up with energy to burn. Some mechs spent long hours in the training and exercise areas. Most mechs spent their extra energy having ‘fun’ way too loudly for how close they were to everyone else. Hound couldn’t just turn off all his sensors to ignore it, but it happened all over the ship. Some orns everywhere he went seeking solace some couple (or more) were having ‘fun.’ Prowl’s office was the only place that was truly safe.

He'd enter the office and with a quick “everyone’s too loud” Prowl would let him lie on the floor behind his desk, out of sight from the door, for however long he needed without another question. Prowl wouldn’t even try and talk to him unless Hound started it, and Hound was thankful for that because he was in no state to have a conversation those days. What he needed was to lie there for a groon as he felt his spark slowly settle back into his frame.

Afterwards, when he was feeling more settled, he would talk to Prowl. But before then, he just lied there, existing.

Walking into Prowl’s office now it was the same utilitarian look as always. The only difference were the four new chairs arranged in a circle facing each other so they could all sit and face each other. Prowl pulled out the nice chairs for this meeting too, or maybe it was Smokescreen?

Prowl and Smokescreen were already sitting across from each other, but Bluestreak wasn’t there yet.

“Hound, welcome! I’m glad you accepted my invitation, especially after I heard how you left the canteen this morning. I was worried you were put off on trying to introduce Click to the rest of us.” Smokescreen cheerfully said in greeting.

Hound tiredly smiled at Smokescreen as he sat next to them. “Today is the last day I want to do big introductions. Do you know how many invites I received from mechs I’ve never met before? Everyone is going crazy trying to meet Click. Most of them don’t even talk to him either, they just want to look at him and ask me about him.”

“Of course they’re excited. This is probably the first time they’ve had the chance to meet a sparkling.” Smokescreen said before looking at Click. “Speaking of sparklings, it’s nice to meet you Click, I’m Smokescreen.”

Smokescreen waved at Click as he spoke. Click imitated Smokescreen, waving at him as he gave a single click.

“Was he introducing himself?” Smokescreen asked. “That’s cute.”

“I thought you knew every mech on the Arc from how you explained your EM sensors yesterday.” Prowl said, and Hound could hear the question in the statement.

Smokescreen looked at Hound curiously, but didn’t ask anything. Well, it wasn’t like this was even supposed to be a big secret in the first place. And if Prowl brought it up in front of Smokescreen it should be fine. “When I said I knew everyone’s EM fields I meant it, but that doesn’t mean I know who they are. I—” Hound grimaced, “I learned so many names and faces to attach to fields that I never wanted to know.”

Prowl frowned. “What’s so bad about knowing who different fields belong to?”

“There’s nothing wrong about knowing those mechs’ names by itself. It’s just that I know too much about their intimate lives to ever want to know whose. . . whose. . .” Hound couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, burying his face behind his spare servo.

Click whined, reaching up towards his face in concern.

Hound forced a strained smile onto his face as he pealed his servo away. “It’s okay Sweetspark. I just know so many things about those mechs that I want to forget. It made meeting them awkward.”

Click nodded seriously, patting his shoulder in consolation.

“Wait, so your telling me you know whenever mechs hook up?” Smokescreen asked, blazing past how uncomfortable the entire situation made Hound, and Hound knew exactly why he was interested.

“I already told Jazz; I’m not telling you about everyone’s intimate lives so you can win some bets.”

Prowl nodded and seriously said, “If Hound doesn’t want to share names with you he doesn’t have to.”

Before Smokescreen could say anything else to defend using Hound to make money Bluestreak walked into the room.

Bluestreak didn’t even wait a klick before he started chatting. “Hey guys, sorry I’m a little late, I was busy at the shooting range. Sideswipe and I were having a shooting competition in the shooting range, and I lost track of time. I beat him of course, but it was fun. I really wish Perceptor would agree to compete with. He’s such a good sniper, but he refuses to go on the range ever since he left the wreckers. I get why he might want to avoid fighting after running with those guys, but he was the funnest guy to call shots with. Sideswipe is fun and all, but—”

“Welcome Bluestreak. Take a seat.” Prowl dryly said.

Bluestreak smiled and walked over to Hound ignoring Prowl. “Sure. Anyways Smokescreen said you’d be here with your new sparkling, but I didn’t expect him to be so small. I mean he can fit in a single servo. Aren’t you nervous about accidentally squishing him, or someone stepping on him? I’d be terrified of being smushed if I was that small. It’s nice to meet you Click, I’m Bluestreak.”

At that Bluestreak held his servo out to Click. Click stared at Bluestreak with wide optics, trying to process his rambling speak before he met Bluestreak’s servo with his own and shook, introducing himself with a single click.

Bluestreak nodded and sat in his chair. “Wow, he really is tiny. How’d you find him Hound?”

“I found him on patrol hiding in a cave. He agreed to come with me to the Arc and the rest is history.” Hound said.

“How’d you know he was there? I know you’re really good at finding mechs, but he’s absolutely tiny. If he was hiding in a cave there’s no way you saw him.” Bluestreak asked.

Hound didn’t accept this invitation to be interrogated. “I thought you wanted to meet Click, but all your doing is talking about me.”

“Hey, I wanted to see you and Click. We’re just learning so many new things about you that we need to talk about. I mean, I never knew that you could sense EM fields.” Smokescreen said.

Bluestreak gasped. “You can sense EM fields? How does that work? What does it feel like? Your range?”

“I-I’m not really sure how to describe it. I mean how would you describe sight to a mech that’s never seen anything before?” Hound said.

“Huh, I didn’t think of that.” Bluestreak said. “Still, what’s your range? Can you shoot enemies going only by their fields?”

“My sensors are very accurate, but I only know how to shoot by sight. As for range, I keep it to a few hundred feet out while on the Arc, but on patrol I usually extend it to 20 miles out.” Hound explained, going along with the sniper’s questions.

Bluestreak’s optics sharpened. “How far is your biggest range?”

“The farthest my processor can safely handle is 3,500 miles.”

“3,500 miles.” Bluestreak said in awe. “You can use our best rifles. Let me tech you how to shoot with your EM sensors. Ooh, you could be my sniper buddy, or my spotter when we’re in bad visual conditions. It’ll be—”

“Hound is not doing fieldwork anymore.” Prowl cut Bluestreak off.

Bluestreak pouted at Prowl. “Why not? I’m sure I can make a sniper out of him.”

“Because he has a sparkling, and I’m not risking Hound dying in battle and leaving Click an orphan. Neither is Optimus.”  Prowl shortly said.

Click flinched. Distressed whines left him as he looked up to Hound with teary optics.

“Oh Sweetspark, I’m not going to leave you. I’m leaving the field so that can’t happen.” Hound cooed wrapping Click in a hug.

Don’t talk about things like that in front of the sparkling.” Smokescreen snapped. “You know something must have happened to his previous caretaker for him to end up here by himself.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to upset Click.” Prowl awkwardly apologized.

Hound sighed. “It’s fine, but we do need to talk about Click’s previous caretaker.”

“What happened?” Prowl asked, the awkwardness leaving his frame as he moved into work mode.

“Can I show them the picture Sweetspark?” Hound whispered into Click’s helm.

Click nodded, but he didn’t stop clinging to Hound’s chest.

Pulling the drawing pad from his subspace Hound handed it to Prowl. “Click drew this earlier. It’s a picture of his caretaker, and you can see why I’m concerned.”

“This looks like Megatron did as a gladiator.” Prowl said frowning at the picture.

Hound nodded. “The nobles and politicians that survived the Decepticons’ destruction of the Senate fled the planet. They were very fond of the gladiator pits. I wouldn’t put it past them to remake them wherever they fled to. And they hate Megatron. Putting a look-a-like in the pits. . . I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Optimus wouldn’t stand for it.” Prowl said.

“Yeah. I was hoping you could send Nightbeat to investigate. I know he’s been complaining about not having any good mysteries to solve lately.” Hound said. “This would certainly catch his attention.”

“And Click’s caretaker?” Prowl lightly asked, afraid of upsetting Click again.

“Click doesn’t know. He might still be alive.”

“We can’t let this stand if it really is happening.” Prowl said. “I’ll inform Optimus and put Nightbeat on the search. Do you want this back?” Prowl asked holding up the drawing pad.

“Yeah, just take a picture of it for Nightbeat. There’s nothing he needs the original for.” Hound said.

“Of course, just let me—” Prowl stood up and went to his desk. Pulling a camera from his desk Prowl set the drawing pad on the table and took a picture before handing it back to Hound. Hound gave it to Click who let go of him in order to hug the picture to his chest.

“Now, enough of this upsetting business.” Smokescreen loudly said, clapping his servos together. “Let’s talk about something a little more fun.”

“And what do you think will be more fun?” Hound warily asked.

He was right to be wary as Smokescreen grinned. “So, I heard that Kinetics was at the canteen to meet Click this afternoon. Do you know who he—”

“No. I told you, I’m not talking about anyone else’s interface lives.” Hound hissed.

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me who, but can you at least let me know if I have a chance. He always flirts with me on drinking nights, but I can never tell if he means it.”

“I’m not talking about this.”

“Smokescreen, desist. Can’t you tell your making Hound uncomfortable?” Prowl snapped.

“Fine.” Smokescreen groaned.

“I wanted to ask how you were settling in.” Prowl said. “Both of you.”

Click gave a happy Click and leaned back into Hound’s chest, drawing pad still clutched to his chest.

“It’s been mostly good, but we didn’t do much settling in yesterday what with everything that happened and today has mostly been meeting mechs. I want to spend the rest of today and tomorrow relaxing, but I wanted to find a reliable sitter for Click before I start working for you. Jazz volunteered, and I’m sure I could ask Bumblebee and Mirage again if I need to, but they’re all spec ops and don’t always have the best schedules.”

“I could always watch Click if you need me too.” Bluestreak immediately volunteered. “I mean, I’ve never watched a sparkling before but seeing him with you it can’t be that hard. He’ll probably be easier to wrangle than the mechs they had me trying to teach how to snipe. Those mechs were awful. No respect for me or their weapons. Didn’t even put in the work or have the patience to be snipers. They were better off sticking to close range guns.”

“Bluestreak, I’d be happy to let you watch Click, but please, don’t try and teach him how to be a sniper, or even how to use a normal gun.” Hound tiredly said.

“Why not? He needs to learn how to protect himself and he’s not big enough to win in a physical fight. He’s even smaller than Rumble and Frenzy with none of their mods. I don’t think he even has mods.”

“Sparklings don’t develop mods until further into their development. Click is still quite young judging by his size.” Prowl said.

“That’s true. Besides, I want to wait until the kickback of a gun won’t knock Click on his back before teaching him how to shoot.” Hound added.

“That does make sense. Well, we don’t have to go to the shooting range if I’m watching him. We can do something else.” Bluestreak said, and Hound cut him off before he could start rambling again.

“Outside of that we’re doing well. I did have a question for you.”

Prowl tilted his head. “What?”

“Do we have any spare blankets I can take. I want to make a nice den for Click, but I’ll need more than my single blanket.”

Prowl’s optic ridge furrowed. “A den?”

“You know, like a little cave made out of blankets. It’s pretty relaxing to sleep in, and I figured Click could use it after everything that’s happened.”

“If you need more blankets I can show you the supply closet you can grab some from. You need to write down how many you’re grabbing and why for our records, but other than that you’re free to take as many as you need.” Prowl said.

Hound nodded. “You’ll have to show me after this.”

“I will.”

“Enough of this business talk. I wanted to have some fun.” Smokescreen said.

“Go ahead as long as you stop pestering Hound about interface.” Prowl said.

Smokescreen slightly flinched. “I wasn’t pestering anyone.”

“You were pestering me.” Hound said.

“I’ll tone it down, okay.” Smokescreen said. “Anyways, you won’t believe the hot gossip I heard yesterday.”

Chapter Text

Smokescreen thankfully was being truthful when he said he’d tone it down. He stopped asking Hound about interface, and all the gossip he started to share wasn’t about other mech’s relationships—not that aspect of them at least.

Instead, he focused on the romantic drama. Break ups, mechs getting together, cheating on each other. It was all very dramatic from how Smokescreen was telling it. Hound secretly suspected that Railblazer, Hotline, and Starshot were in the beginning stages of forming a trine instead of Starshot leading the other two on like Smokescreen was saying. Hound wasn’t going to tell him though, he already said he wasn’t going to talk about others’ personal lives, and he was sticking with that.

Instead, he nodded and inserted short oohs and awes at the appropriate times to indicate he was interested in what Smokescreen was saying. Eventually, running out of smoke, Smokescreen asked Bluestreak if he heard anything good lately.

That lead to Bluestreak rambling about his week while going on 20 different tangents. It was surprising that his vocalizer wasn’t sore at all when he finished and turned to Prowl for a smile. “So, what about you?”

“The only interesting thing that’s happened here is Hound’s acquisition of Click.” Prowl blandly said—which Hound knew was a blatant lie. Ravage’s invasion of the Arc and subsequent capture was interesting big news, but no one had heard about it. High command must have decided to keep it a secret, and Hound wasn’t going to get in the way of that by mentioning it.

Seeing as Prowl wasn’t going to say anything else Hound decided to take his turn. Chuckling he said, “I think you know my big news. Click is my sparkling now, and Prowls promoted me to a desk job.”

Prowl nodded. “I expect you will be excellent at it once I teach you what to do.”

“Ah, thank you.” Hound said flustered at the praise. Prowl never gave out praise lightly or meaninglessly. If he was saying that Hound would do a good job he meant it.

“That’s right, congratulations on your promotion.” Bluestreak said.

Smokescreen nodded, “What he said, congrats.”

Click started clicking, grabbing onto Hound’s servo and pulling it in front of him. He was vibrating in excitement as he chattered in clicks they couldn’t understand. Oh, how Hound wished he could understand what Click was saying. He couldn’t wait until Ratchet finished making that new vocalizer and they could actually talk.

Oh, was Click taking his turn to share his own week?

“That’s right, I’m your caretaker now.” Hound said, pulling Click into a hug.

A pleased smile graced Click’s face. Relaxing into Hound’s hold he began to purr.

“He really is cute.” Smokescreen commented.

“And tiny.” Bluestreak added.

“I know.” Hound said.

“Anyways, I have a question for you Hound.” Smokescreen said leaning towards him.

“And that is?” Hound asked.

Smokescreen smirked. “I heard you and Jazz left the Arc together yesterday, and you were gone for hours. Mind sharing what you were doing?”

“I was teaching Jazz how to track.” Hound said blandly.

“How to track?” Smokescreen asked. “Why would you teach him that?”

“Because he asked for it.”

Smokescreen seriously nodded. “I see, so he was being a prick, and you were teaching him a lesson. Can’t say I blame you.”

“No. He didn’t ask for it like that.” Hound protested.

“He didn’t?” Smokescreen asked, jerking back in surprise.

“Why would he go to you to learn how to track? He’s the head of spec ops; shouldn’t he know that already?” Bluestreak asked.

“Jazz wanted to learn how I track things. He can’t read EM fields or pick up scents, but I can still teach him some other tricks. I mostly taught him what to look for and why in physical tracks. We spent the rest of the day practicing since experience is very important.”

Prowl nodded. “You are our best tracker.”

Bluestreak tilted his head, optic ridge furrowed. “What do you mean by picking up scents?”

“It’s just what it sounds like. Everyone’s got a scent, and it leaves a trail that you can follow—either to chase them down or to find where they came from. Unfortunately, Jazz couldn’t even pick up the scent, and unless your olfactory sensors are more sensitive that Jazz’s you won’t do any better.”

Smokescreen leaned forward in interest. “How good are your sensors?”

“Very.” Hound said.

“Yeah, I get that, but what about your specs?”

Hound shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Don’t—how do you not know?” Smokescreen asked incredulously.

“I just don’t. How are you supposed to know?”

Prowl was frowning at Hound. “It should be part of your construction records.”

“What construction records?” Hound felt like he was missing something big, and he had no idea what. He hated being the only one who missed something. Being the unobservant person.

“You know, your frame specs from when they forged you? Or that they make when you emerge from a hotspot? Everyone has construction records.” Smokescreen awkwardly said.

“Are people supposed to be there when you come from a hotspot?” Hound asked.

The three mechs looked at Hound in horror. He had no idea what he said that prompted this reaction.

“You mean no one was there when you came from a hotspot?” Bluestreak asked.

“Yeah. I remember clawing my way out of the ground myself.” Hound said. The praxians’ horror only intensified at that statement, and Hound had no idea what they were thinking about. Click began quietly shaking in his arms and Hound tightened his arms around the sparkling. Was he getting upset because the others were upset?

“By yourself?” Prowl quietly asked. “What about the temple mechs working at the hotspot? Why would they let you climb up by yourself?”

Hound shook his head. "No one was there.”

“Oh Primus.” Prowl gasped, covering his face in horror. “H-how many mechs emerged from your hotspot?”

“Just me, why?” Hound hesitantly answered. He had a bad feeling about what he was missing. It was like he was the only one who couldn't see a cyberbear charging at him.

He was right to have a bad feeling.

Prowl vented deeply, quietly whispering “Primus give me strength.” Smokescreen and Bluestreak were shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

“What am I missing here?” Hound asked.

“Hotspots always make at least a few hundred mechs when they activate, but the new sparks can’t emerge on their own. That’s why there are temple mechs there—to ensure the new sparks aren’t stuck in the surface until they die.” Prowl shivered violently at the word ‘die.’ He looked haunted.

Click was looking up at Hound in concern. Pawing his chest and whining. Bluestreak and Smokescreen were refusing to look at him, struggling to wrap their processors around how such a thing could be allowed to happen. The city hotspots were dying out which was why they were turning to cold construction before the war. That all the new sparks from a hotspot were just allowed to die out would be inconceivable to them.

Hound didn’t know how to feel about this revelation. Intellectually, Hound knew that what happened was a tragedy, but he was no stranger to death—even before the war. From his earliest orns when he was first taken in by the cyberwolves Hound learned how harsh the world was. You must kill to eat, and if you don’t eat you will die yourself. You must be canny and cautious when taking on dangerous prey or they will kill you. You cannot stop to mourn when someone you love dies because stopping will get you killed.

Those were all lessons his pack taught him even before his first hunt.

The war only reinforced that last lesson. The number of casualties in every battle may have dwindled as the war dragged on, but that didn’t stop Hound from feeling thousands of fields he knew fade into nothingness as their spark guttered out on the Energon soaked ground. Hound couldn’t let himself get lost in the death surrounding him during these battles. He had his own missions to complete and couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. Instead, he pushed forward. By the end of the first vorn of war he had grown desensitized to all the death, only taking time to mourn those he considered his friends when they were safe after the battle.

Hound didn’t know the other new sparks from his hotspot, didn’t even have the chance to learn their fields before they died. Hound supposed he could mourn the loss of what they could have contributed to Cybertron, but even if they did emerge they would have quickly died in the wilds if they weren’t taken in by a mechanimal. Hound was so lucky the cyberwolves took him in, most mechanimals wouldn’t see a new spark as anything other than a threat or potential meal.

With a deep vent Prowl regained his composure and ordered, “Smokescreen, Bluestreak, leave. I need to have a private conversation with Hound. Click should go too; this isn’t a conversation a sparkling should hear.”

Click keened, latching onto Hound.

“Shh, It’s okay Sweetspark.” Hound started stroking Click’s back. “I’ll be just fine. Why don’t you go with Bluestreak? I just need to talk with Prowl.”

Click glumly nodded.

“Thank you Sweetspark. Bluestreak, I’m trusting you to watch Click. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.” Bluestreak said, carefully prying Click’s servos from where they latched onto Hound. As Click’s servos were pealed away from Hounds chest Bluestreak picked him up and carried him like Hound did, but Click didn’t even lean into his side. Instead, he slumped over, pouting, looking absolutely dejected. “I’ll keep him safe. I’d also say I’ll keep him happy, but I don’t think he’s in much of a happy mood right now, so I’ll just stick to keeping him safe.”

Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak’s arm and dragged him out of the room as he continued talking nonstop.

After the door closed behind them Prowl buried his head in his servos and started to cry. Hound felt awkward seeing Prowl’s unfeeling façade shatter as he started sobbing. His field was oozing hurt-frustration-ange,r and Hound couldn’t just leave him alone to ride out these waves of emotion.

Approaching Prowl Hound made sure his steps were audible, but Prowl didn’t react.

“Do you need a hug?” Hound awkwardly asked, wracking his processor for how to comfort someone and only coming up with the hug-and-purr combo that helped Click when he was distressed. Was comforting a sparkling similar to comforting a mech?

Prowl’s sobs intensified, but he shakily nodded. Half-kneeling half-standing Hound pulled Prowl into a hug. Engaging his engines to reach that deep soothing purr that helped Click so much Hound began awkwardly rocking back and forth, rubbing Prowl’s back.

Apparently Prowl was holding himself back because as Hound worried his thumb against the base of Prowl’s neck he broke going completely strutless in his arms. The extra weight made his half-kneeling half-standing pose difficult to stay in. Not wanting to tumble over Hound pulled Prowl down with him as he moved to sit on the floor. Prowl easily slid out of the chair onto his lap, laying limply against his chest.

“Hey Prowl, is there anything else I can do?” Hound asked. Prowl didn’t respond to his question.

::Jazz, help.:: Hound commed. ::Prowl is crying, and I don’t know how to help.::

Jazz’s response was immediate. ::Prowl is crying? What ha—never mind. Prowl needs physical contact to help center him when he gets upset.::

::I’m hugging him, but he’s not stopping. Is there any other way I can help?::

::Hound, hugging a mech doesn’t get rid of what upset them.:: Jazz dryly said. ::Prowl just needs time to process whatever’s going through his processor. Your job is to keep hugging him until he tells you to stop—the physical comfort is a big help to him when he gets like this.::

::Got it.:: He could totally stay like this, comforting Prowl.

::Good. I trust you with Prowler, so I’ll wait until my break to see him. Don’t leave him until he feels better.::

Hound knew what a big show of trust it was for Jazz to leave him with his upset conjunx. ::I won’t.::

Jazz cut off the comm call without another word. Hound settled in and continued his ministrations. Slowly Prowl’s sobs slowed down, and he weakly pushed himself up. Hound kept his servo on Prowl’s back, but didn’t try to stop him.

“Why aren’t you upset?” Prowl asked, his vocalizer was fritzing out a little from his earlier crying.

“Prowl, if I got upset every time someone died I would have gone mad very early into the war. Why are you so affected by this? After everything we’ve seen?”

“I used to work under Sentinel Prime, before Megatron killed him. He was an awful mech. I tried my best to curb the worst of his decisions, but the fact that this was happening under my watch, and I didn’t know about it. . .” Prowl trailed off.

“You feel responsible for them.” Hound finished for him.

“I do. I know we had problems. Lots of problems. The war wasn’t unjustified. But even with those problems, they deserved to have the chance to live and make their own choices. That choice was taken from them before they could even grasp it.”

“Prowl, do you. . . need another hug?” Hound asked.

Prowl jerkily nodded. Pulling Prowl back to his chest Hound restarted his engines to a low purr.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Hound asked.

Prowl shook his head.

“Okay, we can stay like this as long as you need.”

They stayed like that for a while. Hound holding Prowl to his chest, purring and worrying his thumb against the base of Prowl’s neck.

Eventually Prowl pulled back again. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. How many times did you let me come here when everyone was being too loud?” Hound said with a laugh

“What are you getting at?” Prowl asked.

“I’m saying that you’ve helped me so many times when I needed it—there’s no need for you to thank me for doing the same.”

“Letting you sit in my office for a while isn’t any inconvenience. But I know you don’t like touch.”

What?

“Why do you think I don’t like touch?” Hound asked, wracking his memory for anything that could give Prowl that impression. He always thought Prowl avoided touching him because he normally preferred not to be touched, but this experience clearly proved that wrong. Instead of being uncomfortable with touch Prowl was trying to respect boundaries that didn’t exist.

Prowl shifted. “You flinch and look uncomfortable whenever a mech would touch you during our after-battle parties.”

The after-battle parties where mechs got overcharged on engex. “Prowl, I enjoy casual touch, but those mechs were propositioning to me.”

“Propositioning? So, your issue is with interfacing?” Prowl asked.

Hound nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Is that why earlier, with Smokescreen?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll kick him out if he keeps bothering you about interface.” Prowl seriously said, catching a surprise chuckle out of Hound.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I do. If he’s not going to listen when you tell him to stop he needs to be tossed out. It’ll teach him a lesson.” Prowl hesitated, looking nervously at Hound. “Do you often have issues with mechs propositioning to you?”

“No, thankfully. It normally only happens during those after-battle parties. I can just laugh them off as they’re overcharged.”

It felt like slime was sliding under his plating when arms wrapped around his shoulders. Their overcharged field trying to smother him—mark him—as a voice slurred innuendos directly into his audials. The same voice that would apologize the next day for coming on too strong and Hound would laugh it off saying they “obviously didn’t mean it.”

They would look uncomfortable at the comment but agree with Hound before awkwardly leaving without trying to ‘properly’ ask him out. It was a trick he learned to get potential suitors to back off without being seen as overly sensitive or aggressive for rejecting them.

“Well,” Prowl said, “if anyone gives you trouble just tell me and I’ll take care of them.”

Hound chuckled. “I doubt it’ll be a problem. I haven’t had any problems for most of the war.”

Prowl fondly shook his head. “If they do start giving you problems tell me. I’ll make them stop.”

“I will, now, enough of this mushy talk—did you want to talk to me about something?” Hound asked.

Prowl stiffly stood up and refused to look at Hound. “I didn’t want Smokescreen and Bluescreen to see that.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to see it.” Hound said. “Just be warned, I commed Jazz when you stopped responding to my questions. He’s coming by on his break.”

Prowl scowled. “He doesn’t need to.”

“He wants to. The only reason he didn’t skip his shift to check on you was because I was there. I’m apparently not allowed to leave you alone until you feel better.” Hound said as he stood up. Picking up one of the spare chairs he started stacking them. “Where do these go?”

“A storage closet near here, why?”

“Well, I figure we could put these away and then you could show me where to get some blankets.” Hound said hefting up his stack of chairs. “We can pick up Click and head to my room after that.”

“We?” Prowl asked, raising his optical ridge.

“Well, I figure you could use some company, at least until Jazz is free to ‘rescue’ you.”

“I have work—”

“I’m not saying to stop working, but you don’t have to work in your office. It’s all on your data pad after all.”

“I don’t, but the others would talk.” Prowl said.

“They don’t have to know what you’re doing. For all they know you’re officially checking on me and Click. Besides, we can avoid everyone—if no one sees they can’t start gossiping.”

“And if anyone comes to my office?”

“Prowl, does anyone go to your office without a prior appointment?” Most mechs were terrified of Prowl and would never risk his anger by entering his office without an appointment—even if Prowl wouldn’t mind.

“Optimus and Jazz do.” Prowl protested. Hound just raised his optical ridge, staring at Prowl until he looked away. “Fine, there won’t be a problem if I leave, but do you really want me to stay in your room?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded. It was just a suggestion though. If you don’t want to we could stay here. I just figured the change in scenery would be nice.” Hound said.

“But you’ve never invited Jazz to your room.”

“Why would I invite Jazz to my room?”

“Because you’re best friends?” Prowl answered looking completely baffled. It was good that this distraction pushed away his earlier distress.

Hound couldn’t understand how Prowl thought sometimes. His tac net was amazing at large scale planning, but he also got the strangest ideas sometimes. “I haven’t had a reason to invite him to my room.”

Prowl stared at Hound, and he could see him warring with himself. Finally, he stiffly said, “I will accept your invitation if you can stop everyone from seeing us.”

Hound grinned. “Great! Now, where’s the storage closet for these chairs.”

Prowl fondly sighed, opening the door. “Follow me.”

Chapter Text

Putting away the chairs was a quick stop on the way to pick up a pouting Click from Bluestreak. With Click happily back with him Prowl led the way to the blanket closet. Hound let Click pick several of them out as he stacked them in Prowl’s arms, the strategist offering to carry them since Hound was already carrying Click.

As Hound was finishing filling out the form with how many blankets he was taking for his den when Prowl grumbled, “Why do you need so many blankets?”

Prowl’s optics were barely peeking out from the blankets piled into his arms. It was, by Hound’s estimation, the perfect amount of blankets. “I told you; I’m making a den. We’re going to need a lot of blankets for a proper den.”

“Yeah, you said, but what exactly is a den?” Prowl asked.

“You don’t know what a den is?” Hound dropped the stylus, horrified. Dens were the best things you could make to relax and feel safe in. They weren’t normally made out of blankets, but blankets were the best material he could get on the Arc.

“I’ve never heard of them before.”

“What about you Click? Surely you’ve heard of a den before.”

Click shook his head, and looked at him curiously as if asking, “What’s a den?”

“This is an absolute travesty that needs to be fixed immediately.” Hound stated. He wanted to pull Prowl to his room, but that would make all the blankets fall on the floor and then it would take even longer to get to his room. He settled for a quick “follow me,” as he hurried to his room.

Paying attention to other mechs on the walk back to his room Hound took a few extra turns to avoid mechs in the hall and the more populated areas of the ship, Prowl following dutifully behind him. Soon enough, they made it to his room. Opening the door Hound held it open for Prowl to walk in.

“Just set the blankets on the berth, I’ll get to them in a moment.” Hound said, setting Click down on the desk with a quick, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Prowl had already deposited the blankets on the berth and was looking around his room by the time Hound turned around.

“I expected your room to have more. . . decorations.” Prowl commented.

Hound shrugged. “I normally don’t spend too much time here outside of recharge, so I never saw the point. That might change now.”

“Some things more Click’s size might be good.” Prowl said.

“Yeah. Huffer’s making Click a ladder, so he won’t need to be carried up onto everything, but I wanted to ask Ratchet about how quickly he’s expected to grow physically before I try and get him any custom furniture.” Hound said.

Prowl hummed, seriously looking Click over. “From what I understand, sparklings’ frames slowly grow over most of their youth, with a few periods of increased growth as they near maturity. They should reach the full size around the time they gain the ability to begin interfacing with other mechs which marks them becoming adults. Before that not even medical interfacing will work.”

That explains why Ratchet didn’t even try hooking into a medical port when he gave Click his checkup. “I should be good asking someone to help make some Click sized furniture than.”

Click lit up when Hound said that, a high, excited, whine coming from him.

Hound chuckled. “You’d like having some furniture in your size, huh?”

Click eagerly nodded.

“Well, I know what we’re doing tomorrow then.”

“Just don’t ask Wheeljack for any help.” Prowl dryly said.

“I’m not insane. If I’m asking any scientists for help it’ll be someone actually responsible and levelheaded, like Perceptor or Skyfire. I don’t want Click’s chair to explode, or have automatic turrets, or rip a tear in space time.”

Prowl chuckled. “Good. Now, will you finally tell us what a den is?”

“That’s right, you’re poor mechs that have never experienced the joy of a proper den.” Hound said walking over to the pile of blankets and beginning to arrange them. “It’s pretty simple. We’re going to make a dome that’s hollow so we can go inside.”

“And why do we want to go inside the dark dome of blankets?” Prowl dryly asked.

“Because it feels safe and comfortable.” Seeing Prowl’s disbelieving look Hound continued talking, “Traditionally dens are dug in the surface of the planet, and the insides are covered in soft plants. With the entrance covered. It’s a very safe place to recharge without any worry of cyberbears or any other predator finding and eating you in your recharge. I can’t really dig a den in the Arc, and I’m not risking making one on Earth, so blankets are the best approximation I can do here.”

As Hound talked, he continued twisting and layering the blankets around each other so they would hold each other in shape instead of collapsing into the hollow center. With the shape formed he draped a blanket over the entrance so the den would be closed to the outside world but easily fled in an emergency.

Looking at the newly formed blanket den reminded Hound of when he got his first apartment. He couldn’t sleep for orns, kept awake and on edge by being surrounded by so many mechs he didn’t know. He didn’t know them, so he didn’t feel safe enough to recharge. In a desperate bid to have a good night of recharge he spent the small part of his first paycheck not spent on the apartment or Energon on blankets. He did a terrible job at shaping them into a proper den that first time. It collapsed on him halfway through the night, but laying there, surrounded by blankets, it was the first time he felt truly safe since he entered the crowded city.

That night was the best recharge he had in well over a vorn. He kept up the practice until the blankets blew up with the rest of the base he was staying in at the beginning of the war. With his recharge issues no longer bothering him he didn’t want to be greedy and ask for so many blankets just so he could recharge better, so he resigned himself to the single blanket everyone got.

“Hound, I am questioning where you lived that mechs regularly made dens to be safe from cyberbears.” Prowl said.

“Jazz didn’t tell you?” Hound asked.

Prowl furrowed his optic ridge. “Didn’t tell me what?”

“That I initially lived in Cybertron’s wilds.”

Prowl froze. “What. Did. You. Say?”

“That I initially lived in Cybertron’s wilds. I told Jazz about it yesterday. It’s where I learned how to track.” When he told Jazz about it he fully expected the spy to tell his conjunx. He was fine with Prowl knowing as well. Jazz respecting his privacy enough to not share what he learned with the mech he shared his spark with. . . it was surprising, but it felt nice.

“He didn’t tell me.” Prowl said as his optics narrowed. “This isn’t in your files.”

“It used to be in my files, made it hard to find work on Cybertron. I told Optimus about it when I first joined. He removed it since, well, you know how Optimus is.”

Prowl slowly nodded. “He’s the only one who can make changes to our files without at least alerting me. What. . . what was it like in the wilds? I’ve heard stories, but I don’t know how much is true and how much is meant to scare us into staying in the city.”

“Get in the den and I’ll tell you and Click all about it.” Click perked up at being mentioned, giving a happy little chirp.

“Ooh? Bribing me with story time, are you?” Prowl asked with a little smirk.

“Is it working?”

“Yes.” Prowl turned to the finished blanket den with a frown. “So, how is this going to work?”

Hound lifted the blanket flap. “Just crawl in. I’ll come in with Click after you. This way you can hold me and work on your stuff without me seeing it, and I can hold Click.”

“And you’re. . . fine with the physical contact?” Prowl hesitantly asked.

“Yes. I told you, I enjoy casual contact, and dens are perfect for cuddling in.” Hound said. Prowl’s hesitance was annoying because he wanted to get to the cuddling, but it was also touching because the hesitance came from a place of care for him. He just wished Prowl would listen to what he was saying instead of making him repeat it several times.

Glancing between Hound and Click Prowl nodded. “Okay, but if you’re uncomfortable tell me.”

“I will, now get in.” Hound groaned.

That final reassurance did its job as Prowl awkwardly crawled into the den. Letting go of the ‘door’ Hound picked up Click who immediately latched to his side with a happy chirp.

“Excited to enter your first den?” Hound asked.

Click eagerly nodded.

“Good.” Hound chuckled. Click held to his chest with one servo, Hound crawled into the den. His optics immediately adjusted to the dim light, taking in the textured grooves of the blanket walls and Prowl awkwardly pushing himself against the wall, careful not to knock it over with his door wings.

“Relax Prowl.” Hound said, curling up in the middle of the den around Click. “Come here and hug me.” The den was big enough to fit all three of them with some extra space if they needed to move or stretch. Space that Prowl was using to stay as far away from Hound as possible.

Prowl heavily vented, but he listened to Hound. Creeping over he hesitantly wrapped his arm around Hound’s chest. At the touch Hound’s engines instinctively began to purr. Click nuzzled into his chest, purring in response. It had been way too long since Hound had relaxed with pack somewhere that his processor was completely convinced was safe. He could feel his sensors winding down and turning off to rest now that he was finally safe.

“Why are your engines doing that?” Prowl asked, his voice was. . . concerned? He couldn’t quite tell. His EM sensor had already narrowed down to the point where he could only feel Click and Prowl’s fields pressing against him, warm and fuzzy.

“Feels good.” Hound slurred. Tension bled out of his frame as he leaned against Prowl.

“Are you falling into recharge?”

“Mmhmm.” Impenetrable darkness surrounded Hound as everything narrowed down to the den and Click and Prowl.

“I thought we were promised a story.”

“L’ter. T’red.”

The world was quiet, even quieter than when Ratchet turned down his sensors, but Hound didn’t care. He was safe with his pack. He just wanted to recharge.

“Hound? Hound! Is something wrong?” Prowl sounded so quiet.

“M’ t’red.”

Prowl was saying something, but Hound couldn’t understand. The world dissolved into nothingness as all his sensors fully turned off and he fell into recharge.

Chapter Text

Jazz wasn’t expecting a frantic comm from Prowl asking for help with Hound while he was looking over their brig designs, trying to find any ways Ravage might try and escape and how he could head them off. He especially wasn’t expecting it after Hound’s frantic comm about Prowl having a breakdown not even a breem ago.

::What’s wrong Prowler?:: Jazz asked, concerned about how panicked Prowl sounded. What could have happened? Hound was a responsible mech, surely he didn’t do something stupid and get hurt.

::Hound isn’t responding to me.::

::An attack? Poison?:: Did Jazz miss the signs when they fought Ravage yesterday? There was enough physical contact for the cybercat to put a long-acting drug on Hound while he was none the wiser. But wouldn’t he notice that with how sensitive his sensors were?

::I-maybe. He might be drugged.::

Jazz stood up. ::Where are you?::

::We’re in Hound’s room.::

Huh, Jazz didn’t expect Hound to be able to convince Prowl to leave his office, even if Prowl wasn’t on shift for at least another groon. He had never been in Hound’s room before either, but he had the entire floorplan of the Arc memorized, including where everyone’s rooms were. ::I’ll be there right away. Tell me everything that happened.::

::Hound said he commed you from earlier, so I’ll start after that.:: Prowl said, embarrassment coloring his tone. Jazz would have to tease the rest of that story out of him tonight. There was no time for that now. He was already running out of his office and through the halls, making sure to stick to unused hallways so no one would see him running and spread panic through the ship about whatever emergency got Jazz running.

Prowl reset his vocalizer and continued talking. ::Hound decided that since he wasn’t leaving me alone we should go to his room. He grabbed some blankets for a ‘den’ that he made when we got to his room. But when we entered it he, well, it looked like he fell into recharge, but he’s not responding to anything.::

::What about Click?:: Jazz liked the little guy. He didn’t want him to be distressed when his new caretaker stopped responding to him. Or even worse, for him to be drugged as well. Jazz did some research after he learned about Click, sparkling frames are more sensitive to drugs and poisons than mechs in their final frame. Something that knocks out a mech could be deadly to a sparkling.

::No signs of whatever this is affecting him as well. He hasn’t realized what happened to Hound either. He’s already half into recharge himself.:: Prowl said. Good.

He was almost at Hound’s room. ::Symptoms?::

::It’s a little dark in here, but I’m not seeing any signs of drugs or poison. If he wasn’t unresponsive I’d call it a deep recharge.::

He made it. Quietly opening the door Jazz slid into Hound’s room. There was no one could see, and the room itself was very bare, with no knickknacks or mementos lying around. The only thing out of place in the room was a large ball of blankets on the bed that Jazz suspected was the ‘den’ Prowl mentioned.

::I’m here. Where are you?:: Jazz asked.

::The giant dome of blankets on the bed.:: Prowl said as he poked his servo out from the blanket pile. Lifting up the blanket Prowl’s servo was poking out of, Jazz saw Prowl leaning over an unmoving Hound curled up around a happy little Click who was making an odd rumbling noise.

It was the same noise Hound made when he comforted Click.

“What’s with the rumbling?” Jazz asked.

“I don’t know. Hound started doing it before this.” Prowl gestured to Hound’s sleeping form. Pursing his lips Prowl asked, “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

Looking Hound over Jazz couldn’t see any signs of drugs either. The tracker really looked like he was asleep, but Jazz knew how light a sleeper Hound was. He should have woken up the moment he walked into the room and started talking to Prowl. Well, Jazz knew one surefire way of waking mechs up. “Have you tried grabbing his neck?”

“Why would I do that?” Prowl asked, furrowing his brow.

“It’s pretty much guaranteed to wake a mech up from recharge.” Jazz said. He half-crawled into the den, turning on his night vision to adjust to the darkness, but he didn’t go further in so he wouldn’t accidentally crush anyone. “If it doesn’t wake him up we should call Ratchet.”

“Is it that bad?”

“It does look like he’s recharging, but it’s concerning that he hasn’t woken up yet.” Jazz said. Shaking Hound’s shoulder didn’t cause the mech react at all, his shoulder moving along with Jazz’s push with no resistance. “Scootch back.”

Prowl awkwardly shimmied against the wall. “Will he react violently?”

“He shouldn’t, but waking up feeling like he’s restrained might make him panic.” Jazz explained. Carefully reaching over Jazz gripped the base of Hound’s neck which was where some of the most sensitive touch sensors sat and squeezed.

Hound didn’t move.

Didn’t even try and jerk his neck out of Jazz’s grip.

“I’m comming Ratchet.” Jazz said, crawling out of the blanket pile.

::Ratchet, I have a problem.:: Jazz commed.

Ratchet quickly responded, gruffly saying, ::What’s wrong? I’m busy.::

::It’s Hound. He looks like he’s recharging, but he’s not responding to anything.::

::Bring him to the med bay, and explain his symptoms, now.:: Ratchet demanded.

“Can you pick up Click?” Jazz asked. “Ratchet wants us to bring Hound to the med bay.”

Prowl didn’t say anything, but he carefully plucked Click out of Hound’s grip. Hound didn’t even twitch as Click was pulled away from him with a whine. “Shh, it’s okay Click. Go back to recharge.” Prowl hushed, cradling Click against his frame in an imitation of how Hound carried the sparking around. Click sleepily nuzzled into Prowl’s chest, optics turning off.

Reaching into the blanket pile Jazz pulled Hound out. When Hound was halfway out he scooped the mech into his arms, hefting him up. It was a little awkward, but nothing Jazz couldn’t handle. “Come on out, we’re going to Ratchet.” Jazz said.

Prowl awkwardly shuffled out of the blanket pile, a sleepy Click smushing himself against his chest. His doorwings flickering when he was free of the confined space.

“You have fun in there?” Jazz asked.

Prowl faintly frowned which meant he wasn’t upset at Jazz’s question. Too many mechs took Prowl’s facial reactions at face value. “I was afraid my doorwings would knock the blankets over.”

“Oh no, being crushed by blankets, so terrible.” Jazz said completely deadpan before asking, “Why were you in there anyways?”

“Hound insisted I joined him and Click in there. Apparently it’s very relaxing and safe”

Jazz had never seen a structure like it before. Maybe something he learned while living in the wilds. He didn’t know how Hound could relate blankets to safety though. They wouldn’t stop a gun from shooting you.

Taking another look at Hound now that he was in the light he looked fine. Not a tinge of greyness in his frame. The only problem was how still and unresponsive he was. This kind of stillness usually only happened when a doctor puts a mech into deep recharge to work on very finicky and sensitive parts. Most repairs only required the pain sensors to be turned down or off.

Normally only medics could turn off pain sensors, but Jazz knew a trick to do it. Ratchet wouldn’t approve, but he didn’t need to handle interrogations. With how much control Hound seemed to have of his sensors he could probably turn them off at will as well. Hopefully they weren’t as sensitive as the rest of his sensory suite though, that would be torture whenever he got hurt.

Heading to the mead bay with Prowl in tow Jazz responded to Ratchet’s question. ::Hound looks like he’s in recharge, but he’s not responding to anything. Didn’t even twitch when I grabbed the base of his neck like you showed me. I’m not seeing any signs of him being drugged either.::

::Frag.:: Ratchet mumbled setting off alarms in Jazz’s processor.

“What’s wrong?::

::I might know what’s wrong with Hound. I found something while going through his processor scan which could have caused this. I’ll tell you after we’ve confirmed it.::

::Rodger. We’ll be there soon.::

::Rodger? Why, never mind. Just get here.:: ratchet gruffly said, shutting off the call.

“Ratchet thinks he knows what it is, and he doesn’t sound concerned.” Jazz said, knowing that wasn’t much of a comfort to either of them. Ratchet could act completely blasé about the worst medical issues. It was part of a medical bot’s programming to avoid them panicking while administering aid and accidentally killing their patient because of it. If Ratchet was unconcerned that either meant there really was nothing to worry about or that Hound was at death’s door.

They were quickly moving to the med bay when they crossed paths with Cliffjumper who immediately focused on Hound. Oh no. If Jazz didn’t interfere the entire Arc would know within a groon. They didn’t need the entire Arc knowing that Hound was injured, Hound would hate it.

“What happened to Hound? Are we under attack by Decepticons?” Cliffjumper shouted, running towards them.

Jazz internally winced. Praying that no one was close enough to hear Cliffjumper’s shouting he hissed, “Could you keep it down? We aren’t under attack, and I don’t need your screaming sending the entire ship into a panic.”

“Er, right, but Hound.” Cliffjumper hesitantly said, thankfully a lot quieter.

Jazz glared at Cliffjumper from behind his vizor while keeping his smile warm and holding in the hissed, “That’s none of your business.”

“I just saw him a groon ago and he was fine. What happened? Is the uh, the sparkling okay?” Cliffjumper asked.

Jazz wanted to order Cliffjumper to leave and never speak about this to anyone, but he knew it wouldn’t do anything productive. Even if Cliffjumper left he would tell someone who would tell the others, and on and on it would go until the entire ship knew. This required a gentler touch.

Playing up a defeated look Jazz heavily vented. “Everything’s fine. Hound just fell asleep. We’re bringing him and Click back to their room.”

“Hound fell asleep? Are we talking about the same mech here?” Cliffjumper said looking at Hound’s limp form dubiously. Normally Jazz would agree with Cliffjumper, but he had the perfect excuse already.

Jazz leaned over to Cliffjumper, like he was sharing a secret with the wound-up mech. “I think it’s the stress. He has a sparkling now, y’know. He’s been running himself ragged the last few days, making sure everything was perfect for the little guy. He just relaxed for a tick and was out.”

Cliffjumper frowned. “He can’t keep that up.”

Jazz sighed, exasperatedly shaking his head. “I’m going to talk to him when he wakes up about relaxing a little. We’re all here if he needs help, he doesn’t need to do everything himself.”

Cliffjumper nodded. “Of course we are. He could have asked me for help if he needed it.”

Hook line and sinker.

“Could you not share this with anyone? I don’t want Hound to stress out because he thinks we’re doubting his ability to take care of Click.”

Cliffjumper jerked back, “You think he would think that?”

“I think that he’s really stressed about taking care of a sparkling, and he’s a little sensitive right now.” Jazz gently said.

Hound wasn’t stressed at all, not from his sparkling at least. He had taken to caring for Click like he was forged for it. The only part of this whole ordeal where he wasn’t composed was when Click started crying after Ravage’s attack, and even that was handled quickly.

Cliffjumper didn’t know that. He didn’t even stop to think about it, or contemplate that Jazz was lying to him. “Of course. I won’t tell a single spark.” He paused a moment before hesitantly adding, “Do you think I should ask him if he needs help later?”

Jazz pursed his lips, thinking about Hound’s fiercely independent personality. “No, he’ll probably reject your offer out of politeness. Just step in if you see him needing help.”

“I will.” Cliffjumper said. “Well, I should let you bring Hound back to your room. I won’t tell anyone, I promise” With that Cliffjumper continued on his way.

“Do you think he’ll actually stay quiet?” Prowl quietly asked after Cliffjumper disappeared from view.

Jazz nodded. “He was drinking Energon straight from my hands. He should stay quiet”

“Good. Hound doesn’t like being the center of attention.”

Jazz snorted. “Yeah.”

Prowl started worrying his lip.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked.

Prowl subtly shifted, doorwings twitching anxiously and clutching the sleepy Click closer to his chest. “Have you noticed anyone bothering Hound to interface with them?”

What?

“No. Is there a problem?” If there was Jazz would set the offenders straight. With a knife to the interface array if needed. Ratchet wouldn’t get too mad once he told him why.

“I don’t know.” Prowl paused, considering if he should share what he learned with Jazz. Deciding it was worth it Prowl continued talking. “I’ve seen him flinch away from contact with everyone except for you. I always thought he didn’t like physical contact, but he said his issue was that they were propositioning him, not the touch itself.”

“Everyone?”

Prowl nodded.

“But Hound doesn’t even like talking about interface.”

“I know.” Prowl hissed.

“We’ll finish this conversation at Ratchet’s. I don’t want anyone else catching us out here.” Jazz said, booking it to the med bay as quickly as he could walk. They were really close to Ratchet’s med bay when Cliffjumper found them. It didn’t even take a full tick to get there.

Knocking on the door Jazz called, “We're here.”

The quiet call of “coming” was the swift response. Jazz didn’t have to wait long for Ratchet to open the door and gruffly say, “Get in.”

Jazz went straight for the medical berth, setting Hound down on it. Leaning over Ratchet Jazz casually asked, “So, what do you think is wrong with Hound?”

The door closed behind them as Prowl walked into the med bay. Now no one would walk in on them, not without warning that allowed Ratchet to partition them off from the rest of the med bay with a curtain. Ratchet kept up patient confidentiality as well as he could in the middle of a war.

Ratchet was instantly on Hound when Jazz set him down, carefully looking for even a scratch out of place. “I want to double check his processor before I tell you.”

Jazz had to force his frame to stay relaxed instead of tensing to attack Ratchet. Yesterday the doctor checking out Hound’s processor ended with Jazz bursting into the room at Hound’s panicked screams to stop. It was the first time he saw the tracker cry and he never wanted to see it again. The only thing that stopped him from attacking Ratchet right then and there was that he knew the doctor didn’t mean to hurt Hound. “You shoving your servo down his throat again?”

“No.” Ratchet harshly said. His servos were trembling, and his venting was uneven. Yesterday must also be sticking with him. Jazz didn’t know if he should feel pleased or not. He opted for pushing the feelings out of his processor.

“This is something I can find in a basic check through his normal medical ports.” Ratchet continued.

With a deep vent Ratchet picked up Hound’s arm and began massaging his lower arm plating. Nothing happened.

“What’re you doing?” Jazz asked.

“I’m trying to open Hound’s medical port, but stimulation isn’t working. I’m going to have to manually open it up.” As Ratchet said that, one of his fingers transformed into what looked like a thin, pointy stick which he started poking Hound’s arm with. After a few pokes he gently started working it into what grew to be the opening for Hound’s normal medical port. It didn’t make any effort to open itself though, and Ratchet had to fully open it by himself. Even the most injured mechs’ medical ports should snap open when they were being prodded at. It was a natural reaction to the stimulation that mechs consciously had to stop.

Ratchet didn’t say anything else as he plugged into Hound’s port and his optics went dark as his processor focused on their connection. Expecting Ratchet to stay like that for a while Jazz strolled to Prowl. Leaning against the wall he said, “So, about Hound being harassed.”

Prowl pursed his lips. “I can’t say for certain. Hound denied it being a problem, but I’m not sure he would tell me if it was a problem. I-if this why he insisted on being on patrol so much. . .” Prowl trailed off, looking lost.

Prowl often put up a frigid front when interacting with other mechs—not because he didn’t care, but because he had trouble interacting with others. Because his tac net took up so much of his processor he didn’t have social interaction protocols installed. Instead, he had to run his social interactions through his tac net which wasn’t meant to handle such small-scale interactions. Over hundreds of vorns Prowl had tweaked the algorithms he ran for social interactions, but he still sometimes connected unrelated information to form a completely incorrect idea of what is happening.

It was Jazz’s job to correct Prowl when he made those errors, but he wasn’t sure if this was an error or if Prowl was correct.

Jazz hoped it was an error.

“We’ll keep a better eye on Hound now. If it is an issue, it’ll only get worse now.”

Prowl tilted his head. “Because he’ll be on base all the time now?”

“No, well partially, but more importantly mechs find caretakers very attractive.” Jazz explained.

“Why?” Prowl asked.

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t really get it myself. But, well, you saw Mirage with Hound yesterday.” Mirage was practically falling over himself when he saw Hound walk into the rec room carrying Click.

“Mirage isn’t bothering Hound, right?”

“No. He’s got a crush as big as the moon, but he’s not acting on it and Hound hasn’t noticed.”

A frown tugged at Prowl’s lips.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked.

“Hound is normally extremely perceptive, and Mirage is very obvious. Why hasn’t he picked up on it yet?”

Jazz had never thought of that before. It was funny seeing Mirage falling all over himself as he tried talking to Hound. But everyone noticed Mirage’s crush except for Hound. It really was out of character for the perceptive mech to miss something so obvious.

Jazz groaned. “I know he knows about relationships, and he’s not oblivious.”

“I think he’s either purposefully ignoring it to avoid even talking to Mirage about interface, or he’s missing some social interaction protocols—especially revolving around romance.”

“What made you think of the last one?” Jazz asked. To say a mech was missing social interaction protocols was a big leap, but Prowl’s ‘big leaps’ often turned out correct.

Prowl scowled. Properly scowled, not a frown that was misinterpreted as a scowl, but a proper scowl with his doorwings twitching in unresolved anger. That same anger leaked into his voice as he intently hissed, “There were no temple mechs there when Hound emerged from his hotspot. If something was missing from his initial programming they wouldn’t have been there to fix it.”

No wonder Prowl was angry. If temple mechs were barred from helping mechs emerge, thousands of new sparks died before they could even have a chance at life. Prowl probably took that happening personally because that was the sort of thing he started working for Sentinel to stop. And yet it happened under his watch while he was completely unaware of it.

“Hound does have issues knowing which words to use. If your theory is correct it could be part of a larger issue.” Jazz admitted. It was the reason why Hound wasn’t very talkative at the beginning of the war; he didn’t like other mechs laughing at his ‘bad language.’ It took a while of Jazz correcting him and explaining why what he said was wrong before Hound felt confident starting up a conversation with anyone.

Jazz heavily vented. “If that is Hound’s problem, we aren’t going to change how we act around him. This doesn’t change who he is, the only thing that’s different is that we know about it."

“I would never suggest otherwise.” Prowl said. His grip around Click was subtly tightening, like he was taking comfort from the sparkling recharging against his side.

“How would we confirm this, though?” Jazz asked.

“Ratchet could—”

“No.” Jazz harshly said cutting Prowl off. “Sorry, I just, the deep access Ratchet needs to see that. . . I’m not sure I trust him to do that after Hound’s processor check yesterday. I don’t trust any other doctor to touch Hound either.”

“I know, you ranted about it for an entire breem last night. No, I was going to suggest that Ratchet could look at the data he got on Hound’s processor yesterday. See if I might be right.”

Jazz relaxed at Prowl’s reassurance. He knew that his conjunx wouldn’t suggest anything he thought would hurt their mutual friend, but he panicked. Hound’s desperate muffled screams echoing through his head. “That sounds good. We can ask him after he’s done looking over Hound.”

As if Jazz’s words were an invisible trigger as soon as he said that Ratchet’s optics onlined.

“Doc, did you figure out what’s wrong with Hound?” Jazz called out.

Ratchet was scowling as he unplugged from Hound’s medical port. “What’s wrong is that Hound is an idiot.”

Okay, so it actually wasn’t deadly. That was good. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he hasn’t had a proper recharge cycle in vorns.”

Wait, “Are you saying Hound’s just recharging?”

“I wouldn’t call this ‘just recharging.’ It’s more like an emergency shutdown. Everything not essential to his functioning is off while his processor goes through deep cleaning. That includes all of his sensors, which is why nothing you did woke him up. He’s dead to the outside world until he wakes up on his own” Ratchet groused.

Prowl’s optics sharpened on Ratchet. “Damages?”

Ratchet softened at the question. “Nothing permanent, not yet anyways. We’re fragging lucky that Hound’s processor is as strong as it is. If he was a normal mech he’d have started having delusions a while ago as his processor degraded until it became nonfunctional. There’s a reason why we recharge.”

“But I’ve seen Hound recharging. He hasn’t been skipping out.”

Ratchet vented. “I’ll grant that Hound wasn’t trying to skip out on recharge. It’s just that he didn’t feel safe enough to fully turn off his sensors. Normally this wouldn’t cause problems, our sensors are always partially on while we recharge, but, well, we all know how powerful Hound’s sensors are now.”

“So, what, his recharges were useless?” Jazz asked.

“No. If he didn’t recharge at all we would have learned about this issue a while ago in one way or another. His recharge cycle wasn’t able to fully complete, so it’s like he has a small data leak that’s been building up over time. Thankfully this ‘data leak’ hasn’t built up to damaging levels yet so we can fix it with a proper recharge schedule.”

Prowl frowned. “But what caused Hound to collapse now?”

“From what I can tell every part of him felt safe so his frame initiated the emergency shutdown. What exactly happened before this?” Ratchet asked, looking at them consideringly.

Prowl didn’t move, but the faint twitches of his doorwings revealed how embarrassed he was. “Hound made his dome of blankets that he insisted I join him in. I went in first, and he followed after with Click. He lied down and was out in klicks.”

Ratchet raised his optical ridge. “You willingly entered a blanket pile with someone? I’d think you would stay at work all day.”

Prowl puffed up. “It’s still my break, and Hound needed someone to show him where the blankets were. I was going to leave before I went back on shift.”

Ratchet clearly didn’t believe Prowl, but he didn’t push. Instead, he said, “Well, even if you weren’t planning on staying there long, you’re staying in that blanket pile with Hound and Click until he wakes up.”

Prowl was gaping at Ratchet, so Jazz took it upon himself to ask, “Why?”

“Because Hound felt safe enough there to enter an emergency shutdown. If he wakes up by himself in my med bay he isn’t going to consider that safe place safe anymore, and we need it to remain safe. He needs a place to properly recharge or else we can’t fix this issue and he’ll only get worse.”

“Do you think, someone being there was necessary?” Prowl hesitantly asked. “Hound was unusually insistent that I join him.”

“Very likely yes, but I’ll wait to talk to him before mandating someone sleeps with him every night.”

Jazz winced at the wording but didn’t say anything. This wasn’t really the time to argue about it. They had more important things to focus on. “So, Hound’s going to have medically mandated cuddles.”

With a deadpan glare Ratchet said, “Simply speaking, yes. And it needs to be with mechs he trusts.”

Prowl’s optical ridge furrowed. “I’m going to have to change some schedules to account for this.”

“Oh? Not only medically mandated cuddles, but Prowl mandated as well? Give me plenty of time with Hound. I don’t see my bestie nearly enough.”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourselves.” Ratchet cut in with a scowl. “We need Hound to wake up and talk to him before we make any concrete plans. There’s no use assuming you know everyone he feels safe with and needing to redo everyone’s schedules again when it turns out you're wrong.”

Prowl didn’t argue with Ratchet despite his prominent scowl which was probably as close to an agreement the doctor was getting right now.

Jazz clapped his servos together with a quick “so,” that startled Click. The sparkling let out a long whine as he blearily looked around the room from Prowl’s hold.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just go back to recharge little spark.” Prowl hushed, gently rocking Click back and forth. Click grumbled slightly as he settled into Prowl’s side and his optics offlined again.

With Click back in recharge Prowl glared at Jazz and hissed, “Don’t be so loud. We don’t need Click waking up and panicking.”

Jazz held his servos up in surrender. “I won’t, promise.”

Prowl sharply nodded at Jazz’s quick surrender.

“Anyways,” Jazz said, “If we’re supposed to wait for Hound to wake up we should bring him back to his, what did you call it, his den?”

Prowl lightly hummed. “That’s what he called it.” Jazz could tell from the look in Prowl’s eyes that he wanted to talk without anyone being able to overhear them. A consequence of his recent breakdown or wanting to share something he learned Jazz couldn’t tell. With Hound’s sensors completely shut off and Click in recharge they should be able to have that talk in Hound’s room soon enough.

Ratchet sighed. “There’s nothing else I can do for him. Bring him back to where he fell asleep and don’t leave him until he wakes up. It’ll probably take a day or two so you’re taking care of Click in the meantime. I’ll stop by soon with another cube and his mineral blend. Hound probably put the stuff I gave him in his subspace. Now scram.”

Ratchet started shooing them away. Jazz laughed, “Yes, sir.” Cradling Hound in his arms he fled the med bay, Prowl following shortly after him.

His mind was already whirling with ways of convincing Prowl to give both of them more Hound time. He had plenty of time to convince his conjunx after all.

Chapter Text

Hound woke up surrounded by warmth and darkness and Prowl and Click. When had he even fallen asleep?

It was so nice. So safe. Hound just wanted to curl up and stay there forever.

What was he doing before this?

Why was Prowl here?

Prowl was nice and safe, but Prowl was also busy. A busy, busy mech.

That didn’t matter. Click was happily purring at his side.

His engines turned on, purring to match Click, curling around his sparkling even more.

They were safe.

“You’re awake.” Prowl’s relieved voice broke the stillness that settled over the den.

Why was Prowl relieved? Was something wrong?

Onlining his optics was hard with the syrupy warmth of recharge soaking his processor. Hound shifted to face Prowl. He looked happy to see Hound awake.

“Wha’s wrong?” Hound slurred, his voice heavy from recharge.

“How are you feeling?” Prowl asked instead of answering his question.

“Good. Safe.” That was a little better, but words were still slippery.

Prowl’s frame relaxed. “Good. Do you remember what happened?”

Hound furrowed his optic ridge. That Prowl felt the need to ask meant that he didn’t expect Hound to remember. Scouring his processor for his latest memories Hound haltingly answered. “I was meeting you, and Bluestreak, and Smokescreen. We. . . they left, and you started crying. I didn’t want to leave you alone, so you came to my room with me. I made a den, and we entered it. I fell into recharge.”

All signs of that recharge were gone from his voice when he finished talking. Hesitating, Hound pushed forward, “Did something happen?”

“That was a day and a half ago.” Prowl bluntly said.

Hound shot up, much to Click’s whining dismay, stopping when his head brushed the ceiling of his den. “What? How? W-why didn’t you wake me up?”

Click reached for him with a whine and Hound absentmindedly set him in his lap where he curled up and started purring again. At least one of them was happy.

“I did try to wake you up. You didn’t respond to anything.” Prowl said. “Ratchet said you haven’t been recharging properly, and it was starting to build up. When you came in here with me you felt completely safe and your body went into an emergency shutdown that turned off everything not absolutely necessary as your processor goes through deep cleaning.”

That didn’t sound good. “I have been recharging, though.” He was recharging a concerning amount, especially after picking up Click, thinking back on it. Just like how they only needed to eat every few days they also only needed to recharge every few days.

He was recharging every day.

Prowl vented. “According to Ratchet you haven’t had a full recharge cycle in who knows how long because your sensors were on too high for you to complete a recharge cycle.”

“Oh.” Hound pulled Click tighter to his chest. Click easily leaned in on him, happily purring. “How. . . how bad?”

As he asked that question his EM sensor finally turned on and Hound could feel Prowl’s field bleeding with worry. He knew it was bad before Prowl even opened his mouth.

“Lower processing speed, disorganized thoughts and memories, difficulty storing new information in long and short-term memory, and emotional instability are all early signs of not getting enough recharge. If it continues on auditory and visual hallucinations are next. It’s possible you would experience other types of hallucinations as well considering your sensors.”

Prowl paused, shakily venting before quietly continuing. “If it continued on your processor would begin irreparably degrading until. . . until too much is gone a-and you wo-ould d-di-ie.” Prowl had to choke out the final few words as he began to quietly cry.

Hound’s spark broke at the sight of his friend crying. Prowl was strong, composed. He shouldn’t be crying because of Hound.

Without thinking Hound pulled Prowl down towards him, and Prowl easily went. Lying down he shifted Click so he was next to him instead of lying on his lap and pulled Prowl onto his chest. The weight of his friend easily settled on him. Tucking Prowls head into his neck Hound began to purr, petting his back like earlier. . . which was apparently a day and a half ago.

Like last time it worked. Prowl went strutless, leaning entirely on him as he began to cry in earnest.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m not leaving anytime soon. We know that there’s a problem now which means we can fix it. I’m sure Ratchet already has a treatment plan. It’ll be alright. You’ll see.” Hound soothed

Click woke up at this point and grabbed Prowl’s servo limply lying on the ground. Picking it up Click nuzzled into it, quietly purring himself.

Wait, if he was out for a day and a half, “Did you watch Click for me?”

Prowl nodded. “Me and Jazz.”

“Thank you. How can I repay you?”

“Just get better.” Prowl muttered against his chest. His tears were slowing down, and his frame was only wracked by occasional shivers now.

“I will. Did Ratchet make a treatment plan already?”

Prowl nodded.

“What is it?” Hound asked, preparing himself to have twenty new mineral supplements added to his cube to ‘promote a healthy recharge’ or something.

He did not expect Prowl’s huffed laugh. “In Jazz’s words you have medically mandated cuddles.”

Medically mandated cuddles. “You mean I need to sleep with other mechs?” Hound asked.

Prowl’s olfactory sensor wrinkled. “You don’t have to put it like that.”

“Than how else should I put it?”

Sitting up Prowl shook his head. “Never mind. What matters is that you need to feel safe enough to recharge like you did with me here, with your sensors either on very low sensitivity or completely turned off. And you need to do it regularly—once a day to begin with. You’ll go back to a normal recharge schedule over time, but to start with your processor will need to go through a lot of deep cleaning, regularly. We’ll reconsider if you need someone there after all the deep cleaning has finished. Your sensors should be able to be more sensitive at that point, even if it’s nowhere near what your used to now.”

They’ll reconsider it. Did that mean he might have to sleep next to other mechs for the rest of his life? If it was mechs like Prowl or Jazz, mechs that he trusted, he wouldn’t mind, but they had lives. He didn’t want them to feel pressured into recharging next to him so he could have good recharges.

Prowl continued talking, not pausing for Hound’s thoughts. “Jazz and I are happy to help, but I want to know who else you would feel safe with.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We want to.” Prowl cut in before Hound could finish talking. “No one is going to be forced to recharge with you. If no one else you name feels comfortable recharging with you, Jazz and I will do it all ourselves.”

“R-really? You’d do that for me?”

Prowl nodded, amusement flashing through his field as he said, “You might have to make your den a little bigger to fit both of us though.”

“I-I. . . thank you.” Hound stuttered out.

“No need, we’re friends. Besides, you would do the same for me if I needed it.” Prowl said.

“Of course I would.” Hound said without hesitation.

“Just remember that when naming who you trust. They’re your friends, if you need some help, they’re willing to give it.”

“Okay.” Hound said, venting. “So, you and Jazz are obvious. Other than you two there’s Nightbeat, but he’s probably already looking for the gladiator pit.”

Prowl nodded. “He left yesterday as soon as I gave him the mission. I’ll add him to the rotation if he returns before you don’t need anyone around. And the others?”

The others were a little trickier. He knew he was one of the friendlier mechs on the Arc. He considered everyone he regularly worked with and interacted with a friend—with a few minor exceptions. But he wouldn’t trust most of those mechs with this. This was a level of trust that exceeded casual friendship. This was something reserved for pack. Not only that, but they had to be able to defend him and Click if his recharges were going to heavily turn down his sensors to a level where he wasn’t prepared for sudden attacks.

There were very few mechs that meet those criteria. “Ricochet. . . Bluestreak. . . Perceptor. . . I-I can’t think of anyone else.”

Prowl faintly frowned. “I would have expected more. You’re so friendly.”

“This is. . . I. . . this takes a lot of trust. I. . . they. . .”

Prowl hesitated for a moment before pulling Hound into a hug. “I understand. I’ll talk to them, and I have no doubts they’ll accept.”

“How is this going to work?” Hound asked, voice slightly muffled against Prowl’s chest.

Prowl began rocking back and forth, stroking a servo up and down Hound’s back. “Tonight, Jazz is going to come by and recharge with you. I’ll talk to the others today, see if they’re willing to help. I’m still redoing everyone’s schedules, so I’ll include this in their new schedules. I’ll give you a copy as well.”

Hound jerked up at the word schedule. “I’m supposed to start working in the office today! What time is it, am I la—”

Prowl forcefully pulled Hound back into a hug. “Relax Hound. It’s still the middle of the night; work doesn’t start for a few groons. Besides, I’ll understand if you want another day before you start working.”

Cold fear lanced through Hound’s spark. He didn’t want Prowl thinking he was slacking off. “I can start working today!”

“If that’s what you want, you can start today. Just go to my office at eight and I’ll get you started.” Prowl said.

At eight, that would be after the morning break. The morning break. “Click was going to meet the Dinobots at the canteen yesterday morning.” Hound said, pushing out of Prowl’s hug and sitting up. “Oh Primus, I stood them up. They’re going to be so upset.”

Prowl vented. “I told you; Jazz and I watched Click for you. Jazz brought him to the canteen like you said you would, said he convinced you to go for a long drive to deal with the stress of a new sparkling. From how Jazz told it, the Dinobots were great, and they adore Click already.”

Hound relaxed, quietly venting. “Good. I thought they would like Click.”

Prowl chuckled. “That isn’t the only thing we did yesterday. Jazz and I have a surprise for you outside of your den.”

“A surprise?” Hound asked, perking up.

“Yeah, go out and take a look.” Prowl said, waving Hound out with his servo.

Listening to Prowl, Hound crawled to the entrance of his den and peeked his head out. There, on the ground, was a little Click sized desk and a matching chair. Click's drawing pad and supplies neatly lined up on the desk. “You got Click furniture.”

He could hear Prowl shifting around, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his optics off of the furniture. “How? Why?”

“You talked about getting Click furniture in his size. It was mostly Jazz, honestly. I stayed with you the whole time—he’s the one who got help making it.” Prowl said plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It didn’t stop Hound from feeling Prowl’s embarrassment. Why would Prowl be embarrassed? This was wonderful.

Hound threw himself at Prowl with a hug, uncaring that he might knock the den over. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Prowl didn’t brace against the hug and was knocked into the blanket wall which crumpled under his weight, sending the entire den falling onto them. Click happily chittered a little laugh as the blankets fell on him, and Hound followed along with his own laugh. They were absolutely covered in blankets, and it felt wonderful. The blankets weren’t heavy enough to be restraining, and Hound could rebuild the den later, so he wasn't worried about the den's destruction.

“What’s so funny. You wrecked your den.” Prowl grumbled.

“I don’t know.” Hound laughed. “I just feel happy.”

“Well, it’s fine as long as you don’t become a wrecker.”

“Come on, you know that isn’t my style.”

Prowl fondly sighed. “I know, now let me up.”

“I will, I will.” Hound said, his laughter settling into chuckles. Sitting up the blankets slid off of him and reaching into the pile he picked up Click. “You okay there Sweetspark?”

Click happily chirped at the question.

“Did Prowl and Jazz take good care of you yesterday?”

Click eagerly nodded and began quickly chattering away with his clicks.

Hound seriously nodded. “I see. Looks like I’ll have to thank Jazz as well.”

“No need.” Prowl said sitting up, his doorwings flexing in the open air. “He was acting like a sparkling himself while watching Click.”

“Just because he enjoyed it doesn’t mean I can’t thank him.” Hound said.

Prowl huffed. “I suppo—”

Prowl froze.

“What’s wrong Prowl?” Hound asked.

Prowl held up a hand in the silent sign. A comm then. Hound nodded.

Standing up he began picking and folding the blankets scattered across his berth, ignoring Prowl’s increasingly upset field.

“Hound, Ravage escaped the brig. Can you find him?” Prowl suddenly asked.

The thought of Ravage running freely through the Arc, hunting for Click, sent fear through his spark. “Of course.”

Closing his optics Hound expanded his sensor field and searched the Arc for Ravage’s field. He recognized everyone, and Ravage wasn’t anywhere on the Arc.

Narrowing his EM sensors to their regular range Hound turned his optics back on. “He’s not on the Arc.”

Prowl swore, standing up. “I need to deal with this. Don’t tell anyone about Ravage’s escape, we don’t need everyone panicking. Come by my office at eight.”

Prowl ran out of the room after giving those orders, not giving Hound a chance to respond.

“Well, we have a few groons to burn before we go to the canteen. There anything you want to do until then?” Hound asked.

Click lit up at the question, pointing at the tiny desk with a happy whine.

“Let’s get you down then.” Hound said picking Click up and setting him on the floor.

As soon as Hound let go of him Click ran straight to his tiny desk. It really was perfectly sized for him. Opening his drawing pad Click began clicking a happy little tune as he sat in his perfectly sized chair, grabbed a pencil, and began to draw.

With Click occupied Hound turned his focus to the mess of blankets on his berth. Picking them up one by one he neatly folded them away. Making a new den could wait until Click wasn’t busy. Maybe tonight he could teach both Click and Jazz how to make a proper den.

That sounded nice.

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the night and Hound didn’t feel like going anywhere. Instead, he settled into his room. Cleaning up the mess of blankets on his berth was quick work.  Click stubbornly refused to let Hound see whatever he was drawing, covering it with his upper body and pouting at Hound when he asked. Catching the hint Hound settled onto his berth and checked his datapad to catch up on his messages.

Most of his messages were more invites from mechs he didn’t know, or that he met in the canteen yester-two days ago. It was hard to wrap his processor around the fact that he slept for an entire day and a half, but his internal chronometer confirmed it now that he was paying attention to it. Looking at his own logs he also confirmed that his sensors were completely off during that time.

Knowing that he spent the entire time with all of his sensors completely turned off was terrifying. Keeping his senses sharp was how he protected himself. If he knew an enemy was coming, he could prepare himself to attack or run and hide away. Without that single advantage he was defenseless.

If someone came into his room to hurt him or—

He couldn’t protect himself.

He couldn’t protect Click.

Hound shivered at the thought.

Helpless.

But he had to be. He had to allow that vulnerability with others. Had to rely on others to protect him while he recharged. Prowl explained it to him.

When was the last time he let someone in like that?

It must have been before Proteus. When he was still Relentless Hunter. When he was part of a pack.

 He was surprised that he came up with so many mechs he trusted to that extent when Prowl asked. Jazz, Prowl, and Nightbeat were all easy to choose, and so was Ricochet in a way. Wracking his processor after that, Hound expected to come up with no one else—to spend most of his nights with Jazz and Prowl because the other two weren’t on base. And yet, Bluestreak and Perceptor easily came to mind and Hound knew he trusted them with this. With his vulnerability. With Click.

How nice would it feel to have them curling around him, encompassing him? To be the one protected for once?

Hound pushed his wandering thoughts out of his processor. He was supposed to be looking through his datapad, not uselessly daydreaming.

There was a message from Nightbeat thanking Hound for getting him an exciting mystery and swearing he’ll figure out what happened to Click’s caretaker. There was a note that Click’s drawing was almost as good as Earth’s forensic sketch artists and that he would surely recognize the mech if they met. Reading the message put a smile on Hound’s face. Nightbeat was very excited to learn about how humans solved crimes and identified assailants when they couldn’t directly share their memories with others.

Hound was inundated with messages from Nightbeat for weeks after they landed on Earth explaining every new thing he learned about criminal investigations. The composite sketches forensic artists made were the only art Hound had ever seen Nightbeat excited about that wasn’t actively part of a conspiracy. For Nightbeat to compare Click’s drawing with them was quite the compliment.

Ratchet sent his own rather long message explaining the symptoms of missing recharge as well as his treatment plan. It was exactly like Prowl explained earlier except more detailed. It ended by asking him to make an appointment when he woke up so Ratchet could ask him some questions and check how much the recharge actually helped so he could make a more detailed treatment plan. They could figure out the timing of his follow-up visits while he was there.

Hound sent a quick message to Ratchet that he was awake and starting work at eight today, but other than that and feeding Click in the canteen he was otherwise available.

Closing out of that message Hound continued looking through the rest his messages for anything else interesting. Red Alert sent a message yesterday wishing him a safe recovery from whatever medical issue knocked him out. How did he learn that? Did someone inform him? If they did, why didn’t Red Alert know what was wrong with him? He would have to ask Prowl about it when he saw him.

Attached to Red Alert’s message was a long document. It was the operating procedures for searching for Decepticons on the Arc Red Alert promised him earlier. According to Red Alert Optimus approved it already so all he had to do was read through it and ask Red Alert any questions he had. There would be a quiz to make sure he actually read and understood it later.

With Click absorbed in his drawing and nothing else pressing to do Hound settled onto his berth, opened up the document, and read.

It took a groon to read through due to the dense, precise language it, like the other operating procedures Red Alert wrote, used. Parsed down it was fairly basic and understandable. Someone in high command—mainly Optimus, Red Alert, Prowl, Jazz, or Ironhide—would ask Hound to find a Decepticon on the Arc only if they had a reasonable belief that a Decepticon was on the Arc. He only had to tell them where the Decepticon was, if it was on the Arc at all. He wouldn’t be asked anything else to give other mechs their privacy.

Outside of that it was full of explanations for edge cases or unusual situations. For example, if they had good reason to believe that an Autobot was a traitor they could ask Hound about them and their actions. If Hound noticed a Decepticon on the Arc he was to report it to Red Alert unless he was unavailable. In that case he would report the incursion to an appropriate member of high command that was available. It was mostly things like that.

Click whined, breaking Hound out of his thoughts.

Turning to Click Hound asked, “Is something wrong Sweetspark?”

Click lit up, lifting his servos up in a silent demand to be picked up.

Sitting up Hound picked up Click, setting him in his lap. “You done drawing Sweetspark?”

Click nodded, sinking into his lap.

Hound chuckled. “Can I finally see what you drew?”

Click looked up at Hound for a moment before nodding.

Holding Click in place Hound leaned down and picked the drawing pad off of the desk. Handing it to Click he asked, “Do you want to show me?”

A grin broke onto Hound’s face as he carefully opened the drawing pad. Pushing the picture up to Hound’s face Click watched him, eagerly waiting for his reaction. The picture itself was of Jazz and Prowl’s helms pressed together, smiling, with Jazz cupping the side of Prowl’s face.

“Jazz and Prowl can be quite sweet when they’re together. They’re conjunxes, you know, probably one of the only couples I think will stay happily together.” At Click’s curious look Hound explained. “Before the war started and I joined the Autobots I was a private investigator. Nightbeat—the mech we sent to look for where you’re from—taught me. He focused on solving mysteries while I specialized in finding people. A lot of my jobs were to follow a mech’s conjunx to see if they’re cheating on their partner. I saw so many conjunx bonds falling apart, mechs cheating on each other. I have my doubts about most couples, but Jazz and Prowl, they’re different.”

Click nodded like he understood what Hound was saying, but he was so young. Hound wondered how much he actually understood about this type of relationship. Lying down Hound pulled Click up, so he was lying on top of him, head nestled in the crook of Hound’s neck. “Can you promise me something, Click?”

Click pushed himself up. Looking at Hound straight in the optics he nodded.

“If you ever fall in love with someone, don’t conjunx them right away. Wait a few vorns, live with them, make sure they’re the one you want to be with forever. So many relationships fall apart because they rush into it, wanting that conjunx bond that they hear about in stories, but as the vorns go on and they learn more about their partner, they realize that they aren’t that perfect match and fall apart. Please don’t put yourself in that situation. Waiting to conjunx won’t hurt you, Jazz and Prowl waited over 100 vorns to go through the rites, and you see how happy they are together.”

As Hound finished talking Click sat down and held out his servo looking determined.

“Do you want to shake on it?” Hound asked.

Click nodded.

“Thank you, Sweetspark.” Hound said, shaking Click’s tiny servo. “You won’t have to think about this for a long time, but if you ever do reach that point in a relationship, I want you to remember this. I worry.”

Click hugged Hound, nuzzling his neck with his little purr. Purring Hound reached up to start rubbing at the base of Click’s neck.

“Was that everything you drew, or is there something else?” Hound asked.

Click jolted up at Hound’s question. Grabbing his drawing pad, he turned to the next page and held it out to Hound. It was rough sketches of the Dinobots’ faces in root mode.

“Prowl said you met the rest of the Dinobots yesterday. Did you like them?” Hound asked.

Click eagerly nodded. Setting the drawing pad down he held up his servos, fingers curling like claws. With a stubborn pout he let out his purr-whine attempt at a growl. Cute. Mischief sparked in Hound as he asked, “Do you want to learn how to properly growl?”

Click eagerly nodded at the question before suddenly becoming dejected, slumping into himself.

“What’s wrong?” Hound asked.

Click pointed at his neck with a whine.

Oh. “Do you think you can’t do it because of your vocalizer?”

Looking absolutely miserable Hound nodded.

“Sweetspark, you don’t need a vocalizer to growl properly. In fact, any attempts to growl with a vocalizer are downright embarrassing. A proper growl comes from the frame.” Hound said. There was a reason why these noises were considered animalistic.

Having a vocalizer, the ability to speak, to communicate, these were considered an important measure of sentience. Mechanimals living in the wild didn’t have vocalizers, relying entirely on frame noises to communicate. Most mechs had a vocalizer they could use from creation and didn’t have any need to learn how to make noises with their frame. Outside of the creatures that lived in the wilds, it was relegated to sparklings still learning their frame and the wilder mechanimals that could speak like Ravage.

Hound was pretty sure Ravage intentionally used it as a fear tactic. Speaking of Ravage, Hound briefly spread his EM sensors through the Arc. No Ravage, good. Jazz and Prowl’s stressed fields were less good, but he knew it was because of Ravage’s escape. He would ask Prowl if there was any way he could help when they saw each other later.

Focusing back on Click Hound said, “I can teach you how to howl and snarl too, but that might have to wait until we’re somewhere far away from everyone else. You saw how scared Jazz was of the mere mention of wolves, there’d be chaos if they heard a proper cyberwolf howl.”

The way Click started vibrating in place at the mention of learning how to howl made Hound chuckle.

“Okay Sweetspark, let’s get started.” Hound thought back to teaching the Dinobots how to growl, how to roar. When they first onlined they tried to imitate snarls, growls, and roars with their vocalizers, which did succeed in spooking a few Autobots. They were so desperate to sound fierce it was cute. When Hound watched the Dinobots for a day he took it upon himself to teach them how to properly make those noises, cementing his place as one of their favorite mechs. The way Wheeljack jumped when Grimlock threw his head back and roared was hilarious, and no one realized that Hound was the one to teach them.

“Now, the most important part of a proper growl is your engines. Can you purr for me?”

Click nodded, purring. Hound started purring to match.

“Good. Most mechs here don’t even know how to purr, I spent a groon just teaching the Dinobots to purr before we could even get to growling.”

Click perked up at the praise.

“Purrs are a low rumbling in your engines. To growl you need to start by turning up the intensity.” Hound demonstrated and Click copied him, his face pressed into a stubborn pout.

“That’s right. Now, the real trick to a proper growl is projection. Push that sound up and out of your mouth, lifting your glossa up. Just copy me, can you do that?” Hound asked, doing what he described, his intense purr transforming into a deep growl.

Click startled at the growl, his own engine stuttering before starting up again, his face twisted in concentration. Hound could hear the moment Click got it, his purr transforming into a proper growl. It was quieter than Hound’s own growl, higher pitched too, but Hound expected that from Click’s tiny frame and little engine.

“Perfect.”

The growl dipped back into a purr at Hound’s praise. Hound didn’t care, pulling Click down into a hug he switched back to a purr himself. “Absolutely perfect. You’re so smart Sweetspark.”

Click melted into his hug, engines happily purring.

“Can you growl for me again?” Hound asked.

The happy little purr flared into a growl at Hound’s question. It was quiet, but it was a proper growl.

“Absolutely perfect.”

Chapter Text

The morning went by fairly quickly, and after a quick visit to Ratchet—where the doctor made an appointment to replace Click’s vocalizer in two days—followed up by a visit to the canteen for Click’s daily fuel it was almost eight. Time to see Prowl. Hopefully he wouldn’t mess up his first day too badly, but the only paperwork he consistently did was writing his scouting reports. He was confident in his skills writing those reports, Prowl certainly never had any complaints, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the finished reports.

Well, that was what Prowl was going to teach him today.

With Click curled in one arm Hound knocked on Prowl’s office door—Prowl felt stressed. Was Ravage’s escape that bad? He doubted Prowl was in trouble for Ravage’s escape.

“Come in.” Prowl clearly said.

Walking into the room Hound closed the door behind him. Prowl was sitting at his desk, several datapads neatly lined up, opened to different documents that Hound very consciously did not read.

“Do you need help with Ravage?” Hound asked.

Prowl’s head jerked up at Hound’s question. Optics blankly looking vaguely at where Hound was standing before they refocused. “Oh, it’s eight already.”

Alarm flashed through Hound. “Have you been working since midnight? You need to take a break!”

Click pointed accusingly at Prowl and whined.

“I assure you, I am quite capable of continuing to work without a break.” Prowl calmly said. He didn’t even try to deny it.

Click covered his optics with his servos forming a wide V shape and smirked. An imitation of Jazz.

“Yeah Prowl,” Hound jabbed, “does Jazz know about this?”

Prowl stiffened and firmly said. “I don’t see why Jazz needs to know about this.”

“Because your conjunx wouldn’t approve of your work schedule.”

Prowl paused. “That’s right. Jazz said you felt it when we bonded.”

Hound shrugged. “I didn’t feel the bonding itself, but it has a noticeable effect on a mech’s EM field. You feel a bit like each other now. I didn’t get to say it then, but congratulations. I’m sure you’ll have a long and prosperous future together.”

Prowl’s cheeks darkened a shade. “Thank you.”

“Seriously though, Prowl. You need to take a break.” Hound sighed. “If you need anything I’ll be happy to lend a servo. I can tell you’re stressed, and I want to help.”

“It’s not something you can really help with.” Prowl said. “Jazz figured out how Ravage managed to escape, and Red Alert is patching the hole in security. I’m just recalculating a lot of my plans right now; that’s not something you can help with.”

“Hmm. Does it need to be done all at once, or can you take a break during it.” Hound asked.

“It doesn’t need to be done all at once. That would be highly inefficient.”

Hound nodded. “Then you’re going to teach me how to do my datawork, and then you’ll either take your break with Click and I or with Jazz.”

Prowl grimaced. “You really don’t need to.”

“I want to. Prowl, do you remember what we talked about this morning? How I should remember that my friends want to help me? You need to remember that too.” Hound said.

Prowl slumped. “Fine, I’ll stay with you and Click afterwards, but it’ll only be a short break. And if you have any problems tell me.”

A grin split across Hound’s face. “I will, thank you Prowl.”

Prowl scowled. “No need to thank me. Now, let’s go to your new office.”

Standing up Prowl turned off all the datapads on his desk, only taking one of them. Leaning down he grabbed a datapad from the desk drawer. Following Prowl out the door Hound asked, “I have my own office now?”

“Of course you do.” Prowl said. “I assigned you an unused one when you were reassigned here. We have plenty of unused offices on the Arc.”

The walk to Hound’s new office was short, only one turn away from Prowl’s own office.

“I’m surprised there was an office so close to you that was open.” Hound commented.

“Don’t be.” Prowl snorted. “Most mechs tried to get offices as far away from me as possible, only some of them succeeded. Ultra Magnus was the only mech that wasn’t upset to have an office next to me.”

Hound remembered Ultra Magnus. He was stern, a stickler to the rules, but not unkind. He was one of the mechs they left behind on Cybertron, like Kup and Elita One and her group.

“Have you made any progress contacting him?” Hound asked.

Prowl frowned and didn’t say anything. Outside of his clearance then.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Hound said.

“I know.” Prowl said. “It’s not necessarily confidential, but—”

“Prowl, you don’t have to tell me.” Hound firmly repeated.

Prowl vented. “I know. I just don’t like keeping you in the dark about things, especially when they’re not necessarily classified.”

Hound laughed. “I’m fine with you guys keeping some things secret from me, I trust you. If I didn’t, I would have just spied on your meetings instead of asking you.”

“Oh, you can do that?”

“Prowl, use your processor for a second and remember how strong my senses are. I wouldn’t even have to be nearby to listen in on you.”

Prowl’s face darkened again, his field flaring in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Prowl reset his vocalizer. “Well, this is your office. Go on, open it up.”

Opening the door Hound was met with a room identical to Prowl’s office minus the datapads on the table. “You didn’t even get a different chair.” Hound said.

“The furnishings the room came with are adequate.” Prowl said sharply before softening. “If you want to change the furnishings or add personal touches you can.”

“Prowl, you saw my room. I’m not exactly drowning in personal objects.” Hound laughed. “Although, If I am bringing Click with me to work every day I might want to move his desk in here. What do you think of that, Sweetspark?”

Click clicked excitedly at Hound’s question, swinging his pedes.

“And you’re turning into quite the artist. What do you think about hanging some of your drawings on the wall?”

A high-pitched squeal escaped Click as he clung to Hound’s side.

“We can’t put up things others aren’t supposed to know about, but anything else can go up.” Hound said.

Prowl tilted his head. “What did he draw that makes you say that?”

Thinking about the pictures Click showed him that morning Hound raised Click up to his face and whispered, “Do you want to show Prowl the picture you made of him and Jazz?”

Click’s nod was an empathetic yes. Reaching into his subspace Hound handed Click his drawing pad. Flipping to the right page Click shoved the drawing pad towards Prowl, eagerly watching his reaction.

Prowl’s face flushed even brighter than Mirage’s ever did. Seriously, what was up with that? “H-how?”

“You mean you weren’t being sweet around Click?” Hound asked. He assumed Click saw them doing that, but apparently not from Prowl’s reaction.

“NO!” Prowl shouted, jerking back in surprise at how loud he was.

Click flinched at Prowl’s shout. Trembling little hiccupping sobs left him.

Clutching Click to his chest Hound purred. “Shh, it’s alright Sweetspark. Prowl isn’t upset at you, he’s just embarrassed.” And boy, did Prowl’s field feel embarrassed.

Prowl, who froze when Click began to cry, was spurred into action at Hound’s words. Softening he wiped the tears away from Click’s optics. “Hound is right little one. I was just surprised you realized Jazz and I were together. I’m not mad. Your drawing is wonderful, I love it.”

As Prowl talked Click twisted, holding his arms out to Prowl in a silent demand to be picked up. Prowl glanced up at Hound for permission before carefully scooping Click from Hound’s grip and rocking him.

“Shh, little one. No one’s mad at you.” Prowl cooed reassurances to Click until he calmed down, settling into Prowl’s arms. “Are you feeling better?”

Click limply nodded.

“That’s good, little one. Do you want to stay with me, or do you want to go back to Hound?” Prowl asked.

Prowl’s only answer was Click tightening his grip around Prowl.

“Okay, we can stay like this for however long you need little one.” Prowl cooed, rocking back and forth. “I’m sorry I yelled. I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have done that. You made a lovely drawing.”

Finally Click glanced at Prowl with a nervous little chirp.

Prowl smiled at Click. Not a quirk of the lips, but a real smile. “It was lovely, could I see it again?”

Hesitantly Click showed Prowl the drawing again. This time Prowl studied it with a smile, optics glittering in interest. “Your drawings are very accurate; it must have taken a long time to draw, and you have a keen optic. Jazz would love to see it too. Do you mind if I take a picture of it for us?”

Click beamed up at Prowl, eagerly nodding. The only sign that he was upset ticks ago was the smudged tear streaks running down his face that Prowl gently wiped away.

Prowl nodded. “I’ll grab my camera after I show Hound how to do his new job. Do you have anything else you want to show me?”

Not saying anything Click flipped his drawing pad to the next page—the Dinobots—before shoving it in Prowl’s face again.

“Oh my, you really are an amazing artist. This looks just like them.” Prowl commented.

Click flushed at the praise, his pedes kicking out.

“Anything else?”

Click bit his lip, glancing at Hound.

Hound chuckled, “Do you not want me to see it?”

Click didn’t answer, but his nervous expression said everything.

“You can share anything with me, but—” Hound pulled the chair out from his new desk, twisted it around, and sat down facing the wall, “I won’t make you share anything you don’t want to.”

No vocalizations from Click, but Hound could hear the page turn again.

“Oh, this is, absolutely wonderful. Could I take a picture of this as well? I promise I’ll only share it with Jazz.”

A positive click.

“Am I free to turn around now?” Hound asked.

More rustling pages as Click closed his drawing pad followed up by a happy little chirp.

“You’re good.” Prowl said.

“Good.” Hound stood up and turned the chair to face the desk like it was supposed to. “Sweetspark do you want to stay with me, Prowl, or on the ground while Prowl shows me how to do my paperwork?”

Click tilted his head in thought before pointing at the ground and holding up his drawing pad. Prowl set Click down. Hound pulled the box of drawing supplies Sunstreaker had given them from his subspace and gave them to Click. Supplies in servo Click settled into a corner and started laying everything out neatly.

“So, reports, how do I start boss?” Hound asked.

Prowl held out the datapad he grabbed earlier. “This’ll be your work datapad. Every new scouting report will be sent here, and your job is to filter out all the unneeded information, compile it into a report, and send that to me. You’ve always had a good eye for what information is important in scouting, so I’m confident you’ll excel at this.”

Hound grabbed the datapad. “You say that like it’s special.”

“Oh, it is, just read one of the reports.” Prowl said.

Selecting the first scouting report Hound began to read and his fuel tank began to sink. “What is this?”

“A scouting report.” Prowl dryly said.

“This isn’t a scouting report. This reads like a. . . an adventure novel. Are all of them like this? Quickly skimming it, the ‘report’ was filled with unnecessary details, and no specifics were given for important information. They found mech tracks, but there wasn’t a description, measurements, or even a clear picture of them. Just the fact that a mech walked through. It could be anyone from Rumble to Devestator to Megatron himself for all he knew. The day apparently was ‘muggy,’ and Hound didn’t know what that meant.

It was a mockery of what Hound had dedicated himself to over the last 500 vorns of war.

Reading through the report Hound felt angry.

He wanted to hunt down whoever wrote this report and punch them in the face.

Hound pushed down his rage, that wasn’t helpful right now. He needed to be able to think.

Hound could see why Prowl wanted someone to pick out the actually important information so he wouldn’t waste time reading this slop.

Prowl nodded. "Pretty much. Some are better than others, but. . . yeah."

Hound resisted the urge to swear only because Click was in the room. He settled for burying his face in his servos and groaning. “Why are they like this?”

“Because you’re the only one who can write normal report with useful information in it. Unless they actually see or fight a Decepticon this is the best way to get any useful details out of them. Otherwise, we’ll just get something like ‘nothing happened, all clear.’ Honestly most of our scouts are sent out to keep up an Autobot presence and look for overt Decepticon activity. If we want any real scouting done, I normally send you.” Prowl admitted.

“And I’m only being sent out in emergencies now.” Hound finished.

Prowl nodded.

Skimming through the next few reports Hound sighed. “I think we’re going to have to change how they write their reports if we want to get anything useful out of them.”

Prowl’s optics brightened. “What do you have in mind?”

“We could teach them to fill out reports like how I do them.” Hound suggested.

Prowl frowned. “No one would want to sit down and write your lengthy reports. I mean, you even have the atmospheric pressure humidity and temperature noted at five-minute intervals. Everything you put down can be useful, no doubt, but who can remember all of that?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t remember any of that. I constantly log anything of note during my patrols as it happens. Sure, it can make the report longer, but it also ensures I don’t forget about anything. Plus, this way they don’t have to complain about spending forever on base writing boring reports. It’ll be done by the time they finish patrol.”

“Even if you teach them this style of report writing how do you know they’ll put anything good down?” Prowl asked. “I mean, you read the report.”

“Well, that’s the second thing I want to teach them. How to tell what’s important and what’s not. You will not believe how much information I filter out of my reports.”

Prowl snorted. “Knowing what I know now about your sensors, I’ll believe it. Speaking of your sensors, can you really teach them your tricks?”

“Yes and no,” Hound said, waffling his servo in the air. “There are a lot of things they just can’t do, but I can still teach them what to look for. You remember how I started teaching Jazz how to track a few days ago.”

“He was ecstatic to tell me about learning your skills.” Prowl said, a fond smile pulling at his lips to match how gooey and warm his field turned at the mention of Jazz.

“It’ll be like that, teaching them skills that they can use and what to look for.”

“But how are we going to do this? They won’t accept a new way of filling out reports, not without a lot of complaining and terribly filled out reports in the interim.” Prowl asked.

Good question. “Small group meetings would probably work better since I could talk to them individually. Make myself friendly and work out any issues on that level. Show them how I want it done before we go on a short scouting mission where they put it into practice, and I can show them what to look for on the job. I’d have to borrow someone else to act as a Decepticon if I do that. Would that be too hard?”

Looking at Prowl’s reaction the tactician pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If we’re doing this for more useful reports it shouldn’t be too hard to pull someone to help. If you could choose anyone, who do you want with you for these practice runs?”

“Someone from spec ops.” Hound instantly said. “I don’t really care who specifically, but I need someone able to sneak around. These scouts can already find mechs that aren’t trying to hide, but I want to teach them how to spot someone who is hiding.”

Prowl nodded thoughtfully. “It’ll have to be several different mechs if we’re doing this in small groups.”

“That’s fine as long as they’re sneaky. I want to start off seeing how many of them notice our ‘Decepticon’ as a test to see how observant they are.”

“To get a baseline of their abilities, so we know who to send out to more sensitive areas like we did with you.” Prowl eagerly finished.

“Exactly.”

They spent several groons so focused on how to teach the scouts that Hound nearly jumped out of his seat when Prowl’s datapad started beeping. Prowl looked at his datapad and frowned.

“I have a meeting now. I have meetings for the rest of the day.”

Was it really that long? “Sorry, you didn’t even get your break.”

Prowl shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Our conversation was important, and I enjoyed it.”

“That might be true, but we got so distracted you didn’t even get to show me how I’m supposed to do my paperwork.”

“Oh, yes, that is a problem.” Prowl glanced at the datapad in Hound’s servo. “How about this, you spend the rest of the day working on what we were talking about, and Jazz and I will go over it with you tomorrow. We’ll see about starting it as soon as possible.”

Hound nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. I need to go now, but message me if you have any issues. And don’t forget to take your break.” Prowl quickly walked out of Hound’s office, hurrying to whatever meeting he was late for while trying to look like he wasn’t in a hurry.

Fondly shaking his head Hound sighed. “You should listen to your own advice Prowl.”

Chapter Text

After a long day of figuring out how to teach the scouts to properly scout and write reports Ricochet knocked on Hound’s office door.

Oh, he had his own office now. People would come to him and knock. Giddiness flashed through Hound as he called, “Come in!”

In walked Ricochet looking identical to Jazz as always. Even their smirks looked the same. As the door closed behind him Hound asked, “How went your spying on the Decepticons.”

Click looked up at Hound’s words and as he set optics on Ricochet his face twisted in anger and he growled, just like Hound taught him that morning. Ricochet jumped, whirling around to look for the source of the noise before settling on Click in confusion.

“What’s wrong Click? I thought you liked Jazz.” Did he completely misread Click’s interactions with Jazz? Did something happen between them yesterday? But if that was true why wouldn’t Click or Prowl have made him aware of the problem before this?

Click whined. Pointing at Ricochet Click crossed his arms in a large X before smirking and covering his optics with his servos in an imitation of Jazz.

Wait, “Are you saying he isn’t Jazz?” Hound asked.

Click nodded, glaring at Rico with another growl.

“Oh Sweetspark, I know.” Hound said, lifting Click into a hug. “This is Ricochet, he and Jazz are split spark twins. He and Jazz often play at being the same person, but you don’t need to worry about him looking like Jazz. He’s not here to spy on or hurt us. Rico’s a friend.”

At Hound’s reassurances Click stopped growling. Pursing his lips Click started seriously looking over Ricochet.

Ricochet, for his part, groaned, covering his face with his servo. He felt embarrassed, probably because Click figured out he wasn’t Jazz immediately. “Hound, when Jazz told everything that’s happened in the week I was gone I didn’t expect you to teach your new sparkling to read EM fields.”

Click’s ability to tell Ricochet and Jazz apart was weird. They may have different fields, but those fields were nearly identical before Jazz conjunxed Prowl, and even now they were still very similar. “I haven’t taught Click how to read EM fields. I don’t know how he knew.”

“Well, does he have his own EM sensors? I know Jazz spent a lot of time with the little guy, but my acting isn’t that bad. No one’s caught us out on it before.” Ricochet said looking at Click in curiosity before shaking his head. “Anyways, I’m Ricochet, Jazz’s much cooler brother.”

Click gave Ricochet a dubious look. Ricochet dramatically reared back; servo clutched next to his spark chamber as if he was suffering a spark attack. “What’s with that reaction? My spy work definitely makes me cooler than Jazz.”

That is what finally got Click’s anger to break, and he started to giggle.

“That’s right, Sweetspark, Ricochet isn’t a threat. He’s a friend.” Hound said, nuzzling the top of Click’s head.

Ricochet straightened up from his dramatic imitation of a spark attack, smirk slipping off his face. “But seriously, how did you figure out I wasn’t Jazz little guy? I think Hound is the only one who figured it out, everyone else who knows, knows because we told them.”

Click frowned, clenching and unclenching his servos. Head tilted down Click was only looking at Ricochet from the corner of his optic when he shrugged.

“You mean you don’t know how?” Ricochet asked.

Click shook his head.

“I think it’s more you don’t know how to explain it, is that right Sweetspark?” Hound asked.

Click nodded.

“Hmm, can I try something Sweetspark?” Hound asked.

Nod.

“Tell me if you can feel this.” Hound said before carefully, oh so carefully, manipulating his field. Pulling it in to be denser, more present. If Click could feel EM fields, there was no way he could miss this change. “Did you feel it Sweetspark?”

Click shook his head, looking at Hound in confusion.

“That’s okay. I was just changing my EM field to see if you can feel them like I can.” Hound said, relaxing his grip on his field. It always felt wrong to change it, force it into another form. Restraining. “This just means you knew Rico wasn’t Jazz some other way. You can tell me how after you get your new vocalizer if you don’t know how to explain it now.”

Click looked down remorsefully but nodded.

“Good. That sounds like a plan Sweetspark.”

Click nodded again before shoving himself into Hound’s side. Hound just tightened his grip around Click and looked back up at Ricochet who was looking at him consideringly. Now that he wasn’t playing as Jazz his ever-present smirk was gone. Hound knew it was often a mask for Jazz as well, if a more ingrained one with how he was normally the one interacting with mechs while Ricochet spied.

“So, what brings you here?” Hound asked.

“Jazz is busy well into the night today, so I’m here to replace him as your cuddle buddy.” Ricochet said with a small smile.

“Oh? And how did Jazz take it?”

“Badly.” Ricochet said with a chuckle. “I got back a few groons ago and after my debrief Jazz tried to bribe me into taking his place for the rest of the day.”

“Do you know why he’s so busy suddenly?” Hound asked. “From what Prowl told me they already finished dealing with Ravage’s escape”

“They were until I came back with my report.” Ricochet said ruefully. “Don’t tell anyone, but Soundwave has been missing for almost an entire week.”

Soundwave, that name sounded familiar. “He’s their head of communications, right?” Hound asked.

Ricochet nodded. “Got it in one. I’ve only spotted him a few times, even with how much I spy on the Decepticons, but he’s as civilian as the Decepticons get. No internal weaponry or even a combat module as far as I can tell. Probably the only reason why no one’s tried to kill him before is that Megatron is his protector, and he’s very vocal about it.”

Soundwave’s protector, huh? “That’s a serious commitment between Decepticons, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Normally it’s only done between conjux or amica.”

Hound wondered which type of relationship they had. Or was it because Soundwave was competent and loyal? “How’s Megatron taking Soundwave’s disappearance then?”

“Badly.” Ricochet frowned. “He’s stopped all their raids and plans until Soundwave can be found, and he’s starting to get violent.”

“To his own mechs?” Hound whispered in horror. Peace between their leaders seemed to become a fainter possibility as the war trudged on, but if Megatron fell to the point where he’s hurt his own men. . . there was no way he’d willingly accept peace.

Ricochet shook his head. “Not yet thankfully. But he’s been breaking things in fits of anger. Their base is a mess right now.”

“Well, do you know where Soundwave is?”

Ricochet pursed his lips. “No, I was hoping you could find him.”

Hound slumped at Ricochet’s request, shame filling him. “Unfortunately, I can’t.”

“Why not? Sure, we might need Skyfire to fly you around, but you could pick up his EM field, right? Jazz wouldn’t lie to me about that.” Ricochet desperately said making Hound feel even worse.

“I could do it for anyone one else in Decepticon high command, but I’ve never been close enough to Soundwave to pick up his EM signature even once. You know he stays on their base—no combat modules like you said.”

Ricochet slumped over. “I thought that was the case, but I was hoping. . .”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Hound asked. “Is it just to use him as a bargaining chip against Megatron, or is something else wrong?”

“Ravage got back to their base today, and Megatron’s got everyone preparing for a raid after talking to him. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but. . .”

Hound stiffened. “You don’t think they’re going to raid the Arc, do you? We don’t have Soundwave.”

“I know, but Megatron clearly thinks he knows where Soundwave is after talking to Ravage, and everyone’s preparing. Even if it wasn’t the Arc we’d have to go out to fight him.”

Hound remembered how Ravage charged at Click in the rec room. Nothing on his mind except Hound’s sparkling. “Do you think they’ll go after Click? Ravage was. . . insistent about reaching him.”

“Maybe, that’s the other reason why I’m here.”

“Hm?”

Ricochet shuffled nervously. “Prowl doesn’t want you and Click to be alone until we’ve dealt with the Decepticons. Not if they’re determined to nab Click.”

Click started shaking in his arms. Purring Hound began rocking back and forth. “Shh, Sweetspark. I’ll keep you safe. So, we’ll be under guard?” He asked, turning to Ricochet.

“Yeah. I got you for the night, and Perceptor has you tomorrow morning. After that will be Jazz and Prowl before Bluestreak takes over for the night.” Ricochet didn’t say what would happen after that, he didn’t need to. If the Decepticons were already preparing for an attack it would happen by tomorrow. The Decepticons were many things, but slow was not one of them.

Checking his chronometer, it was already eight at night local time. Had he already been working for twelve hours? He was so engrossed in his work that he worked late. That was something he needed to keep an optic on in the future. Click shouldn’t be cooped up in his office for extra-long because he forgot to check the time.

“Well, I’m done here for the day, we could head to my room now and turn in for the night. You good walking around where everyone can see?”

“Not really. Red Alert knows I’m back, but I don’t want anyone to catch me when Jazz is confirmed to be at a meeting. It’s different when we’re both out and about, adds to the mystery. Folks wondering how we can travel around base so quickly. Seeing me now will just cause questions if they know Jazz is in a meeting—accusations of me being a Decepticon spy and all that.”

Hound nodded. It wasn’t out of the question. Not after the Optimus clone debacle. He was out scouting that day, but he heard stories about it for weeks—everyone knew about it, even if they weren’t there. “Got it. You want to take the vents back or should I make sure no one meets us.”

Ricochet’s optics gleamed. “I’d like to walk with you if you can make sure no one sees us.”

“Easy.” Hound said, jerking his head at the door. “Follow me.”

Ricochet laughed, “Yes, sir,” but easily fell in line with him.

“So, how does it work?” Ricochet asked as they were walking down the hallway, Hound keeping his senses sharp for any passersby.

“How does what work?”

“Your sensors. From how Jazz explained it you have some pretty high specs.”

“I. . . I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s so much a part of me I’ve never really had to think of how to explain it before. And, well, how do I explain something to you that you don’t experience?” Hound said.

Ricochet hummed thoughtfully. “That’s a good point. How about this, how do you avoid getting overwhelmed by your sensors?”

“I’ve never truly been overwhelmed in the ways I’ve heard you guys describe it. My processor is streamlined to handle this type of data, and if my current sensory information is becoming too much for me to handle I’ll turn down or even shut off unnecessary sensors to free up space for more important data.”

“How precisely can you turn up and down your sensors?” Ricochet asked.

“I can do very granular, fine adjustments as well as large ones. Why?”

“You know most people can’t do that, right.”

What? “No, what do you mean by that?”

“Well, for a lot of mechs most of their senses are binary. Either their on or off, no fine control over how sensitive they are. Even if they can control them, most mechs don’t have fine control of their sensors. I’m glad you do.”

Hound didn’t know what to say to that, so he just settled for a “me too.”

The rest of the walk was in silence, and although Hound had to duck around a few extra corners, they entered his room with no one spotting them. He was becoming a master of stealth this last week with how much he’s avoiding everyone in the halls. He giggled at that thought.

Click looked up at him with a curious whine.

“It’s nothing Sweetspark. I just had a funny thought.”

“Care to share?” Ricochet asked.

“It’s just that, I’m becoming a master of stealth with how much I’m avoiding people in the halls this week.”

Ricochet chuckled. “Has it really been that often?”

“It’s more often than when I haven’t been deliberately avoiding everyone.”

That got Ricochet’s chuckle to transform into a full-on laugh.

“Good one.” Calming down Ricochet looked around the room, eyes settling on the berth full of neatly folded blankets. “This doesn’t look like the den Jazz described.”

Hound chuckled. “That’s because it isn’t a den. I accidentally knocked it over this morning and figured I’d show Jazz how to make one tonight. Guess I’m teaching you instead.”

Ricochet’s eyes lit up. “Teach me your den making ways so I can hold it over Jazz’s head. He spent way too long bragging about you teaching him your tracking skills.”

“Did he also mention how bad he was at finding tracks?”

Ricochet grinned mischievously. “No, please share.”

“Well, we were in a clearing absolutely filled with tracks because I figured it would be an easy place to start. They’re literally right there. I asked him to find some tracks to start us off and he spent several ticks just looking around, surrounded by tracks he didn’t even notice. He finally did spot the largest tracks in the area, but I was worried he wouldn’t find anything. By the end of our lesson, he only found a few tracks on his own, I had to point most of them out to him.” Hound said, mirth clear in his voice.

Ricochet threw his head back and laughed, Click following along with a happy little giggle.

“Oh, that’s great. I’m going to bring that up next time Jazz starts bragging.”

“Send me a picture of his face if you do.” Hound said, grinning as he imagined how Jazz would react to that. Definitely embarrassed.

“I will. Now, how do we make these blankets into a den? I’ll admit I’ve never heard of one before and Jazz didn’t explain it very well other than you feeling safe enough to recharge properly in it.” Ricochet said, picking up a blanket and inspecting it.

Hound set Click down on the berth and started explaining how to make a den to both of them, demonstrating his techniques before looking up, “You want to help?”

“Of course.” Ricochet said accompanied by a little chirp of agreement from Click.

It was quick work building a den with the three of them. Soon enough, Hound was looking at a completed den with a flush of accomplishment.

“Good job team. Now, get in there Rico.” Hound said, giving Ricochet a little push.

Ricochet laughed, “Yes, sir,” before crawling into the den. “Huh, it’s really nice in here.”

“Of course it is.” Hound said crawling in himself. “Why would I like it if it wasn’t nice?”

“I dunno, but hey, different mechs like different things.”

Ricochet had already settled near the wall of the den. It was easy to curl up next to him. Ricochet’s servo curled around his waist and Hound went limp in his hold. It was amazing, the only thing that could make it better was, “Click, Sweetspark, can you join us?”

With a happy chirp Click crawled into the den and curled up at Hound’s side.

Like this, safe in his den, with his pack and sparkling, Hound’s worries about the Decepticons attacking seemed so far away.

“This is nice.” Hound sleepily murmured, pressing himself into Ricochet’s frame. He was so warm and safe. “Good night.”

Hound didn’t even try to fight it as he slipped into recharge.

Chapter Text

Slowly Hound woke up from recharge. Ricochet and Click’s EM fields comfortably surrounded him. Wrapping around him like how Ricochet’s arm wrapped around his side, pulling Hound close to his chest. Subtly stretching Hound nestled into Ricochet’s hold.

“You awake Hound?” Ricochet asked.

“Mmhm.” Hound hummed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

Ricochet’s grip around Hound tightened. “Good. We got another groon together before Perceptor comes by for you.”

Why would—Hound jerked up. The incoming attack, how could he forget.

Click whined at the sudden movement, still half in recharge.

“Shh.” Ricochet soothed, pulling Hound back down. Hound didn’t fight Ricochet, relaxing into his hug. “What’s wrong, Hound?”

“You said the Decepticons would attack today.”

“Probably, but they haven’t yet. You don’t need to worry, we’re already prepared for it. You just focus on keeping yourself and Click safe.” Ricochet calmy said.

“I. . . okay.”

“Now, since we have some time to burn and it’s been a while since we caught up. How’s it going?”

“Wonderful, but a lot.” Hound admitted. “Everything’s been happening so quickly since I took Click in.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Ricochet huffed. “Taking in a sparkling is a big commitment.”

“And I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.” Hound said, looking at Click who was happily curled up by his side. Relaxed now that Hound was laying down again.

He felt Ricochet nodding by his neck. “I’ve heard that’s a common feeling for caretakers. Anything else?”

Ricochet was definitely fishing for information, but Hound trusted Ricochet. Everything came spilling out. How much he loved Click. The fear he felt when Ravage tried to reach Click. How scared he was when he made Prowl cry. He was so absorbed in talking that he lost track of time. It was only when he noticed Perceptor approaching that he realized how long he was talking.

“Perceptor is coming. If you don’t want him to see you, you’re going to have to leave now.” Hound told Ricochet.

Ricochet groaned, pushing himself up. “I’ll take the vents out. Don’t tell anyone I was here.”

With that Ricochet deftly crawled over Hound and Click and out of the den. Hound heard Ricochet unscrewing the vent. Sliding it out he jumped up. Sliding the cover back into place before he started crawling through the vents. He would have to screw it back into place himself later. For now, though, Hound pulled Click closer into a hug. Luxuriating in the warmth Ricochet left behind before he had to get up for Perceptor.

All too soon Perceptor knocked on the door. Forcing himself up with a groan Hound slipped out of the den, slowly moving to avoid waking Click up. Click rolled where Hound was laying with a quiet whine of protest, but he didn’t wake up.

Sliding the door open Hound greeted Perceptor who had his rifle that he hadn’t touched since he left the wreckers. “Thanks for coming. Come on in.”

Perceptor walked in, subtly looking around.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Hound asked.

“Of course.” Perceptor said. “Prowl explained how, because of your sensors, you need someone there to ensure a productive recharge. I am honored that you trust me enough to guard you in such a delicate state. He also explained that we will likely experience a Decepticon invasion with Click as a target, and I’m supposed to keep you safe if that happens.”

“Is that why you brought your rifle?”

Perceptor brightened. “Of course. It would be difficult for me to protect you without my superior shooting skills.”

“But I thought that you didn’t want to shoot anymore after you left the wreckers. Prowl didn’t push you into this, did he?” Hound asked. Perceptor hadn’t even gone near a battle since he returned to being a scientist.

“Just because I don’t like shooting mechs doesn’t mean I’m not willing to do it. If you need help I’m willing to give it.”

“Oh. . . thank you.”

“No need. Now, Prowl didn’t say who your previous guard was. Is he sleeping?” Perceptor frowned at the word ‘sleeping,’ like he was judging them for not being awake to protect Hound from Perceptor’s intrusion.

“Nah. He left through the vent when you got close. Doesn’t want anyone to know he was here.”

Perceptor’s optics gleamed. “I see, spec ops?”

“Yeah. How’d you guess.” said Hound dryly.

“It was easy to figure out. You are friends with most of spec ops and they’re the ones most concerned about their reputations.”

Their reputations. Hound stiffened. “Perceptor, did anyone see you coming here?”

Perceptor looked at Hound in confusion. “No, the halls were oddly empty. Why do you ask?”

“I just realized, if people see someone coming to my room every night, they’ll think I—that I’m. . .” Hound couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“That you’re interfacing with all of us?” Perceptor finished for him.

Hound cringed, but weakly said, “Yeah.”

“Don’t be. If anyone starts something because you need help just tell me. I’ll set them straight.” Perceptor said. Perceptor may have been a wrecker, but he was hardly an intimidating mech, in stature or personality. Hound flatly stared at Perceptor and the mech laughed. “Okay, I’ll have the wreckers set them straight, but the sentiment still stands.”

“Really? I thought you left the wreckers.”

“I did. The missions became too much for me to handle, but that doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. If I need help threatening a mech they’ll gladly oblige.”

Hound had heard lots of rumors about the wreckers, but Perceptor was the only one Hound knew. They became friends near the beginning of the war, long before Perceptor joined the wreckers, and Hound didn’t see him much after he joined them. He had seen a few of the wreckers in passing but never tried talking to them. “Must be nice, being friends with the scariest mechs on the Arc.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not you after all.” Perceptor lightly replied.

That startled a laugh out of Hound. “Come on, spec ops mechs aren’t that scary.”

“Aren’t they? You know what types of missions they do.”

Hound sighed. “I suppose I should re-word my statement. It must be nice, being friends with what is commonly considered the scariest mechs on the Arc by the average mech.”

“It is nice.”

Click started moving around in the berth, and after a klick he let out a drawn-out whine. He had finally woken up. Poking his head into the den Hound saw Click looking around the den in confusion. “Good morning, Sweetspark.”

Click jerked up at the greeting. Reaching up to Hound, Click whined.

“I got you.” Hound said, picking up Click. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Click started happily clicking, pausing when he saw Perceptor to wave.

“You are right Click; this is a wonderful morning.” Perceptor said.

That got Click’s attention as he started chattering at Perceptor. Perceptor was very seriously listening to Click and responding with his own comments much to Click’s delight.

The rest of the morning was uneventful. A few people said hi when they went to the canteen for Click’s fuel, but everyone was preoccupied staring at Perceptor with his rifle to bother Hound and Click. After that they went to Hound’s new office. While he went back to work on his teaching plans Perceptor was sitting down, modeling for Click who was drawing at his new desk that Hound brought over in his subspace.

Time passed with no incoming raid until Jazz and Prowl arrived, leaving Perceptor to go on break before returning to his lab.

“Jeez Prowl, what’d you tell Perceptor to get him carrying his rifle around? I thought he swore off shooting.” Jazz said as soon as the door closed.

“He didn’t swear off shooting. He’s a scientist at spark and couldn’t handle the types of missions the wreckers run. It was all rather mundane when he requested to go back to the labs. I was just happy he was reasonable and asked me to transfer him back instead of holding it in until he exploded like a pressure bomb.” Prowl flatly said.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t seen him touch so much as a toy gun since he left the wreckers, and now he’s casually carrying his custom built, deadly, sniper rifle. What did you say to him?”

“Nothing near as dramatic as what you’re imagining. I only informed him of Hound’s inability to recharge properly, the consequences of such an issue, and the fact that Hound trusted him enough to request his presence to keep him safe while he recharges. He was already cleaning his gun when I asked him to protect Hound when we learned about the likelihood of an attack.” Prowl said.

Jazz laughed. “Nothing dramatic you say. Prowler, you just set off Perceptor’s protective streak, I guarantee it.”

“That would explain why he offered to set the wreckers on anyone who gave me any problems.” Hound chimed in.

“Oh, that would be amazing to see.” Jazz chortled. “You have any names?”

“No, I was worried that people would, er, talk, if they see someone coming to my room every night.”

“If anyone gives you problems because of this tell us. We’ll set them straight.” Prowl firmly said.

“You bet we will.” Jazz added.

“Well, now I’m feeling bad for whatever poor mech gives me trouble.” Hound said. The wreckers would be bad enough, but Prowl and Jazz as well—that poor mech would be traumatized.

“Hey, if they’re causing you trouble they deserve it.” Jazz said.

“Don’t you think the two of you together is overkill?”

“Of course not.” Prowl said. “Like Jazz said, if they’re causing you trouble they deserve it.”

He would be better off ignoring— “Hey, I see that look in your eye. I’m not going to let you just ignore it if someone’s causing problems for you.” Jazz cut in.

Hound sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell you if it ever happens. But can you promise not to be too hard on them?”

“Course, it’ll only be proportional to what they do to you.” Jazz said. That wasn’t really what Hound was asking, but he’ll take it.

The lights turned red and Red Alert’s voice crackled to life over the intercom. “Decepticon attack on the Arc’s main entrance. All combatants to arms, everyone else, shelter in place. I repeat, Decepticon attack on the main entrance. All combatants to arms, everyone else, shelter in place.” The intercoms turned off, and with it the lights turned back to normal.

As Red Alert spoke Hound spread his EM field to outside of the Arc to feel what was happening. Megatron wasn’t playing around with this attack. All three combiner teams were there, and Devastator had already combined. It felt like most of Megatron’s men were here as well—it’s a full-scale attack.

“Why does Megatron want Soundwave back so badly?” Hound asked.

Prowl looked at Hound calculatingly. “How bad is it?”

“Well, no one’s dead yet, but that probably won’t last long. Devastator is already formed, and the other combiner teams are here along with the rest of the army.”

Jazz whistled. “That is serious. Not that I was doubting what Rico told us, but man. . . everyone?”

Hound nodded. “Almost. Probably only left a skeleton crew at their base.”

“I can’t figure out what Megatron gains from this. He only started readying an attack after talking to Ravage, and Ravage couldn’t have found Soundwave here because we don’t have him.” Jazz said. His smirk a contrast to the frustration radiating from his field.

Click chose that moment to whine, catching their attention. He was standing next to Hound’s chair, a marker clutched in his servo.

“Is something wrong Sweetspark?” Hound asked.

Click shook his head. Mimicking a few punches, he looked up at Hound with a whine.

“That’s right. Almost everyone’s going to fight the Decepticons.”

Click silently held his arms up in a demand to be picked up. Hound set Click in his lap, but Click whined, raising his arms up again. Did he want to go even higher?

Lifting Click up so they were at optic level Hound asked, “What’s wrong?”

Click uncapped his red marker and, clicking, he began to draw on Hound’s face. The clicking wasn’t the rapid chatter that Hound had grown used to. It had a rhythm to it that Click was reciting with complete seriousness as he carefully drew a triangle under each of his optics. As if he was imitating something normally said or chanted when gladiators painted their face. Carefully filling in the triangles Click moved to draw wings on his helm. Just like the picture of Click’s previous caretaker.

How often had Click done this for his caretaker before he went into a match?

How often did Click see his caretaker be forced to fight in battles where he might die for other’s cruel amusement?

With the final wing carefully filled in Click seriously looked him over. Deciding that everything was in order he put away his marker and happily whined. Hound took that as his cue to set Click down on his lap, hugging the sparkling close to his chest.

“So, how do I look?” Hound asked.

“Like a gladiator.” Prowl said at the same time Jazz said, “Ready for battle.”

Hound was about to respond when he noticed it.

Jazz must have noticed him stiffen in his seat because he asked, “What’s wrong Hound?”

“Ravage is coming straight towards us through the vents.” Hound said, pulling Click in tighter for a hug as the sparkling stiffened at Ravage’s name.

Jazz quietly swore. “Comms are offline. He’s either after Click or our records, and I can’t let either of those happen. Prowl, what are the chances Megatron’s big attack force at the entrance is a diversion.”

Prowl frowned but quickly answered. “Almost guaranteed.”

Jazz swore again. “Okay, I’m supposed to protect the three of you, and letting Ravage come to us would be bad. I’ll go out and stop him, you three stay safe here. Where’s Ravage now?”

“He’s near the canteen right now but coming closer.”

With a quick, “got it,” Jazz slipped out of the room and ran off in Ravage’s direction.

“I didn’t expect Ravage to break into the Arc so quickly.” Prowl said. “I predicted it to happen near the end of the attack, not the beginning.”

“Why the end?” Hound asked in an attempt to distract both of them from the fact that a massive battle was happening outside while they were bunkering down in an office. With the comms off Prowl can’t even try and help coordinate attack efforts from here.

“Because, with everyone exhausted at the end of the battle it would be easier for Ravage to sneak in and steal Click without being caught.”

“Ravage is aware of my skills, and it’s pretty obvious that I’m Click’s caretaker. He knows that there’s no chance of sneaking up on me and whoever is with me.” Hound countered.

“That is true, but I was referring to the fact that he wouldn’t have to worry about most of the Arc attacking him while escaping with Click.” Prowl said.

“Well, I don’t think he has to worry about that now with everyone combat ready fighting at the entrance. There’s also almost no one to worry about in the Arc.”

“Maybe. . . I feel like I’m missing something.” Prowl admitted.

That was when Hound noticed it.

“Slag!”

Prowl jerked in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I think Ravage was just a distraction to lead our protector away. Megatron is coming straight towards us.”

Chapter Text

Prowl stood up in alarm. “Megatron is coming?”

“Straight towards us.” Hound grimly confirmed.

Prowl swore. “Has anyone noticed?”

Focusing on the battle outside, “No. No one’s seemed to have noticed his disappearance. Everyone’s busy fighting.” Optimus was completely focused on Starscream and his trine, and he was the one most likely to notice Megatron’s disappearance with how often they focused on each other during battle. A battle tactic to neutralize Megatron, he couldn’t cause mass destruction if he was busy fighting Optimus after all.

“And we can’t tell them because our comms are down.” Prowl solemnly said.

They had to do something. Megatron was approaching, and even if he didn’t know where exactly they were, there was no one around that could stop him. The mechs that remained on the Arc weren’t fighters. With Jazz drawn away to deal with Ravage he and Prowl were the only fighters around, and Prowl rarely saw actual combat.

He didn’t either, but he had more experience than Prowl.

“What are you thinking?” Prowl asked.

Hound came to a decision. Standing up he put Click in Prowl’s arms. “I’m going to distract Megatron. You take Click and get out of here.”

“Are you crazy, trying to go against the Slagmaker yourself?! You’ll get yourself killed!”

Click started to cry.

“No, no I’m not going to die. I swear Sweetspark.” Hound cooed at Click before turning back to Prowl. “Use your big tac net and think for a klick Prowl. Megatron is coming for us, and if we don’t do anything he’ll find us. One of us needs to distract him while the other takes Click and runs. Out of the two of us I’m better equipped to distract Megatron and escape without dying.”

Prowl’s optics flashed before he slumped over. “Fine. But as soon as you’re sure we’re safe disengage.”

“I will, I promise. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. Megatron is coming straight from the entrance, so I’ll distract him while you go out the back. As soon as you’re out drive away as far as you can and hide until we drive the Decepticons off and it’s safe again. If anything does happen to me, I want you and Jazz to take care of Click.” Reaching into his subspace Hound pulled out Click’s mineral mix and tiny cube. “Here, in case you can’t return by morning.”

Prowl subspaced the items and said, “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now let’s go, Megatron won’t be able to see you from here.” Creeping out the door Hound said one final “good luck” before running towards Megatron, Prowl running away from him with Click.

He promised Prowl he wouldn’t die, but he doubted that was a promise he could keep. It was one he would try his best to fulfill, but while he wasn’t lying to Prowl earlier, he wasn’t sure how well he could survive the Slagmaker himself. This wasn’t time for doubt though.

He needed to keep Click safe. If that meant dying in a fight against Megatron he would gladly do so. Hopefully Jazz wouldn’t blame himself too much for it. He and Ravage were in the middle of a fight.

As he neared Megatron Hound stopped running and started stalking down the corridors. There was no way he could beat Megatron if he ran straight at him. Megatron’s plasma cannon would blast him to pieces. This would have to be an ambush. Megatron wasn’t expecting it—his field was an odd mix of confidence and nervousness, but he was charging straight down the halls. He probably didn’t expect to meet any resistance on the way to Click with everyone else being drawn to the entrance.

Turning around a corner Hound settled in to wait for Megatron, sliding his energy knife out of his subspace. There was no way his gun could do anything against Megatron’s plating and he was better at close combat anyways. It was risky, getting so close to Megatron when he had ripped mechs in half with his servos before. Hopefully he wouldn’t risk using his cannon in the Arc. And if the energy knife didn’t work. . .

Megatron was close now. His heavy pedes echoing through the halls with every step. Pressing against the wall Hound clutched his knife and stilled. Turning off his optics, his vents, anything that could give him away, Hound waited for his prey to get closer. To move into the perfect range for him to strike.

Megatron walked past the corner he was hiding behind, not even turning to look down the hall. And. . . there—

Lashing out Hound grabbed the divot where Megatron’s chest plating met the back of his neck and pulled. Off balance, Megatron fell to the ground with a shout. Using that chance, Hound crawled onto Megatron, pinning both his arms above his head with one servo to limit maneuverability and resting his blade against Megatron’s neck.

The processor and the spark chamber were the two things a Cybertronian needed to live. Destroy anything else and they might still be alive. That meant most mechs aimed for the head or the chest when they wanted to kill, but that wasn’t the only way.

Not only did the processor and spark chamber need to work, but they also needed to stay connected. Physically. And that connection ran through the much less armored neck.

Most mechs never targeted the neck.

Most mechs used guns, and the neck was a tricky target when compared to the larger head and chest. It was relegated to lucky shots and skilled snipers like Bluestreak and Perceptor.

Hound wasn’t most mechs. Alpha taught him how to hunt. Taught him that the jugular was the quickest and easiest way to kill with teeth and claws.

That is why he pressed his dagger against a seam in Megatron’s neck plating and hissed, “What in the pits do you want with my sparkling?”

Megatron stared up at him in dumb shock for not even a klick before his field lashing out in pure rage. Hound had never felt Megatron so angry, not even when he was fighting Optimus, but he didn’t flinch.

“YOUR SPARKLING? WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO CALL HIM YOURS?” Megatron shouted.

How dare he question Hound’s bond to his sparkling. Hound growled, face contorting into a snarl. This wasn’t the growl he showed Click or the Dinobots when teaching them. That was a demonstration. This was a threat.

He could feel his frame and the air around them vibrating from its intensity. A few mechs stuck in their offices nearby heard it to. Hound could feel their fear, but he didn’t care. All that mattered right now was keeping Click and Prowl safe—they were still in the Arc, running away. He could deal with everything else later.

Digging his knife deeper into Megatron’s throat, just enough to get past his plating and be felt but not enough to truly damage, Hound roared. “CLICK IS MINE. I FOUND HIM. I NAMED HIM. I TOOK CARE OF HIM. NOW WHAT THE FRAG DO YOU WANT WITH HIM.”

Megatron wasn’t intimidated by his posturing. There was only anger and a layer of something else in his field as he stared up at Hound.

He was steeling himself to shove the knife deeper, he would deal with Optimus’ disappointment later, when Megatron bucked his hips, knocking Hound off. As he fell Megatron twisted. Landing on top of Hound. Kneeling on his calves and interlocking their servos together to pin them above his head Megatron trapped Hound under him.

“Click, huh? You may have found Soundwave after whatever accident made him suddenly de-age, but that doesn’t make him your sparkling. I’m the one who found and raised him. He’s my sparkling.” Megatron said.

Was he saying Soundwave was Click? That actually made a lot of sense, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t change who Click was. He would worry about the implications later when he wasn’t about to die.

His knife was knocked across the floor when Megatron flipped him over. It landed far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to reach it. But that wasn’t the only way he could fight Megatron. His claws and teeth were sharper than his knife. They could tear through Megatron if he could reach.

Megatron was looking down at him consideringly. The anger had disappeared, replaced with something calculating, and the feeling that Hound didn’t recognize only grew. Was he planning on how to kill Hound? Was that unknown feeling a new type of murderousness that only came out for Click?

What an honor.

He wouldn’t die here.

Not without a fight.

Megatron opened his mouth to speak, but all that left him was a choked off scream as Hound dug his claws into Megatron’s servos. They instinctively let go of him.

Hound took his chance.

Lunging up he reached Megatron’s shoulder and bit.

Clawing at whatever he could reach.

The hard armor that only the strongest guns could damage easily gave way against his teeth.

His mouth was filled with metal and Energon.

How long has it been since he tasted Energon like this?

That scream was louder.

Megatron reared back, slamming him across the face. The force of the hit knocked the metal and Energon out of his mouth, scattering it across the floor.

“Why the frag would you bite me!”

Hound responded by awkwardly lunging at Megatron again with a snarl. Unfortunately, Megatron realized what was going on and pinned Hound down by the neck before his teeth could reach.

The pressure at Hound’s throat didn’t deter him.

You have to fight.

Make yourself the biggest nuisance.

Not worth the pain of killing.

Fight until your spark gutters out.

That was how you survived.

So Hound scratched and snarled and squirmed under Megatron. His claws raked against everything they could reach. Arms, chest, there was even a good scratch against the cheek. His claws were dripping with Energon and Megatron wasn’t relenting. But he wasn’t increasing pressure, trying to snap the vital cords that connected his processor and spark.

“Will you just calm down?” Megatron huffed.

“Why should I?” Hound shrieked. “If you want to take my sparkling from me then you’ll have to kill me.”

That odd feeling in Megatron’s field only grew the harder Hound fought.

“Look, I think we got off to the wrong start here.” Megatron said calmly like he was the most reasonable mech in the world instead of the one that violently killed the entire Senate and started destroying their world afterwards.

“What else is there to say? You want to take my sparkling from me. I won’t let it happen.” Hound snarled.

“I have no doubt that you care deeply for Soundwave—”

“HIS NAME IS CLICK!” Hound clawed an Megatron with a new vigor, but Megatron only flinched. His claws dug into Megatron’s plating, but while a normal mech’s arms would be shredded and unusable by now Megatron’s armor was thick enough that it was only painful.

He wouldn’t be able to claw his throat out like this, even if he could reach.

It was pathetic. At least Prowl and Click were driving far away now. Click didn’t bother spreading his range out to find them after they left it. They safely escaped the battle. Megatron wouldn’t be able to touch Click now. His sparkling was safe.

He couldn’t keep his promise to disengage.

Oh, did Prowl manage to get a message out? Optimus and Bluestreak were running into the Arc now. Maybe he wouldn’t die if he stalled long enough.

“Whatever you call my sparksong, I know you care for him. How much you are willing to fight me for him makes that clear.” Megatron said. “That is not something I will have rewarded with death.”

“Kill me, don’t kill me, it doesn’t matter. You won’t steal my sparkling.”

Megatron sighed. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. Just listen to me for a tick. I can see you’re taking your role as Click’s caretaker very seriously. I am willing to let you raise him with me if you join the Decepticons.”

“And why should you be Click’s caretaker?” Hound snapped.

“What?”

“You’re the leader of a faction currently at war and well known for its ruthless internal politics. How can I trust that you’ll give Click enough attention, let alone keep him safe from whatever assassination plot Starscream comes up with? Soundwave may have been practically a civilian when he joined the Decepticons, but at least he was an adult. Click isn’t even a vorn old.”

Megatron flinched.

Hound pressed his advantage. “So, tell me, Mighty Megatron why should I trust Click in your care?”

The lack of an answer was damming.

Megatron’s grip around his throat loosened, but Hound didn’t take the opportunity to lunge at Megatron. He was stalling now and looking at Megatron’s reactions he saw a chance. A chance he wouldn’t let slip by.

If he did this right the war could end in peace rather than mutually assured destruction.

“Take your men and leave. Think about what you want for the future because I promise you this: I won’t let you near Click as long as we’re at war.” Hound said in his most authoritative voice.

Megatron’s grip loosened even more. Now his servos were resting lightly against his throat. “Do you think peace is possible?” He tiredly asked.

Now that Hound was no longer trying to rip Megatron to shreds he could acknowledge Megatron looked like a mess. Not even just the massive chunk missing from his shoulder or the deep gouges in his armor, that were bleeding on him. Actually, looking at his face now that it wasn’t consumed by rage, he looked. . . tired. Not quite defeated but barely holding on.

How long had their war dragged on because Megatron didn’t believe it could end?

“Read the Autobot Charter and actually think about if you want to keep going in this endless war. If you want it to end Optimus would be ecstatic to start peace talks. We can talk about Click again then. Now go.”

Megatron stared blankly at Hound. “What?”

“You heard me, go. Optimus is coming over with a sniper. Unless you want to get shot you should leave now.”

“How does he know I’m here? He should be busy with Starscream.”

Megatron looked so baffled Hound decided to give mercy to him.

“I’m guessing whatever comm blocker you’re using doesn’t work outside the Arc, and the mech I sent Click away with commed Optimus when they left the Arc.”

“You sent your sparkling away with another mech. Why?"

“Like I said, you’re not touching Click, even if you kill me here.”

Megatron was openly looking at Hound in awe now and that odd feeling in Megatron’s field intensified. It definitely wasn’t any type of murderous intent. Was it. . . positive feelings? Did he like how much Hound fought to keep Click safe, even at Megatron’s detriment? Was it. . . admiration? Respect? It must be something along those lines.

“You’re amazing."

Hound squirmed at the praise, pushing on Megatron’s chest with his claws sheathed. No use reescalating the situation by scratching his armor even more. Even if it wouldn’t be noticeable against the mess Hound already made. Megatron would be better off trying to get new plating than patching it up at this point.

“Go. We can talk again if there’s ever peace talks.”

Megatron chuckled, standing up. The loss of weight on his calves was a relief. “Very well. I shall see you soon, but first, what is your name?”

What? “Ravage didn’t tell you?”

“He unfortunately didn’t know your name.”

“Well, I’m Hound.”

Megatron nodded. “I think we will have that conversation soon, Hound. But for now, farewell.”

With that Megatron left, and not a klick too soon. Not even a tick later Optimus and Bluestreak ran into sight and focused immediately on him. He was still lying down, feeling too exhausted to even sit up.

“Oh Primus, please don’t be dead Hound. Prowl is going to be so upset if I have to tell him that I failed to save you after he called us in for reinforcements and—”

“Relax Bluestreak. I’m still alive.” Hound cut in, not wanting to hear in detail how his friends would react to learning that he was dead.

“That you are, but where is Megatron?” Optimus asked looking around.

“Left.”

“How hurt are you Hound?” Bluestreak frantically asked, servos hovering over him but refusing to touch in fear he’ll break him. “You’re absolutely covered in Energon—”

“I’m fine Bluestreak, just tired.” He must have looked like a mess. He still had the gladiator paint Click drew on him and he had Energon dripping from his mouth and hands. The rest of him was spattered with Energon dripping on him from where he clawed Megatron.

He needed a shower before he let Click see him again. He didn’t want to give his sparkling even more nightmares.

Optimus was calmer as he looked over Hound. “You're right, you do look fine. Where’d all the Energon come from though?”

“From Megatron. I took a bite out of his shoulder,” he said, pointing at the lump of Energon covered metal lying on the ground, “and scratched him up a lot. He only hit me once, and his strangle hold was more to keep me down than to actually hurt me.”

Bluestreak whined. “Why would Megatron put you in a strangle hold?”

“So I didn’t bite him again.”

“How are you feeling?” Optimus asked, helping Hound up into a sitting position.

“Exhausted but hopeful. Pretty proud of myself actually.”

Optimus’ optics tilted like he was smiling behind his mask. “Holding off Megatron is quite the feat.”

“Oh no, not like that.” Hound cut in with a grin. Carefully watching Optimus’ face he dropped the news, “You might want to keep an eye out for any messages from Megatron in the next few weeks because I think I just convinced him to give peace a serious try.”

Optimus’ optics went wide as he stared at Hound in shock before pulling him in for a hug. He was shaking. “Thank you so much. I-how?”

Hound chuckled, basking in the warm happy glow of Optimus’ strong field. Blustreak was squawking in excitement beside him. “I can tell, just. . . maybe later after some rest? And maybe a check-up from Ratchet wouldn’t be out of place.”

“Of course.” Optimus gently said before turning to Bluestreak. “Help get Hound to Ratchet for a check-up before our injured start coming in, then stay with him until I have someone get him. We’re going to have a meeting about this attack, and I want Hound there, but that won’t be for a few hours at least.”

Bluestreak saluted Optimus with a, “Understood, sir,” before reaching down to help Hound stand up. He was unsteady on his pedes when he stood up, so the extra support for the walk to med bay was appreciated.

Optimus left them to go back to the entrance of the Arc where the Decepticons were already starting to flee.

“Come on Hound, let’s get you to Ratchet. He’ll have you good as new in no time.” Bluestreak said. Hound was happy to just listen to Bluestreak prattle on and on during the walk to the med bay. It was soothing to be talked at, especially after dealing with Megatron.

Hopefully he was being truthful, and they would have peace soon.

Chapter Text

Half leaning on Bluestreak the trip to the med bay was quicker than if Hound tried walking there by himself. Bluestreak’s incessant chattering was relaxing as they walked. It was nice to listen to someone talk without the expectation of a response. It was part of why he hung out with Bluestreak so often at the beginning of the war—there was no pressure that Hound had to speak. That Hound had to be good at speaking. Bluestreak was happy to fill the silence himself.

Currently Bluestreak was describing what happened in the battle. How Optimus was “absolutely amazing” while fending off the entire elite trine himself with just his energy axe and a gun and giving a play-by-play of the entire battle that Hound was only half listening to. It helped keep his processor off the pain in his cheek and neck.

“Hey, Blue.” Hound said, his vocalizer was noticeably fuzzy when he spoke. How did he not notice that earlier? Hopefully he just needed rest to fix it, Ratchet was going to be busy soon enough—would he have to reschedule Click’s vocalizer replacement tomorrow?

Bluestreak perked up. “Yeah, Hound?”

“What do you want to do when the war’s over?” He asked. The war had been going on so long that it was hard to imagine what life would be like afterwards. Especially since he knew that Optimus wanted to change Cybertron—he made it clear that he wanted to get rid of the senators and nobility already. And with so much of the planet already destroyed the cities might need to be completely rebuilt.

Tilting his head, Bluestreak looked at Hound with unrestrained curiosity. “Is this about what you said earlier? That Megatron might end the war soon.”

“Yeah. I just. . . we’ve been at war for so long it’s hard to imagine what life will be like when it’s over. We’ve never talked about it before, so—” Hound’s vocalizer cut out in the middle of speaking. That wasn’t a good sign.

Bluestreak’s grip around him tightened as he sped up, but he didn’t bring up his vocalizer’s failure. Instead, he turned to answering the question.

“I’ve never thought about it before.” Bluestreak admitted. “I was pretty new when Praxis was destroyed, and Prowl found me. Being part of this war is all I’ve ever known, and I’m good at being a sniper. I don’t know what else I’d be good at, but snipers aren’t really needed during peace. I might just stay with whatever military we have left, even if that means I’ll have to work mainly with Decepticons.”

He looked so sad and uncertain as he spoke. Hound wanted to say something to reassure Bluestreak, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a blat of static.

“You really need to get checked out by Ratchet.” Bluestreak said, looking at him with a frown. “Did Megatron hurt you more than you said? I wouldn’t give up our one chance for peace if he did, I promise, but you have to tell me. You really don’t look good.”

Hound vented as he shook his head.

“Okay.” Bluestreak said, looking away. He didn’t look very convinced, but thankfully he didn’t bring up the question again. Unfortunately, he stopped talking. When Bluestreak stopped talking it was a sign that something was wrong.

Well, he might not be able to use his vocalizer right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t communicate. Click was clear proof of that. Setting a servo on Bluestreak’s shoulder Hound whined.

“Wh-what’s wrong Hound?” Bluestreak startled to attention.

Hound pointed at Bluestreak with a whine.

“Are you concerned about me?”

Nod.

“Ah, you don’t need to be. I’m fine.” Bluestreak flashed a strained smile at him. “I’m not the one who got hurt.”

Liar. Just because he wasn’t hurt didn’t mean that everything was fine. Hound poked Bluestreak’s cheek with another whine.

“Now what was that for?” Bluestreak humorously asked.

Hound glared at Bluestreak. He would have crossed his arms if he wasn’t already heavily leaning on Bluestreak.

“I really am fine.” Bluestreak’s smile broke. “You don’t need to worry.”

That wasn’t reassuring, but he wasn’t really able to talk to Bluestreak about it right now. Gestures and whines weren’t very good at getting specific ideas across. Maybe he’ll just wait for later and get Prowl’s help. He’d be better at addressing Bluestreak’s concerns about what his future will be like after the war. It was that question that caused the sudden drop in Bluestreak’s mood after all.

Thankfully the silence was short lived as they were at the med bay soon enough. The door was already open, and he could see Ratchet fiddling with his wrench. He felt nervous.

“Hey Ratchet, Hound here needs a look over.” Bluestreak said as he led Hound into the room.

Ratchet immediately burst into action—helping Bluestreak guide him to a table while demanding to know what happened. “I thought you were supposed to stay out of the fighting now that you have a sparkling. So, why is it that now of all times you come into my med bay looking like slag.”

Bluestreak started to say something, but Ratchet cut him off before he could even get a full word out. “Don’t answer for him. I’m asking Hound to explain why his failing logic circuits decided that getting into a fight was the right choice.” For all the frustration in Ratchet’s voice all Hound could feel was the worry bleeding from his field and how gentle he kept his touches as he started looking over him without waiting for an answer.

Bluestreak winced. “That’s the problem, he can’t answer. His vocalizer stopped working on the walk over here.”

Ratchet’s focus immediately turned to his neck. At his request Hound slid open his neck plating so Ratchet could look at it. Poking at his vocalizer Ratchet gruffly asked Bluestreak, “Well then, can you explain what idiocy got Hound this injured?”

“He uh, he fought Megatron. One on one.”

“HE WHAT?” Ratchet shouted turning to face Bluestreak. “Why? There’s a reason why only Optimus faces him in battle.”

Shrinking under Ratchet’s anger Bluestreak weakly said, “Hound didn’t really say why. I didn’t really think to ask. I was more concerned about the fact that he’s covered in Energon, and then the fact that he apparently bit Megatron.”

Ratchet heavily vented and slowly turned back to Hound. Giving him The Look he drily asked, “Why in Primus’ name would you think biting Megatron was a good idea.”

Faced with The Look Hound couldn’t help but wince. He was one of the few mechs that Ratchet hadn’t yelled at because he was responsible about not taking unnecessary risks and kept up with his regular maintenance checkups. The complete disappointment on his face was even worse than Ratchet’s yelling. This was something only Optimus ever received before.

Even worse he still couldn’t talk and explain why what he did was reasonable considering the circumstances. Ratchet wouldn’t consider it reasonable, and it really wasn’t. Instead, he mimed a stabbing motion before crossing his arms in an X.

“Wait, are you saying you lost your knife?” Bluestreak asked.

Hound nodded.

Ratchet huffed. “Well, why didn’t you just shoot him? If you were close enough to bite Megatron you absolutely could have shot him, no matter how bad your aim is.”

Hound pulled his gun out of subspace. Its safeties were on, but he kept his finger off the trigger and aimed it down at the floor as he held it out to Ratchet.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“I think he’s saying there’s no way his gun would have hurt Megatron.” Bluestreak cut in. “I mean, I’ve got a few headshots on Megatron during the war that haven’t killed him, and my rifles much more powerful than his gun. I don’t think being in close range would help it that much.”

“Well, I don’t see how biting someone would do much better. I know your teeth are sharp, but I doubt they could break through Megatron’s plating if you gun can’t do anything.” Ratchet said.

Bluestreak awkwardly coughed.

Sighing, Ratchet asked, “What now?”

“We might, uh, have the chunk of Megatron’s shoulder that Hound bit off laying on the ground.” Bluestreak admitted.

“Open your mouth now.” Ratchet demanded turning back to Hound. “How damaged are your teeth?”

Obediently opening his mouth Hound sat still as Ratchet turned on a light and began looking around his mouth, poking teeth and mumbling something incomprehensible to himself. Satisfied he turned the light off and pulled away. “I’m surprised. There are only a few surface level scratches that your nanites will take care of on their own. You bit him on the shoulder?”

Hound nodded.

“That’s one of the most heavily armored parts of the frame, and Megatron’s armor is durable. You, you could have bitten through that mouth wedge and my entire arm.” Ratchet said, his voice heavy with realization.

“Wait, what?” Bluestreak asked, but Ratchet completely ignored him.

“Did you know you could do that then I was. . .”

Hound grimaced at the reminder of the disaster that was letting Ratchet into his processor. He didn’t want to remember how easy it would have been to bite Ratchet’s hand off. Fine motor control was essential for doctors, and if Hound bit it off he wasn’t sure there was anyone else who could reattach Ratchet's hand to his standards.

He could have taken their best medic out of commission.

A light touch on his shoulder made Hound flinch away, barely holding in a growl. You didn’t growl at friends, not when they were concerned for you. And oh, were Ratchet and Bluestreak concerned.

“Listen, kid, I’m not mad at you.” Ratchet softly said, all signs of his previous anger and frustration and disappointment gone from his voice. “I’m worried, I mean most mechs don’t survive fighting Megatron. You’re actually in really good condition for coming out of a fight with him. Only some facial damage and crushing in your neck which is why your vocalizer isn’t working. I’ll give you a nanite boost and your self repair should have it all fixed up soon enough. The weakness you're experiencing right now is because you expended so much energy in the fight. It’ll go away after you rest and refuel. Fuel up now, get cleaned up, and rest. Doctor’s orders.”

As Ratchet talked, he pulled out a cylindrical container which contained a clear liquid filled with millions of tiny particles suspended in it. He couldn’t make out what, exactly, they were though. His vision wasn’t nearly as good at zooming in as Perceptor, he was geared more towards spotting camouflage.

“This is a booster colony of nanites suspended in oil. Completely safe to ingest.” Ratchet explained, holding out the container to him.

Hesitating only a moment Hound grabbed the nanite booster. Opening the lid it smelled just like Ratchet described—oil and metal. Throwing back the container he chugged the mixture down quickly. It tasted fine but the texture was. . . uncomfortable. The oil was densely packed with nanites which made it feel like gritty sludge that was somehow fast and slow at the same time as it slid down his intake tube.

Taking the container back Ratchet handed him a cube of Energon that he immediately started downing, washing down the nanites that stuck to the insides of his mouth. “Good, now finish fueling up, take a shower and rest. I don’t want you trying to go back to work for a few days.” Ratchet said before turning to Bluestreak. “Can you keep an eye on Hound for me?”

Bluestreak puffed up at the implicit praise in the fact that Ratchet was trusting him to keep an optic on Hound. “Of course I will. Prime already asked me to do that. Is that all?”

Ratchet grabbed the cube from Hound’s servo as soon as he finished its contents. “It is. Remember what I said. It’ll be a few days for everything to become operational again, and make sure you rest. Now, go. I have no doubt that more than enough mechs will come to me for help and you don’t need to stay here for observation. Just contact me if you have any problems.”

Hound nodded. He could already feel the nanites getting to work, his neck felt less squished already and the stinging edge of pain in his cheek was already dulling. Grabbing Bluestreak’s shoulder he tried to pull himself up, but Bluestreak wrapped a servo around his waist and pulled him up instead.

“Let’s get you to the wash racks Hound. I should take a spin in them too. You got Energon all over me, and I can already feel it drying up. It’s itchy, I don’t understand how you aren’t bothered by it.” Bluestreak was thankfully back to his usual chatty self as he helped lead Hound out of the med bay. He wasn’t paying attention to the Energon coating him before, but now that Bluestreak pointed it out it was itchy. Now that his attention was drawn to it, he couldn’t ignore the itch settling deep into his grooves where the Energon pooled.

He might need Bluestreak’s help to clean out the more difficult to reach places, and he’d help Bluestreak out as well—as long as he didn’t fall on his aft in the wash racks that was. They helped clean each other after their rare missions together.

Yeah, a shower sounded good. And then he was dragging Bluestreak into his den and recharging until Optimus needed him. Prowl could watch Click while he was recharging. He did a good job of it last time.

Chapter Text

“Hound, wake up. It’s time for your meeting with Optimus.” Bluestreak said, shaking Hound out of recharge.

He tried to say, “I’m getting up,” but all that came from his vocalizer was a burst of static. That wasn’t fixed yet.

“Are you sure he shouldn’t be resting more? That doesn’t sound good.” Prowl asked in concern. “I can tell Optimus he needed to rest. He’d accept it.”

Prowl. Prowl was here. That meant—Click!

Startling into full awareness Hound finally noticed Click curled into his side. Carefully picking up his sparkling and checked him over for injuries. He trusted Prowl, but things could happen. Click looked good, but he must have been tired as he didn’t move at all when Hound checked him over.

Assured of Click’s safety Hound brought his attention back to his surroundings. Bluestreak was next to him. In the same spot Hound pushed him into earlier. Prowl was also there, poking his head into the den.

Carefully setting Click in Bluestreak’s arms, he crawled out of the den, Prowl moving out of the way for him.

“Are you okay?” Prowl carefully asked as he was stood up.

Checking his frame, he felt fine. His cheek and neck were still sore, and his vocalizer wasn’t working, but other than that he felt fine. He nodded at Prowl.

“According to Ratchet’s orders he’s not supposed to work for a few days, but I doubt he’ll rest well knowing he’s missing out on the meeting.” Bluestreak said from inside the den. He wasn’t making any moves to leave and instead must have settled in with Click. “Just don’t let him overwork himself.”

“I won’t.” Prowl said before turning back to Hound. “Are you sure you can go? If you can’t even speak it might be better to wait for your vocalizer to become functional again.”

How much did he have to reassure Prowl that he was fine? Did he have to write it on the walls? Wait, writing. He didn’t think about it for Click since he couldn’t read yet (he needed to start teaching him soon. Did Megatron teach him how to read?), but he didn’t have to rely on charades. He could write what he wanted to say.

Pulling his personal datapad out of storage he pulled up the writing program and quickly typed [I can still contribute] and showed it to Prowl.

Prowl softly vented, saying “Very well. Let’s get going,” before walking out. Hound fell in line behind them as Prowl led him through the Arc to the same meeting room they used in the wake of Ravage’s attack. The same mechs were there as well, including Ratchet who—despite not looking it—felt exhausted.

Noticing him Ratchet puffed up in his usual protective fury and rounded on Prowl. “What are you doing bringing Hound here? He’s supposed to be on bedrest, not participating in a meeting. His vocalizer shouldn’t even be working yet.”

Prowl glanced at Ratchet as he let Hound to a spot between him and Jazz. Jazz had a few new scratches to his paintjob, but the scratches only lightly dug into his plating. As Hound sat down Jazz leaned over and asked, “How’re you feeling?”

Hound gave him a thumbs up.

“Your vocalizer’s really not working? What about pain?” Jazz asked.

Hound shook his servo in a so-so gesture before pointing at his cheek and neck.

“You’d be feeling a lot better if you were resting.” Ratchet huffed.

Pulling out his datapad he quickly typed out, [I was recharging before this. I’ll go back to that after the meeting, but I need to share what happened with Megatron.] and showed it to Ratchet.

“Peace, Ratchet. I asked Hound to come. He said some interesting things about his encounter with Megatron that I wanted to ask about.” Optimus said, exhaustion echoing through his voice.

“Fine, but can you keep Hound’s involvement short? He needs rest.” Ratchet stressed.

Optimus nodded. “We can do that. Why don’t we go over Hound’s encounter with Megatron first and let Hound leave and rest after that.”

Everyone agreed with Optimus’ suggestion.

“How about Jazz and I share what we were there for since Hound’s vocalizer isn’t working.” Prowl suggested. “Then he only has to write about the fight.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jazz cheerfully said. “Prowl and I were with Hound, going over his ideas for teaching the scouts that I know Prowl told you about before, when the alarms went off. We were sheltering in place for a while before Hound noticed Ravage skulking through the ship straight towards us. Comms were blocked at that point, so I went to take care of him.”

Prowl nodded. “After Jazz left, we stayed there for a while before Hound noticed Megatron coming straight towards us. He, unfortunately, made the argument that if Megatron was after Click we would be better off if I took Click and fled the Arc while he bought us time as he had higher chances of escaping Megatron and not dying. I couldn’t find any better alternatives, so I went along with that plan.” Prowl inclined his head towards Hound, “What happened?”

[Before I talk about the fight, you should know something Megatron told me. Click is his sparkling, Soundwave, de-aged.]

Prowl’s optics violently flickered as he read Hound’s message. “That should be impossible.”

“Who are we to say a mech de-aging is impossible? We know time and dimensional travel are possible, is this truly so unbelievable?” Optimus asked.

“It’s not the fact that Soundwave is de-aged that I’m disputing, but the fact that he’s Megatron’s sparkling.”

“What’re you talking about?” Ironhide asked.

“A lot of Megatron’s interactions with Soundwave suddenly make sense if they’re caretaker and sparkling.” Jazz added. “What makes you think it’s impossible?”

“Because the timeline doesn’t line up.” Prowl hissed. “Click isn’t even a vorn old and when he drew Megatron, he drew him in his gladiator paint.”

“And the problem with that is?” Ironhide leadingly asked, sounding completely fed up with Prowl already.

“The problem with that is that Megatron was only a gladiator for around fifty vorns before leaving the pits by starting the war which has been going on for 500 vorns.” Prowl gravely said.

Ratchet swore under his breath. Hound would admit he didn’t know much about Megatron’s life, so he didn’t think much about it when Megatron was shouting how Click was his. Now that Prowl was spelling it out, he felt sick. He remembered Prowl telling him that sparklings took 1,000 vorns to reach maturity.

There was no way Soundwave was an adult, even before the de-aging.

“That doesn’t make sense. I’ve only seen him a few times, but there’s no doubt Soundwave has a fully adult frame.” Jazz said.

Optimus slowly vented. “I do not want to jump to the conclusion that Megatron would harm his own sparkling by forcing him into a full frame too early.” He shook his head. “We can debate this later. Hound, what happened during your fight? I just. . . what you told me seems unbelievable.”

Hound collected his thoughts for a tick before he began to write. It took a little bit to write everything down before deciding that it would be a pain to hold it out for everyone to read and sent it to their data pads.

Reading through it Jazz whistled. “When I heard that you bit Megatron I thought that was just exaggeration. I didn’t expect you to have actually done it.”

 “No wonder Megatron looked like a mess when he called the retreat.” Ironhide said. “Just how tough are your claws?”

[Very.] Hound showed Ironhide causing him to throw his head back and laugh.

“Say, you did a good job against Megatron. What do you think about—”

“Hound is mine now. You can’t take him.” Prowl snippily cut in.

“Yeah, and even if he leaves desk work, he’s going to join spec ops.” Jazz added. “He’s better suited for our line of work then fighting on the front line.”

Optimus wasn’t paying attention to any of that. His optics were magnetized to his datapad. He couldn’t really say anything to draw Optimus’ attention, so he poked Jazz’s arm, catching his attention. When Jazz turned to him, a question at the edge of his lips, Hound pointed at Optimus.

“What do you think about the good news Optimus?” Jazz asked.

Optimus’ attention jerked towards them at Jazz’s question. “It’s. . . good.” He weakly said.

That didn’t fool anyone.

“Spit it out you big oaf. What’s wrong?” Ratchet said.

“It’s just. . . I’ve spent so long suing for peace with Megatron and failing, and yet in only one conversation Hound has Megatron agreeing to consider peace. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been holding us back.”

“Nah, don’t go thinking like that.” Jazz said. “While Hound’s pretty face might have helped, I think the biggest reason Megatron agreed is that Soundwave is here, and he cares about his sparkling.”

“Jazz’s is right. Don’t go beating yourself up over this. Focus on making sure this succeeds.” Ratchet said.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Optimus said before turning to Hound. “Do you think Megatron was serious when he said he’d consider peace?”

Hound nodded. Megatron was tired of the war as well. He didn’t say it, but it was obvious. And the respect Megatron felt towards him wasn’t the scheming he’s expect before a betrayal. This might be their best chance for an actual lasting peace, not just a temporary truce or pause in the fighting.

“Then we will treat Megatron’s future overture as a genuine offer for peace.” Optimus firmly said.

“Great. Now, is that everything you needed Hound for? He needs to rest.” Ratchet stressed.

“That’s everything I needed. If more questions come up, we can ask them later. Take this time to rest, Hound, and don’t even think about going back to work until Ratchet gives you the all clear.” Optimus said.

Speaking of Ratchet. [Do we need to push back Click’s appointment because of the attack?]

Ratchet waved his servo. “Nah, it’s fine. The attack didn’t stop the fabricator, and I’ve already finished the after-battle repairs that require me. First Aid and the others can handle everything else. Besides, this will allow me to check on how you’re healing.”

[I’ll see you then.]

Standing up Hound started to leave when Jazz stood up. “I’ll go with you. Make sure you get back to your room safely. You guys can fill me in on what I miss later.”

[Just because I can’t speak doesn’t mean I’m incapable.] He didn’t think that was what Jazz meant, but none of his injuries stopped him from walking somewhere. The weakness in his frame earlier was gone after his recharge, so there was no reason he needed a guide.

“I know you’re capable. Just consider this me worrying that you’ll somehow get into another fight on the way back to your room. I mean, first you wrestle Ravage into submission, then you get into a knife fight with Megatron. Next thing I know you could be getting into a fist fight with the Dinobots.”

Well, if that was why Jazz wanted to come with him, why not. Nodding Hound left the meeting room. Jazz easily fell in next to him.

“Now that we’re away from everyone else, how are you feeling?” Jazz casually asked.

Hound shrugged.

“Come on don’t give me that. You just fought Megatron. There’s no way you’re feeling ‘fine.’”

[I haven’t really processed what happened yet. I went straight from the fight to Ratchet, then a shower and recharge.]

Jazz nodded. “I can see that. Then how about this, did Megatron do anything you were uncomfortable with that you didn’t share with us?”

Hound vented. [Why are you like Bluestreak?]

“Huh?”

[Bluestreak asked if Megatron hurt me in a way I didn’t mention. He didn’t.]

Jazz relaxed. “Good, that’s good. If that ever changes, tell me right away. You don’t have to put up with Megatron for the sake of peace, none of us would force you to do that.”

He didn’t think they would. Hound nodded.

Jazz relaxed, Hound didn’t realize how tense he was before this.

[Why were you so worried?]

Lightly humming, Jazz answered, “Megatron isn’t the nicest of mechs. You can’t lead the Decepticons by being nice. I don’t want you to accept getting hurt by him just for peace between our factions. We can find other ways for peace, and I wouldn’t trust him near Click either if he hurts you.”

That made sense. [Of course we hurt each other; we were fighting. He wasn’t even trying that hard to hurt me, it could have gone a lot worse. Let’s give this a chance.]

“I will, it’s just—” Jazz cut himself off with a heavy vent. He normally wasn’t this emotive with anything except his signature smirk. Taking a few klicks to compose himself he softly said, “I’m worried for you.”

[I appreciate it, but nothing like that happened yet.]

“And if it does, you’ll tell me right away.” Jazz firmly said.

[I will.]

“Then I won’t bother you about this anymore, and I’ll make sure Prowl and Perceptor don’t ask you either.”

[Is everyone going to ask me about this?]

Jazz shrugged. “I know Perceptor was really worried when he heard that you fought Megatron, and I was already asking for Prowl. Everyone else is going to focus on the fight itself. Prepare to be swarmed by questions.”

Hound groaned. [Even more than when I found Click?]

“Yep.” Jazz said, popping the p. “Oh, we’ve made it.”

Jazz was right. They already made it to his room. No need to hold Jazz up here when he had a meeting to get to. Waving goodbye to Jazz he entered his room.

“I’ll see you later. Have a safe recharge.” Jazz said behind the door before leaving.

Bluestreak must have noticed the door opening and closing because he started talking. “You’re back already? I thought officer meetings normally last at least a groon. You weren’t gone that long. Did something happen? Are your injuries acting up?”

As Bluestreak was talking Hound crawled into the den. Bluestreak was still where he left him, Click curled up by his side.

[We already finished what they wanted me for. I’m back to rest—Ratchet’s orders.]

“Great. How do you want to settle in now? Should I move?”

Hound shook his head. Carefully picking up Click he took his sparkling’s place curled up against Bluestreak’s side and set Click down at his side. Click whined a little, wriggling before he found a new position curled up by Hound’s side and relaxed.

“So, what exactly do you want me to do here? You didn’t really explain before since you went into recharge immediately after pushing me into place, not that I’m complaining. It’s just, am I supposed to keep my arms at my side, or should I wrap them around you, or—”

Hound nodded.

Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Hound’s middle in a hug, keeping his touch light as if afraid that tightening his grip would dent his plating.

“Is this okay?” Bluestreak hesitantly asked.

Hound raised his hand up so Bluestreak could see it and mimed clenching his hand.

“You want it tighter?”

Nod.

Bluestreak obediently tightened his grip, pressure increasing until it reached the perfect strength, and Hound went limp in Bluestreak’s arms. His engines instinctively started to rumble at a low purr.

“What’s that noise?” Bluestreak softly asked.

Hound didn’t even bother trying to answer. He was busy slipping into recharge.

Chapter Text

Carrying a squirming Click into the med bay Hound couldn’t keep a grin off of his face. Click was finally getting a new, working, vocalizer. His excitement, however, was nowhere close to Click’s excitement. Ever since Bluestreak mentioned that Click was getting his new vocalizer today the sparkling hadn’t been able to sit still for a klick. That had nothing on the happiness radiating from his field. Even if he wasn’t excited, Click’s happiness would have infected him.

“Well, this little guy looks excited.” Ratchet commented. “Put him on the berth, and we’ll go over what will happen for the instillation. We can get started after that; it shouldn’t take too long.”

Hound set Click down on the berth sitting down next to him. Click leaned into his side, pedes incessantly kicking against the berth. Looking up at Ratchet he started rapidly clicking, asking Ratchet about his vocalizer.

Ratchet chuckled lightly at Click’s excitement. “Calm down brightspark. I need you to actually pay attention to what I’m saying, not just pretending that you are.”

Click loudly whined in offence, pouting up at Ratchet as if trying to convey that he was paying attention. In Hound’s optics all it did was make Click look cuter.

The look didn’t have its intended effect on Ratchet either as all it did was make him chuckle harder.

Click turned to Hound, his optics begging him to help. Holding back his own clicking laughs he pulled out his data pad and quickly typed out, [Stop teasing Click.]

“Fine, you’re no fun.” Ratchet groaned, but Hound could tell he didn’t mean it. It was a trick Hound had seen Ratchet pull a few times when a patient was wound up one way or another. Teasing them so they would forget whatever was plaguing their processor, helping calm them down. It worked like a charm here, Click leaning back into his side, all the energy running through his frame a tick ago was gone.

“Vocalizer replacements aren’t that tricky to perform, the hardest part is getting a vocalizer that will work. Our fabricator finished making your new vocalizer this morning so all that’s left is its installation. I’m going to have you lay flat on your back and open up your neck plating again. Then, since you’re a sparkling and I can’t interface with your systems to turn off your pain receptors, I’m going to apply a local anesthetic to the area. Your neck will feel weird as your pain receptors will be completely turned off and your normal touch receptors will be numb. These effects will only last a groon.

“When I apply the anesthetic, I need to wait a few ticks for it to take effect before I start working on your vocalizer. Once your throat is properly numbed, I’m going to disconnect your current vocalizer and pull it out. Then, I’ll attach your new vocalizer. Don’t try and use it at this point. We’ll wait for the numbness to go away before trying to speak. I’ll walk you through a few vocal exercises to make sure it is in working order before letting you and Hound go. Any questions?” Ratchet calmly walked Click (and it was Click he was focusing on, not Hound) through his surgery to Click’s rapt attention.

Click’s face twisted in thought for a tick at Ratchet’s question before he slowly shook his head. He trusted Ratchet to not do anything that would hurt Click, but it was good Click was taking time to think about this instead of rushing into it.

“Good, let’s get started then. Hound, go stand against the wall or something, I need you out of the way. Click, lie down and open up your throat plating.” Ratchet ordered.

Giving Click a reassuring shoulder squeeze Hound left to lean against the wall as Ratchet suggested, choosing a spot that gave him a good view of Click and Ratchet. Hound did trust Ratchet, but he felt better when he could see what was going on. As unconcerned as Ratchet sounded, this was still a surgery in a delicate location.

Click lied down, his neck plating easily sliding away giving Ratchet easy access to his vocalizer.

Ratchet pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. “This,” Ratchet said, holding the syringe out for Click to see, “is the anesthetic. I’m going to inject it near your vocalizer, and in a few ticks that entire area should be numb. Can you stay relaxed for me?”

Nervously eyeing the syringe Click took a few deep vents before shakily nodding.

“That’s right, just keep venting nice and deep for me. You’re going to feel a little pinch, but it won’t hurt. Just stay relaxed.” Ratchet calmly said before poking part of Click’s internals. Click instantly tensed. Venting deeply, he forced his frame to relax.

“Yes, just like that. You’re being so good for me brightspark. I’m almost done, and there.” As the last of the liquid left the syringe Ratchet pulled it out and Click went limp. “You did such a good job brightspark. Take the next few ticks to rest, and don’t worry when you can’t feel your throat. That just means the anesthetic is doing its job.” Ratchet reassured Click.

Ratchet waited for Click’s returning nod before walking to him. “How are you feeling Hound?”

Giving Ratchet a thumbs up he smiled.

Ratchet raised his brow. Hound didn’t even need to read his field to see how skeptical he was.

[I do feel fine. All the weakness and pain is gone. My vocalizer is refusing to work, but it doesn’t hurt.]

Ratchet sighed as he read the message. “Okay, open up and let me look at it. I’ll see if I missed anything when you were here yesterday.”

Hound complied with the request, his neck plating easily sliding away. Ratchet was instantly in there, looking at it with a light, poking at it. Eventually he pulled away with a scowl, but he didn’t feel worried, not that he ever worried when something was wrong.

“Everything appears to be in working order. Try and say something.”

Hound tried to say “okay” but all that came out was static.

“The problem isn’t physical, I think it’s coding related. I’ll give you a day or two to naturally sort yourself out. If it doesn’t fix itself by then come back to me and I’ll have a look.”

Hound winced. [Is it going to be like last time?]

“No.” Ratchet firmly said. “What happened last time was a mistake on my end and I’m never letting that happen again. I’m sorry it happened in the first place.”

[You don’t have to apologize. I know it was an accident.]

“Accident or not the distress I caused you was real, and I apologize for that. Either accept it or I’ll keep apologizing forever.” Ratchet said, like apologizing to Hound was a threat.

A smile tugged at his lips as he wrote [Then I accept your apology.]

Ratchet sharply nodded. “Good. Now I need to get back to Click. Don’t get into any trouble.”

What did Ratchet expect him to do? Start a fire next to where all his chemicals were stored? Despite his rash actions yesterday, he was one of the more levelheaded Autobots. Just look at Cliffjumper.

“How are you feeling brightspark?” Ratchet asked Click.

Click scowled, pointing at his neck.

“It feels weird?”

Nod.

“Let me know if you can feel this.” Ratchet said as he started poking a few places in Click’s neck. Click didn’t react. “Did you feel anything?”

Shake.

“Good. That means the anesthetic did its job and you’re ready. Now, I’m going to disconnect your vocalizer, you shouldn’t feel anything, but if it hurts let me know.”

Nod.

Ratchet leaned over and started working on the vocalizer. Hound didn’t have a good view of the inside of Click’s neck, but he could see Ratchet disconnecting some wires and cables. Eventually he finished and pulled out the broken vocalizer.

“I finished disconnecting your old vocalizer from everything. I’m going to connect your new vocalizer to your systems now. You’re doing great, we’re almost done.” Ratchet soothingly said. Click was lying stock still as Ratchet worked, but there were no flinches of pain or discomfort. He relaxed slightly at Ratchet’s comment before returning to his previous tenseness as Ratchet reached back into his throat.

Connecting the new vocalizer only took a little longer than detaching the old vocalizer. When the last connection was in place he pulled away, giving Click a big smile. “That’s everything I need to do in there brightspark. You can cover your neck again and sit up. Now we just need to wait for the numbness to wear off to give your new vocalizer a try.”

Click’s neck plating slid shut, but he hesitantly pressed his fingers against it, brow furrowed in confusion. The numbness must extend to most of the neck.

Walking over to Click he held out his servo. Click gripped it, using it to pull himself into a sitting position, but when he was upright Hound pulled him into a hug, purring. Click did wonderfully for his first surgery, and in such a delicate place too. He knew Ratchet had to put mechs into a forced recharge during surgeries before because they couldn’t handle it. Click didn’t freak out once. He might have been scared and nervous at some parts, but he listened to Ratchet’s instructions and stayed calm the entire time.

His sparkling was amazing.

Click easily melted into his embrace, purring himself. It sounded odd, but that was probably because he couldn’t feel his throat. A big part of purring was projection, which included the throat. That didn’t matter. He could do all the purring for the both of them.

Picking up Click he sat on the berth; situating Click into his lap.

“Hey Hound, I have a question.” Hound looked up at Ratchet, tilting his head. “What’s with that odd noise you and Click make all the time?”

The odd noise? Did he mean purring?

Ratchet must have noticed his confusion because he added, “The noise you’re making right now.”

[It’s purring.] Hound quickly typed out with one servo.

“Purring, huh. Why do you keep doing it for Click? I can’t say I’ve ever heard it before, and I’ve treated a lot of caretakers and sparklings, so I know it’s not related to that.” Ratchet said.

That made sense, the only other Cybertronians he heard making noises like this were mechanimals like Ravage, and most of them didn’t do it, not wanting to be associated with wild mechanimals.

[Purring is a frame noise; it can be used to sooth/comfort or show happiness.]

“Yeah, I picked up on that. I’m wondering more how and why you’re doing it.”

[Purring is a low, easy rumble of the engines. I panicked and started purring to comfort Click after that scare from Ravage, and it quickly calmed Click down so I’ve been purring a lot.]

“Huh. Well, I’ll leave you be. Let me know when your throat doesn’t feel numb anymore, okay brightspark?”

Click grinned up at Ratchet and nodded.

“Good. And don’t forget to let me know if anything hurts, even after you leave the med bay. Keeping you healthy is my job, and preventative care is much easier than reactive care.”

Click’s grin grew as he gave Ratchet a little churr.

Ratchet nodded. “I’ll be at my desk doing paperwork if you need me.” Ratchet said before walking off.

As Ratchet left their immediate line of sight, going behind a curtain that cordoned his paperwork desk off from the rest of the med bay, Click relaxed back into his hold.

Hound had so many things to say and questions to ask. “You were wonderful.” “How are you feeling?” “Excited to have a new vocalizer?” “I love you.” And yet he didn’t have a vocalizer to say any of it. Instead, he contented himself with nuzzling the top of Click’s head.

That got a happy whine out of the sparkling who reached up to pull his head down. Hound brought his head down, letting Click’s hands guide him until he was awkwardly crouched over. Click rose to his feet. With Hound’s head pulled down Click nuzzled the top of it.

Hound let out his own happy whine in response. Click let go of his head, allowing him to straighten to a more comfortable posture, before Click threw himself at him in a hug. As Click’s weight landed against his chest Hound wrapped his arms around Click, pulling him closer and restarting his purr.

They spent the rest of their time waiting in the med bay like that. Wordlessly showering each other in love, often with both of them hugging each other. It went on and on until Click paused and pointed at his throat, a massive smile stretching across his face. Picking up Click Hound walked over to Ratchet’s workspace and let out a single chirp.

“Has the anesthetic worn off?” Ratchet asked, and Hound could hear his chair scraping against the flooring as Ratchet stood up.

Click let out a chirp at Ratchet’s question.

Ratchet walked into the main med bay area and softly smiled at Click. “Why don’t we make sure your vocalizer’s working and then I can let you go.” He cheerfully said. It was odd seeing Ratchet acting so happy compared to his usually grouchy behavior, especially seeing how his field wasn’t that different than whenever he came in for a regular checkup.

Hound followed Ratchet back to the berth, setting Click down at his direction and sitting next to his sparkling. This time, though, Click didn’t lean on him. Instead, he leaned forwards, almost vibrating in excitement.

“Now, when you first activate your vocalizer it’ll go through a testing sequence going through all the individual sounds. If there’s anything wrong with your vocalizer I’ll hear it here. Give it a try.” Ratchet said.

Click’s face affected his concentrating scowl, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before “ah, eh, ie—” sudden disconnected sounds came from Click. Hound wasn’t sure what voice to expect from him, but the higher pitch combined with its warm timber fit Soundwave. Hound relaxed, watching Click speak for the first time, soaking in the joy crackling across his field.

As the vocal test finished Click looked up at Ratchet expectantly. Ratchet gently smiled at Click and said, “Everything sounds good. Now, can you try and string something together for us? A word or sentence”

Click nodded and tried to put on a serious face again, but it was ruined by his lips sneaking into a smile. He gave a single click before he slowly, one section of a word at a time said, “can speak.”

Hound couldn’t hold it in any longer. Pulling Click in for another hug he nuzzled the top of Click’s head. Click whirred in delight as he easily leaned on Hound.

“Everything sounds good. Let’s go over some speech exercises now. If you keep practicing, you’ll be just as good at speaking as everyone else in no time.” Ratchet said.

Pulling away from him, Click leaned forward, looking up at Ratchet like he was the center of the universe. He expected Click’s chatter to reach Bluestreak’s level in the coming days as Click practiced, and he couldn’t be more excited for it.

Chapter Text

After Click finished going over the exercises he needed to do, Ratchet sent them off with instructions for Click to speak as much as he could to get used to his new vocalizer. Hound didn’t want to spend the day alone in his room since Click needed to practice talking to other mechs and Hound wasn’t able to do that at the moment, but he also didn’t want to deal with a lot of people he didn’t know without his vocalizer working. With that in mind he went to spec ops’ rec room. It was only Bumblebee and Trailbreaker in the room when they got there, but Jazz showed up only a few ticks later, asking about Click’s new vocalizer.

Click happily whined at Jazz before slowly but eagerly described his vocalizer replacement, much to Bumblebee and Trailbreaker’s surprise when he mentioned how nice Ratchet was. Hound just nodded along to the story when they looked to him for confirmation. Click’s speech was slow and halting, and he used plenty of frame noises instead of words, but he was speaking. It was somewhat surreal to experience and all the more wonderful for it.

Jazz chuckled at the other’s reaction, “That doesn’t surprise me. Ratchet’s tough on us because he knows we can handle it. He probably didn’t want to scare Click.”

Click nodded and sagely said. “Ratchet cares. Anger protective.”

“Exactly. You have a good processor if you can pick that out after only meeting him a few times.” Jazz said.

Click squirmed on the table that Hound set him on earlier, glowing at Jazz’s praise.

“Hey, why don’t you ever give us complements like that?” Bumblebee jokingly protested, Trailbreaker chiming in with a “yeah.”

“If you want complements you need to do something worth complementing.” Jazz shot back, accompanied by Click’s happy little giggle. “I mean, look at Click, you can’t tell me he doesn’t deserve all the complements in the world.”

Hound nodded. Click deserved to know how wonderful he was. That Jazz understood that simple fact showed why they were friends.

“Hound too.” Click added.

Jazz softly smiled down at Click. “You’re right, Hound also deserves lots of compliments. What’s your favorite thing about him? Mine is how steady he is, even in the worst situations.”

Hound startled at Jazz’s sudden complement.

Click didn’t answer Jazz’s question right away. Pursing his lips because, apparently, he needed to really think about his favorite thing about Hound.

“Are we giving out complements to Hound now, because I have to say it’s amazing that I’ve never been caught off guard by an enemy when I’m with him.” Bumblebee chimed in. “I mean, even with—” Bumblebee jerked his head to the vent that had a new vent cover over it.

“I guess we are giving Hound complements now.” Jazz said. “What about you Trailbreaker?”

“I like how Hound is always willing to hang out with us without treating us any differently for being spec ops.” Trailbreaker thoughtfully said.

Bumblebee nodded. Looking straight at Hound, he said, “I really do appreciate how you treat us like normal mechs. You will not believe how many mechs just see me as part of spec ops or just a minibot.”

Hound felt his internals warming. It was strange to have so many complements directed at him, but it was nice.

“What about you Click? Did you decide what your favorite thing about Hound is?” Jazz asked, turning back to Click.

Click nodded. “Hound safe.”

Oh.

Hound pulled Click into a hug, trying to convey how much he loved Click through only his touch.

Click tried to wrap his tiny arms around him, whispering “love you” into his chest with a little purr. He felt like he was bursting from how much he loved Click. It felt so big, so present, that surely Jazz and the others could see it, even with their nonexistent EM sensors. Click could clearly tell, sinking into his chest.

The others watched them with small smiles gracing their lips. But they didn’t try to interrupt. It was only after Hound pulled away from Click that Jazz said, “You two are so sweet together.”

[Click deserves all the love I can give him.] Hound showed the message to Jazz.

“True. Doesn’t make it any less sweet though.” Jazz said. “How’s your vocalizer doing by the way? Was it more damaged than Ratchet thought?”

Hound shook his head. [Ratchet thinks it’s a coding issue. If it hasn’t fixed itself in two days, he’s going to look at it.]

Jazz subtly stiffened in his seat. Bumblebee and Trailbreaker didn’t seem to notice as they were still focused on him and Click. “When you say he’s going to look at it, you don’t mean. . .”

Hound quickly shook his head.

The tension left Jazz’s frame. “Good.

Bumblebee and Trailbreaker glanced at Jazz, but didn’t ask about his question. Spec ops’ job might largely include learning mechs’ secrets, but maybe they also knew when to respect others’ privacy. Or maybe they didn’t want to risk Jazz’s wrath by asking about it. That was more likely. Smokescreen was one of the Arc’s biggest gossips, even if he called it ‘information gathering.’

“So, Hound,” Bumblebee very obviously changed the subject leaning towards him, “we heard you fought Megatron. Is that true?”

Hound nodded.

“Don’t leave it there. Give us the details.” Bumblebee whined.

[No.]

“Why not?” Trailbreaker asked. “I’d think anyone would brag about making Megatron retreat on their own.”

[Because you’re going to make a big deal out of it.]

“That’s because it is a big deal!” Bumblebee shouted. “Everyone’s been talking about it!”

Hound winced, remembering Jazz’s warning from last night that he would be swarmed by questions. He had hoped that spec ops would at least by more subtle with their questions. Apparently not.

“Why don’t you ask me what you want to know.” Jazz butted in, flashing a quick smile at Hound. “I was there at the meeting afterwards where Hound was debriefed, so I can answer all of your questions.” Hound shot a thankful look at Jazz. He really didn’t want to deal with more people questioning his choices while fighting Megatron. Ratchet alone was enough for him. “So, what do you want to know?”

“What happened to Megatron’s shoulder. Everyone’s saying Hound bit him, but that can’t be right.” Trailbreaker asked.

Jazz didn’t say anything, grinning at Trailbreaker.

“Wait—you mean Hound actually bit him? How?”

“Well,” Jazz drawled, “I’d say just like how you’d bite someone, but there’s no way you’d do that much damage.”

“No, I mean how’d he even get close enough to do that?”

“Megatron had him pinned. You remember all our lessons on how to get out of a pin.”

Bumblebee chuckled. “None of those lessons involved biting someone.”

“They would if you could bite half as well as Hound.” Jazz said with a laugh. “The Decepticons would have very different feelings about wrestling us then.”

Bumblebee lit up. “Say, Hound beat Megatron, right? What do you think of our chances of getting him appointed as the Decepticon leader? Like what Starscream is always trying to do but, but it actually works. The war will be over in no time!”

“The war might be over soon anyways.” Jazz casually said with a shrug.

Bumblebee and Trailbreaker’s reaction was decidedly not casual. They were openly gaping at Jazz, not pretending in one of spec ops’ games, but a genuine reaction.

“When you say the war might be over soon. . .” Trailbreaker hesitantly said.

Gesturing proudly at Hound Jazz said, “Hound managed to talk Megatron into seriously considering peace during their fight. It’s not confirmed yet, so don’t go spreading it around, but the war might be over soon.”

“Hound talked him over? You don’t think. . .” Trailing off Bumblebee looked at Jazz who understood what Bumblebee was trying to ask because he nodded. “Wow.” He was missing something here and had no idea what. Well, if it was important Jazz would tell him.

“That’s hard to believe.”

“I know, but isn’t it amazing?”

“Yeah.” Trailblazer looked at Click. Very seriously he said, “You were right. Hound deserves all the complements in the world.”

Click lit up at Trailbreaker’s comment as he very seriously responded, “Hound does.” Oh no, please don’t let them go back to praising him. He liked it, but he doesn’t think he could handle too much of it without collapsing into a pile of warm ooze. They would never let him forget it.

“Now remember not to spread it around, or else—”

“You’ll give us the most inventive punishment you can think of.” Bumblebee and Trailbreaker finished Jazz’s sentence in unison with an ease that showed this was a common threat. Despite the presumed regularity of the threat, they nervously glanced at Jazz. Jazz could be very inventive when he wanted to be, after all, and that inventiveness was their only promise.

Clapping his servos together Jazz turned to Hound. “Now that that’s over with Spike and Carly are going to be here soon. You want to introduce Click to them?”

Oh. It would be nice to introduce Click to their tiny organic friends; they were even close to the same size. But Click wouldn’t have met a sentient organic before. They only saw animals on the way back to the Arc. Wait. . .

[Click doesn’t understand English.]

They had all been speaking Neocybex around Click because it was their natural language, but there was no way Click could understand it. Everyone was given a language packet that allowed them to speak and understand all of Earth’s languages. Teletraan-1 compiled and directly downloaded it while repairing them. As a sparkling, there was no way Click could use that data packet.

He would have to manually learn the language.

Jazz frowned. “I didn’t even consider that. That could be a problem. Carly is learning Neocybex, but she’s not very good at it yet and can’t even pronounce most of it.”

Language was normally such a non-issue for their species it was odd to need to worry about it.

“Whose Spike and Carly?” Click slowly asked, carefully sounding out Spike and Carly’s names.

“Spike and Carly are some human friends we made here.” Jazz said.

Click looked at Jazz in confusion, letting out a questioning whine.

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know. You know how we aren’t on Cybertron, right?”

Click nodded.

“We’re on a planet called Earth, and it’s home to a sentient organic species called Humans.”

Click squeaked, looking at Jazz in fear.

That’s right, he would have grown up on Cybertron before the war. There was a lot of fear around sentient organics trying to control and use them when most organics were honestly helpless against them. Reaching over, Hound put a comforting servo on Click’s back that he leaned into.

“There’s nothing to be scared about with these humans.” Jazz reassured Click. “They’re all very nice and helpful. They’re our allies on this planet, and Spike and Carly are our friends.”

“Friends?” Click hesitantly asked.

“That’s right. The humans have given us fuel and supplies to rebuild the Arc. They’ve been very good to us. Spike and Carly have been even better, helping us fight the Decepticons and successfully interact with the human governments."

Click bit his lip. “Click need meet humans?”

“No, no, not at all.” Jazz rushed to reassure Click. “We’re not going to force you to meet them. I thought you might want to meet some younger people, but, well, as Hound pointed out you can’t speak English, and they can’t speak Neocybex. It wouldn’t be a very good meeting if neither of you could understand each other.”

Having Click meet someone closer to his own age was a good idea, but it wouldn’t work very well if they needed an ‘adult’ to translate for them. Maybe if something else was translating. [Jazz, could one of the scientists make a translator?]

“We already have translators but Click and the humans can’t use them.”

Hound shook his head. [I mean a device that hears one language and says it in the other.]

“Yeah, that could work. Wheeljack could—”

Jazz was cut off by Hound’s arm shooting out and covering his mouth. He didn’t even try to argue when he saw Hound’s glare. Pulling his servo away he quickly typed out, [Wheeljack explodes too many things. Choose someone else.]

Wincing Jazz admitted. “Good point. I’ll ask for a volunteer.” Pulling out his datapad Hound quickly typed something out before closing it. “There, I sent a request to the less. . . explosive scientists. We’ll see if one of them decides to take it.”

Hound nodded.

“So,” Jazz drawled, “since we’re all here, who wants to play a game?” As he said that Jazz flicked his servo that was suddenly holding a Cybertronian sized deck of cards.

Whining in excitement Click nodded.

“Sure, I’m game.” Bumblebee said.

Trailbreaker thoughtfully added, “We should have time for a round or two before we need to go back on shift.”

Hound nodded his own agreement, settling into his seat.

Chapter Text

Their current game, something Jazz called poker, was going well when Tracks walked in. Jazz had declared that Hound was the dealer at the beginning of the game so he could ‘use his amazing senses to make sure no one cheats.’ Thankfully no one was trying to cheat, they were all just playing mind games against each other which, funnily enough, didn’t seem to work on Click as he called their bluffs every time.

It was obvious when Tracks walked into the rec room. Even if Hound hadn’t felt him coming for ticks the mech’s bold blue, red, and yellow paintjob that the rich, fashionable mechs loved before the war would have immediately caught his eye. Despite their similar colors, it wasn’t near as elaborate as Proteus’ paintjob, Tracks may be Sunstreaker’s most frequent visitor, but they didn’t have groons to work on painting the crisp shapes onto the plating. Even when you had multiple colors, each plate was painted with a solid color to speed up the painting process.

Despite those restraints Tracks made sure he was the best looking mech on the Arc—it was no contest.

Track’s paintjob paired with his upper-class Iaconian accent and narcissism made him too similar to Proteus for Hound to ever feel comfortable hanging around him. Not that it was much of a problem because they never hung out in the same areas. Tracks didn’t even go to spec ops’ story nights. Almost every mech went to story night at least a few times.

So, what was he doing here now?

Waving at Tracks to greet him Hound gave him a small smile.

Turning around at his wave Jazz greeted Tracks, “Well, what brings you here this fine day? You aren’t our normal sort of visitor.”

“I heard that Hound was here, and it seems like they were right. I need to talk to him.” Tracks confidently said as he approached them.

Hound could practically feel Jazz lifting his brow beneath his visor. “I’m afraid Hound’s not in a state to be talking right now. His vocalizer was busted in the fight. Whatever you need to talk to him about can wait a few days.” Jazz didn’t even try asking what Tracks wanted with Hound.

Hound had no idea what Tracks would even need him for. They had never talked to each other before. But apparently whatever Tracks needed from him couldn’t wait a few days because Tracks puffed up and walked up to him. While Click was sitting on the table and the others were seated in the booths he was standing at the edge of the table because he was the dealer. This way no one could peak while he was dealing the cards. That made it easy for Tracks to walk up behind him, setting a servo on his shoulder.

Just like Proteus when he was in a playful mood.

Hound’s joints locked at Track’s touch. The other mech leaned in, practically speaking into his audial sensors as he said to Jazz, “I assure you; it cannot wait. Besides, Hound doesn’t need to speak for this.”

No need to speak. He wouldn’t.

Hound’s only sense of security was the fact that Proteus wanted him to ask for it. To beg for it. But that didn’t mean he needed that. Proteus was very clear that he didn’t rape mechs, but all that meant to him was that they didn’t say no.

He couldn’t speak right now.

He couldn’t say no.

This couldn’t be happening.

Click, sweet, brave Click started growling at Proteus, just like he taught him. This wasn’t why he taught Click how to growl. This was the worst place he could ever growl. Proteus didn’t handle aggression against him well and Click was shouting at him.

Hound panicked, looking at Jazz. Trying to convey to his friend that he should grab Click, apologize for his behavior, and leave. Proteus would still be angry, but he could appease the senator. He would appease the senator, even. . . even if it meant begging for it. That would be enough to appease Proteus. It had to be. He couldn’t let Click get hurt trying to protect him.

Jazz didn’t understand what Hound was trying to tell him, or maybe he misunderstood it as a plea to help him because Jazz was using his threatening tone of voice on Proteus. That wasn’t helping. That was the opposite of helping. As much as Proteus liked him, he didn’t think he would be enough to help both of them.

Proteus’ servo tightened on his shoulder as he shot something back at Jazz.

Oh no.

He was angry.

Nonononononononononononononono

This couldn’t be happening.

He couldn’t let Protus hurt his pack. He had to protect them.

Hound acted on instinct.

Hound gazed at his servo with blank optics. It was coated in Energon.

Proteus was lying on the floor, groaning in pain.

He punched Proteus. In front of witnesses. Nothing he does would ever appease his anger now.

They had to run.

Scooping Click into his arm; Hound grabbed Jazz’s servo and ran. Pulling the other mech along behind him. Click easily went into his arm without a fuss, leaning against his side and looking up at him with wide optics. Jazz wasn’t nearly as easy. The head of spec ops was so surprised at the sudden tug that Hound dragged him along for a few klicks before he realized what was going on and started stumbling after him. Asking Hound things that he didn’t understand.

At first his only goal was to get as far away from Proteus as possible, but the further he went the more his processor started working again. He needed to get away from Proteus, but they couldn’t run the entire time. The hallways were covered in cameras that Red Alert managed, but that wouldn’t keep the records safe from Proteus. Whatever the senator wanted he got.

No, they needed to hide somewhere and get there without being seen.

Den.

He needed to get to his den. It was the safest place on the ship. Proteus didn’t know where it was.

The question of how to get there was also easy. Jazz and Ricochet used the vents to travel often enough. There weren’t any cameras in the vents. Even if they saw them enter the vents, they wouldn’t be able to find them. Scent trails dispersed quickly in the vents and Jazz couldn’t even smell them. In a few groons they wouldn’t be trackable. Hound ducked into a storage closet, pulling Jazz in behind him.

His packmate had calmed down during their run and had stopped asking Hound questions he couldn’t understand. Good, he realized that they need to be stealthy.

The storage closet was small, filled with assorted cleaning supplies, but there was enough room for both of them not to be squished against each other. Setting Click down on a pile of clean rags on the shelf Hound bumped their heads together and pulled back. Click let him go without a fight, staring at him in confusion.

He would explain what was wrong later. They needed to escape now, and to do that—

Jazz squeaked when Hound picked him up, lifting him up to the vent. Jazz looked between him and the vent cover in confusion. He gave Jazz and encouraging nod before the mech realized what Hound wanted him to do and deftly unscrewed the vent cover like he had done thousands of times before. Setting Jazz back on the ground Hound picked up Click and set the sparkling in the vent.

Click was small enough that he could easily stand up and walk further into the vent. When Click was far enough in Hound jumped up, Jazz easily following behind him.

Holding out his servo Click scrambled onto it and Hound clutched his sparkling to his chest. Crawling through the vents Hound led the way to his den. Twisting and turning through the maze-like structure of the vents Hound kept track of where they were in relation to the rest of the Arc.

The Arc wasn’t filled with Proteus’ men searching for him. Not yet. Did he knock out Proteus with his punch? Hopefully it wasn’t too bad. Maybe only mad enough that he had to stay out of his way for a few astro-cycles. Enough time for Proteus to calm down before he apologized.

The apology. . .

He would have to—

Hound forcefully pushed away his thoughts. They made it.

He hadn’t re-screwed the vent cover after Ricochet left so it easily popped out, clattering to the floor. Hound winced at the noise, but there was no one around them at the moment. Sliding out of the vent he immediately went to the den; setting Click down in the center.

Jazz hopped out of the vent, looking around the room and saying something. He didn’t have time for Jazz to wander around looking at everything.

He slid the vent cover back in place before picking up Jazz and carrying him into the den. Setting Jazz down next to Click while he settled in next to the entrance.

Keeping guard.

Watching for intruders.

So he could protect them.

Protect his pack.

He ached for the rest of his pack to be here, but drawing Proteus’ attention to them would only cause trouble. They needed to stay away for their own safety.

Jazz and Click were the ones who needed protection.

Hound would keep them safe.

Keep them away from Proteus.

He should have warned them about Proteus.

Why didn’t he?

Stupid.

Idiot.

No better than a mindless beast.

A soft touch on his arm jolted Hound out of his thoughts. Jazz was looking at him in concern, saying something. Why. . . why couldn’t he understand Jazz? He could hear what he was saying. He heard every sound leaving his vocalizer, the slight shifts in tone, the concern coating both his voice and his field.

And yet he couldn’t understand.

He couldn’t understand

Why

Why couldn’t he understand

Did something break in him?

What was going to happen to him now?

No—what was Proteus going to do to him?

He was going to be angry after this

Was he going to hurt him

Make Hound his pet

Put him in chains for being too violent

Was going to—

Hound collapsed into Jazz. Gripping him tightly into a hug as he cried. Sinking deeper into him as Jazz’s arms wrapped around him in a hug, rubbing soothingly up and down his back as he cried. Shushing him, saying something he couldn’t understand.

Tiny arms wrapped around his side as Click started to purr, trying to comfort him. Click, his beloved sparkling who already felt like he was half of Hound’s spark, was trying to comfort him. He was the one supposed to comfort Click.

That realization made him cry even harder in Jazz’s arms.

They stayed like that until the tears slowed down and Hound dozed off. Drifting off into the safe-comfort of Jazz’s arms surrounding him.

Drifting away into safety.

Safe

And

Warm

He didn’t know how long he drifted.

“Are you feeling better Hound?” Jazz softly asked, his voice pulling Hound into wakefulness.

Hound nodded.

“That’s good. Can you tell me what happened?”

What ha—Hound’s processor jerked online when he realized what was happening. He could understand what Jazz was saying.

“Come on Hound, what happened?”

His sensors scrambled to turn on as he remembered what was happening, and “Click?” Click was gone.

Where was he.

He couldn’t have lost his sparkling.

Did Proteus take him?

No, no, no, not that. Never that.

Jazz cupped his cheeks, guiding his face so their optics met. The first thing he noticed was that Jazz wasn’t wearing his visor. The next thing he noticed was that he wasn’t worried. Why wasn’t he concerned? Click was missing. Click was gone. Proteus could have Click. Could be hurting Click. Could be—

“Calm down Hound.” Jazz gently said, forcing Hound to look at him. See how sincere, how open he was making himself. Not only was his visor gone, he also wasn’t trying to hide his feelings through his smirk and upbeat attitude. “Click is safe. Prowl came by earlier and took him. Said Click couldn’t spend all his time in a den.” Jazz smiled at Hound, leaning in like he was sharing a secret. “I think he’s trying to teach Click how to read.”

Hound relaxed. Prowl was smart and responsible. He would be able to keep Click safe from Proteus.

Proteus, who he was escaping.

The same Proteus who died.

Killed by Starscream at the beginning of the war.

Horror washed over Hound. He didn’t attack Proteus. “Hound punched Tracks.”

Jazz looked at him in confusion before recentering himself. “You did. Could you tell me why? It looked like something was wrong before. . . all that. I’m worried.”

Hound felt himself heat up in embarrassment and shame. “Hound thought Tracks. . . not Tracks.”

“You didn’t think Tracks was himself? Who did you think it was?” Jazz asked. He looked really concerned, and Hound didn’t know if it was concern for him or concern that someone might have infiltrated the Arc looking like Tracks. It was Tracks, even if he was acting odd.

Sinking into himself Hound admitted, “Hound thought Tracks P-proteus.” He could barely force his vocalizer to choke out Proteus’ name.

Jazz’s confusion only grew at his admission. “You thought Tracks was Proteus? Why? I mean, sure their colors and accents are similar, but wouldn’t their EM fields be really different or something? Besides, hasn’t Proteus been dead for a long time?”

Their EM fields were extremely different. That only made his slip up more shameful. “Hound panicked.”

“You panicked.” Jazz dryly said, softening when Hound flinched at the comment. “Hey, I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble. If anyone’s in trouble, it’s Tracks. Click and I were telling him to let go of you because he was making you panic. He was an idiot and didn’t listen.”

“That’s what Jazz and Click said?”

“Er, yes? What did you think we were saying?”

“Hound not understand words.” He tried to squirm out of Jazz’s grip when his worry turned into outright panic.

“I’m comming Ratchet.”

“No! No Ratchet!” Hound shouted, trying to escape Jazz’s grip which moved from cupping his face to trapping him in a tight hug.

“Why not? First your speech and now this. Something’s seriously wrong and we need Ratchet to look at it.” Jazz shot back.

His speech? Was he talking about his vocalizer not working? Ratchet looked at it and said it was fine. “You comm Ratchet, Ratchet mad at Hound.”

“Ratchet isn’t going to be mad; he’ll be upset that something’s wrong. And he’ll be even more upset if you put off contacting him.”

Hound remembered Ratchet’s sharp reprimand after fighting Megatron. He didn’t even want to imagine the medic’s reaction to Jazz calling him for this. It wasn’t even that bad, his language problem already went away.

“Listen, Hound, I am comming Ratchet. You can either fight me the whole time he’s coming here, or you can cooperate.”

There really was no stopping Jazz.

He went limp in Jazz’s arms.

“Thank you.” Jazz said before quieting down for a few ticks. “Ratchet is coming here, and he promised me he’s not mad.”

Hound whined shoving himself into Jazz’s side. He doubted that was true. Ratchet always had some low level of anger burning in his field, fueled by his other feelings. He would try not to take Ratchet’s admonishments too seriously and listen to whatever lecture he had prepared for this. Jazz was right about one thing, waiting would only make it worse.

Chapter Text

“Okay, what’s the damage?” Ratchet asked as he burst into the room before pausing. “Where are you?”

Jazz poked one of his servos through the blanket flap hiding the den entrance. “We’re in here.”

Ratchet poked his head in through the flap and looked around the den. Hound was curled up in Jazz’ warm hug, and they migrated into lying down as they waited for Ratchet to arrive. “I don’t think I can fit in there, so I’ll just stay here. Now, Hound, can you tell me what happened. Both with Tracks and afterwards?”

Hound flinched at the reminder of Tracks. “Tracks hurt?” he hesitantly asked.

Ratchet shook his head. “Nah. It’s just superficial damage. Nothing First Aid can’t fix. I’m more worried about you. What happened?” Tracks was, from Hound’s understanding, a vain mech. He was going to hate it if First Aid couldn’t make him completely blemish free.

“Hound think Tracks not Tracks. Scared. Reacted.” Hound said before pausing. As he spoke Ratchet glanced at Jazz.

Jazz nudged Hound’s side. “Come on, tell Ratchet what you told me.”

What he, oh, did he mean the words? “In panic, Hound not understand words.”

Ratchet deeply vented. “Have you ever been unable to understand what other mechs are saying before?”

Hound nodded.

The EM field surrounding Ratchet was worried but otherwise calm. But, at Hound’s nod, it suddenly flared with panic. “When?”

Jazz’s arms tightened around Hounds side. Hesitantly, Hound answered, “Before given language packet.”

“And how old were you when you got your language packet?” Ratchet asked.

“Not know.”

“How do you not know?” Jazz asked incredulously.

“Time no matter before.” Hound said.

Ratchet’s expression remained placid as his field flinched back in horror. Ratchet must have been trying really hard to try and not snap at Hound because he carefully asked, “Can you guess for me?”

Hound thought back. To the endless days running through Cybertron’s wilds with his old pack. He didn’t care to track the passing of time back then. There was no need to. Cybertron experienced no seasons, no regular cycles of growth and death like Earth did. And yet, despite their lack of a repeating cycle, life did change between his emergence and when he was captured.

The plants started thinning, because less Energon was being produced to fuel them. That caused less plant eaters to survive which led to the larger hunters starving into stasis. That wasn’t too noticeable when he entered Iacon though. It only became pronounced after the war began. What was noticeable was the how the planet itself quieted. The ever-present song coming from the ground slowly weakened with the Energon flow. By the time they fled Cybertron Hound could barely hear the song.

“You really don’t know.” Ratchet said.

Hound sadly shook his head.

“We’ll talk about that more later. For now, what happened after you panicked?” Ratchet asked.

“Hound think Click Jazz in danger. Run. Den safe. Protect Click Jazz.”

Hound could feel Jazz nodding against the top of his head. “Hound was pretty insistent about keeping guard once we got here.”

“Can you tell me why you needed to protect them?” Ratchet asked.

“Hound think Tracks Proteus. Proteus mad Click Jazz talk. Hound protect Click Jazz.” Hound explained, the words easily spilling from him after he started.

“Okay. One more question before we take a look at your code. Have you been stuck speaking like this before?”

Speaking. Like. What?

“What wrong?” He asked, trying to push down his panic. Jazz didn’t mention anything was wrong, but did he think Hound knew? That had happened several times before—Jazz thinking he knew something obvious that he didn’t actually know.

“You haven’t realized?” Jazz asked. “You’re speaking like the Dinobots do.”

“Worse than them.” Ratchet cut in.

No.

Hound looked for his language packets. And there he found it, the dictionary he had when first waking up in Proteus’ clutches—just the dictionary. All his meticulous notes of how to speak, different grammatical structures, the different contexts certain words should and shouldn’t be used in, it was all gone. The packet of Earth languages was also completely gone as well.

He couldn’t go back to speaking like this.

This was even worse than when his vocalizer wasn’t working. He could at least write what he wanted to say then.

Now someone could just say they didn’t understand what he was saying.

He couldn’t go out like this.

He definitely couldn’t work on those reports for Prowl.

He would mess up and make more work for Prowl and—

“Shh. Calm down Hound, can you vent for me? Come on, follow after me.” Jazz said, venting deeply in and out.

Hound followed along. Matching Jazz’s slow deliberate vents Hound’s body slowly relaxed. When did he even tense up?

“Feeling better now?” Jazz asked after several vents.

Hound nodded.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Jazz carefully asked.

“Learn language gone.” Hound said.

“You mean this is how you initially spoke?” Ratchet looked scandalized.

Hound nodded, shrinking into himself.

“Frag. Well, I should be able to fix it, but I need to look at your code before I promise anything.”

“No! No mouth!” Hound shouted. He knew that Ratchet wouldn’t mess with his sensors like he did before, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he could do it. Hound wasn’t sure he could go through it again and stop himself from biting off Ratchet’s arm.

“We don’t need to use that port. We can use the medical port in your arm. I can’t access as much from there, but it’ll be enough for what we need.” Ratchet calmy explained.

There was no getting out of this, not now. Jazz wouldn’t let him squirm out of it. He was too concerned to let Hound go without being checked over. Resigning himself to his fate Hound held his arm out to Ratchet and turned away, burying the rest of himself in Jazz’s hold. He would try and ignore everything until Ratchet was done.

Jazz’s servo started soothingly rubbing up and down his back.

He focused on the feeling of Jazz’s servo slowly but firmly running up and down his back. Up, down, up, down. Over and over again.

When Ratchet grabbed his arm, the panel keeping his emergency port hidden easily sliding open as Hound tried to ignore it. He couldn’t ignore when Ratchet plugged into his systems. He could feel Ratchet in his systems, even though he tried to ignore it.

Ratchet’s presence in his systems was obvious. He could feel the doctor moving through his systems and looking at his code, despite his clear attempts at delicacy. As Ratchet poked and rifled through his systems Hound shoved his face into Jazz’s chest, holding back his wines.

“Hey, can you focus on me?” Jazz asked. “Just vent with me, in and out. Come on, you can do it.”

Just as Jazz said, he started deeply venting in and out again. Just like before. Hound followed along. In and out, over and over again. The cycle repeated, the steady strokes down his back matching the pace of their vents. In and out, over and over again.

As they vented together Ratchet’s presence in his processor became less and less noticeable and Hound was able to fully relax.

They stayed like that until Ratchet disconnected from his systems, pulling away.

Not even klicks after Ratchet disconnected from Hound Jazz asked, “Wha’d you find?”

“Well, there’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” Ratchet said.

Hound perked up at that. “Hound speak better? When?”

Ratchet scowled at the question and Hound flinched back.

“Apologies.”

“No, no, there’s no need to apologize.” Ratchet frantically rushed to say. “It’s just, you only have a glorified dictionary in there.”

Hound nodded. “Notes gone.”

“Didn’t you ever get a full language module?” Ratchet asked.

Hound shook his head. “Only dictionary. Hound make notes.”

“Well, if that’s the case I can’t get you the same language module as before. However, I can give you a new one. Your processor needs some time to settle, but after an orn or two I can give it to you and after some integration time you’ll be talking like normal.”

“Yes.” Hound instantly said. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Theres no need to thank me. This is my job.” Ratchet huffed before sobering. “Your problem with Tracks earlier is another issue. That was a trauma response. A very strong trauma response. You said it happened because Tracks reminded you of Proteus?”

Hound nodded.

“Tell me, what happened with Proteus.”

Hound froze.

“-y, Hound. You still with us?” Jazz asked, gently shaking him.

When did he blank out?

He nodded.

“Good. Can you answer Ratchet’s question?”

“No.” Hound forced out.

“No? Hound, we need to know.”

“No, ca-can’t say.” Hound forced out. He could barely make himself say Proteus’ name. How could he talk about what he did?

“Can you at least tell us why he had you?” Ratchet asked.

He tried to say it. To force the word out. But his vocalizer cut out after the first syllable every time.

“Can you still write?” Jazz asked him. He never had any issues reading or writing—the dictionary was both vocal and written. When he nodded Jazz handed him a datapad, it wasn’t his and must have belonged to Jazz. “Writing it might be easier”

Thankful at not needing to speak Hound grabbed the datapad. His servos shook as he wrote, and he had to pause a few times, but he managed to finish it.

Integration

Handing the datapad to Ratchet, Hound shoved himself back into Jazz’s chest.

As he read the word, Ratchet’s EM field exploded with a ferocious anger that seemed to wrap protectively around Hound. He must have shown Jazz the datapad as well because his EM field exploded with a similar fury, but his hold on Hound didn’t tighten. His touch stayed gentle as he cradled Hound in his arms.

“I hoped this wasn’t the case.” Ratchet paused a moment. His tone softening as he said, “Hound, you need therapy.”

Huh?

“Integration was a horrible practice that should have never been allowed to happen. And I know that it’s over 500 vorns since you escaped from it, but it’s clearly still affecting you. It could be hurting you in ways outside of this incident and you haven’t realized it. Please consider it.” Ratchet was practically pleading at the end. Was he scared Hound would refuse to go to therapy? If Ratchet thought it was for the best, he would at least try it.

“Rung?” Hound asked.

“Huh?” Ratchet was looking at him in confusion.

“Click see Rung. Hound see Rung?” Hound clarified. He couldn’t wait until he could speak normally again. Now that he was aware of it, he could see how his speech was lacking compared to Jazz and Ratchet, but he didn’t know how to fix it. It had taken him vorns of careful observation and Nightbeat’s lessons to get even somewhat passable, and his speech was still noticeably bad when he joined the Autobots.

Ratchet frowned and pulled out a datapad. He flipped through the datapad, his frown only lightened when he found what he was looking for.

“Rung is a highly skilled psychologist. Click’s appointment with him is tomorrow. I can schedule a meeting between you two as well if you want.”

That was weird. Did Ratchet forget about Rung? Nothing about his patients escaped his processor, and he made Click’s appointment only a few days ago.

“Hound want.” He confirmed.

“Then I’ll set up an appointment. You just rest and make sure you sleep.”

“Don’t worry, Prowl already finished our cuddle schedule with Hound. We’ll make sure he sleeps.” Jazz cheerfully chimed in.

“Good.” Ratchet firmly said. “Hound, I don’t have any concerns about you continuing as Click’s caretaker, even with how frequently I’ve been seeing you lately. However, I would feel better if you stayed with a friend in case of an emergency for both of you.”

“Hound can.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Prowl would be happy to make a schedule for that too.” Jazz added.

“Outside of that, Hound isn’t allowed to work until the new language packets can be added and fully integrated. This will likely take a few orns.” Ratchet finished.

“Meet Megatron?” Hound asked.

“Why’d you want to meet Megatron?” Jazz asked.

“Promise talk at peace.”

“Right, well, if we do have peace talks before your speech is fixed you can talk to Megatron then. But nothing else related to work. Understand?”

Hound quickly nodded.

Ratchet looked satisfied at his answer because he finally stood up, his body leaving the den that he was poking into. “Come to me if there are any issues. Don’t get into any more fights.” He gruffly said before leaving without waiting for an answer.

Jazz laughed as the door closed behind Ratchet. “Looks like your stuck with me for a little longer.”

Chuckling Hound leaned back into Jazz’s chest. He wasn’t upset about being stuck with Jazz. He liked his friend, and despite how much he hated the thought of not being able to speak for orns he didn’t mind having an excuse to spend time with his friend.

Chapter Text

Hound resisted the urge to pace as he stood outside of Rung’s office. Jazz had dropped him and Click off with a joking, “try to at least wait for Perceptor to get here before getting into any trouble.” At least, Jazz was trying to pass it off as a joke. Hound could feel Jazz’s worry that had been leaking from his field since his check up with Ratchet intensify as he got ready to leave them.

He had only briefly said hello to the Rung before he brought Click into his office so they could talk one-on-one. Once Click was done Hound would do the same thing. Perceptor showed up soon after Click started his session, giving Hound a thoughtful greeting. Perceptor hadn’t said anything else, but he kept glancing at Hound, gathering himself like he was going to ask something before backing down.

“Ask.” Hound said.

“Huh?” Perceptor startled, looking at Hound like he was caught mid ill-advised experiment with Brainstorm instead of wanting to ask Hound a question.

“Perceptor have question. Ask.”

“Am I really that obvious?” Perceptor sheepishly asked.

Hound nodded. “Hound senses unchanged.”

“Ah, of course.” Perceptor sheepishly rubbed the back of his helm. “How. . . how are you feeling?”

That was what Perceptor wanted to ask?

“It’s just,” Perceptor continued on, “Jazz didn’t explain much, but from what he told me this must be rather rough for you. I mean, just imagining my eloquence being affected in such a way is terrifying, and you’re actually living through it. I know Ratchet will be able to fix it, but that doesn’t mean you’re not being affected by it right now.”

Hound warmed at Perceptor’s show of care. “Hound no like bad speak.”

Perceptor winced. “That makes sense. Is it just that or have you been having other problems? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Bad memory come more.” Hound admitted shrinking into himself.

Even though he wasn’t looking he could sense Perceptor coming closer to him, so he didn’t startle when Perceptor rested his servo on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“That’s why you’re going to therapy.” Perceptor softly said. “You know, things got. . . bad for me while I was with the Wreckers. I was plagued by bad memory fluxes—by the things we did on our missions. They just wouldn’t let me go. It’s why I left. I loved the other wreckers, but I couldn’t keep doing the missions we were on. I saw a therapist while I was a Wrecker and for a while afterwards and it helped a lot.”

Hound nodded. “Hound know. Perceptor see Rung. Rung help Perceptor.”

A blank look of confusion crossed Perceptor’s face. “Rung? Who’s Rung?”

This was officially weird. Ratchet not remembering Rung was strange, but excusable. Ratchet was a busy mech as CMO of the Autobots. It couldn’t be expected that he would remember all the different medical professionals off the top of his head. But for Perceptor to not remember his own therapist? Even when he remembered going to therapy? Something was definitely wrong. “Rung give Perceptor therapy. Perceptor no remember?”

“He was my therapist? I don’t remember that?”

“Who Perceptor therapist?” Hound asked, pressing the issue. From what he understood of therapy you didn’t just see a different therapist for no reason, and he remembered picking up Perceptor after one of his sessions with Rung.

“My therapist was, he was. . .” Horror flashed across Perceptor’s face. “I don’t remember who my therapist was. How, why don’t I—” Perceptor cut himself off clutching his head as if his processor was hurting.

“Hound help?” He asked, hovering over Perceptor, but being careful not to touch. Perceptor could be picky about the types of touch he liked and when he liked it. He didn’t want to make the situation worse on accident.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Perceptor rushed to reassure him, flashing a pained grimace at him.

“Perceptor hurt.”

“I. . . it’s nothing I can’t handle. I just don’t understand why I can’t remember who my therapist is. I remember my sessions, but not who they were with. What could possibly affect my memories like this?”

Hound shrugged. “Hound no know.”

A gleam entered Perceptor’s optic. “I should ask the others if they’ve ever heard of something like this. This may be the first time we’ve ever heard of a mech being forgotten like this. I wonder how one would even begin studying a phenomenon like this.”

At least Perceptor was distracted by the allure of science rather than the horror of forgetting something he should by all rights remember.

“I must ask. . . uh, what was his name again? Ring, Rang, Rong? No, those don’t sound right.”

“Rung.” Hound interrupted. They were literally just talking about the mech. How could Perceptor forget his name already?

“That’s right, thank you Hound. I must ask Rung if people normally forget about him. It would be much easier to study if the phenomenon is centered around him.”

“Hound see Rung.” Hound cut in. Ratchet had set this up for him. He didn’t want to deal with how disappointed the doctor would be if he didn’t go to his therapy session. Even if the reason he missed it was because Perceptor kidnapped his therapist “for science.”

“Of course I wouldn’t interrupt your therapy session Hound. I’ll wait until you and Click are done before bringing him to the labs.”

Hound sighed. When Perceptor became focused on something related to science he could become blinded by his enthusiasm. It was funny, the mech well known for his exceptional vision becoming so blind to everything around him. It wasn’t as funny when it meant Perceptor might kidnap someone for science.

He didn’t need to prove that everyone’s fear of the scientists was grounded.

“Perceptor ask Rung. Rung say no, no lab.” Hound ordered.

Perceptor’s visible optic widened as he became flustered. “Of course, I wouldn’t bring him to the lab if he didn’t want to go. That would likely make it more difficult to study this forgetful phenomenon, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. I—”

Perceptor cut himself off as the door opened and Click ran straight to Hound, clinging to his leg like a limpet.

“Meeting good?” Hound asked Click. He had taken care not to listen in on Click and Rung’s conversation. These sessions were meant to be private; Click didn’t need him snooping. If Click wanted him to know something he would tell him.

Click nodded. Click made a single click before he said, “like Rung.”

“Click meet more?”

Click nodded.

“Click has agreed to regularly meet with me. We’ll figure out his schedule after we have our own meeting.” Rung said.

Hound nodded. Picking up Click, the sparkling easily let go of his leg only to start whining when Hound put him in Perceptor’s arms.

“Don’t leave” Click finished his sentence with a single click.

Nuzzling the top of Click’s head Hound said, “Perceptor watch Click. Hound meet Rung. Click good?”

Click slumped over, looking up at him sadly, but he wasn’t whining anymore.

Another click before Click said, “will be good.”

Nodding Hound said, “Hound know.” Pulling away from Click he looked at Rung who waved him into the office.

Walking into the office the first thing Hound noticed was that it looked cozy. It was painted in warm soothing colors that weren’t the bright orange of the Arc, and the chairs were padded. They looked way to comfortable to be on the Arc where the furniture leaned towards utilitarian. That wasn’t to say that what they had was uncomfortable, but being able to supply a ship full of mechs was of higher importance than making every piece of furniture comfortable.

There was a difference between something being not uncomfortable and it being comfortable.

Rung sat down in a chair that fit his smaller stature and gestured to the other, larger, chair that would have dwarfed Click. “Have a seat and we can get started.”

Sitting down across from Rung the other mech smiled at him. “I believe introductions are in order. I’m Rung, a psychologist and, if you like me enough at the end of our session, your therapist.”

“Why Rung no therapist now?” Hound asked, focusing on Rung’s reaction to his broken speech now that they were alone.

Rung didn’t react to Hound’s visibly broken speech, instead focusing on the question. Shaking his head Rung said, “No, you need to be able to get along with your therapist. It is essential that you trust your therapist enough to tell them things you might not share with even your best friends. I’ve taken an oath not to share anything I learn with others unless it is a present danger to someone else, but if you don’t feel comfortable sharing with me we could try other therapists. There aren’t many of us, but there are a few others on the Arc.”

The fact that Rung didn’t seem to care about how bad Hound’s speech was at the moment was already a good sign. He had met a lot of “nice” “upstanding” mechs that were disgusted by his language difficulties and didn’t try and act nice around him. At least it let him figure out the type of mechs they were before he got involved with them. Even actually good mechs would often be uncomfortable when he spoke.

It was why he first started hanging out with Bluestreak and Perceptor—and later, Jazz. They didn’t care about how he spoke. Frag, Jazz only offered to give him speech lessons because he saw how uncomfortable Hound was speaking around others. The only other mech he knew that didn’t care about his speech was Nightbeat.

Rung, it appeared, was joining those ranks. For that alone Hound was going to give him a chance.

Nodding Hound said, “Hound try. Now?”

Rung’s lips quirked in a small smile. “To begin with we introduce ourselves and add in a few personal details as well. As I said before, I’m Rung—a psychologist. When I’m not working I enjoy making model ships. What about you?”

“I Hound. Like patrol. Love tracking. Love Click.”

“That’s right. I’ve heard you’re almost always on patrol.” Rung lightly said. “How are you handling being taken off active duty since becoming Click’s caretaker?”

Hound hadn’t really thought about it. He loved patrol, but he wasn’t chafing at being unable to patrol. “Busy. Lots happen.”

Rung nodded. “What have you been busy with?”

“Click.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Rung lightly said. “Now, I know you’re having trouble with your speech right now, but don’t let that hold you back. We’re trying to get to know each other. Ask me anything you want.”

Hound was rather curious about Perceptor and Ratchet’s forgetfulness around Rung, but he didn’t think it was polite to ask someone he’s just met about it. Perceptor could do that after the meeting. They actually knew each other, even if Perceptor somehow forgot about it. Instead, he decided to ask something a little safer.

“What Rung like?”

“Hmm, what do I like? I love helping other people, that’s one of the reasons why I became a therapist. I told you about my hobby of building model ships, but I also enjoy unwinding with a good book.”

Hound perked up. “What book Rung like?”

“I will admit, I love romances.” Hound jerked back and his face must have looked interesting because Rung chuckled. “I take it you’re not a fan of romance?”

Rung shook his head. “Romance fine. Romance always have interface.” He spat out the word interface. If Rung was going to be one of those mechs that started acting strange when they learned that Hound didn’t like interface, he was going to storm out of the room and demand Ratchet to find him and Click a different therapist. There was no way he was leaving his sparkling with someone like that.

“You don’t. . . well I can see why you wouldn’t enjoy romances if you don’t enjoy interface. They do enjoy having at least one of those scenes in a book.” Rung looked Hound over consideringly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but can you tell me why you don’t like interface?”

Rung seemed more thoughtful than anything else at Hound’s confession. That was. . . not a bad sign, but not necessarily a good sign either.

“Why?” Hound asked.

“Well, for example, did you have a bad experience with interfacing, or is some part of the experience unpleasant for you? There are lots of reasons mechs dislike interface.”

“Why Rung ask?”

“If your dislike for interface is just how you are, then that’s fine. But if it stems from a deeper issue I want to help.”

Hound wanted to say he’s always been uncomfortable with interface, that there was no deeper issue with it, but he stopped. That wasn’t actually true now that he was thinking about it. He had seen mechanimals mating—interfacing—often enough, and he was never uncomfortable around that. Not like he was when he noticed other mechs doing it now. Back then he never felt the need to try it himself, but he wasn’t uncomfortable with it. That discomfort came later after he met other mechs. After Proteus.

“Hound first uncaring. Hound now uncomfortable.”

“We can work on making you more comfortable with interfacing if you’d like.”

Hound instantly nodded. He hated how uncomfortable he was when he noticed other mechs interfacing—especially with how often some of them went at it. It could make the time they were trapped on the Arc miserable.

“Then that can be one of the things we work on in these sessions.” Rung said.

Hound would have to pay attention to how Rung acted around the topic of interface, but he seemed to be fine. He actually wasn’t setting off any of his alarms for mechs he should avoid.

“Ratchet tell why Hound here?” He asked. Rung hadn’t brought up integration or any of the issues that made Ratchet order him to therapy—he was pretty sure Ratchet didn’t even know how uncomfortable he was with interface. It never really came up when they saw each other.

Rung’s gaze softened behind his glasses. “Yes, Ratchet mentioned some things while scheduling your appointment. However, I want you to tell me what you’re having trouble with and need help with.”

Was Rung trying to be respectful? This was respectful, right? Well, he could try. “What Rung want know?”

“I want you to tell me what’s causing you issues. Not what others say is wrong, but what you think is wrong.” Rung seriously said looking Hound straight in the optics.

“Bad memory come often. Hound hurt Tracks, think Tracks not Tracks. Hound no like.”

“Ratchet did mention the incident with Tracks. Do your bad memory fluxes come often?”

“More now.” Hound admitted.

Rung frowned. “They’re becoming more frequent? That’s not good. What are they about?”

“Proteus.” He thought that would be obvious if Ratchet told him what happened. Maybe rung was trying not to assume what he wanted.

Rung solemnly nodded. “We can work on these bad memory fluxes. Is there anything else you can think of right now? It’s fine if you can’t, we can always add more when they come up.”

Hound shook his head. He was here because his memory fluxes caused him to hurt Tracks. If Rung could stop him from wanting to empty his tanks whenever he heard mechs interfacing that was just a bonus.

“Does this mean you want me as your therapist?” Rung asked.

He nodded. “Hound try.”

Rung beamed at him. “Of course. If you change your mind don’t hesitate to tell me. Now, why don’t we go see Click and get your sessions scheduled.”

Hound followed Rung out of the room into the hallway where Perceptor was explaining the intricacies of how sound worked to Click’s enraptured audials. Click was silently watching Perceptor with wide optics, only interrupting to ask a question or to ask for clarification that Perceptor eagerly answered. When they noticed them leaving the room Click reached out for him and Perceptor brightly greeted them.

It was quick work setting up their therapy sessions. Both he and Click were meeting Rung once a week, but they met Rung on different days. It was, as Rung explained, so they wouldn’t stress each other out by both being emotionally exhausted after their sessions at the same time.

As they figured out the schedule Perceptor was standing at the side, intently staring at Rung as if he could dissect the therapist with his gaze alone. He wasn’t being subtle at all because the first thing Rung did after their future sessions were scheduled was to awkwardly ask Perceptor, “Is something wrong?”

“You were my therapist, right?” Perceptor asked.

Rung’s optics widened as he stared at Perceptor in shock. “Er, yes.”

“If you were my therapist, why can’t I remember you.” Perceptor said, pointing at Rung accusingly. “I can remember our sessions, but not you.”

The flicker excitement Rung started to feel at Perceptor’s first question was extinguished out in an instant. “Everyone forgets me.” He glumly said.

“Hound didn’t forget you though. I wonder what makes him special. Could it have something to do with how he processes information? There’s no way he processes his sensory data like most mechs do considering how much he’s receiving at any given klick. Or maybe—" Perceptor started muttering theories to himself as Rung whipped around to stare at Hound in shock.

“You remember me? When would we have even met?”

Perceptor interrupted his scientific ramblings to say, “Hound picked me up from one of my sessions with you. That he remembers is the only reason I know you were my therapist.”

“You remember me from that one meeting?” Rung asked. “We wouldn’t have even spoken.”

Hound nodded. “Hound Rung no speak.”

Rung deeply vented. “That’s. . . how?

“I have precisely no idea!” Perceptor brightly said. “I have no idea why I forgot you either. Is it an outlier ability?”

“No, no. I got tested for an outlier ability once I realized no one seemed to remember me. It’s not that.”

“You must go to the lab with me.” Perceptor reached out and grabbed Rung’s servos, lifting them up in a pleading motion. “Please, in the name of scientific discovery. This is a phenomena unknown to science! A new route for discovery!”

“Perceptor watch Hound Click.” Hound dryly cut in. Perceptor was supposed to be his watcher for the rest of the day and his, as Jazz would say, cuddle buddy for the night. He didn’t need the scientist running off without them.

“Of course you’re coming too. I need to figure out why you’re the only one who apparently can’t forget Rung. It might be key to figuring out this mystery.”

“Labs dangerous.” Hound stressed, holding out Click to Perceptor for emphasis.

“This will be my personal lab. There’s nothing dangerous in there right now.”

Hound vented. “If safe and Rung want Hound Click go.”

“Of course it’ll be safe. I’m not like Brainstorm or Wheeljack.” Hound knows, Perceptor was exceedingly level-headed for a scientist. That was the only reason why he was even considering going to the labs with Click.

Perceptor lit up. Turning back to Rung, he asked, “What do you say?”

Rung gave a long, drawn-out vent. “Fine. I don’t have any more sessions scheduled for today.”

“Great, let’s get going now.” Perceptor said before walking in the direction of the labs with purpose. One of his servos was still holding onto Rung’s servo, pulling the therapist along with him despite his protests he could walk himself. Click started giggling at the sight. Fondly shaking his head, Hound followed them at a more sedate pace.

Chapter Text

“So, what exactly are we doing?” Rung dryly asked as Perceptor hooked him up to a machine with lots of wires.

“I’m starting out by gathering your baseline data. It’s always better to have a control test before you start trying to do anything. That way you know what your tests are changing. Besides, I want to see how your baseline compares to the baseline of the average Cybertronian.” Perceptor eagerly explained.

“Perceptor likes talking.” Click whispered to Hound as they watched Perceptor wrangling a hesitant Rung into testing.

That startled a chuckle out of Hound. “Perceptor like explaining. Love science.”

Click nodded seriously. “*Click* liked his explanation of sound. Good at explaining.”

Hound nodded. “Perceptor is.”

Click shifted nervously in Hound’s hold.

“What wrong?” Hound asked.

“Can *click* ask a question?”

Hound nodded. “Always.”

“Who. . . who is Proteus?” Click quietly asked, sinking into himself with a small whine as if expecting Hound to be angry at him for asking.

Hound wasn’t angry. Instead, he froze. Cold dread creeping into his frame. “How Click know name?” He didn’t think the others would have talked about this in front of Click, and he didn’t hear any such conversations happening.

Click frowned. “From Hound.”

Huh? From him?

“When?”

Click squirmed; his lips pursed in a frown. “*Click* not know how to explain.”

“Like Ricochet?” Hound asked, remembering the incident where Click instantly realized Ricochet wasn’t Jazz. It was only a few days ago, but with everything going on he pushed that incident to the back of his mind until the both of them could talk about it—like the whole. . . Soundwave and Megatron situation.

He really needed to talk to Click about Megatron, but he pushed it off immediately after the attack because his vocalizer stopped working. Click couldn’t read, and he wanted the conversation to be just the two of them. He didn’t want anyone, not even his friends, around acting as an interpreter. Now he could speak again, but he was absolutely terrible at it. Click seemed to not have any trouble understanding him so far, but he had kept what he was saying simple.

Nothing about the Megatron conversation would be simple. And Click deserved to hear the whole truth from him, or at least everything Hound knew. He didn’t know everything, but he had to tell Click what he did know.

Click perked up. “Yes. *Click* knows Proteus like *Click* know Ricochet not Jazz.”

“Click try explain?” Hound asked.

“*Click* will try.” A determined pout crossed Click’s face. “*Click* feel things, see things from others. Ricochet does not feel like Jazz. *Click* feel more from caretaker and Hound.”

Hound “felt” things from others with their EM fields, but he already confirmed Click couldn’t feel EM fields. This was something else.

He suddenly felt guilty. Here Click was, waking up in an unfamiliar world, surrounded by mechs he didn’t know while thinking his previous caretaker was probably dead. And yet, despite becoming Click’s new caretaker, he was making Click see and feel the terrible things he remembered. Hopefully Click didn’t see much—him asking who Proteus was probably meant he didn’t know. Hound could only hope that whatever glimpse he got only gave him Proteus’ name and nothing else.

Click deserved better than to feel those unwanted servos touching him while there was nothing he could do to stop—

A small servo hitting his chest knocked Hound out of his thoughts.

“No! Hound no feel bad!”

Oh, that’s right. Click could feel his emotions, which also meant he was feeling what Hound felt right now. “Sorry. Click upset?”

A confused whine left Click as he stared at Hound before puffing up and hitting his chest again. “*Click* fine. Hound no feel bad!”

Hound chuckled. “Feeling no turn off.”

Click huffed. Pointing threateningly at Hound he declared, “*Click* make Hound feel better.” Before throwing his arms around Hound as far as they would go in a hug and began to purr. The purr had a hint of a growl in it, but Hound could tell it was from a furious protectiveness rather than anger at Hound. It was just like when White Fang would scold him while cleaning him after a failed hunt when he was young and still learning.

Hound pushed the memory out of his processor. Spark aching at the reminder of his old pack leader who had surely offlined in the time he was gone. Most mechanimals had at the very least gone into stasis lock with how scarce Energon had become on Cybertron. That was a death sentence if another mechanimal found them in such a state. Unable to fight back while they were eaten.

Click’s arms tightened around him as his purr intensified. “No thinking.” He scolded.

“Sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. Be better.” Click said, is purr intensifying. If Click was fully grown the air would be vibrating from how intense it was. For now, though, he could feel the vibrations where he and Click touched.

The sensation was grounding and Hound’s attention narrowed down to those points of connection, Click’s aggressive purr, and Perceptor’s joy at new scientific discoveries washing over him in the background.

They stayed like that for a while. Hound holding Click who was threatening all his negative emotions to stay away while Perceptor ran his scans on Rung in the background.

Eventually Perceptor finished whatever scans he wanted, and he let Rung go with orders to come by again in a day or two. This way he had time to go over the data and figure out what tests he wanted to run. When Rung asked about the possibility that Perceptor might forget him a manic gleam entered Perceptor’s optic as he answered, “This phenomenon is unknown to science. I’m not letting it go until I have answers.”

At Rung’s very concerned expression Hound decided to pop in. “Hound remind Perceptor.”

Perceptor beamed at Hound. “Of course, thank you my friend.”

Rung relaxed before curiously glancing at Click whose purr took on a happier tone as Hound spoke. Satisfied that he had scared all of Hound’s negative emotions away Click leaned into Hound and was radiating his own happiness. Rung clearly had some questions about this, but he didn’t even try and ask them as he hurried out of Perceptor’s lab. Hound felt Rung pass by Brainstorm who was suddenly filled with jealousy. Hopefully he was going to his own lab.

As Rung left Perceptor walked up to them. “Now that that’s handled, is there anything you want to do since we’re in the labs or you want to leave?”

“Leave.” Hound instantly said. “Hound trust Perceptor lab safe. Hound no trust others safe. Wheeljack make explosions.” Also, from what he heard, Brainstorm was also partial to weapons of mass destruction.

Perceptor chuckled. “Yes, Wheeljack’s experiments can be quite volatile. His lab is reinforced to handle it, but I see what you mean. Where do you want to go then?”

“Den.”

Lighting up Perceptor asked, “Can I join you in there?”

Hound nodded. “Want Perceptor with. Perceptor, ‘cuddle buddy.’”

“That’s right, I am. Let’s get—”

Before Perceptor could finish talking the lab door slammed open and Brainstorm stormed in. The jet was bristling with aggression, and Hound could feel jealousy boiling in his field. He was hoping the jet would return to his lab, but apparently that was too much to ask for.

“You! How dare you!” Brainstorm shouted as he stomped towards Perceptor.

Perceptor stared at Brainstorm in confusion. “Is this about the samples from earlier? Because if it is I assure you—”

“I don’t care about the slagging samples! Who was that mech that just left?” At that moment Brainstorm seemed to realize that Hound and Click were there because he pointed accusingly at them. “And what are they doing here?”

Hound shrunk back at Brainstorm’s attention. Hound had never met the other mech before, but he knew Brainstorm was a genius who was very outspoken about how smart he was. And, more importantly, Perceptor considered him to be a work friend. Perceptor didn’t talk about the jet very often, but when he did it was clear he liked the jet.

This was the worst time to meet the vain scientist. He could barely piece together a broken sentence and Brainstorm was already angry. He’d just make him angrier with his awful Neocybex.

Click puffed up at Brainstorm’s question and started growling at him.

Hound couldn’t see what expression Brainstorm was making behind his mask, but it couldn’t be pretty because he sneered, “I thought we had a new sparkling, not a wild mechanimal.”

Rage engulfed Hound, pushing out all his previous worries. He wanted to lash out and claw at the other mech, but he held himself back. Jazz reassured him that he wasn’t in trouble for punching Tracks the other day, but it wouldn’t look good if he scratched Brainstorm’s face off not even a day later. No matter how much he wanted to. Hound held himself back from attacking Brainstorm and snapped, “Click no mechanimal.”

Brainstorm turned back to Perceptor. “What are you doing hanging out with an idiot who can’t even talk like—”

Brainstorm froze; optics blown wide open as he stared at Perceptor.

Perceptor was furious, and he was letting it show as he glared at Brainstorm. Perceptor had confided in him once how he hated being angry. He hated how it made him feel and how he acted when he let that anger control him. That was why Perceptor never let it show when he was angry. He was slow to anger in the first place. Hound had only felt Perceptor’s anger a few times, and he had never seen the scientist act on it or let it show.

Those times were nothing compared to the fury encompassing Perceptor now as he stomped towards Brainstorm and picked the other mech up.

Brainstorm let out a startled squeak when Perceptor threw him over his shoulder and started walking away.

“We are going to have a conversation about how you’re treating my friend and his sparkling.” Perceptor said, his tone as smooth and cold as glaze ice. “If you refuse to listen, I am never working with you again.”

Brainstorm sputtered at the threat. Fear cutting through the jealousy and anger that clouded his field. “You can’t do that Percy! We work too well together. We’re simpatico!”

“If this is how you treat my friends then we’re not simpatico.” A pained noise left Brainstorm, but Perceptor continued on, acting as if he didn’t hear anything. “And don’t say anything about how the higher ups wouldn’t allow it. If I explain this situation to Prowl, he’ll make sure we never work together again!”

“No! Please Perceptor, you can’t do that!” Brainstorm shouted, wriggling in Perceptor’s hold and unable to escape.

“I can and I will if this is how you treat my friend and his sparkling.”

Perceptor was saying more, but he left the lab and Hound decided to give Perceptor the privacy he clearly wanted for this conversation since he was leaving the lab for it. Perceptor would tell Hound what he wanted him to know later when they were back in the den. For now, Hound turned his focus back to Click who was scowling in the direction Perceptor dragged Brainstorm off in.

“Click good?” He carefully asked.

The question started Click out of his thoughts because he startled and looked back up at Hound, expression melting to something softer. “*Click* is fine. How is Hound?”

“Hound fine. Perceptor good friend.”

Click smiled. “Perceptor is very good. Strong too.”

Hound nodded. “Perceptor was Wrecker. Wreckers strong.”

Click tilted his head. “Stronger than Hound?”

“Yes. Wreckers have hardest missions. Hound patrol. Little combat.”

Click looked consideringly in the direction Perceptor dragged Brainstorm off in. “Perceptor is strong, but not strongest.”

“Perceptor fight long distance. Amazing sniper. Like Bluestreak.”

They fell into silence after that. Hound wasn’t really sure what to say after that encounter, and Click didn’t ask anything else, so he just stood there, waiting for Perceptor to finish his conversation with Brainstorm and come back so they could finally go to the den. Some time relaxing in his den would do the sniper some good with how angry he felt. The bulk of his rage had already left, but he was still pretty angry.

Eventually Perceptor must have finished his talk with Brainstorm because he started heading back to the lab, Brainstorm following behind him. Walking into the lab Perceptor smiled at them, none of his earlier anger was showing. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Now, Brainstorm, what do we say?”

Brainstorm shifted uncomfortably under the attention as Hound turned to look at him. Waiting for the apology Perceptor was likely forcing out of him as part of what he needed to continue working with Brainstorm. “I apologize for likening Click to a mechanimal and for insulting your intelligence because you currently have trouble speaking. Speech has no bearing on intelligence.”

Hound knew that the traditional answer would be to accept the apology. Hound didn’t feel very accepting after what Brainstorm said about Click. “Brainstorm know why Hound upset?”

“Because I insulted both of you?” Brainstorm uncertainly answered.

“No. Brainstorm call Click mechanimal. Mechanimal no sentient. No sentient mean no rights. Click is sentient. Click is mech.” Hound could feel himself beginning to growl as he spoke. Remembering how the senators Proteus showed him off to would speak about him as if he was some dumb beast, even after he proved he was sentient. Acting like his use of frame noises made him no better than a wild mechanimal. “Hound Brainstorm speak later when Hound speak better. Perceptor Click Hound leave now.”

“That’s right. We were about to leave when you stormed in.” Perceptor lightly said to Brainstorm who flinched at the reprimand. “We will speak more in depth later when I’m free.”

With that they left the labs and started heading back to his room, his den.

After a few ticks of walking Perceptor broke the silence that settled over their group. “I feel like I must apologize for Brainstorm’s actions myself. I never realized he would act in such a way to other mechs. Maybe I should have, I’ve never seen him even try to interact with anyone who isn’t a scientist.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Perceptor no apologize. Brainstorm jealous. Hound Brainstorm speak later when no angry.”

Perceptor’s lips quirked into a small smile. “His jealousy doesn't excuse his actions, but I won't apologize for him again if you don't want me to." 

Hound nodded and asked, “How talk go?”

Perceptor vented. “I told Brainstorm that you are a dear friend of mine, and that if he’s the type of mech to look down on less intelligent mechs than I don’t want to be lab partners with him ever again.”

“Big threat.” Hound seriously said, nodding along.

“It is. I’m the only person here he likes working with.” Perceptor chuckled before becoming more serious. “If he ever acts like that and I’m not around, tell me. Don’t hold back because you don’t want to be the reason I end one of my friendships. This isn't just about how he treated you, even if it is a large part of it. It's also about the types of mechs I want to surround myself with.”

“Hound will.”

“If Hound will not *click* will.” Click cut in, staring at Perceptor with a serious that should seem out of place on such a tiny frame but was fitting on Click.

“Thank you. That puts my processor at ease.” Perceptor said to Click.

Hound dramatically huffed at Perceptor ignoring him in favor of Click. In reality, he couldn’t be happier that they were getting along so well. He couldn’t wait until things were more peaceful and he could be with his entire pack at the same time. Click still hadn’t met Nightbeat, but he hoped they would get along. It would be nice to be able to hang out with both Ricochet and Jazz at the same time as well. Maybe he could convince them all to go camping on Earth with him. It was as close to being in Cybertron’s wild as he could get now, and it would be safer for them. The Earth wildlife wasn’t dangerous to them.

He would have to ask them about it if Megatron really did agree to a peace treaty. A break would be good for Prowl. It would be good for all of them actually. Yeah, when peace is finally confirmed he'll ask.

Chapter Text

Hound was laying in his den, enjoying the weight Perceptor’s arms wrapped around him while he held Click in his own arms, when Perceptor said, “I have a question, if you don’t mind answering.”

“Ask.” Hound said. There was very little Perceptor could ask that Hound wouldn’t at least attempt to answer. He’s probably the only person besides Nightbeat he’d be willing to share others’ secrets with. If Perceptor was asking about it, it was probably for a good reason—he wasn’t one to engage in gossip or the betting pools.

“What are those noises you and Click keep making? The only thing similar to it I’ve heard are Dinobots’ growls.”

Hound lightly hummed. “Frame noises. Purr, growl, whine, click, all frame noises.”

Click perked up when he heard Hound say “click” and he shushed the sparkling. “Not Click. Noise click.”

Click huffed and curled back into Hound’s side.

“And this is a way of communicating?” Perceptor asked.

Hound nodded. “Noises show feelings. Intent. Growl angry. Mean go away. Purr happy or comfort.”

“Do they all generally mean one thing?” Perceptor asked, his excitement growing as they talked. As much Perceptor loved science, his true passion was learning new things. It just naturally showed up in his love of science.

“No. Tone delivery context change. Whine happy or distressed.”

“Fascinating. You said that these are frame noises, does that mean they come primarily from your frame?”

Hound nodded. “Reason Click use frame noises. Click no vocalizer.”

“I see. And how do you make these noises?”

“Perceptor learn?” He asked. Teaching Perceptor how to make these noises sounded nice.

“I would love to.” Hound wasn’t facing in Perceptor’s direction, but he knew if he was he would see the scientist brightly smiling at the invitation to learn. “Oh, but is this something I can learn? I’ve never really heard other mechs making frame noises.”

“Hound teach Dinobots. Hound teach Perceptor.” He firmly said.

“You taught the. . . you mean you’re the reason the Dinobots can growl.” Perceptor’s tone was accusing, but Hound could feel he wasn’t upset at all. Perceptor was amused.

Chuckling Hound answered. “Yes.”

“But why?”

“Dinobots cute. Want learn. Hound know. Hound teach.”

“Cute is one way to describe them. Not that I disagree with you, but Wheeljack shrieked the first time he heard the Dinobots growl.”

Hound snickered. “Hound know. Funny.”

“You, was this your way of getting back at Wheeljack for saying he could build drones as better scouts?” Perceptor asked, like it was a revelation. Perceptor was right, of course.

Thinking back on it now, remembering those scouting reports he read with Prowl, Wheeljack was probably right. They wouldn’t be able to replace him, but as long as Wheeljack didn’t screw up and make murder drones they would be better than most mechs sent on patrol. At least until he could whip the scouts into shape. And he would. Those current reports were a disgrace.

Perceptor clearly took his silence as an answer because he started laughing. “That’s wonderful. How do you think Wheeljack would react if I growled at him.”

Oh, Hound liked the way Perceptor thought. “Scream. Run.”

“He would.”

“What Wreckers think?” Hound asked. Perceptor didn’t talk much about the Wreckers, but it was obvious that he loved them. He wanted to know about these other people in Perceptor’s life. Maybe he should ask to meet them once the war is over.

“They’d love it and ask me to teach them.” Perceptor didn’t even wait a klick to think about it.

“Perceptor teach after learn.” Hound humorously said.

“They are going to terrorize so many mechs.”

Feeling mischievous Hound suggested, “Howls more scary.”

“You can teach me how to howl too?” Perceptor whispered in awe.

Hound nodded. “Hound teach. Not here. Loud. Noticeable.”

“Yes, it wouldn’t be good to cause widespread panic over the Arc. Say,” Perceptor’s tone turned a touch mischievous, “Jazz mentioned how you started teaching him how to track. Bring me along and you can teach both of us.”

That did sound good. Jazz would be an absolute menace if he could howl, Ricochet as well. Perceptor would also be better at noticing the important fine details in tracking that Jazz missed. “Hound will. Now learn purr. Next growl. Howl later.”

“Of course. Can I ask why you're teaching me how to purr first?”

“Purr growl use engine. Purr easy. Learn use engine. Growl more hard. Shape engine noise.” Hound explained. The Dinobots were whining when he taught them how to purr first. At least, they complained until they tried purring and failed miserably. “Perceptor rev engine?”

“This is an independent motion, yes? Not connected to anything?”

Hound nodded. “Engine noise only. Hard learn. Dinobots take groons.”

Perceptor lightly hummed. “Very well, I will try.”

Hound coached Perceptor through how to use his engine independently of anything else to purr. He seemed to have a harder time than the Dinobots, at least initially. While the Dinobots started they were making noises on their first few attempts, even if it wasn’t a purr. Perceptor, however, couldn’t get a noise out for a while. Revving his engine into a purr was tricky for him. However, after he purred for the first time he figured out how to purr consistently.

It was nice, Hound distantly thought, to be wrapped in the safe-calm-warmth of another mech hugging him as they purred. Going limp in Perceptor’s arms Hound’s own purr rose to meet him.

“Oh, you like this.” Perceptor said in surprise, still purring as he spoke.

Hound nodded. “Feel good.”

“Are you going to teach the others how to purr?”

“Teach if want.”

“I think they will if you like it this much. Click too.”

Click had gone completely strutless where he was cuddling at Hound’s side. A pile of his own purring contentment. Perceptor seemed quite comfortable as well. When was the last time he had felt Perceptor this relaxed? Definitely before he joined the Wreckers. Hound was glad it wasn’t just him and Click that enjoyed this. That Perceptor could relax and enjoy this moment as well.

Eventually, though, the moment had to end, and it did so with Perceptor asked, “Do you still want to teach me how to growl?”

Hound’s purr cut off at the question. He wanted to bask in that safe comfort forever, the only thing that could make the moment better was if the rest of his pack joined them. He knew they couldn’t stay like this forever. This was probably the best time he would have to teach Perceptor how to growl for a while. At least, until the next time he was assigned to be his cuddle buddy.

“Hound teach now. Growl loud purr. Shape frame change noise.”

He began stiltedly explaining how to growl to Perceptor. It would have been easier to explain if he could speak normally, but that fortunately didn’t seem to be an issue. Perceptor quickly caught on to what he was explaining, and the only part left was actually doing it.

That. . . turned out to be harder than he expected. While Perceptor caught onto how to purr fairly quickly, that was not the case for growling. Growling required shifting the internals of your frame around to get the right resonance and reverberation. For all that they were transformers, the required changes weren’t something Perceptor was familiar with.

He spent the rest of the day trying and failing to replicate his and Click’s example growls. Click found it quite amusing, giggling at several of Perceptor’s failed attempts. The problem was Perceptor being unable to properly shift his frame, and Hound wasn’t sure what advice he could give to help.

Eventually, Perceptor gave up with a vent. “I’ll work on this more by myself. It’s time for you to recharge.”

“Perceptor recharge?”

“No. I’m keeping watch, remember? I already recharged yesterday. Besides, I can go over the test results from. . . from. . .”

“Rung.” Hound reminded Perceptor of the therapist’s name. That whole mystery was odd. He’ll ask Perceptor if he figured anything out when he woke up.

“Right. I’ll go over Rung’s test results while you’re recharging, so it’s not like I’ll be bored.” Perceptor cheerfully reassured him.

He was really comfortable right now in his den, and Click had already started nodding off. They were safe. No one could sneak up on Perceptor, and he was a Wrecker. If something was dangerous enough that Perceptor couldn’t stop it got this far into the Arc they would be having bigger problems then some lost recharge.

He had utter faith that Perceptor would keep them safe even in the middle of an utter disaster.

Shifting around Hound moved into a more comfortable position for recharge, jostling Click as he did so. Click whined, pushing himself into Hound’s chest. He wrapped Click in a hug and the sparkling immediately settled down. Perceptor’s arm wrapped around his waist again, pressing down on his plating with a firm pressure, and Hound let out a pleased hum.

Safe in his friend’s arms Hound easily slipped into recharge.

Chapter Text

“Rung interesting?” Hound asked, laying comfortably in his den. Click was curled up by his side happily purring and Perceptor was wrapped around him from behind. One servo around Hound’s waist while the other held his datapad.

“Absolutely.” Perceptor eagerly answered. “I found quite a few interesting patterns while reading his test results. I’m going to look into it in the lab today. I do wonder why you of all mechs remember Rung.”

Hound frowned. He didn’t think his sensors would have a large effect on his memory. To be able to remember someone everyone else forgot, but maybe it was related. “Memory storage?” he suggested.

“Memory stor—of course! You must process and store your sensory data differently than most of us do with the sheer scale of how much data you process at any given moment. Has Ratchet been in your processor before?”

Hound nodded.

“Wonderful. When it’s Bluestreak’s turn to watch you, I’ll ask Ratchet about how your data processing and storage differs from ours. He’ll be interested in a mech that no one remembers as well. Now, what do you want to do today?”

It’d probably be safer if he stayed in his room. Avoid more mechs learning about his terrible speech. But Hound didn’t want to stay in his room with only Click and Perceptor, who would be swapped out with Bluestreak later. He wanted to be with other mechs, talk to them. But he didn’t want them to judge his speech, treat him as lower for it.

“Hound Click see Dinobots?” He suggested. The Dinobots wouldn’t care about how he spoke, and apparently, they already met and liked Click when Prowl and Jazz were watching him.

Click perked up and let out a little growl.

Hound chuckled. “Click show off?” He asked.

Click nodded. “*Click* can growl now. Grimlock said that only big bots can growl.”

Poking Click on the foreheat Hound said, “Click tiny.”

Click whined, shoving his face into Hound’s chest.

Perceptor chuckled behind him. “We’ll go to the Dinobots, then I’ll grab a cube from the canteen for you and Click. Do you know where they are?”

Hound briefly expanded his EM sensors, looking for the Dinobots’ fields. Finding the five of them all together he lowered his sensors to their normal range for the Arc. “Hound know.”

“Let’s get going then.” Perceptor said, putting his datapad away and sitting up. Hound shifted Click so the sparkling was in an easy carrying position and crawled out of the den. Following closely after him Perceptor left the den and quickly ran through a few stretches. Deciding his joints were in good enough condition Perceptor gestured to the door with a grin, “Lead the way.”

Hound chuckled at Perceptor’s little show and stepped out of his room, walking in the direction of the Dinobots. Perceptor closed the door behind them and quickly moved so they were walking side by side.

Hound may have rushed down the halls, ducking around corridors to avoid running into anyone else, but the only ones who would even know were Perceptor and Click. He doubted either of them would judge him for wanting to avoid most other mechs right now.

It took a while to reach the rec room the Dinobots were using as it was far from the central areas of the Arc. As they approached, he could hear bangs and Grimlock and Slag’s grunts.

Perceptor could hear them too because he asked, “What do you think they’re doing to make such a racket?”

“Wrestling.” The Dinobots loved playing rough with each other which made other mechs nervous thinking the Dinobots would suddenly start rampaging around the ship. As if their destruction was caused in a rage rather than them being clumsy. It was one of the reasons they hung out in the more remote areas of the Arc, and their coordination had improved a lot after they started regularly roughhousing with each other.

Now they weren’t likely to cause destruction wherever they went on accident. Whatever destruction they caused now was on purpose.

Click was swinging his pedes, humming in excitement as they reached the room. Opening the door showed that Hound’s guess was right. Grimlock and Slag were wrestling on the floor in their root modes. Tossing each other around. The others were also in their root modes, leaning against the wall that all the room’s furniture was pushed against and cheering the others on.

As they walked in the Dinobot’s optics snapped towards them. Grimlock stood up, leaving Slag lying on the floor. “Me Grimlock happy to see Hound Click and Perceptor. Why friends here?”

Hound smiled at Grimlock’s exuberant greeting. “Hound want be with Dinobots.”

Grimlock tilted his head in confusion. “Why you Hound speak different?”

“Hound lost most of his language modules.” Perceptor quickly cut in to explain.

Sludge plodded towards them. “Why Ratchet no fix?”

Swoop cut in. “Yeah! Ratchet good doctor. Why he no fix it yet?”

“Ratchet wait. Need processor calm.” Hound explained. He also wished Ratchet could fix it right away.

“How you Hound lose speech?” Grimlock asked. If Hound could see Grimlock’s face, he was sure that Grimlock would be frowning. His field was filled with concern. Actually, all of the Dinobots’ fields were concerned.

Before Hound could assure the Dinobots that there was nothing to worry about Click hopped in. “Tracks scared Hound. Hound stopped speaking well after.”

Why did Click have to say the thing that would set off the Dinobots the most?

“Me Grimlock smash Tracks!” Grimlock roared as he started stomping towards the door. The other Dinobots followed after him with Swoop cheering “smash Tracks” over and over again.

Hound stood in front of the door and threw his spare arm that wasn’t busy holding Click out towards the Dinobots and firmly said, “No! No smash Tracks. Tracks no intend bad.”

“Tracks hurt Hound.” Grimlock argued.

“Tracks no intend bad.” Hound repeated, hoping the Dinobots would understand. Tracks didn’t mean to set off a bad memory flux. It wasn’t Tracks’ fault he was a walking reminder of Hound’s worst memories. “Hound fault hurt.”

“No.” Perceptor immediately snapped. “Don’t you dare say this is your fault.”

Hound flinched back at Perceptor’s sudden aggression. He could feel the anger flaring in Perceptor’s field. “Hound bad react. No Tracks fault.”

Perceptor gently grabbed his face and forced their optics to meet. “It’s not your fault Hound. Just because you had a bad memory flux doesn’t mean it was your fault.”

Hound tried to look away from Perceptor’s piercing gaze, but his grip, as gentle as it was, was harder than titanium.

“Okay.” He mumbled.

Perceptor let go. Smiling, he said, “I’m glad you understand. And if you forget, I’ll remind you as many times as you need.”

“Me Grimlock no smash Tracks?” Grimlock glumly asked.

Hound nodded. “No smash Tracks.”

Swoop popped up in front of them with a grin, Tracks already forgotten. “Click is back. How is Click?”

Click beamed up at Swoop as he cheerfully said, “*Click* can speak now.”

Swoop gasped in delight as Slag butted in to get a closer look at Click, knocking Swoop over. “Click can speak now! How?”

“Ratchet made *click* a new vocalizer! He installed it yesterday!”

Slag nodded. “Ratchet is good doctor.” He bragged.

“Ratchet amazing.” Hound confirmed. The Dinobots were happy with his praise for one of their creators.

Perceptor turned to Grimlock and asked, “Can all of you keep an eye on these two for me while I grab a cube for Click from the canteen? We’re not supposed to leave Hound alone right now.”

“Dinobots can. But why?”

“Ratchet is worried that Hound might have another bad memory flux after what happened with Tracks. He’s supposed to stay with a mech he trusts at all times for now, just in case.”

“Hound trusts Dinobots?” Snarl weakly asked.

Of course he did. The Dinobots might be rowdy and childish sometimes, but that was from a lack of experience. They were extremely young. What was important was that they could be trusted to do what they could to help, even if they didn’t understand what was going on. They could learn tact and how to calm down over time. . . hopefully.

Hound didn’t try parsing his feelings into words—especially not now. Instead, he nodded.

“We Dinobots not fail Hound’s trust. Dinobots keep Hound safe.” Grimlock firmly said.

“Hound knows.” The Dinobots weren’t the smartest, but Hound had no doubts they would do their best to keep him and Click safe.

“Good.” Perceptor put a servo on Hound’s shoulder and whispered, “stay safe,” before leaving.

Now alone with only the Dinobots and Click he asked, “Dinobots play?”

“Me Grimlock no play. Me Grimlock was training with him Slag.” Grimlock defensively said.

Hound smiled at Grimlock. He tried to be seen as fully grown. As not a sparkling. The Dinobots were all either a year or two old now, having been created here on Earth. Lots of mechs treated them like sparklings because of that and their less powerful processors. He heard Ratchet ranting about it once. They didn’t have all the parts for a higher-powered processor here on Earth, so he did what he could to streamline them as much as he could. It was why the Dinobots talked the way they did. Something about it being easier for their processors to handle.

Grimlock didn’t appreciate being treated like a sparkling, so he denied anything that might make him look like one.

“Training fun?” He asked instead.

Grimlock softened at the question. His earlier defensiveness fading away. “Yes.”

“Can Grimlock train *click* to fight?” Click asked.

Grimlock chuckled at Click’s question. You Click too tiny to wrestle. Me Grimlock would crush you Click.”

“*Click* want to learn.” Click whined, pouting up at Grimlock and getting a head pat instead.

“Why Click want learn?” Hound asked. He would teach Click how to fight if he wanted of course. But Click was a little young to even try and learn how to fight like the Dinobots. He was so small, and without the strength that someone like Brawn had he would be crushed.

“*Click* want to protect Hound. Hound was hurt and *click* couldn’t help. The attack, Tracks, Brainstorm—” Click cut himself off with a whine and shoved his face into Hound’s chest.

Tightening his arms around Click’s shaking frame Hound purred. It hurt that his sparkling felt the need to protect him. Protecting Click was his job, Click’s job was to stay safe and happy as he grew up. Not focusing on protecting him. Rocking back and forth Hound slowly stroked a servo down Clicks’ head and back.

“You Click too small to wrestle.” Snarl said.

Hound nodded. “Small gun better. Perceptor Bluestreak good shooters.” Not a sniper rifle though. Click needed something without a lot of kickback so he wouldn’t be knocked to the ground every time he tried to take a shot. Perceptor and Bluestreak would probably have a better idea of what type of gun Click might be able to use.

Click’s distress had faded at their comments, but he didn’t lean away from Hound. Thoughtfully Click said, “Perceptor was scary when mad at Brainstorm. Can Perceptor teach *click* to be scary?”

“Click ask Perceptor.” If that was what Click wanted and Perceptor agreed, he’d allow it. He probably couldn’t find a better teacher for guns among the Autobots except for maybe Bluestreak, and of course Bluestreak was going to help teach Click how to shoot. He already offered to teach Click how to be a sniper.

Sludge nodded seriously. “Him Perceptor is scary.”

“You Hound want to train with Dinobots?” Grimlock offered. “You Hound are big enough.”

“Huh?”

“Train with us! Train with us!” Swoop cheered.

Click perked up. “Hound will learn to fight?”

Hound huffed. “Hound fight.” Just because he didn’t fight other mechs often didn’t mean he couldn’t do it. He though he did a good job against Megatron, and the others seemed impressed.

Click scowled up at him. “Hound didn’t fight Tracks and Brainstorm.”

“Tracks Brainstorm Autobots. Share group Hound. Allies. No fight allies.” Hound argued. He probably could have beaten them in a fight. Tracks would have been easy with how quickly he went down with one punch. And while Brainstorm was a jet, he was a scientist, not fighter. Not like Perceptor. But why should he fight them? It wouldn’t have fixed anything, no matter how good it would have felt in the moment. He would have just gotten in trouble for attacking a fellow Autobot.

Click’s scowl turned confused. “But caretaker needed to fight others in the pit outside of matches to protect us. What makes Tracks and Brainstorm different?”

Hound felt sick at the reminder that Click lived in the gladiator pits before ending up here with him. No matter how cheerful Click was he must have seen some of the worst sides of Cybertron down there. Slag. Click probably didn’t even know who the Autobots were and what they stood for as a group. The values they swore to uphold when they became Autobots. Not if Megatron was telling the truth about who Click was.

Hound was interrupted before he could try and explain what an Autobot was to Click by Perceptor walking into the room cube in hand, followed closely behind by a nervous Huffer.

Chapter Text

“I brought your cube and a visitor.” Perceptor cheerfully said holding out the Energon cube to Hound.

Huffer was standing nervously behind Perceptor, carefully eyeing the Dinobots.

Grabbing the cube Hound set Click down on one of the tables pushed against the wall. Quickly mixing Click’s Energon in a process that he had memorized after the first few times he handed the sparkling his small cube and started drinking the remainder of the larger cube much to Click’s delight.

“Why Huffer here?” Hound asked, breaking the silence that settled over the room as he mixed Click’s Energon.

Huffer startled a little as Hound spoke, but he didn’t seem to pity him for his broken speech. Did Perceptor warn him about it before coming here?

“I finished that new ladder for Click. Figured I should give it to you in person, and Perceptor was nice enough to lead the way.” Huffer said, surprisingly enough without his usual annoyed tone. Instead, he sounded nervous. Please don’t have it be that Perceptor threatened Huffer to behave. He didn’t need his friends jumping to his defense against others for no good reason. Hopefully Huffer was just nervous to be around the Dinobots.

Click perked up at the mention of his new ladder. “Can *click* try ladder?”

Huffer chuckled, relaxing slightly but still tense. “Of course you can. I made it for you.” Huffer walked over to them and pulled out what looked to be two long rectangles pressed together. It was about half Click’s height, and small enough that each rectangle could be comfortably gripped in Click’s servos. Click took it from Huffer’s hand and was clicking excitedly as he looked it over while Huffer explained.

“Hound wanted you to be able to carry it around, so I focused a lot on making it compact. Pull the rectangles apart.” Click did as Huffer asked, and the rectangles easily slid apart, now connected by horizontal ladder rungs.

“Short.” Hound said, trying to prompt Huffer to continue his explanation.

“Of course it’s short right now. I needed Click to actually be able to carry it. It can be extended; you just need to grab the top rung and pull up.”

Click did as Huffer said, and the ladder easily lengthened, new rungs extending from one side to reach the other as he did so.

“Once it’s at the right height you can press that green button on the inside and it’ll lock into that height. You can press the yellow button to extend hooks from the top so it’ll latch onto something, or you can pull it apart at the bottom and it’ll change into an “A” frame for more stability. When you reach the top you can press the red button, and it’ll retract into its carrying form.”

Click smiled up at Huffer. “Thank you. Does Huffer need payment?”

“Nah. It was an interesting design challenge and that’s good enough for me.” Huffer said, with a dismissive wave.

Click frowned. “But Huffer not friends with Hound. Not friends need payment for help.”

Huffer frowned. “That might be what things were like where you came from, but here we’re all Autobots. I’m not going to make you pay for something that a fellow Autobot asked me to make—especially not when it didn’t cost me anything to make.” Huffer paused before hesitantly asking, “Would it make you feel better to pay me for the ladder?”

Slowly nodding Click mumbled, “Yes.”

“In that case, take good care of that ladder and make sure you use it. I like seeing the things I made used well.” The soft way Huffer was talking was unlike the usually gruff mech.

Click’s frown didn’t go away. “But *click* not giving Huffer thing of value.”

“Hound pay.” He offered noticing Huffer’s frown. He was probably trying to figure out what he could even ask that would set Click at ease. “Hound ask Huffer make ladder.”

“You’re sure?” Huffer asked.

Hound nodded.

“Well. . . would you mind answering a question. If you don’t want to answer you can refuse and I’ll think of something else.” Huffer said.

“Ask. Hound decide when hear.”

“Is it true that you don’t like being touched?”

Huh?

“Why Huffer ask?”

“It’s just, well, everyone is talking about you and Tracks, and some people are saying you don’t like being touched while others were arguing that you’re fine with it. I’m curious about who’s right. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Ah, gossip. Well, it didn’t seem like a bad thing to tell Huffer, and he wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable talking about. It’s just that no one bothered asking.

“Hound like friend touch. Hound no like no friend touch.” He explained. The list of mechs he considered his friends was larger than those he considered his pack, but it was smaller than the amount of mechs that tried to touch him. That didn’t matter though. He could handle the discomfort. At least, he could until Tracks.

“Huh. Do you mind me telling everyone?” Huffer asked.

What a gossip. At least he was asking before telling everyone.

“Huffer tell. No secret.” Hound said.

Perceptor snorted. “No, it’s not. You just forget to tell everyone that you don’t like being touched.”

“No need say.” Hound shot back.

“Most mechs aren’t as observant as Nightbeat.”

“Perceptor know. Jazz know.” Everyone he considered pack figured it out on their own. They cared enough to pay attention.

“Yeah, and the two of us are more observant than almost any mech on the Arc. You really need to learn to be more vocal about your preferences. Most people won’t know this sort of thing unless you tell them.”

“Well, I’ll make sure they know.” Huffer cut in. “Anything else you want me to share?”

“Yeah. Tell them not to bother Hound.” Perceptor said.

Huffer nodded. “Yeah, I could see that being annoying. I’ll let them go.”

With that Huffer left.

“Huffer good mood.” Hound commented.

Perceptor smiled. “I think he liked seeing Click, and he liked the challenge of making his new ladder.”

Mentioning the ladder, Click was busy playing with it. Seeing how long he could make it before pressing the button that made it shrink into its carrying form much to Click’s delighted giggles.

“He Huffer gone. Now you Hound train with us Dinobots?” Grimlock asked.

Hound chuckled at Grimlock’s enthusiasm. “Yes. How train?”

“We Dinobots wrestle! You Hound train with him Swoop first. He lightest.” Grimlock said. Of course Swoop was the lightest, his alt-mode was smaller than the others and was made to fly. “Other Dinobots watch.

Hound walked into the middle of the room and settled into a fighting stance. Swoop eagerly ran to face him, settling into his own wrestling stance.

“Fight starts on one.” Grimlock said. “Three. . . two. . . one!”

As soon as Grimlock said one he and Swoop lurched at each other. Grappling with each other and trying to push each other to the ground. They ended up locking arms, pushing against each other.

This was not a fight meant for finesse. This was all about raw strength.

Hound dug his feet into the floor, trying to get a better grip as he pushed. He was slowly pushing Swoop back when all his resistance disappeared tripping him forward. Swoop took that chance to twist Hound around, so he landed on his back with Swoop on top of him.

As soon as his back touched the ground Hound bucked his hips and twisted just like Megatron throwing Swoop off of him onto the ground. Swoop was stunned as he landed on his back allowing Hound enough time to get him in a good pin.

When Swoop came to himself, he tried to struggle out of his hold unsuccessfully. Hound didn’t budge. Swoop eventually gave up struggling. “Me Swoop surrender.” He glumly said.

Hound chuckled as he let go of Swoop and helped pull him up to his feet. “Good fight.”

Click ran up to him and reached his arms out to be picked up. Hound obliged, picking Click up with a now practiced motion. Click grinned up at him. “Hound was very cool.”

Hound grinned. “What Click like?”

“The flip! Hound thought Swoop would win but Hound turned it around to win!”

“You Hound fight good. Fight me Grimlock?” Grimlock said walking over to him after talking briefly to Swoop about the fight.

Grimlock was a much tougher opponent, but that didn’t mean Hound wouldn’t try. But first, “Hound rest. Fight later.”

Grimlock nodded in agreement. “We fight after him Slag and him Snarl.”

“Grimlock like Hound fight?” Hound asked.

“Yes. Hound fight good. Me Grimlock excited to fight you Hound.”

Slag and Snarl ran to the middle of the room as the rest of them went to the wall. They stood across from each other, ready to fight.

“Fight starts on one.” Grimlock said once again. “Three. . . two. . . one!”

Slag growled at he lunged at Snarl; Snarl met him with a wide grin. Their servos intertwined, locking each other in place as they pushed. No tricks to get the upper servo on the other like with Swoop. It was just raw strength against raw strength.

Click was enraptured by the fight. Watching Slag and Snarl clash with wide optics.

They stayed clashing like that for a while, equally matched. Their equilibrium had to break eventually and break it did. Snarl faltered for a moment, but that was all Slag needed to push him back. Now on unsteady footing it was easy for Slag to pin Snarl to the ground. But Snarl wasn’t done yet. Grabbing Slag, Snarl threw him to the ground, and they started rolling around, trying to be the one to pin their opponent to the ground.

This went on for long enough for Bluestreak to enter the room. Hound waved him over, pressing a finger to his lips to try and tell Bluestreak to stay quiet. Slag and Snarl would hate it if Bluestreak’s sudden appearance affected their fight.

Bluestreak nodded and walked over and settled in next to Hound without saying anything. With Bluestreak here and not knowing how long Slag and Snarl would keep fighting Perceptor waved goodbye and left without another word. He must be excited to get Ratchet involved in solving the mystery of everyone forgetting who Rung is.

Nightbeat loved a good mystery. Maybe Hound should tell him about it when he got back. He should get back tomorrow since Prowl called him back after they learned Megatron was Click’s previous caretaker. No need to have Nightbeat looking for a mech when they already know who he is.

Perceptor made the right decision, leaving instead of waiting for the fight to finish. Slag and Snarl kept wrestling for an entire breem before Slag finally pinned Snarl for the win.

As soon as Snarl admitted his defeat Click started clapping. “Slag and Snarl were so cool!”

Snarl’s cheeks darkened and his field took a distinctly pleased tone. “Click think so? Both of us?”

Click nodded. “Slag and Snarl are both awesome fighters!” Click then started expounding on the different moves he liked the most and their audience appeal much to Slag and Snarl’s delight. Hound ended up handing Click to Slag who carefully cradled him as he and Snarl walked to a corner to continue discussing the fight. It was nice seeing Click so happy and talkative. He almost looked like a normal sparkling.

Hound’s spark ached. He wished he could give Click a normal childhood instead of growing up in the middle of a war, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Not unless Megatron accepted peace.

“So, Hound, Jazz told me about what happened between you and Tracks. I know he and Prowl have probably already taken care of it, I mean, I heard that Prowl called Tracks to his office earlier, but do you want me to cause him trouble for you? I can be sneaky if you don’t want anyone to know it’s for you. If they do figure out it was me and I get in trouble, I’ll even say I acted on my own.”

Hound heavily vented. “No.” He didn’t need his friends to threaten and terrorize people for him. That would just make him a bully. He knew Tracks didn’t mean to upset him so badly. Jazz agreed and said a lecture from Prowl about consent was going to be his punishment, just like mandated therapy was his. That way no one could complain about favoritism.

“He Hound say we Dinobots no smash Tracks.” Grimlock sadly told Bluestreak.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. Now, with that out of the way, how are you feeling? Jazz said it was a bad memory flux, and you lost most of your language modules. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost most of my language modules. Well, actually I’d probably keep talking even if I’m not as good at it. I’m a chatterer at spark, I know you know this. There’s no way I could stop talking, no matter how bad at it I become.”

Hound chuckled as Bluestreak strayed off topic. “Hound fine. Ratchet fix later. Now Hound avoid crowds.”

Bluestreak winced. “Yeah, it might be a good idea to avoid most mechs for the next few days.”

That didn’t sound good. Huffer mentioned there was gossip about him and Tracks, but from Bluestreak’s tone this sounded worse. “What wrong?”

“Well, everyone was gossiping like normal. You and Tracks were pretty big since neither of you are mechs who get into fights. You’re one of the most level-headed mechs around and Tracks doesn’t want to scratch his paint job. It’s just that they somehow figured out your issues with touch now of all times and, well, they’re all talking about it. Y’know how gossip usually is. It’s probably a good idea to stay away until it’s calmed down a little. If they calm down.” Bluestreak mumbled the last bit, but Hound could hear him just fine.

He didn’t realize that letting Huffer tell everyone would cause such an uproar. He didn’t think it was that big of a deal. It was his discomfort with interface that mechs usually latched onto whenever he talked about it. “Make trouble?” He asked.

Bluestreak vented. “I don’t think so. At least, not on purpose. They’ll probably just try and talk to you about it if they catch you, and they can be. . . pushy when it comes to gossip. Trying to learn more without considering what they’re asking about. You’ll be fine if you avoid them, and you’re great at avoiding people you don’t want to see. I figured it was some sort of spy technique Jazz taught you, but I guess it’s your sensors. If you can feel someone coming from an astro-mile away it’d be pretty easy to avoid them.”

“Talking done?” Grimlock butted in as Bluestreak started rambling again. “Me Grimlock want fight you Hound!”

Click perked up from where he was still chatting with Slag and Snarl and looked over at them.

“Hound Grimlock fight now.” He agreed, walking to the center of the room, Grimlock following close behind him. It was nice to be allowed to play with the Dinobots, for all they insisted it was training.

“Me Swoop do countdown now!” Swoop declared. After he and Grimlock got into position Swoop said, “On one. Three, two, one!”

Hound couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he and Grimlock clashed.

Chapter Text

Hound had a lot of fun training with the Dinobots all day. He lost most of the time, Ratchet and Wheeljack had built the Dinobots to be strong, but he did manage to win a round against Snarl. The most gratifying thing about his day, though, was how excited Click was to watch the fights. How happy he was to talk about them with the Dinobots afterwards. The Dinobots were completely charmed by Click’s enthusiasm—taking turns to carefully carry him around whenever Hound handed him off.

He had even convinced Bluestreak to try a round of wrestling. Bluestreak nervously yapped for the entire lead up to the fight before Swoop easily pinned him to the ground. Swoop was delighted at easily beating someone for once since he lost against the other Dinobots more often than not due to being lighter on account of his alt-mode.

Eventually Bluestreak decided to call it quits for the three of them. “Alright Hound, Click, it’s about time to get you two back to your room.”

Click whined, looking sadly up at Bluestreak. “Why?”

“Because it’s time for Hound to recharge. You remember he’s supposed to be recharging more than a normal mech right now, and the extra recharge will do you some good too.”

“Oh.” Click turned to Hound. Patting his chest Click said, “Time to go to berth. You need to recharge.”

Hound chuckled. “Hound will.”

“Hound leaving already?” Sludge sadly asked walking towards them.

Hound nodded. “Hound recharge.”

“Why Hound need more recharge?” Snarl asked, looking over Hound in concern.

Bluestreak nervously glanced between Hound and the Dinobots before smiling. “Ratchet’s orders. I’m sure you’ve noticed Hound’s speech.”

Oh, he didn’t want to spread news of Hound’s issues around. Lumping his extra recharge from sleep deprivation with his current language issues. He didn’t mind the Dinobots knowing, but it was probably better that they didn’t. That way they wouldn’t accidentally tell someone else. He may not mind the Dinobots knowing, but he didn’t want the entire ship to know about it.

“Hound need to rest well. Listen to Ratchet. Ratchet is best doctor.” Slag ordered.

“Hound will.” He agreed.

“That’s right, we don’t want to go against Ratchet’s orders. That’s worse than going against a normal doctor’s orders.” Bluestreak said looping his arm around Hound’s as he started towards the door. “Don’t worry about Hound, I’ll make sure he follows Ratchet’s instructions.”

Hound puffed up in indignation. “Hound listen Ratchet!”

Bluestreak chuckled. “I know, but I’m making sure. We don’t want something to go wrong. I mean, you lost track of time and forgot it was time for you to recharge.”

That was true, but Hound was sure he would’ve remembered soon enough. It was probably for the best that Bluestreak decided to call it a night though. He hadn’t realized how tired he felt until Bluestreak started pulling him out of the room. Wrestling with the Dinobots must have really tired him out.

Hound let Bluestreak pull him along, only taking the lead when he noticed someone, taking turns to avoid them. He only had to do that a few times though as Bluestreak had kept to the more abandoned hallways.

In an attempt to stay stealthy, Bluestreak had even stopped talking. Despite not talking Bluestreak was expressive enough with his doorwings constantly twitching in excitement and nervousness that matched him EM field.

“Why Bluestreak nervous?” Hound asked.

Bluestreak jolted at the question. “I-it’s nothing.”

“No nothing. Bluestreak nervous.” Hound reprimanded the sniper.

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“Tell Hound.”

Bluestreak’s doorwings started twitching faster under Hound’s questioning. “It really isn’t a big deal. I’m just worried about recharging with you. I know you specifically requested me, Prowl explained that, but are you really sure? You normally don’t like being touched, and from how Prowl explained it we’re going to be touching a lot, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable because I—”

Hound let go of Bluestreak’s arm to press a finger against his lips, shushing him. “Hound request Bluestreak. Hound trust Bluestreak. Bluestreak touch good. Bluestreak no want touch?”

Bluestreak wasn’t the touchiest mech. But Hound always thought he was fine it. Bluestreak didn’t say anything about it the first time Hound touched him, but he seemed happy when Hound leaned into his side. He also casually touched Prowl and Smokescreen all the time. Was he wrong? He wouldn’t make Bluestreak join him if he was uncomfortable cuddling with him. The others would happily enough take his place.

“No, no, I do want it.” Bluestreak rushed to reassure him. “I do, it’s just that, well. . .”

Oh. “Bluestreak worry rumors?”

Bluestreak shrunk into himself. “Everyone’s been talking about how you don’t like being touched and It’s been making me wonder if I ever made you uncomfortable like that.”

Hound frowned. That was a silly thought. He thought he made it clear that he liked Bluestreak’s touch. Looks like he’d have to remind him. He poked Bluestreak’s cheek. “Hound like Bluestreak touch always. Bluestreak pack.”

He hoped Bluestreak understood what he was trying to tell him. Bluestreak wasn’t just a friend. He was pack. The ones he trusted the most and would do anything for, just as he knew they would do anything for him.

Bluestreak frowned, repeating the word “pack” before turning to Hound. “You really don’t mind?”

“Never for pack.”

“And pack is. . . closer than friends?” Bluestreak asked.

Hound nodded.

“Is it like conjunx amica?”

The question made Hound pause. Packs were closer than what he’d seen of conjunx amica. From what he knew everyone thought amica relationships were supposed to be like, they were similar. More complex explanations could wait until later. For now, he gave Bluestreak a simple, “Yes.”

Bluestreak grinned at the confirmation. “I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me. I always thought you considered me to be a close friend, but to be on amica levels—is this why you asked for my help?”

Hound nodded. “Hound ask pack help. Hound trust pack with all.”

“So me, Prowl, Jazz, and Perceptor are all pack to you?” Bluestreak eagerly asked, his earlier distress completely gone.

“Nightbeat pack.” Hound added. Ricochet as well, but no use mentioning him when Bluestreak didn’t even know he existed. The sniper would probably think he was playing a joke on him if he tried explaining Jazz’s spark twin who was always spying on the Decepticons and sometimes switched places with him.

It did sound like the sort of outlandish theory someone would make about Jazz that they would all laugh at.

“Nightbeat. That’s right, he was your mentor wasn’t he. You mentioned it a few times. I don’t think I’ve met him before.

Hound nodded. Bluestreak wouldn’t have met Nightbeat. They worked in completely different areas, no need for a sniper and detective to work together, and their schedules never lined up to let them meet through him. He knew Prowl and Jazz worked together with Nightbeat before, but he didn’t think Prowl met him either.

“What is a mentor?” Click asked, speaking for the first time in the conversation.

“Most mechs aren’t sparklings like you. We emerge from a hot spot fully formed, but we’re still new to the world and our initial programming doesn’t cover everything. The temple mechs figure out what type of job we were sparked for, what fits us best, and find us a mentor from the same job to stay with for our first vorn or two. They show us the things we don’t know. Most mechs drift away from their mentors when they move out, but the ones who stay close usually have a really good relationship with each other.” Bluestreak explained.

“So, mentors are like caretakers?” Click asked.

“Not exactly.” Bluestreak said at the same time Hound said, “Yes.”

Bluestreak’s head snapped to Hound. “I really don’t think it is, Hound. Mentors are a lot less involved then caretakers. It’s more like you’re roommates, and they show you the things you need to know that aren’t part of your initial programming.”

Hound frowned. “Nightbeat like caretaker.” He said instead of arguing with Bluestreak. He probably understood normal life better than Hound. Everyone did.

“Well, I think that’s just a Nightbeat and you situation.” Bluestreak said. “Most mechs aren’t really close to their mentors, not unless you’re really close. Blut that’s more like an amica bond rather than a caretaker sparkling bond.

“Oh.” Click turned to Hound. “Can *click* meet Hound’s caretaker?”

Hound smiled softly at Click, hoping his sparkling could feel just how much he loved him. Just like how he could feel Nightbeat’s love. “Yes. Nightbeat here tomorrow. Click Hound meet Nightbeat tomorrow.”

“In that case you better try and get some recharge as well. You want to be running full throttle when you meet Nightbeat, right?” Bluestreak said to Click with a chuckle.

“*Click* will.” Click practically chirped. He was bouncing in Hound’s hold in excitement. “Hound, what is Nightbeat like?”

“Nightbeat smart, calm, caring. Nightbeat detective teach Hound.” He was always what Hound imagined a caretaker was like. He found Hound a while after he left Proteus, determined to never return to that awful man. He was living off of turborats on the streets with no idea how to live like a normal mech. The few times he tried approaching other people went poorly. They ran away screaming the moment they saw him. In hindsight, the fact that after he left Proteus he stripped off the awful paint that was forced on him without replacing it didn’t help. The grey, unpainted metal made him look like a corpse. The Energon staining his mouth from the turborats probably made them think he wanted to eat them. He didn’t want to, but his broken Neocybex wasn’t enough to convince them as they ran screaming from him.

When Nightbeat found him, he was contemplating returning to Proteus and accepting whatever he wanted, at least he would have regular Energon; a regular berth to sleep in, warm and protected from the elements, but not safe, never safe there; and the mechs who wouldn’t run from him in fear. Or maybe he could try and run to the wilds. Back to his pack. Surely, they would accept him back if he could find them. The guards would probably kill him in the attempt, but that would be better than this.

And then Nightbeat was there, approaching him without fear and talking to him like he was a normal mech. He doesn’t remember much of that meeting, but Nightbeat convinced him to go to his house where he sat at the table and had a normal cube of Energon for the first time since leaving Proteus.

Nightbeat didn’t keep Hound trapped in his apartment. He let Hound come and go as he pleased, while making it clear that he was always welcome. It only took a few orns for him to start sharing the turborats he caught with Nightbeat, and after a few more he was happily curling up in the berth to recharge next to Nightbeat.

After that Nightbeat threw himself into teaching Hound everything he could. Not just things that everyone needed to know, but things that only Nightbeat knew. After a few mega-cycles he started bringing Hound with for cases that didn’t involve politicians, telling everyone that he was Hound’s mentor.

“Click like Nightbeat.” Hound concluded. He had no doubt that they would get along.

“*Click” like Nightbeat. Nightbeat cares for Hound.” Click mumbled into his chest.

“I’m excited to meet him too. It sounds like he’s really important to you.” Bluestreak said.

“Nightbeat very important.” Hound confirmed.

They were almost at Hound’s room now when Hound stopped walking. Bluestreak looked at him in confusion. “Why’d we stop? Is something wrong?”

“Someone wait Hound room.” He noticed them standing in front of his room ever since they entered his range, and they hadn’t moved.

Bluestreak swore. “These gossipers really need to learn something called boundaries. Do you know who they are?”

Hound shook his head. If he knew who they were he would have told Bluestreak.

“I’m comming Red Alert. It’s got to be a privacy breech for them to know where your room is—they probably went through secured files to get it.” Bluestreak said before going quiet. Not even a tick later the EM field of the mech standing in front of his room was consumed with panic and terror as they ran off.

“What do?” Hound asked.

Bluestreak smirked. “Red Alert said they were calling that mech in for a meeting about data security. What happened?”

“Panic. Run.” Hound said.

“So, the way’s clear?”

Hound nodded and pulled Bluestreak along with him as Bluestreak filled the space with conversation. Not stopping the entire time as they entered his room, got settled in the den, and Hound fell into recharge.

Chapter Text

Hound was practically bouncing on his pedes as he waited for Nightbeat to fly in. Blaster was in communication with him, helping coordinate his landing on the Arc, and apparently, he wasn’t going to arrive for another hour. But he wanted to be there when Nightbeat arrived. It had been too long since they had been able to see each other face to face, and he wanted Nightbeat to meet Click.

Click was sitting at his pedes, engrossed in drawing while they waited. Occasionally he would look up at him with a little whine and show Hound whatever he drew. Most of them were sketchy drawings of the Dinobots and Hound in the middle of wrestling.

Bluestreak was also waiting with them, and Click would show him every picture after he showed them to Hound.

“You liked hanging out with the Dinobots, huh?” Bluestreak asked.

Click nodded. “Dinobots are awesome!”

Bluestreak chuckled. “They are pretty strong.”

“Hound is strong too!”

“Of course he is. He beat Snarl. There is no way I could do something like that, I didn’t stand a chance against Swoop and Snarl is way bigger than me. I’m just glad Swoop was so good natured about beating me.”

“Swoop normally loses. He was happy to win a fight.”

Bluestreak tilted his head. “Why do you think Swoop keeps fighting if he is always losing. It’s got to be upsetting if you almost never win. I doubt I would try wrestling the Dinobots regularly because of that—I’m never going to win.”

Click chuckled as if what Bluestreak just said was ridiculous, and it was if you knew the Dinobots. “Dinobots are not focused on winning. Dinobots enjoy fighting.”

Hound nodded, and decided to chime in. “Dinobots say training. Dinobots mean playing.”

“You mean that was just them playing around? Now I really got to make sure I don’t get on their bad side.”

Of course that was them playing. That room would have been destroyed if they were actually fighting. Not just the furniture being broken. He meant the walls would’ve been smashed into rubble along with whatever got in their way. Bluestreak should know this, he’d seen the Dinobots fighting the Decepticons enough times. They could take on Devastator by themselves.

Hound spent the time they were waiting for Nightbeat to arrive listening to Bluestreak and Click talking. It was good practice for Click to talk a lot, and he didn’t feel like a good conversation partner right now. He only interjected a few times when he had something to add. Otherwise, he let their conversation wash over him.

They moved on from talking about the Dinobots yesterday to Bluestreak showing Click his sniper rifle and explaining how it worked and how to shoot it. Click seemed very interested, so he decided not to interfere as long as Bluestreak didn’t try to get Click to shoot it. Even if Click could aim a gun that was bigger than him, the recoil would definitely hurt him, and Hound didn’t want to visit Ratchet again, especially not because he let Bluestreak be reckless with Click’s health.

Then, Hound heard it. The distant roar of engines. He perked up. “Nightbeat coming!”

Bluestreak glanced up. “He’s almost here?”

Hound nodded. “Hound hear engine.” As he spoke he pointed towards the ceiling of the hanger in the direction he heard Nightbeat’s ship coming from. Briefly expanding his EM sensors Hound could feel Nightbeat’s field—he was a mix of excited and worried. No doubt because of whatever Prowl told Nightbeat about what happened to him.

Bluestreak turned to Blaster. “Hey, Blaster, how far out is Nightbeat?”

Blaster glanced at them. “He just entered the atmosphere a tick ago.”

Bluestreak whistled. “You can hear him that far out?”

“Ship loud.” Hound explained. He may have also turned his audial sensitivity higher than he normally would. There were a lot of conversations and. . . other noises that he had to filter out, but it was worth it to be able to hear Nightbeat coming.

“Those are some mighty fine audials you have if you can hear a ship coming into atmosphere. I’m only catching Nightbeat’s radio waves, not his sound waves.” Blaster said.

Click nodded and seriously said, “Hound superior.”

Hound scooped Click up and nuzzled their faces together. “Click best.”

Click squeaked. “No. Hound better.”

“Click best.” He argued.

Click whined, burying his face in Hound’s chest to hide his pout making Hound laugh.

“Now now, no need to fight, you’re both amazing.” Bluestreak said in a faux soothing tone making Hound laugh harder. Click started squirming in his grip, so he set Click down.

The hanger doors opened with a groan, and he could see Nightbeat’s ship flying in. It was a sleeker design meant to travel fast, and small enough to only fit one mech comfortably. It was also orange like the Arc and most other Autobot ships—just like how the Decepticons mainly used purple ships.

Trying to hold in his giggles Hound pointed to the ship. “Click see ship?”

Click looked out the hanger doors where Hound was pointing. “Yes. That is Nightbeat?”

Hound shook his head. “That ship. Nightbeat in ship.”

“Ooh.” Click tilted his head. “Is the ship a mech?”

“Nah, not this one.” Bluestreak piped up.” We have Skyfire who can turn into a shuttle, but he’s bigger than that ship. From the looks of it, that ships only big enough to carry one mech, Skyfire is way bigger—especially when he transforms.”

“Skyfire?” Click asked.

“He’s one of our scientists. You’ll probably meet him if you hang out with Perceptor enough.”

Click frowned. “*Click* met Brainstorm. Brainstorm was mean to *click* and Hound.”

“Well, I don’t know much about Brainstorm, but Skyfire is a nice mech. A real gentle giant if you will.”

While Bluestreak and Click were talking Nightbeat’s ship made it’s landing. He could hear Nightbeat talking through his post flight checks as the ship shut down before the exit ramp opened and he walked out.

Nightbeat immediately focused on Hound, walking straight to him as he left the ship. A massive grin was plastered across Nightbeat’s face as he greeted him with a big hug that lifted Hound off of his pedes. “Hound, it’s good to see you.” Nightbeat set him back on the ground and turn to face Click. “Is this your new sparkling?”

Hound nodded at the same time as Click said, “Yes. You Nightbeat?”

Nightbeat chuckled, holding his servo out to Click. “I’m Hound’s mentor Nightbeat. It’s nice to meet you Click.”

“Hound said Nightbeat is Hound’s caretaker. Is that true?” Click asked ignoring Nightbeat’s servo.

“I suppose I did act more like a caretaker than a mentor. Why do you ask?” Nightbeat asked, awkwardly resting his servo on his chin in a ‘thinking pose’ when he realized Click wasn’t going to shake his servo.

“If Nightbeat is Hound’s caretaker, does that mean Nightbeat is *click* grandcaretaker?” Click asked.

“I am if that’s what you want me to be.” Nightbeat said.

Click stared at Nightbeat consideringly before he held out his arms in a ‘pick me up’ position. “Nightbeat carry *click*?”

“Of course.” Nightbeat softly said before picking Click up and resting him against his side like how Hound carried him. “Is this good?” He asked.

“Yes.” Click said settling into Nightbeat’s side.

“I suppose this is my cue to go. I need to get to work soon.” Bluestreak glumly said. “Nightbeat, you’re supposed to be watching Hound now. Did Prowl explain everything that’s going on?”

Nightbeat’s smile turned a smidge sharper and there was a flash of irritation in his field. “He did. I’ll keep Hound safe, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Good. I’ll see you later Hound. Say safe.” Bluestreak said before running off.

Nightbeat chuckled. “Well, he seems enthusiastic. You want to go back to your room now?”

Hound nodded. “Talk in room.” He said, because there was no way Nightbeat wouldn’t try to talk to him about what happened in the week he was gone. He only hoped that Nightbeat wouldn’t ask if Hound wanted him to terrorize Tracks for him like all his other friends did.

“Well then, lead the way.” Nightbeat said.

Hound did lead the way. Ducking through the hallways so no one saw the on the long walk from the hangers to his room. Nightbeat didn’t even try and ask him what was going on, instead focusing on chatting with Click as they walked through the halls. Asking what it’s like to be Hound’s sparkling and what he likes best about staying on the Arc. That sort of thing.

It was sad to hear Click say that he liked that everyone wasn’t terrified of dying for entertainment, but it wasn’t surprising.

Walking into Hound’s room Nightbeat closed the door behind them. “So, Hound, I want you to tell me about what’s happened while I was gone. Prowl told me what happened, but I want your view of the situation. Is this a den conversation or not?”

“Den conversation.” Hound confirmed. Den conversations were, like the name implied, when they talked while cuddling in a den. It was easier for Hound to talk about upsetting things while he was in a den because of how safe it made him feel. Considering Proteus was going to come up this was definitely a den conversation. Anything involving Proteus warranted a den conversation.

Concern peaked in Nightbeat’s field, but he didn’t voice it, not yet. Instead, he looked down at Click and asked, “Hound and I need to have a private conversation. Can you give us some privacy while we talk?”

Click tilted his head. “Is talk important?”

“It is.”

Click smiled up at Nightbeat. “*Click* won’t listen. *Click* will stay on desk and draw.”

“You’ll have to show me your drawings afterwards. I saw your drawing of your caretaker; it was very good.” Nightbeat softly said, setting Click down on the desk. Click’s personal desk was still in Hound’s office. Maybe he should ask one of his friends to bring it over when it was their turn to watch him. That way Click could actually use it until Hound was able to go back to work.

“Hound and Nightbeat have a good talk.” Click said before curling his legs up so he could rest his drawing pad on his knees and began to draw.

Hound and Nightbeat crawled into his den, but instead of curling up with his back to Nightbeat’s chest like he did with his friends they lied down facing each other with Nightbeat loosely holding him in a hug.

“Prowl told me about your recharge issues and your fight with Megatron when he called me back to the Arc. And then he contacted me again telling me about Tracks and how you lost most of your language modules. I. . . I’m worried about you, what with all of this happening right after you became a caretaker. How are you doing?” Nightbeat quietly said, but Hound could clearly hear his worry.

“Hound love Click. Situation. . . hard. Hound hate bad speech. Hound feel useless.” Tears started leaking from his optics as he talked.

Nightbeat pulled him closer, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. “Shh, it’s okay Hound. You aren’t useless, you’re just going through a difficult situation right now. Would making a plan on how to tackle everything make you feel better?”

Hound shook his head. Nightbeat’s plans always helped him feel better with how they broke impossible situations into smaller, more manageable, parts. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything he could plan around. Prowl had already planned out everything that needed planning. Everything else was just dealing with the fact that things happened to him.

“Not a planning situation?” Nightbeat asked.

Hound nodded.

Nightbeat hummed. “Do you want to talk about it then?”

“Yes. Hound. . . Hound no want tell friends.”

“Why not? They seem like good friends.” Nightbeat asked.

“Friends worry. Protect.”

“Do you not want them to worry or are they being too overbearing?”

Other mechs would probably think their level of care was overbearing. Prowl assigning his friends a schedule to make sure Hound wasn’t alone right now and that he always had a friend to recharge with would be seen as over the top by most mechs. Hound actually liked the care Prowl took to ensure his health as best as he can. “No want worry.”

“Hound, of course your friends are going to worry, they’re your friends and your going through a lot right now. If anything that happened to you in the last week happened to them you’d be worried about them. In fact, keeping everything to yourself is probably worrying them more.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they’re all smart mechs. They have to know that your not telling them about everything.”

“Hound no want say everything.”

“You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to share, but if you don’t want them to worry you need to tell them something.”

“Jazz will ask.” Hound whispered.

“Ask about what?”

“Proteus.”

Nightbeat’s arms briefly tightened around him. “And how’s that virus involved?”

Hound pressed his face into Nightbeat’s shoulder. “Hound think Tracks Proteus.”

“Ah, so Jazz and Prowl at least are aware of him.”

“Ratchet too.” Hound added.

“Do you want me to tell them about him for you?” Nightbeat asked.

Hound nodded.

“And can you try and tell your friends about everything else?”

“Hound will try.”

“That’s all I’ll ever ask for—that you try. Now, why don’t you tell me everything that’s happened since I left. Don’t just focus on the bad, I want to hear about my new, what would the word be, grandsparkling? He seems great and I want to learn more about him.”

Nightbeat’s enthusiasm made Hound smile as he began explaining everything that’s happened over the last week. From how he didn’t realize he was having recharge issues until he built a den for Click and himself and bullied Prowl into actually taking a break in the den with them which ended with him recharging for an entire day to how Jazz and the rest of spec ops were turning Click into a card shark.

Nightbeat frowned as he described his fight with Megatron, asking several clarifying questions. When Hound asked what was wrong, Nightbeat pursed his lips and said, “I don’t want to tell you in case I’m seeing connections that don’t exist.”

Hound let the matter drop despite the fact that Nightbeat rarely saw connections where none existed. If it became important Nightbeat would tell him. Instead, he moved on to talking about how brave Click was while Ratchet was replacing his old, broken vocalizer with a new one, and his absolute joy as he spoke his first words. How bold Click was when he demanded that Tracks let him go despite never meeting that mech before.

Speaking about all of the good things that happened made it easier to talk about the bad until soon enough he told Nightbeat everything that happened.

Nightbeat smiled softly at Hound as he finished talking. “It sounds like a lot has happened, but I’m glad there were plenty of good things to go with the bad. Prowl only bothered to tell me about the bad.”

“Prowl always worry.”

“Of course he does. Part of his job is to figure out everything that might go wrong and plan for those situations. I think being a chronic worrier is part of the job description.”

Hound chuckled. Calling Prowl a chronic worrier wasn’t inaccurate.

Nightbeat leaned down and nuzzled Hound. “Is that everything you wanted to share?”

Hound nodded.

“Then I’ll grab Click and we can all hang out together until you get the urge to move.” Nightbeat said, crawling out of the den, returning shortly after with Click in his arms. He lied down facing Hound like before, the only difference was that he set Click down between them.

“Hound have good talk?” Click asked.

Hound nodded. “Hound feel better. Talk help.”

Click grinned. “Good.”

Chapter Text

Hound was teaching Click how to sing with Nightbeat when he felt it. Prowl was heading to his room, and he felt upset in a way he only felt after the worst missions. The ones that, despite all of Prowl’s planning, he couldn’t salvage.

Nightbeat noticed his brief lapse in attention and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Prowl come here. Prowl upset.”

“And how upset is he?”

“Bad.”

“I’d say Megatron finally got back to them about peace.”

“No peace?” Hound asked with a frown. From the way Megatron was acting when he left, Hound was sure he would at least try and make peace. But Prowl shouldn’t be so upset if there was peace.

“No, I think you were right that Megatron wants to try making peace.”

“Why Prowl upset?” Hound knew Prowl. He knew that Prowl was one of the mechs that wanted peace the most. That he was tired of making all his plans knowing they would end with mechs dying but was unable to stop because he was the best mech to make those plans and ensure the most mechs lived. If he quit being SIC someone less competent would need to take his place and Prowl couldn’t accept that.

Prowl should be relieved that the war might finally be over, and that he can focus on rebuilding rather than destruction.

Nightbeat chuckled. “I don’t think it’s the peace that has Prowl upset, but rather the fact that Megatron probably asked for you to be involved.”

Huh?

Why would Megatron ask him to be involved in the peace treaty? He was in no way qualified for that sort of job.

Noticing his confusion Nightbeat decided to add, “It’s because you’re the one who convinced him to accept peace in the first place, and you promised to talk to him at the peace talks.”

“Hound mean after work done.” Hound protested.

Nightbeat began petting Hound. “I know, and that might be what Megatron’s asking for. For you to be there, so you can see him acting like a rational mech before you talk afterwards. We really won’t know the specifics until Prowl tells us.”

“Hound can not go.” Click protested sitting up, his earlier relaxation was gone in his new panic. “Megatron hurt Hound! Hound can not go!”

Nightbeat glanced at him and Hound could hear his unspoken question, ‘Did you not tell him about Megatron being his caretaker?’

Hound shook his head, ‘No.’

“Click, Megatron isn’t going to hurt Hound. Besides, this might not be what’s happening at all.” Nightbeat softly told Click.

“But. . . but Nightbeat say Megatron ask for Hound.”

“We’re theorizing about what has Prowl upset. It could be something far more mundane. For example, Prowl might have gotten into a fight with Jazz, and now he’s coming here to vent to Hound.”

Hound snorted. No way that was what’s wrong, Prowl was supposed to be working right now. He would only come to him right now if it was about the war, and Prowl listened when Ratchet took someone off duty. There was no way Megatron wasn’t involved.

Nightbeat, however, feigned ignorance towards that fact as he proceeded to regale Click with increasingly ridiculous reasons for why Prowl might be heading to Hound’s room. He had just finished explaining how Prowl wanted to Hound to scare some unruly mechs by growling at them, so they’ll listen to him when Prowl arrived. Calmly entering his room and walking to the den with measured steps.

“Hound, we need to talk.”

“Is this a conversation only for you and Hound, or can Click and I join as well?” Nightbeat asked.

Prowl paused momentarily before he said, “I want it to be just the two of us.”

Click pouted. “*Click* want to be here too.”

Nightbeat picked Click up with a chuckle. “If Prowl doesn’t want us here, we shouldn’t stay. This is an important talk, like what Hound and I had earlier. Besides, Hound can tell us about it later if he wants to.”

“But if Hound tells us about it, why can’t we stay?” Click whined.

“Because Hound only needs to share what he’s comfortable with us knowing, and he can’t really choose what to tell us if we’re there listening to the entire thing. Despite my profession, I do think people are allowed to keep their secrets.” Nightbeat said as he crawled out of the den. “Hound is all yours. Make sure to comm me when you’re done.”

“I will. Oh, and it might be a good idea to keep Click away from most mechs. The rumor mill is in full swing and everyone’s talking about Hound right now. They’ll bombard you and Click with questions about Hound if they see him.”

“Just if they see Click? Not me?” Nightbeat asked in good humor.

“Just Click. The gossipers don’t know you are Hound’s mentor.” Prowl confirmed before crawling into the den.

With a cheerful goodbye Nightbeat left with Click leaving the two of them alone.

Prowl took his time settling into the den, his doorwings twitching as they brushed up against the blankets that formed the den’s walls.

“Prowl want talk?” Hound prompted when he realized Prowl wasn’t going to be the first one to speak.

“Yes. I. . . Megatron just contacted us. He has agreed to meet and discuss a peace treaty in two days.” Prowl said.

“Peace treaty good. Why Prowl upset?” Hound asked.

“It’s not the peace treaty I’m upset about, it’s what Megatron asked for that I don’t like. He wanted you there at the peace treaty discussion.” It seemed like Nightbeat’s first theory was correct.

“Hound say meet Megatron at peace talks.”

Prowl groaned. “I know, but you could meet him after we finish our talks for the day. He wants you to be there the entire time. Optimus accepted Megatron’s request because he doesn’t want risk Megatron refusing to go to the peace talks if he said no. But I don’t like it. Jazz doesn’t either.”

“What Prowl no like?” Hound asked.

“I don’t like the way he looked when talking about you. He looked greedy.”

Hound tilted his head. “Megatron want Hound no Click?”

“I think he wants both of you. What do you plan on doing?” Prowl asked.

“Hound need talk Click. Click wants important.”

Prowl frowned. “You haven’t talked to Click about Megatron yet? I thought you would’ve told him.”

“Hound want Hound Click only talk. Hound no speak Click no read. Now Hound speak bad.”

“You’re going to have to tell Click before the peace talks.”

Hound groaned. “Hound knows. Think how explain.”

Prowl hesitated for a moment. “Ratchet said he’d see if you were ready for the new language modules tomorrow. He wanted to try and give them to you before you have to interact with Decepticons all day.”

“Hound explain after. Speak or no speak.” He decided.

Prowl nodded. “Tell me what you plan on doing after you figure it out. That way Jazz and I can cover you and make sure Megatron doesn’t push you into anything you don’t want. Also, I feel like I should warn you—most of the Arc knows that Megatron requested your presence at the meeting.” Prowl winced. “Some mechs listened in on the meeting and spread the news around before we could stop them.”

“How change?” Hound asked. Huffer and Bluestreak had mentioned that everyone was gossiping about him.

“You were already the big new topic before this happened—the fact that you adopted a sparkling, fought Megatron by yourself, and the. . .” Prowl grimaced, “incident with Tracks all happened in a week has caught everyone’s attention.”

Oh, and now Megatron was asking for him specifically.

“What think?” Hound asked.

Prowl groaned. “It hasn’t even been a groon but they already have so many different theories. The leading theories are that Megatron wants you there because you impressed him during your fight, and,” Prowl grimaced, glancing at Hound, “that he’s romantically interested in you.”

“No!” Hound denied sitting up.

“I know, but that’s what people are saying.” Prowl groaned. “Jazz is going to try and direct the rumors, but I figured you should know.”

Hound whined and buried his face in Prowl’s chest. “Hound no leave room. Ever.”

Prowl chuckled, pulling Hound into a hug. “Don’t say that. They’ll find the newest thing to talk about soon enough.”

“Hound no want hear talk.” He didn’t need to hear everyone speculating about his love life. Especially not when he would be spending a lot of time with Megatron in the future. He hadn’t talked to Click about Megatron, but Click would obviously want to be with his other caretaker, and Hound wasn’t letting Megatron take Click away from him. The obvious solution is that they will be co-caretakers, even if they still had to discuss what form that co-parenting would take.

“I know, but it will pass.” Prowl whispered, kissing the top of Hound’s head. Pulling back Prowl said, “I’ll call Nightbeat back. I need to get back to work.”

Hound grabbed Prowl’s wrist before he could leave. “Prowl need rest.”

“I really do need to get back to work. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done for a peace treaty.”

“Prowl tired. Break time now.” Hound said, pulling Prowl towards him. Prowl didn’t try and fight his grip, easily letting Hound pull him into a hug. “Rest.”

“Fine, but only for a breem.” Prowl said, relaxing into Hound’s hold. “I really do have work to do.”

Chapter Text

Hound sat on the medical berth, resisting the urge to fidget. Ratchet was plugged into the medical port in his arm. The feeling of Ratchet moving around his processor, poking at his different systems stopped Hound from being able to relax.

Nightbeat was busy entertaining Click so Click wouldn’t have to watch and feel if something went wrong. Now it was just him and Ratchet alone in the med bay. They stayed like that for a while, Ratchet hooked into his systems, looking around, while Hound did his best to stay still. Trying to stay calm while Ratchet looked for what he needed.

Eventually Ratchet must have found what he wanted because he disconnected from Hound’s systems and pulled away with a frown.

“Hound Processor good?” He asked.

Ratchet pursed his lips. “I would have preferred waiting a few days, but your processor looks fine, and you haven’t had any problems since you lost your language modules. I should be able to download and integrate your new language modules without any problems right now, if you want me to.”

“Hound want.”

“I figured.” Ratchet vented. “I’m going to need to use your main port again. The usual medical ports won’t give me the level of access I need to integrate the language modules and that can cause. . . problems with something this important.”

Hound stiffened.

“I’ll be more careful this time.” Ratchet gently said. “I’m not going to touch anything that isn’t related to your new language modules, and I’m not going to touch your sensors.”

“Hound trust Ratchet.”

Ratchet snorted. “Just because you trust me doesn’t mean that you're fine with every type of medical procedure.”

“Hound want Ratchet only. Hound trust Ratchet.” He reaffirmed. There was no way he was letting another doctor into his processor.

“Kid, I’m not foisting you off onto another doctor. I just wanted you to know what you're getting into.” Ratchet grimaced. “Especially with how poorly this went last time.”

“Ratchet no touch sensors?” Hound asked.

“I already told you I wouldn’t.”

That was all he needed to know. Unhinging his jaw and opening his mouth wide Hound said, “Hound trust Ratchet.”

Ratchet’s optics widened as he stared at Hound’s mouth. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“Hound is.”

Ratchet started looking over his jaw in curiosity, and Hound suddenly realized that Ratchet had never seen him unhinge his jaw. He only unhinged his jaw like this while eating mechanimals, and he’d only done that in front of Nightbeat.

“I don’t think any of my mouth wedges will actually fit in here, and none of them are strong enough to hold up to your bite anyways. Can you make sure not to bite my servo off?” Ratchet asked.

Hound nodded. He stopped himself from biting Ratchet’s servo off last time, and this time shouldn’t be anywhere near as distressing.

“Okay. I’m going to plug into your processor now. Try to stay relaxed and don’t fight me.” Ratchet ordered as he put his servo in Hound’s mouth.

Hound could taste the harsh cleaning chemicals Ratchet regularly cleaned his servos with. It removed the lingering taste of everything except the cleaners and the underlying metal of his servos. He could feel Ratchet’s servo sliding into the port at the back of his mouth. As he fully clicked into place Ratchet himself was in Hound’s processor.

This time Ratchet moved through his processor with a purpose. Not bothering to wait and watch how Hound’s processor moved Ratchet went straight to where Hound’s language modules were stored. Or, rather, where they used to be stored.

He could feel the files Ratchet neatly downloaded into his processor. The way he carefully connected those files to the rest of Hound’s systems. Drawing connections into being line by line until they were densely woven into the rest of Hound’s code.

Finished with his job Ratchet pulled out of his processor mentally before physically sliding his servo out. Hound waited for Ratchet’s hand to leave his mouth before he closed his mouth, resetting it to its normal size.

“Try and say something.” Ratchet said as he began cleaning his servos.

“I really hope this worked.” Hound said.

Ratchet smiled. “It sounds like it did.”

Hound grinned. “Great. Now, what do I need to look out for?” Because there were always things to look out for after a medical procedure.

“The language modules I gave you were clean, so there shouldn’t be any issues. But if you notice that anything’s wrong contact me immediately.” Ratchet said. “Tell your friends to keep an eye on you as well in case you don’t notice anything is wrong. Processor problems can sometimes be hard for the person experiencing them to notice—but those issues are usually obvious to outside observers."

Hound nodded. “I will do that.”

“Good. Now you’re free to go. Try and keep yourself together a little longer this time.” Ratchet fondly said.

“I will.” Hound said hopping off the medical berth. He had a very important conversation he needed to have with Click.

Not even ducking through the halls to avoid possible gossipers made the grin slip from Hound’s face. He could talk like a normal mech again. Things were finally starting to go back to normal.

Chapter Text

Walking to his room the first thing that caught Hound’s attention was Click’s bright laughter mixed with Nightbeat’s more subdued, but still happy, chuckles. A warm happiness flowed through Hound’s frame. He was glad Nightbeat and Click were getting along so well. He was nervous that Nightbeat would just put up with Click for his sake, but he’s glad that wasn’t the case.

Sliding into his room as silently as he could Hound saw Nightbeat tossing Click into the air and catching him much to Click’s delighted shouts of “Again! Again!”

Hound waited for Nightbeat to be holding Click to say, “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Nightbeat whipped around to face him. “Hound, I didn’t realize you were back yet.”

“The new language modules didn’t take to long to be installed.” Hound said. “Ratchet just wants us to go to him immediately if anything goes wrong, but everything should be fine now.”

“That’s a relief. So, got any plans now that you got the language modules installed?” Nightbeat asked.

“I wanted to talk to Click about his caretaker—just the two of us. Can you leave us for a bit?” Hound asked.

Nightbeat frowned. “Prowl said you’re not supposed to be left alone in case something goes wrong.”

“I know, but I want this to be just the two of us.”

“But if something happens to you, how will I know about it if I’m not with you?” Nightbeat asked cupping Hound’s face.

Hound leaned into Nightbeat’s servo, nuzzling his face into it. “Mentor, I will be fine.”

Nightbeat didn’t look convinced.

“Would you feel better if Click had a panic button in case something went wrong?” Hound asked.

Nightbeat brightened. “Yes it would. Let me just. . .” Nightbeat trailed off as he pulled a button out of his subspace and handed it to Click. Click grabbed the button that was almost as large as his servo and turned it over, studying it with a questioning whine.

“That is a panic button.” Nightbeat declared. “If something bad happens press it and I’ll come right away. Can you do that for us Click?”

Click nodded furiously. “*Click* can.”

Nightbeat kissed the top of Click’s head. “Good. With you keeping an optic on Hound I know I won’t need to worry.”

“Hey!” Hound protested.

“Hound, are you going to care less about Click’s safety once he’s a fully grown mech?” Nightbeat asked.

“Of course not!” That would be absurd.

“Then you know how I feel. You may not be that lost mech I picked up in an alley anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re my Hound and I love you.”

Hound pulled Nightbeat in for a hug, taking care not to accidentally squish Click in his hold.

Nightbeat chuckled, patting his head. “Now, what’s this for?”

“I wanted to hug you.” Hound bluntly said. “I love you mentor.”

“And I love you too Hound.” Nightbeat kissed the top of his head.

“*Click* also loves Hound.” Click stated.

Gently picking Click up from Nightbeat’s hold, Hound kissed the top of Click’s head. “And I love you too Click.

“I’ll be back in a groon if I don’t here from you before then. And remember Click, press the button if something’s wrong with Hound.” With those parting words Nightbeat left the room.

“So *click* and Hound have important talk?” Click asked, looking up at Hound in curiosity.

“That’s right.” Hound said, crawling into his den. “Just like my talks with Nightbeat and Prowl.”

Click hesitated for a moment before he asked, “What are *click* and Hound talking about?”

Hound sat down, settling click down next to him. “We need to talk about what’s going to happen in our future.”

Click threw himself at Hound. A wild desperation replacing his previous curiosity. “No, please no! Don’t leave *click.*” Click wrapped his arms his arms around Hound as he sobbed out, “Please don’t leave *click.* *Click* will be better.”

It took Hound a moment to process what was happening. That Click was begging Hound not to abandon him. Horror overtook Hound when he realized what Click was saying. Panicking Hound wrapped Click in a hug and purred in a desperate bid to calm Click down as he hurried to say, “I’m not getting rid of you. I’m never getting rid of you. I’d sooner leave the Autobots than leave you.”

Between small hiccupping sobs Click asked, “Promise Hound is being truthful?”

“I swear I’m telling the truth. And if we are ever separated I would do everything in my power to return to you.” Hound promised, hoping Click could feel his sincerity.

Click didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he buried himself in Hound’s arms.

“I’m sorry sweetspark. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that things are going to change soon, and you deserve to know what’s going on and have a say in what happens.” Hound apologized, nuzzling the top of Click’s head.

Click had stopped crying at this point, but Hound could still see the shine of his tear tracks as Click looked at him. Weakly, Click asked, “What changes?”

“Click, we found your caretaker. He’s Megatron.”

Click’s joy at hearing that they found his caretaker quickly turned to disbelief. “No. Megatron can’t be Caretaker. Caretaker would not hurt Hound like Megatron did.”

“Click, sweetspark, of course we hurt each other. We were fighting.”

“But—but caretaker wouldn’t hurt family and Hound is family. Hound is *click* other Caretaker.”

“Sweetspark, I don’t think Megatron realized I was your caretaker at first. I didn’t realize he was your caretaker either. Besides, if we’re talking about damage, I think I hurt Megatron more.”

“Oh.” Click hesitated a moment before he asked, “What happened in the fight?”

“Do you really want to know?” Hound asked. He would explain if Click really wanted to know.

Click nodded, giving an affirmative chirp.

“After I left you and Prowl I hid in a hall ahead of Megatron. When he walked past I pinned him to the ground at knife point and started demanding answers about why he wanted you.”

Click gasped. “Hound managed to pin Caretaker?”

“Mhm. Not that it lasted very long.” Hound lightly said. “He knocked my knife out of my hand and flipped us over, so he was the one pinning me to the ground.”

“What happened next?” Click asked, completely enthralled by the story.

“Pinned down by my servos I did the only thing I could think of. I bit Megatron.”

“Hound bit Caretaker?” Click gasped. “Are Hound’s teeth hurt?”

“My teeth are fine, see?” Hound said, opening his mouth. Click leaned in and looked at his teeth carefully, not finding a single scratch.

“How?”

“My teeth are strong and sharp. They can cut through pretty much anything.” They weren’t originally sharp. When he was still newly emerged and couldn’t hunt it caused him a lot of trouble while trying to eat the mechanimals his pack gave him.

His teeth were flat and dull. Unable to tear apart the mechanimal. And without claws to cut the mechanimal apart into swallowable pieces he resorted to drinking the Energon from whatever wounds killed it. Then he would tear it apart into smaller pieces by hand to eat. What he couldn’t eat he would give to the others to finish.

He was a messy eater back then.

Over time his teeth grew sharper and more durable, and he grew retractable claws. There was nothing he couldn’t bite through. Even a cyberbear’s plating was no match for him.

“Wow.” Click said before realizing what that meant. “Where did Hound bite Caretaker?”

“I got him in the shoulder.” Hound said, pointing at his own shoulder towards the area he big Megatron.

“And then?” Click prompted.

“And then Megatron hit me and moved to pinning me by the neck.”

Click moved to looking critically at Hound’s neck. “Does Hound hurt?”

Hound gently bumped his head into Click’s. “No. My self-repair fixed me up really quickly.”

Click nodded thoughtfully. “And after that?”

“I thought that Megatron was going to kill me, so I did what I was taught to do if I was ever in a situation like that. Where something stronger than me has trapped me.”

“What’s that.” Click asked. His frequent questions were a sign that he was invested in the story.

“I made myself into the biggest pain possible.”

“The biggest pain?”

“Yeah. You fight with everything you’ve got and don’t stop. No matter how much it hurts, you don’t stop fighting for a moment. Because if you fight they might decide you’re not worth the effort to kill, but if you don’t you’re just accepting death.” He only had to do it a few times when he was younger. After his claws and teeth grew in he didn’t have to worry about it as he was the dangerous one.

“*Click* fight?” Click asked with wide optics.

“If you’re ever in a situation where you can’t run? Yes.”

Click hesitated a moment before he asked, “Can. . . can Hound teach *click* how to fight?”

“If you want, but you’re so small it would be better to learn how to use a gun. It would be better if Perceptor or Bluestreak teach you how to shoot though.”

Click tilted his head. “Why can’t Hound teach *click* how to shoot?”

Hound chuckled. “Sweetspark, I’m not very good at using guns.”

“Hound isn’t?”

“No, I’m handier with a knife.” It felt more natural than a gun ever did.

Click’s optics practically started to sparkle. “*Click* learn how to knife!”

Hound grinned. “I’ll teach you how to use a knife after you learn how to use a gun. But before that, we need to decide what we’re going to do now that we know that your caretaker is Megatron. I wanted to know what you wanted before I made any decisions.”

“*Click* wants Caretaker. *Click* also wants Hound.”

“Does that mean you want Megatron and I to live together with you?” Hound asked. It was what he assumed Click would want.

Click nodded.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to living with Megatron if that’s what you want. But I want to wait until we have peace with the Decepticons and have moved back to Cybertron before we try living together.” That way Megatron would have trouble wriggling out of peace if he was only doing these peace talks to get Click and was going to go straight back to fighting after getting Click back.

“Can *click* see Caretaker.”

“Of course. I was going to talk to Megatron after the meeting tomorrow, and I was going to have Nightbeat bring you over so you can see each other after we’re done. However, before we do that, I have some concerns I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What concerns? Caretaker is safe.” Click asked.

“Click, you are Megatron’s sparkling, but you’ve been de-aged. Megatron is the leader of the Decepticons, and we’ve been at war for over 500 vorns.”

“F-five hundred vorns? How?” Click asked. He was starting to shake, and Hound could feel the panic and fear seeping into his field.

Clutching Click in a hug Hound purred. “I don’t know sweetspark. Percy might have an idea if we asked him, but I don’t know. And I’m worried about your meeting with Megatron because he isn’t going to be the caretaker you remember. He’s not a gladiator anymore, but the leader of a faction at war.”

“Is caretaker bad?” Click asked, and Hound could practically feel Click’s desperation for Hound to say no.

“I don’t know him, but I don’t think so.” Click instantly relaxed in his arms. “Megatron started the war for very good reasons, and I agree with him about a lot of the underlying issues that caused him to start the war. One of the main reasons we’re fighting them is their methods, but I don’t really blame them for that.” In fact, Hound enjoyed the footage of the Decepticons blowing up the senate. Of Starscream personally killing Proteus. “My biggest concern is something Prowl realized.”

“What?” Click asked.

Houn frowned. “You’re not even a vorn old, and at this point your caretaker is a Gladiator. That means that right now you couldn’t be older than 600 vorns, and you were the Head of Communications before being de-aged.”

Click frowned. “What’s the problem?”

“Sweetspark, you’re not even an adult and you’re fighting in a war. You didn’t go on the battlefields, but you were still part of it. And from what we know you would have started early in the war.”

Click realized what was being implied and puffed up. “Caretaker would not hurt *click!*”

“I want to believe that sweetspark, I really do. But I’m not trusting your safety with what Megatron used to be like. We can see Megatron, but I’m not leaving you alone with him until I trust him.”

“But. . . but. . .”

“If Megatron really is like you remember then I’ll let you stay with him more. But even if I don’t trust him, I won’t stop you from seeing Megatron as long as I’m with you.” Hound said.

Click slumped over, the fight leaving him in an instant. “Promise?” He whispered.

“I promise sweetspark.”

“Okay. But you’ll see. Caretaker is great.”

“I hope he is sweetspark, I’m just not willing to leave your safety up to chance.”

Chapter Text

“So, what can I expect to happen?” Hound asked Jazz. The Decepticons were supposed to arrive at the Arc soon for negotiations and Hound wanted to have an idea of what was happening before it happened. He had no idea what was supposed to happen in the meeting other than the obvious fact that they were discussing peace.

“You shouldn’t worry too much. The Decepticons aren’t ones to stand on ceremony. We’ll all sit around and talk. There may be threats on the Decepticons’ end, but that’s just part of how they talk things out. Feel free to voice any concerns or ideas you have.” Jazz said.

“But I—”

“Nah!” Jazz threw his finger in front of Hound. “Don’t you dare say you don’t have anything useful to add.”

“But I don’t! I don’t know any of this stuff!” Hound was starting to panic as the reality of how out of place he was going to be in the upcoming meeting. Why in the pits would Megatron think it was a good idea to invite him to join in the peace talks.

“And that’s why it’s important for you to speak up.” Jazz said.

“Huh?”

Jazz vented. “Hound, let’s be real. Everyone coming to this meeting is high up in our respective factions’ command structure. Despite your recent promotion, you’ve been a scout for most of the war. I try to keep up with what our people think, but you’ll have a good idea about what the average mechs will worry about. And even if you don’t, you’re perceptive and good at spotting problems we don’t notice.”

“Well, if you’re sure about that.”

Jazz grinned. “I am. Now relax, Prowl and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

Hound relaxed into his chair.  Jazz’s reassurance allowing him to let go of his worries, at least for now. Jazz didn’t lie to him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Have you decided what you wanted to do with Megatron?” Prowl asked on his other side. Hound was sitting between Jazz and Prowl. The klick he stepped into the meeting room Jazz was on him, pulling him into the chair between him and Prowl.

“I told Click about what is going on yesterday. He wants the three of us to live together, and I’m willing to consider it, but not before peace is worked out and we’re living on Cybertron again.”

Prowl stiffened, and Hound could feel his worry spiking. “And before then?” Prowl asked.

“I’m thinking supervised visits between Click and Megatron.”

“And you?” Jazz asked.

“I’ll be there to supervise them. Why?”

“Well, what about you and Megatron?”

“What about us?” Hound asked, baffled about what Jazz was talking about. “Is there something you’re concerned about?”

Jazz was cut off before he could respond by Ironhide leading the Decepticons into the meeting room. Hound knew several of the Decepticons. Megatron, Starscream, Shockwave, Reflector, and Astrotrain were easy for Hound to recognize. The last mech was a spikey racer that Hound only recognized by EM field. Based on the distance he always kept from the main battles he was a sniper.

Astrotrain was staring intensely at Hound as he followed behind the others.

What drew Hound’s attention most, though, was Shockwave. Proteus had cheerfully showed off the newly empurataed and shadow played Shockwave to Hound once, crowning about how he made it happen. All Hound could focus on was how constrained Shockwave’s field felt, and how pained it felt despite that. Now his field still felt crammed into the smallest space possible, but it no longer hurt.

He was glad Shockwave wasn’t in pain the entire time.

Optimus stood up when the Decepticons entered, his optics tilted conveying a smile. “Welcome Megatron. I am glad for this chance to discuss peace.”

Megatron frowned, glancing at Hound. “If you can be trusted to keep your word peace will be possible.”

Ironhide looked like he was going to yell at Megatron but settled on glaring at the Decepticons as he sat down next to Red Alert who looked calm but was internally panicking. Likely from the presence of Decepticons in the Arc. Ratchet would have started yelling at the Decepticons without Optimus resting his servo on Ratchet’s shoulder.

“I think we can say the same.” Prowl said, glaring at Megatron.

Megatron’s smile at Prowl was more like he was baring his teeth. “You won’t have to worry about that.” Megatron sat down directly across from Optimus. Shockwave and Starscream sitting at his side with the other mechs taking up spots next to them. There were a few empty seats between them and the Autobots. Megatron pulled out a datapad from his subspace making Red Alert twitch.

“Your proposed treaty was a competent start I suppose, but we have several amendments and additions before we would accept it.” Megatron derisively said.

Optimus wasn’t fazed by Megatron’s attitude. “Of course, you’re free to suggest your own additions. We would love the Decepticon’s involvement in the treaty. This way we can be sure it is acceptable to both sides.”

Megatron leaned forward. “First, I want your assurance that once we have peace my people won’t be punished for previous actions.”

“All actions taken during the war will be pardoned. That’s part of the treaty.” Prowl cut in.

“I’m not talking about the war. I’m talking about before it.” Megatron snapped. “Many of my people were unfairly oppressed and punished before the war, and I will not send them back to those situations, which they will be if their actions before the war aren’t pardoned as well.”

“We can change the treaty so all previous crimes of Autobots and Decepticons are pardoned.” Optimus said.

“Just Autobots and Decepticons?” Starscream asked.

“Of course. After all, I wouldn’t want to pardon the crimes of the senators who left to become neutrals.” Optimus lightly said.

The speedster Hound didn’t recognize stared at Optimus in shock. “You would actually punish them?”

“Yes. I will not kill them like you planned, but I cannot allow what they’ve done to go unpunished.”

Megatron grit his teeth. “Fine, but we better not find out that their punishment leaves them living better lives than the average mech.”

“Of course we wouldn’t do that to those viruses. They’re going to be locked up just like any other mech.” Ironhide said.

That seemed to appease the Decepticons somewhat because Astrotrain spoke up next. “Another thing we need is guaranteed workers’ rights.”

“That is something for the new government to make laws about, not to be included in a treaty.”

“And when mechs die because of lax workers’ rights?” Astrotrain snapped. “You can’t rely on bosses caring about keeping their workers alive to keep us safe, especially not if you're going to take vorns to decide anything when it comes to our rights. I’ve dealt with so many bosses that do things because it’s cheaper without caring if it kills us. I’m not letting that happen again.”

“How long is it going to take to make a functioning government? Vorns?” Megatron asked. “And that’ll be focused on more immediate issues—at least until several mechs die because of the lack of regulations.”

“And what protections do you want to be guaranteed?” Optimus asked. "We can add them into the treaty until it's written into the laws."

The meeting went on like that for a while. Megatron or one of his people bringing up an issue with the current treaty leading to a discussion about why it can or can’t be changed. Some things stayed the same, others changed to how the Decepticons wanted it, while a compromise was reached for even more. Hound was the only one to stay quiet and not add anything, focusing instead on listening to what everyone was saying.

After a few groons of discussion Megatron had to break that silence. “You’ve been quiet this entire time. Do you have anything to add Hound?”

“No.” Hound quickly said at the same time Astrotrain shouted, “So you are Hound! I thought you looked familiar, but your paint job is so different. How’d you end up with the Autobots?”

“You two can catch up later.” Jazz cheerfully cut in, leaning forward to block Astrotrain’s view of Hound. “Hound had a question to answer.”

“I really don’t have anything to add.” Hound quickly said.

Prowl frowned. “I doubt that. Your additions are frequently insightful and cover things we don’t think of.”

“Well, I do have one question, but it’s probably really stupid. I’m sure you already covered it somewhere, and I just missed it.”

“No need to put yourself down Hound. What’s your question?” Jazz said.

“What are we going to do for Energon?” Hound asked.

“I figured that with us no longer fighting we can easily reopen the mines without fear of attacks.” Optimus said.

Megatron nodded. “I agree.”

The two leaders quickly agreeing on something so quickly was nice to see, but, “The mines might last us for a while, but with Cybertron dying there’s no way that could be sustainable.” Everyone’s attention was suddenly laser focused on Hound, and he wished he could teleport out of the situation like Skywarp. “I’m sorry. I know no one likes talking about Cybertron dying, but—”

Prowl gripped Hound’s arm. “Hound, what do you mean Cybertron is dying?” He asked, not even attempting to hide his horror at the news.

Oh.

Oh.

“Is this. . . not one of those things that everyone knows about but doesn’t talk about because it’s upsetting?” Hound meekly asked.

“No.” Jazz confirmed. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard about Cybertron dying.”

“Hound. I love you, but you really need to learn to tell us things that you think are obvious, because they often aren’t obvious.” Prowl said.

“Sorry.” Hound weakly apologized.

“Don’t apologize. Why do you think Cybertron is dying?” Optimus asked.

“Well, Cybertron’s been growing weaker for, well, as long as I can remember. Its song has been growing quieter and more pained, and it’s been producing less Energon. Around 200 vorns before the war started its decline became more obvious. I’m. . . not sure how it’s doing in the 150 vorns we were deactivated here on Earth.”

“You can return to Cybertron with me to evaluate Cybertron’s health. Consequently, how are you able to hear these songs and Energon production?” Shockwave said.

“Absolutely not. Hound is not going with you.” Prowl said.

“It’s mostly through. . . Cybertron’s EM field.” Hound groaned, hiding his face in his servos. “I’m such an idiot. You can’t sense EM fields, of course you can’t sense Cybertron,” It was hard to imagine not sensing Cybertron. Its EM field was so strong and everywhere, even if it was muffled in the cities Hound could always feel it wrapping around him. In the wild if he focused his hearing enough, he could literally hear Cybertron singing with his audials and not just through Cybertron’s EM field.

“Fascinating. I always knew you had advanced sensors, but I didn’t expect you to be able to sense EM fields.” Shockwave said, looking as enthusiastic as he could with only a single eye for a face.

Optimus was not enthusiastic. He was staring blankly at Hound as if he was still processing what he said.

Ratchet shook Optimus’ shoulder. “Snap out of your thoughts. We need you here.”

“I failed Cybertron.” Optimus weakly said.

Huh?

“I didn’t even realize Cybertron was dying, even with our energy crisis. I failed our home.”

“Stop your pity party Prime.” Megatron snapped. “None of us realized Cybertron was dying, but now that we know about it, we can fix it.”

“Of course. I will start studying Cybertron when I return.” Shockwave said.

“We’ll also put our scientists on the issue. Hound, do you know what’s wrong?” Prowl asked.

“No.” Hound weakly said.

“Be ready to have your processor picked.” Jazz cheerfully said, wrapping his arm around Hound’s shoulder.

“How long has Cybertron been in decline?” Shockwave asked.

“I’m not sure.” Hound admitted.

“I need to know how long this has been going on.”

“I don’t know when it started. It’s been going on my entire life.”

“Then how old are you?” Shockwave asked.

Hound wracked his processor. “I don’t know how old I am, but. . .  I remember. When I first emerged from the hotspot, we still had a star.”

That got a reaction from everyone. Several mechs, including Megatron, choked while others openly stared at him. Jazz was brightly laughing.

Hound groaned. “What did I say wrong now.”

“You didn’t say anything wrong, but I have to say, congratulations.” Jazz said, his field quivering with mirth.

“What am I being congratulated for?” Hound flatly asked.

“For being older than Kup!”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean I’m older than Kup?” Hound asked, staring at Jazz in confusion. “Isn’t he, like, really old?”

“Yeah, but even he was born after we lost our star. You must have emerged during the Golden Age.” Jazz said.

“The Golden Age?”

“You, don’t know about the Golden Age?” Prowl asked, staring at Hound in bafflement. Shaking his head Prowl pinched his nasal ridge and muttered, “Of course you don’t know about the Golden Age. Why would I think you would know?”

“We are very confused about what you’re talking about. Can you explain?” Reflector asked.

“It’s all very simple.” Jazz brightly said, resting his servos on Hound’s shoulders. “Hound here emerged in the wilds and lived there until he was found and brought into normal Cybertronian society. What else is there to explain?”

“The fact that he can sense EM fields and can feel that our planet dying.” The spiky mech Hound didn’t recognize snapped.

Jazz shrugged. “Hound has good senses. What else is there?”

“But how?”

“I’ve always been able to sense EM fields. It might have taken me a while to learn how to interpret them, but I’ve always been able to sense them.” Hound said.

“But how can you sense Cybertron?”

“Deadlock, don’t interrogate Hound. He doesn’t have to share anything he doesn’t want to.” Megatron chastised the spiky mech who was, apparently, Deadlock. Wasn’t that the Decepticon’s best sniper? Perceptor had talked about him before. Called him a challenging opponent, which was a complement considering he was facing off against Perceptor.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind talking about this.” Hound said.

Megatron leaned back. “Very well, but you don’t have to answer anything you are uncomfortable with.”

Hound smiled at Megatron who stiffened and glanced away, his cheeks darkening with a light blush. “Cybertron is the easiest thing to sense on Cybertron. Its EM field is so large and encompassing that you can feel it from anywhere, even with the interference of so many mechs living close together in the cities. The real trick is separating individuals from Cybertron’s EM field.”

Red Alert twitched. “Wait, so Cybertron is literally alive, like a mech?”

“Of course he is. Cybertron is Primus’ alt-mode as he rests from his fight with the Destroyer.” Deadlock said.

Ratchet frowned. “Do you think that’s why Cybertron is getting worse? His medical rest isn’t working anymore?”

Shockwave tilted his head. “Many mechs believe that as a god Primus has unlimited power. That clearly isn’t the case if his condition is degrading. But how would one go about finding out what is wrong with a planet, let alone fix it?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Hound suggested.

“And how do you suggest we ask him?” Prowl tiredly asked.

“Optimus, the Matrix grants you the knowledge of the previous Primes, right?”

“Yes. Why are you asking?” Optimus said.

“Can it tell you how to talk to Primus? Primes are supposed to have a connection to him, right?” Hound asked. Primes were supposed to be the connection between mechs and Primus, so if anyone could find out what was wrong it was Optimus.

“You are correct, but it would take time communing with the Matrix to learn the answer.” Optimus said.

“Then do that.” Megatron ordered.

Optimus’ optics flickered as he stared at Megatron. “But we are discussing the treaty now.”

“Bah, we’re all distracted by the fact that Cybertron is dying.” Megatron said waving his hand. “We can finish the negotiations tomorrow after we look into Cybertron’s condition, and that means you looking into your stupid trinket.”

“The Matrix isn’t some stupid trinket.” Ironhide defended.

“It’s a trinket because I’m not believing that Sentinel and his ilk were who Primus would choose to lead our people. It’s a tool and nothing more.” Megatron sneered.

“I don’t think the Matrix wanted to be with Sentinel.” Hound said without thinking. Prowl hit his head on the table with a thunk.

“What world shattering information are you sharing this time?” Jazz wryly asked.

Hound felt bad for adding another thing everyone else didn’t know, but it made sense that no one knew this. There were a lot of fanatics that followed Sentinel and later Optimus because they held the Matrix. There was no way Sentinel would let this knowledge slip through to the populace if he ever knew about it; it would destroy his image.

“I wouldn’t call the Matrix sentient, but it has its own EM field.” It was a strong EM field too. It was completely enmeshed in Optimus’ field, lighting him up like a beacon. The only field more attention-catching than the Matrix’s was Cybertron’s. “It clearly has opinions on who holds it. It’s practically purring in contentment with Optimus, but with Sentinel,” Hound shivered, “It was screaming in agony.”

He only met Sentinel once. Proteus invited him over to show Hound off. He was barely aware of anything except for the overwhelming agony pulsating from Matrix. Somehow he made it through the meeting without earning a punishment for disrespecting the Prime, but the only thing he remembers of that meeting was how much pain the Matrix felt like it was in. He didn’t understand why no one seemed to care about the Matrix was screaming, but apparently no one even heard it. That night he curled up in his berth, the phantom of that pain haunting him for the next astro-cycle.

He was so grateful Proteus never made him meet Sentinel again. The other times Sentinel came to Proteus’ mansion he was able to hide from the mech in his room. He couldn’t hide from the Matrix’s agony though. Not without turning off his EM sensors and that wasn’t something Hound was willing to risk—even if it got him away from that infernal screaming.

“Are you saying that Sentinel was a false Prime?” Deadlock asked.

“It’s possible.” Hound said.

“That. . . makes sense.” Optimus slowly said. “While communing with the Matrix I can search the knowledge of even the oldest Primes, but for the last several, there is nothing. Like there wasn’t a Prime after Nova Prime left the Matrix on Cybertron as he left to terraform planets on the Proudstar.”

“As fascinating as this is, can this meeting be over? We aren’t getting anything done now, and I need to talk to Hound.” Megatron flatly said. The rest of the Decepticons started looking between Hound and Megatron in confusion.

“Of course. You and Hound can stay here. We’ll escort the rest of the Decepticons out.” Optimus said standing up.

“But Optimus, you can’t seriously be thinking about leaving Megatron alone with Hound.” Jazz protested.

“I am. Let the mechs have their privacy. I’m sure nothing will happen in the middle of the Arc.” Optimus firmly said.

Jazz glared at Megatron as everyone else stood up and started leaving. Optimus was standing at the door, telling Jazz to hurry up, when Jazz said, “If you leave as much as a scratch on Hound I’ll turn you into scrap metal.”

Megatron grinned at Jazz’s threat, casually leaning against the table. “Is this your shovel talk?” He asked.

“No. That’ll have a lot more creative and terrifying threats. It is, however, a promise.” Jazz said before standing up and striding out the door, much to Optimus’ exasperation.

“Sorry about Jazz. He can be protective.” Hound apologized as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone.

“It’s fine.” Megatron said, brushing off Jazz’s threat. “He was trying to protect you, and I can respect that. Are you friends?”

Hound smiled. “Yeah. Jazz and I are best friends.”

“I’m glad you have such a terrifying protector.” Megatron softly said. “Now, since we have room.” Megatron moved to the other side of the table, so he was sitting directly across from Hound. “I think this is a better position for a conversation. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine.” Hound said.

Megatron looked at Hound’s face as if he was searching for something. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too much in our fight.”

“My vocalizer stopped working for a day, but that was the worst of it. I think I did more damage to you.”

Megatron smiled. “Yes, you fought quite fiercely. Hook complained about the scratches and wouldn’t let me keep them. Your claws are quite sharp.”

They were. He hadn’t met something he couldn’t cut through.

Megatron awkwardly shifted. “How. . . how is Sou—Click doing?”

Hound smiled. This was safer territory. “Click is doing well. Ratchet got his new vocalizer installed a few days ago and he’s been talking so much.”

“He has a vocalizer? How? I—I was told he wouldn’t be able to learn how to use it.” Megatron choked out, staring at Hound in awe. The respect Hound felt in his field before at the end of their fight was flaring brightly.

“Ratchet said that sparklings won’t be able to learn how to use a vocalizer once they’re over a vorn old, but Click is eight mega-cycles old. Ratchet just needed to fabricate a new vocalizer and install it.” Hound explained.

“I’ll have to thank him then.” Megatron muttered.

“Click adores you, and it’s clear that you love him as well. Why didn’t you bring him to a doctor before it was too late?” Hound asked. He would have expected Megatron to find some way to get Click to a doctor when he realized something was wrong.

Megatron slumped into himself, looking away from Hound in shame. “I found Click while I was a gladiator. The only reason the owners let me keep him was to use him as a way of controlling me. That meant that he couldn’t leave the pits—they didn’t want to risk their insurance escaping. Our doctor wouldn’t even look at him because he wasn’t a gladiator, and no doctor was willing to go to the pits to treat a sparkling. They all thought it was some sort of trick to lure them down there and kill them.” As he spoke Megatron became angrier slamming his servo on the table. Megatron startled at the noise, staring blankly at his servo. “My apologies. I lost control for a moment.”

“Don’t apologize for that.” Hound said. If Hound was in that situation he would be more than angry. “You killed the owners, right?”

“I, of course I did. Why?” Megatron looked at Hound cautiously.

“Good.” Hound said. “If you hadn’t I would have had to hunt them down and kill them myself.”

Megatron grinned. “I’m glad we can agree on this. How else has Click been doing?”

“He’s been making a few of his own friends. He and Jazz are getting along quite well, and Jazz is turning Click into a card shark with all the human card games he’s teaching Click. Click also adores the Dinobots, and they’re so careful with him. He tried asking Grimlock to teach him how to fight, and Grimlock refused because he was scared of accidentally squishing Click. Click does want to learn to fight though, so I’m going to try and find a gun that he can actually use and handle the recoil of and have Perceptor or Bluestreak teach him how to shoot.”

“Not yourself?” Megatron asked.

“No, I’m a terrible shot.”

“Is that why you attacked me with a knife?”

Hound nodded. “I probably could have shot you from that range, but you shrug off being shot all the time. You wouldn’t be able to shrug off a knife cutting off your spark and processor’s connection.”

“I suppose I chose the right gift for you.” Megatron said. Pulling a box out of his subspace Megatron set it on the table and slid it to Hound. “Open it.”

Hound picked up the box and studied it. It was a plain grey box with no embellishments and only a latch holding it closed. Flicking the latch Hound opened the box. Sitting in the cushioned interior was the sturdy hilt of an Energon knife painted the same green as Hound’s armor. Picking it up the knife fit perfectly in his hand and turning it on he could feel that the blade was more powerful than his personal knife he used against Megatron.

“Do you like it?” Megatron asked.

“Yes, but why would you give this to me?” Hound asked. Was this supposed to be some sort of bribe? Spoiling Hound so he’d let Megatron spend more time with Click.

Megatron softly smiled at Hound. “I know you likely don’t feel the same as me, but I wish to properly court you.”

Chapter Text

Hound blankly stared at Megatron, trying to figure out how to respond. No one had ever asked to court him before, and this was Megatron. Leader of the Decepticons. Why would he ask out Hound of all mechs? What was he supposed to say?

He wanted to immediately reject Megatron, but could he even do that? Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons. He could call off the entire peace treaty if Hound made him angry. And after they finally made so much progress towards peace, Hound wasn’t sure he could live with his actions stopping them from reaching that peace. But he didn’t want to interface with Megatron—and that was what powerful mechs wanted out of relationships like this. An excuse to be able to interface with their ‘partner’ whenever they wanted.

Maybe Megatron was different. He started the war against those very people in power.

Megatron seemed to notice Hound’s hesitance as he continued talking. “The way you fought when we last met. Your strength and drive. Your fierce protection of our sparkling. It was entrancing. You may have aimed to take my life, but you took my spark instead. I know myself. I will accept no other as my partner, but I won’t force you to accept my suit. If you truly do not wish to be in a relationship with me I won’t push you, but please at least consider it.”

“You don’t want to have a relationship with me.” Hound said, trying to figure out how he could gently let down Megatron. He couldn’t pass it off as Megatron being overcharged like he normally did.

Megatron leaned forward, his features softening. “Tell me why not. I assure you; it won’t be an issue.”

“I am not going to interface with you or get conjunxed.” Hound blurted out, sinking back into his seat when he realized what he said. Why the frag would he say that? Now Megatron was going to get all smug and patronizing, talking about how he can ‘fix’ Hound. There was no way he could even try for a friendship after this.

Only, as he carefully watched Megatron for his reaction, that wasn’t what happened.

There wasn’t any surprise or shock. Only acceptance. “Very well, anything else?”

“What?”

“Do you have any other boundaries for a relationship?” Megatron asked, expanding on his previous question.

That wasn’t what Hound was asking about. “Why are you so willing to accept that?”

“Because that’s what you want. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want.” Megatron earnestly said.

“But. . . but whenever people talk about relationships it always focuses on interface or getting conjunxed. I can’t give that to you.” Hound quietly admitted.

“That’s not what I want from a relationship with you. I want the emotional intimacy. To have someone by my side as an equal. To raise my sparkling with you. Interfacing isn’t my focus, and if you don’t want it I can take care of myself with my own servos.”

That. . . sounded like the relationship paired cyberwolves had. Hunting partners who shared everything with each other. Raising and teaching their pups together, with the rest of the pack only helping out if they needed help.  It was something that, in the deepest recesses of his spark, Hound wanted.

And yet, it was something he never thought he’d find.

Hound always knew that he was different than the other cyberwolves—even beyond the physical differences. When he was first taken in, he couldn’t even eat a petrorabbit when even the youngest pups eagerly tore them apart. As he grew into himself and started bringing hunts back to the pack that feeling of alienation never truly went away. He was always too different.

When the last cyberwolf of the pack that initially took him in died, leaving only their descendants behind to continue the pack, Hound couldn’t stand it anymore and left. He would visit and help whenever they—and later their descendants—had a problem, but he couldn’t stand to be part of a pack he didn’t feel like he belonged in. Not with the last of those he cared for dead.

When he first saw Proteus and his hunting party, he thought it might be his chance to find a pack he belonged with. He was right in a way. That meeting was what led to Hound meeting Nightbeat and later joining the Autobots and finding his pack there.

Despite that, he had given up on finding a hunting partner. But that sounded like what Megatron was describing, and Hound craved it.

“I. . . I’ll consider it.” Hound slowly said, reminding himself that he didn’t know Megatron.

Megatron smiled softly at him. “That’s all I ask.”

Hound set the knife back in the box it came from. Closing the box Hound slid it back to Megatron. Megatron looked at him in confusion, so he explained, “Courtship gifts are given at the beginning of a relationship, and I haven’t agreed to a relationship yet.”

Megatron carefully picked up the box, slipping it back into his subspace. “Very well. I’ll wait for your decision.”

“Good, now,” Hound vented, “I wanted to talk about Click. Specifically, you and Click seeing each other.”

Megatron’s gaze sharpened. “I assume you have a plan?”

Hound nodded. “Click is your sparkling as well, and I don’t want to keep you from each other. But I don’t trust you enough to leave you alone with Click. So, every time you see Click, I’m going to be here as well.”

Megatron jerked back as if Hound hit him. “Do you think I would hurt my own sparkling?”

“From what I know, no. But I also know that Soundwave was still a sparkling, and he was working as your head of communications. I’m not taking risks with my sparking’s safety.”

Megatron slumped over, and in that moment he looked exhausted.

“I didn’t want to make Soundwave my head of communications.” Megatron quietly admitted. “I sent him away from the fighting with the cassettes to keep him safe until I won the war or died trying. He came back an astro-cycle later, reformatted into an adult frame, and trying to sign up to fight. The only way I could stop him from trying to fight was to give him a job that was just as important—so I assigned him to communications.” Megatron bitterly laughed. “Of course, he made himself had of communications within the mega-cycle.”

That made sense. “Click is very strong willed.”

Megatron’s lips twisted into a bittersweet smile. “He is. I just wish he’d take his safety more seriously.”

“That just means it’s our job to keep him safe until he learns.” Hound said.

“It is.” Megatron agreed.

Hound vented. He felt like he should say more, to try and reassure Megatron somehow. “To be clear, I don’t think you’re a bad caretaker. Click adores you, and you’ve clearly done the best you could. I’m just protective of Click as well and am not willing to leave you alone with him until I know you better.”

Megatron looked up at that. “Really?”

“Of course. I’m not one to lie. Now, what do you feel like seeing Click?”

All of Megatron’s exhaustion left him in an instant. “I’d love to. When?”

“I’ll comm Nightbeat to bring him over. We can hammer out a visiting schedule after tomorrow’s meeting.”

Megatron’s joy at being able to see Click again was all Hound needed to know he made the right choice.

Chapter Text

Nightbeat started bringing Click over after Hound commed him. He was staying in Hound’s room watching Click during the meeting. Keeping Click preoccupied by teaching him how to read. Of course, he was doing that with one of his mystery books. Nightbeat was quick to assure him that it was focused on finding a stolen datacard, and didn’t involve any murders at all. Only financial schemes. Fraud, embezzlement, and the like.

Click seemed excited enough about it, so Hound didn’t have any issues with Nightbeat’s choice of book. Nightbeat was an engaging narrator when he read to Hound, so he was sure Click would love it—and it would be nice for the two of them to spend more time together.

“You said Nightbeat was watching Click during our meeting. Do you know him well?” Megatron asked.

“Yeah.” Hound said, relaxing into his chair. “Nightbeat was my mentor.”

“So, you were a detective?” Megatron asked.

Hound lightly hummed. “I could do detective work, but I mostly acted as a personal investigator. Most detective work means working with high-class mechs and politicians and I was trying to avoid all of them. I specialized more in finding people.” Nightbeat was very careful to only bring Hound along to work when politicians weren’t involved. He was careful not to bring Hound anywhere that might alert Proteus to his whereabouts.

That included hospitals.

Proteus had to agree to any medical work done on Hound—even general check-ups—and would be notified whenever Hound visited a doctor. It was why Hound never got his language module fixed and instead manually learned everything. Even if they could find a trustworthy underground doctor, there was no way they could pay their absurd fees, even after Hound started working independently. By that time, he could speak well enough that they decided to save up in case of an emergency.

Being able to regularly see Ratchet without worrying about any of that was a gift from Primus. He did feel bad for all the trouble he caused Ratchet recently between himself and Click.

“Are you good at it?” Megatron asked.

Hound grinned. “I never failed to find a mech.”

“That must have brought you into quite a few interesting situations. You probably have some good stories to tell.”

Hound hummed in thought. “There are a few that stand out, but most of them were mechs asking me to catch their conjunx cheating.”

Megatron jerked back looking at Hound in horror. “Cheating? Why would they get conjunxed if they weren’t willing to give their partner their entire spark?”

Hound let out a long, drawn-out vent. “I think most of them barely knew each other when they ‘fell in love’ and got conjunxed. And then they get to know each other and realized that they don’t really like each other and start falling apart. Then one partner finds someone new who catches their attention, and the affair begins. You can’t really undo a conjunx bond after all” You can’t take back exchanging part of your spark with someone. He couldn’t understand how casually some mechs treated a conjunx bond.

“Is that why you don’t want to get conjunxed?” Megatron asked, his optics gleaming.

“Partially. Why, are you going to tell me how you’re different than them?”

“No. I’m going to say you’re smart for not wanting to bond if most of them end like that.”

That response got a chuckle out of Hound. “I know conjunxed couples can work, but most of them seem to end in disaster.”

Before Megatron could respond Nightbeat walked in carrying Click.

“Caretaker!” Click shouted, squirming in Nightbeat’s arms. “Caretaker is here! *Click* missed Caretaker!”

“Whoa, calm down Click.” Nightbeat set the squirming sparkling on the ground. Free from Nightbeat’s grip Click ran straight to Megatron, whining in excitement. Nightbeat shook his head in exasperation and shot Hound a smile before waving good-bye and leaving.

A wide smile crossed Megatron’s face. He rushed to Click, heaving him up into a hug much to Click’s delight.

“Oh, my beloved sparksong, I missed you so much. How are you?” Megatron weakly said, tears trailing from his optics.

Click beamed at Megatron. “*Click* is good. *Click* can speak now!”

“You can, and you sound wonderful. I heard you have a name now too.” Megatron cupped Click’s cheek. Click leaned into Megatron’s servo, happily purring.

“Hound named *click.* Caretaker have name now?” Click probed.

Megatron chuckled. “I do. My name is Megatron.”

“Megatron is a strong name. Fitting.” Click seriously said.

Megatron’s smile twitched, sadness seeping into his field. “It is. Now, I know Hound’s been taking good care of you, but why don’t you tell me about your time here?”

An excited whine escaped Click as he started rambling. “Hound is the best. He found *click* and brought *click* to Ratchet who made a new vocalizer for *click!* Hound introduced *click* to his friends and they’re all really nice and smart and strong. Bluestreak offered to teach *click* how to shoot, and Jazz plays games with *click* and, and Perceptor is really nice, but when Brainstorm was mean to us Perceptor got really scary and made Brainstorm apologize.”

“And how was Brainstorm being mean to you?” Megatron probed.

Click wrinkled his nose, lowly growling. “Brainstorm called *click* a mechanimal and Hound an idiot. Hound is not an idiot.”

“No, he isn’t.” Megatron easily agreed.

Megatron turned to look at Hound, but before he could say anything Hound snapped, “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I know that look in your optic. You were going to ask if you could ‘teach Brainstorm a lesson’ for what he did. The answer is no.”

“Very well.” Megatron easily agreed. “However, if you do ever need help ‘teaching someone a lesson,’ feel free to ask for my help.”

Hound would never accept, but it was nice of Megatron to offer.

Click pouted up at Megatron and whined, “Can *click* ask for Hound?”

Megatron raised his brow. “And why can’t Hound ask me?”

“Because Hound already turned down everyone else’s offers.”

Hound had the sudden realization that Click was talking about Tracks. “Sweetspark, I told them no because I know it was an accident, and he didn’t mean to upset me. Besides, I think my punch hurt him more than enough.” From what he heard it would take a while for Tracks’ self-repair to fill out the dent his fist left in Tracks’ face. That was the worst pain you could inflict on someone as vain as Tracks.

Megatron clearly wanted to ask about what happened, but he refrained from asking. Instead, he told Click, “Since Hound already said no, I won’t. He has his reasonings and I won’t interfere unless he wants me to.”

“Thank you.” Hound vented.

“You don’t need to thank me for this. It’s your life and involves people you know. You have a better idea of how it should be handled than I do.” Megatron softly said.

“I appreciate it anyways.”

Lots of mechs got so caught up in what they could do that they didn’t think about if they should. Hound appreciated that his friends trusted him enough to ask what he wanted before starting fights with people for him. It was heartening to see that Megatron was of a similar mindset. Hopefully his actions backed up his words.

Speaking of his friends, “Jazz, stop spying on us.”

Chapter Text

Ricochet jumped out of the vents, landing on the table with a barely audible thud, his sudden appearance startling Megatron who briefly tensed, ready to attack, before slowly relaxing. Megatron didn’t relax completely though, keeping his optics focused on Ricochet. Securely holding a confused Click to his chest, Megatron looked ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.

Ricochet grinned at Hound, but the slight uptick in Ricochet’s ventilation would have betrayed his nervousness if his field hadn’t already. “Heya Hound, fancy seeing you here.”

Hound raised his brow questioningly at Ricochet. “And what are you doing here? I thought you were helping escort the others out.” Hound knew Decepticons were already off of the Arc, and Jazz was in Prowl’s room with an upset Prowl. But Megatron didn’t know that. He didn’t even know that Jazz and Ricochet were different mechs.

Speaking of Jazz, Hound doubted he would have sent Ricochet here. Jazz would have tried to spy on the meeting himself, even if it meant looking through Red Alert’s security system instead of being here in person.

Ricochet shrugged. “They were all escorted out just fine.” He glanced at Megatron, “You don’t need to worry about them at all.” He left the unspoken unlike you hanging in the air.

“Jazz.” Hound sharply said.

Ricochet backed off, turning to Hound with a pout. “Are you saying he hasn’t upset you?”

“He hasn’t.”

Ricochet gaped. “Really? But I, er, we thought. . .”

Hound had a sudden realization about what Nightbeat thought Megatron wanted and what Prowl tried talking to him about before the meeting. The rumors about why Megatron wanted him at the meeting that ended up being right.

Hound pointed accusingly at Ricochet. “You! You knew that Megatron was going to ask to court me!”

“Wait, he did? I thought you said he didn’t make you uncomfortable. Did he coerce you into saying yes? Blink once if you need help.” As Ricochet started his panicked rambling he subtly signed, out of Megatron’s view, vent if you need help.

“I would never.” Megatron said offended.

Hound very obviously held back his vent so there was no way Ricochet would miss it. “Jazz, you really don’t need to worry. Megatron didn’t coerce me into anything, and I didn’t say yes. I said I’d consider it.”

Ricochet’s momentary relaxation when Hound said he didn’t say yes disappeared when he said he’d consider Megatron’s offer.

“This isn’t funny Hound. Look, I’m sorry for spying on you, but please don’t consider dating Megatron just to get back at me.” Ricochet desperately pleaded. “You don’t have to force yourself to agree to anything you don’t want. Is it for Click? We can help—"

“I’m not. You’re worrying too much.” Hound said, cutting off Ricochet.

Ricochet studied Hound for a klick. His gaze wandering up and down Hound’s frame. Ricochet must have found what he was looking for because he relaxed. “You really aren’t being pushed into this, huh. Well, I’m going to update my shovel talk now. I’ll leave explaining this to everyone else to you.”

Hound groaned, burying his face in his servos. “They’re going to overreact just like you did, aren’t they.”

“I wouldn’t call it overreacting. I’d call it an appropriate amount of worry given the situation.” Ricochet hopped off the table. Grinning he turned to Megatron. “Expect a visit from me, but don’t bother guessing where, when, or how. You’ll never guess any of them.”

With that final threat Ricochet gave Meagtron a jaunty wave and walked away.

Hound smiled apologetically at Megatron. “Sorry about him, he was feeling a bit protective.”

“No need to apologize for him, Jazz can apologize for himself later since he’s the one who invited himself here.” Megatron said, finally loosening his tight grip on Click and setting Click in his lap. “I suppose it is good that your friends are so protective.”

Hound groaned. “They’re normally not this bad. Recent events have just put them more on edge than usual.” Thinking back on it, their new more protective behavior started after Hound recharged for an entire day because of his recharge deprivation. The fact that Prowl couldn’t wake him up likely didn’t help. Megatron’s attack on the Arc, and the incident with Tracks only made his friend’s protectiveness worse. “Hopefully they’ll go back to normal soon.”

Maybe Hound needed to remind his friends that he could take care of himself. A few rounds together in the sparring ring should do the trick.

“Caretaker won’t hurt Hound now, right? Caretaker knows Hound is family?” Click quietly asked.

Megatron startled at Click’s question. “Of course I won’t.”

“Caretaker will protect Hound too, right?”

“Sparksong, why are you asking me to protect Hound? He can protect himself just fine, and even if he can’t, his friends are very capable.” Megatron asked.”

Click sunk into himself, glancing at Hound before looking at the ground—refusing to say anything.

Hound tried to think of what was bothering Click but drew a blank.

After a klick of silence Megatron asked, “Is Hound in danger here?”

Click jerked up, shouting, “No!”

Megatron frowned. “Then what’s wrong?”

Click squirmed in Megatron’s hold. “*Click* shouldn’t say. Not supposed to share.”

What wasn’t Click supposed to share?

“Click, Sweetspark, did something happen that I don’t know about?” Hound asked.

Click shook his head. “No, no. *Click* saw-felt-knew from Hound. Not supposed to tell others about it. It’s personal.”

“Is this about the mech you asked me about?” About Proteus.

Click nodded.

“Oh, Sweetspark, he can’t hurt me. He’s dead.”

“But what if another mech like him tries to hurt Hound?” Click asked, desperation leaking into his voice.

“Sweetspark, my friends would stop that from happening. You saw how Jazz was trying to protect me from Megatron just now.” Because that’s what it was. Ricochet was trying to protect Hound from a situation they knew he would be uncomfortable with. In any other circumstances he would have appreciated the chance to escape Ricochet was giving him.

But this wasn’t any other circumstance; this was Megatron they were dealing with. And oddly enough, Hound didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Click’s face briefly scrunched in confusion before shifting to outrage. “Caretaker wouldn’t hurt Hound!”

Hound chucked. “And I believe that, but he doesn’t know that—and considering the situation, he has every right to be weary. Your caretaker is the leader of the Decepticons. A faction we are only now beginning to have peace with. Jazz is worried that Megatron would use that position to try and coerce me into a relationship.”

“Oh.” Click looked up at Megatron and ordered, “Caretaker can’t conjunx Hound now. Hound said to wait at least 100 vorns before conjunxing.”

Megatron fondly smiled at Click. “Sparksong, I don’t think Hound is interested in conjunxing at all.”

Click nodded. “Yeah, but you have to wait at least 100 vorns before you try.”

Hound chuckled. “Sweetspark, that isn’t what I meant. I meant that if you ever fall in love and want to conjunx them, be with them in a relationship for at least 100 vorns before you get conjunxed. It’s a lifelong commitment, so you need to be sure it’s a relationship that’ll last.”

“Is, is Hound and Caretaker not together?” Click hesitantly asked.

“No.” Megatron said at the same time Hound said, “He asked to court me, and I said I’d consider it.”

“Why not say yes? Caretaker is really strong and caring and—”

“Click, you don’t have to pitch how good a partner Megatron would be.” Hound said, interrupting Click.

“I don’t?”

“No, you don’t. If I didn’t want to date Megatron I would have told him no. He seems like he would be a wonderful partner, but I don’t know him well enough to say yes right now.” Hound explained.

Megatron’s cheeks noticeably flushed against his unpainted plating. “You think I’d make a good partner?”

“Of course I do. I wasn’t lying when I said you haven’t made me feel uncomfortable. And the things you’re specifically asking for are things I’m interested in as well. I just don’t know you well enough to say yes.”

Click watched Megatron’s face flush even darker with undisguised curiosity, reaching up to touch it. Megatron tilted his head down so Click’s servos could reach his cheeks easier.

“Warm.” Click muttered before drawing back and touching his own face.

They all sat there in silence. Hound wasn’t sure what to say, Megatron seemed too dumbstruck to form any sort of verbal response, and Click’s was absolutely enchanted by Megatron’s flush.

Houd loudly cleared his vents, getting the other’s attention. “I think that’s enough of that. Click, do you want to show Megatron your drawings?”

“Drawings?” Megatron asked, looking at Click for answers.

Click nodded. “Yes! Sunstreaker gave *click* art supplies and *click* drew all his friends!” Click frowned. “*Click* can’t show Caretaker all the drawings. *Click* needs to respect other’s company.”

“It’s okay if you can’t show me all of them.” Megatron said.

Hound pulled the drawing pad out of his subspace and handed it to Click who clutched it to his chest in a hug before opening it to the first page and showing it to Megatron. “This is Caretaker.”

Megatron radiated pride as he looked at the picture Click was holding up. “It’s been a long time since I saw myself in my gladiator paint. This looks amazing.”

Click straightened up at the complement and moved onto the next page.

Chapter Text

When Click started nodding off in Megatron’s lap Hound figured it was time to leave.

“I think it’s time for Click to recharge.” Hound said, walking around the table to where Megatron was sitting. Click was curled up against Megatron’s chest, but he shifted to lean against Hound’s chest when Hound picked him up.

Click’s optics dimly flickered on as he mumbled, “Can *click* see caretaker again?”

“Of course we’ll see him again.” Hound said nuzzling the top of Click’s head before looking at Megatron. “Can you stay after tomorrow’s meeting again? I’ll ask Jazz about finding a less. . . formal place to stay.” The meeting room was nice, but it was meant for important meetings: like high command’s frequent meetings, or the meeting for the peace treaty. It felt awkward to use it while it was just him, Megatron, and Click.

“Of course I can stay after tomorrow’s meeting, but are you sure about asking Jazz? He doesn’t like me.” Megatron said.

Hound snorted. “Of course he doesn’t like you, we’ve been fighting for hundreds of vorns.” Not to mention the fact that Megatron asked him out. When Jazz Jazz learned about that, he was going to blow a fuse. “But we’re friends—he’ll do it if I asked.” Even if he would complain about it for at least an astro-cycle.

“If you’re sure.” Megatron said, clearly skeptical.

“I am. Now, let’s get you out of here. I doubt they want you left unsupervised on the Arc, so I’ll escort you out.” Hound said.

Megatron stood up. Gesturing at the door he said, “Lead the way.”

Hound didn’t hesitate to turn his back on Megatron and open the door. When Megatron didn’t move to follow him, Hound turned around. Megatron was stunned. Staring at Hound with wide optics, his frame frozen in place. Hound tilted his head and asked, “Are you coming?”

The question jolted Megatron into motion. He briefly stumbled walking up to Hound. “I, uh, yes.”

This time when Hound left the meeting room Megatron followed him.

Hound didn’t try to avoid anyone in the halls like he normally did, but he didn’t try seeking them out either. The few mechs he passed stopped at the sight of them and stared, if they didn’t run away at the sight of Megatron.

“Flighty.” Megatron dryly said as the fifth mech ran away from them.

“Can you blame them?”

“. . . no.”

Mirage started following them while invisible shortly after that. Likely called over to keep an optic on them after Megatron’s presence scared so many Autobots. This way, if something happened it wouldn’t be just him and Click there. Not that Megatron would ever hurt Click.

Of course, it wasn’t necessary. Hound saw Megatron out without incident, and as the doors closed on Megatron Hound turned to face Mirage. “So, what do you think?”

Mirage was scowling at the doors when he became visible. “I don’t trust him. Why’d you agree to meet him?”

“Jazz didn’t tell you?” Hound asked. He had no idea what everyone could or couldn’t know about Click being Soundwave, so he defaulted to his usual method for knowing what to tell people when he didn’t know what to say; asking about what Jazz told them.

“No.” Mirage looked even more disgruntled by that fact then he was because of Megatron.

Hound studied Mirage. He almost never saw the other mech look this upset. “Why do you think he wanted to meet me?”

“There are rumors. . . “

“I don’t want rumors. I want what you think.”

Mirage shifted, averting his gaze from Hound. “He looked interested in you. I think he wants to ask you out.”

“You’re right, he did.” It wasn’t that surprising. Mirage was good at reading people. It was a skill that served him well in spec ops.

Mirage raised his brow. “Really? He’s taking his rejection well.”

Hound vented. “That’s because I didn’t reject him. I told him I’d think about it.”

Mirage frowned. “You need to be careful about leading Megatron on. It might give us better negotiating power right now, but if you hold off for too long he’ll get upset and try and force an answer out of you.”

Huh?

“I’m not leading him on for a better treaty. I have full faith in the people we have working on it.”

“Then why not say no? If Megatron is pushing you into it we can help.”

Hound groaned, pinching his nasal ridge. “Primus, is it really that hard to believe that I said I’d consider it because I’m actually considering it?” First Ricochet was doubting him, now Mirage. He had a feeling he would have to go through this every time he told his friends that he was considering dating Megatron.

Click shifted, and Hound shushed him, rocking him until Click fell back into recharge. When he refocused on Mirage, he was looking at Hound in open confusion.

“What?”

“It is hard to believe that Hound. I mean, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve rejected everyone who has ever asked you out. I thought you weren’t interested in that sort of relationship.”

“I’m not, not in what they were asking for anyways.”

“But Megatron is what you want?”

Hound nodded.

Mirage scowled at the Arc’s closed doors. “Are you sure about this? Today was your first time talking to him.”

“That’s why I wanted time. So I could know him better before I agreed to anything.”

Mirage’s shoulder’s slumped, his face becoming neutral, but he still felt upset. “I won’t fight you if this is what you really want.”

“It is. I. . . is everything alright Mirage?”

Mirage snapped to his full height. “Of course I am—what makes you think otherwise.”

“You feel upset.”

“I—it’s nothing.”

“Mirage.” Hound sternly said.

“It really is nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.” Mirage insisted.

Hound pursed his lips. He didn’t believe Mirage, but he didn’t think pushing would help. Mirage wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t want to. “Okay.” Hound agreed. “But let me know if that changes.”

Hound rested his servo on Mirage’s shoulder and a bright blush immediately stained Mirage’s cheeks.

“Right, I’ll do that. I, uh, have something I need to do now. See you later.” Mirage rushed to say before running away.

That was odd. Hopefully he didn’t skip out on work to keep an optic on Megatron.

Click shifted in Hound’s grip again, reminding him that he also had somewhere to be. It was getting late, and Nightbeat wouldn’t be happy with how long he took to get back. Hound held back a groan. It was going to be even longer before he could recharge tonight.

He also had to explain Megatron’s courtship offer to Nightbeat. He could only hope his mentor wouldn’t overreact.

Chapter Text

Nightbeat was sitting at the desk, reading something on his datapad when Hound entered his room. Looking up at them Nightbeat smiled. “Looks like it’s time for both of you to recharge.”

They went into the den together, and after settling in Nightbeat asked, “How did meeting Megatron go?”

Hound vented.

“That bad?” Nightbeat asked.

“No, no, not bad. It’s just. . . please don’t overreact.” Hound didn’t want to deal with another person questioning his life decisions. Especially not when he was about to recharge.

“I won’t.” Nightbeat promised. “Now, what happened?”

“Megatron wants to court me. I told him I’d consider it.” Hound bluntly said. No use dancing around an issue when talking to Nightbeat.

After a moment Nightbeat slowly asked, “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I won’t argue if this is what you want.” Nightbeat said, pulling Hound in for a hug, nuzzling the top of his head. Hound relaxed into Nightbeat’s hold. “Now, what else happened?”

“You saw how happy Click was to see Megatron.”

Nightbeat chuckled. “Yeah. He didn’t even wait for me to carry him over”

“It was mostly Click talking to us after that.” Hound said, smiling at the memory of how enthusiastic Click was, and how interested Megatron was in everything he was saying. “We’re going to meet again after tomorrow’s meeting, and I want to try and get a regular meeting scheduled worked out with him. How did watching Click go?”

“It was good. He really liked the book, and I’ve been teaching him how to what to pay attention to in order to figure out who stole the datachip. I’d be happy to watch him again while you’re at the meeting.” Nightbeat said.

“Hound nodded, mumbling out a “thanks” as he started nodding off.

“You don’t need to thank me for this. Now, recharge.”

Hound did as Nightbeat said and fell into recharge.

***

Megatron was not having a peaceful night. When he made it back to the Nemesis several hours after everyone else he was greeted by Starscream. He was leaning against the hallway wall at the bottom of the elevator they used to enter the Nemesis.

“Did your little date go well?” Starscream sneered.

“Well enough.” Megaron said. “What do you want?” Because Starscream always wanted something when he talked to him now. Their friendship long since strained from how long the war dragged on. The violent takeover of Cybertron that they expected to take a few vorns max quickly turned into a long, drawn-out battle with the Autobots that Megatron never felt like he could stop. Not without putting his people and Soundwave in more danger than continuing the fighting would.

He may have misjudged the latest Prime.

“I want to know what they frag was going through your processor when you decided to court an Autobot when we’re in the middle of peace treaty negotiations.”

Megatron startled. How did Starscream know?

“Don’t give me that look. The knife you got, staying on the Arc to talk to him, frag it, even the way you looked at him—it’s obvious.” Starscream snapped.

“And you care about it this, why?” Megatron asked.

“Because this could put our negotiations at risk! Jazz looked ready to kill you, and if you die the others won’t be willing to accept peace. They made that clear when I became leader of the Decepticons.”

Megatron winced at the reminder of how. . . devoted many of his followers were. He had to be careful about what he said now because they would take what he said way too seriously. Even his overcharged ramblings were as good as law to some of them. “I’m the one leading us to peace. They would accept it.” Megatron said instead.

The glare Starscream shot at him was enough to show that he didn’t believe Megatron. “Even if you died of natural causes right now, they’d think the Autobots killed you and restart the war. I am not willing to let you risk our peace just for some stupid crush.”

“It’s not stupid.” Megatron defended. Hound was so fierce and strong and protective. If he were to describe his perfect partner, it would be someone like Hound, and Megatron couldn’t wait to learn more about him.

Starscream raised his brow. “How many times have you met him?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t—of course it matters” Starscream sputtered. “You don’t know this mech! What if he’s only accepting your courtship just to use you?”

“He’s not.”

“You don’t know that! You barely know him!” Starscream shouted, throwing his servos up in the air in exasperation.

“He didn’t accept my courtship.” Megatron clarified.

That caught Starscream’s attention. His wildly flailing arms stilling as he focused on Megatron with an eerie stillness. “He didn’t?”

“No.”

Starscream’s optics narrowed. “If he rejected you, why are you so happy?”

“He didn’t reject me. He said he’d think about it.” From Hound’s reactions he thought it was one of the best reactions he could have. It would have been smarter to hold off his confession. To get closer to Hound before asking to court him, but that felt disingenuous. Like he was making a connection between them just to use it to push Hound into accepting a relationship with Megatron that he doesn’t want.

Megatron didn’t want that. If Hound was going to accept his courtship, Megatron wanted it to be of his own free will.

He asked around after their first meeting if anyone knew Hound. Ravage grumbled about him being hard to avoid, and Astrotrain clearly recognized him, even if he didn’t say anything. Maybe Astrotrain would be willing to talk about it now after seeing him at the meeting. Shockwave was the only one who gave him solid information about Hound, and all he got from him was that Proteus attempted to integrate him.

Shockwave sounded so proud when he said it failed.

Even that alone was enough for Megatron to expect fierce resistance from Hound if he ever tried courting him. But he wanted Hound to know his intentions from the beginning. To know that Megatron wanted to court him, but that he would accept it if Hound didn’t want to.

Hound’s refusal to interface with him or get conjunxed wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was that Hound said he would consider it—and he looked interested.

Starscream sighed pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge. “And that makes this better how?”

“Because I expected him to reject me.”

“I cannot understand how your processor works! Just make sure you don’t die before this peace treaty is finalized or I will bring you back to life to fix the problems you made!” Starscream shouted before storming off.

Megatron wasn’t upset at Starscream yelling at him. He knew how stressed out Starscream was about the treaty. He had been urging Megatron to at least try and accept peace for vorns, saying that if the Autobots proved they couldn’t be trusted they could just start fighting again. Megatron never wanted to risk it. Part of his duties as leader of the Decepticons was to make sure his people had futures ahead of them at the end of the war. If he accepted a treaty that allowed his people to be persecuted on mass—it was a failure he could never accept, even if he and his upper command were treated well. Logistically it would also put them in a much weaker position when they restarted the war.

Now that Megatron was willing to give peace a try Starscream was running himself ragged, trying to make sure that everything went well. He even kept to his best behavior during the meeting, only giving out occasional stinging remarks when he wasn’t bringing up issues in the treaty that needed to be fixed before they would accept it.

He didn’t have time to waste musing about Starscream though. He needed to talk to Shockwave about what they leaned. About the fact that Cybertron was dying.

Megatron knew that Shockwave planned on returning to his position at Darkmount between peace treaty meetings, so he didn’t even bother asking anyone about Shockwave’s location. He went straight to the communications room where Reflector was still working.

“Welcome back, Lord Megatron. How did your extra meeting go?” All three versions of Reflector said as Megatron walked into the room.

“Good. Contact Shockwave.” Megatron said.

“Of course.” Reflector said before turning to the console. Quickly the screen flickered to life, showing Shockwave in his lab on Darkmount.

“Hail, Lord Megatron. Why are you contacting me?” Shockwave asked, saluting at him. Megatron had told him several times that he didn’t need to be greeted like that, but every time Shockwave would just quietly stare at him and say that Megatron was his lord, and he needed to be greeted as such. The next time they met Shockwave would do the same thing.

Although Shockwave didn’t mention it, Megatron suspected it was part of his changes from shadowplay. It sounded like the sort of thing the senators would enjoy—forcing a mech to greet them with their proper titles and the respect those titles entailed.

“I wanted to follow up on the issue that was brought up during the meeting.” Megatron said.

“That Cybertron is dying?” Shockwave clarified. Megatron held back a groan. He would have preferred for Shockwave not to have spelled it out in front of Reflector, all three of whom were now staring at Shockwave in shock.

“Yes.” Megatron said before turning to Reflector. “I don’t want rumors of this spreading around. Understand?”

“Yes sir!” Reflector instantly replied, saluting Megatron. He didn’t think Reflector would spread confidential information around—that was the reason why he replaced Soundwave after his disappearance—but it was better for this sort of thing to be said. That way, Reflector couldn’t claim ignorance if he did cause a panic by telling everyone that Cybertron was dying.

“Good.” Megatron said. “Now, what have you found Shockwave.”

Shockwave’s audials twitched in excitement. One of the few visual expressions of emotion he had left. “Hound’s belief that Cybertron is dying seems to be entirely correct. Records show that Cybertron’s activity has slowly been decreasing since Nova Prime left Cyberton—lending credence to the theory that Nova Prime’s successor was a false Prime and that Primes are integral to Cybertron’s continued health.”

It seems like the Matrix had some use after all.

“And do you have any idea on how to fix the situation?” Megatron asked.

“None whatsoever. I have been unable to pin down the cause behind Cybertron’s failing health, so I cannot begin to theorize how to help. However, I did find something interesting.”

“Go on.”

Shockwave’s audials twitched again. “While Hound was correct that Cybertron’s health started failing faster 850 vorns ago, it took a steep dive to nearly no activity 150 vorns ago.”

“Does that mean Cybertron is dying?” Megatron asked. Was he the reason that Cybertron was dying? He was the one who forced the Autobots off the planet. If Optimus taking the Matrix off of Cybertron was the reason behind Cybertron’s death, that meant it was his fault.

Shockwave paused for a moment before saying, “I believe a more accurate comparison would be Cybertron being in medical stasis. Still alive, but barely, and requiring help to recover.”

“We’ll do whatever we can to help Cybertron recover.”

“Of course. Is that all you wished to talk about Lord Megatron?”

“Yes. I will let you return to your work, but I expect you to be at the meeting tomorrow.” Megatron said.

“Of course. Farewell, Lord Megatron.” Shockwave said, saluting him before ending the connection on his side, leaving Megatron alone with Reflector who looked worried.

“What’s worrying you Reflector? Cybertron will recover.” Megatron asked.

Reflector startled at the question. “It’s. . . not Cybertron we’re worried about. Soundwave is still missing.”

Ah, right, Reflector was one of the few mechs that worked directly under Soundwave, even if he frequently switched between working under Ravage in Intelligence and Soundwave in Communications. “We found Soundwave, but he’s unable to return to us. Congratulations on your permanent promotion.”

“He’s dead?” Reflector asked, aghast. “Who? How?”

“No, not dead. He’s been turned into a sparkling,” and Megatron had no fragging idea how that happened, “and an Autobot took Soundwave in as his sparkling. They aren’t willing to give him up, so I stayed later to talk to them and see Soundwave. He’s doing well.”

“How old?” Reflector weakly asked.

“Less than a vorn.”

“Frag, that’s young.”

“It is, but he’s being treated well. If he wasn’t I would have taken him back, by force if necessary.” And he would have. He was fully willing to kill everyone he passed on the Arc during his attack to save Soundwave. It was only Hound’s pinning hi down, demanding answers for why he wanted Hound’s sparkling that he realized that Soundwave’s new caretaker might actually take care of him. Now, having actually talked to Hound for the first time, he could only be thankful that he didn’t kill the other mech during their first meeting.

Chapter Text

Walking into the meeting room for a second time, Hound didn’t feel any less out of place, even if no one except for Jazz looked up at his entrance. Jazz waved him over with a smile to the spot he sat yesterday between him and Prowl.

When he sat down Jazz leaned over and said, “I booked a nearby rec room for you and Megatron to meet in after this like you asked. How’d the meeting yesterday go?”

“Good. It was good.” Hound said.

“Details, please.” Jazz asked.

“We talked for a while, and he saw Click.” Hound glanced around the table. Optimus was missing—escorting the Decepticons to the meeting room—but otherwise all the Autobots were here. “I think going into it in more detail can wait until we’re alone.”

“Sure. Just answer one thing for me first.” Jazz said. “Do you actually want to meet Megatron again? Or are you doing it out of a sense of duty?”

“I want to.” Hound firmly said, looking at Jazz straight in the visor.

Jazz’s frame relaxed by a fraction and he leaned back into his chair. “Okay. I’ll bring you there after the meeting.”

“Thanks.” Hound said, giving Jazz a smile.

“No need to thank me. I know this is important to you.” Jazz softly said. “Now, Prowl also wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Did you?” Hound asked turning to Prowl, who was focused on his datapad.

Prowl didn’t look up as he said, “Yes. I wanted to ask you about other information you have that might be important.”

“I mean, sure, but I don’t really know what I know that would be important.” Hound admitted. He thought that everyone knew that Cybertron was dying. It was so obvious to him that it was a little hard to believe that no one even realized it was happening.

“You don’t need to worry about that. We’ll talk about it later. For now, though, just speak up if you have something to add.” Prowl said.

“I can do that.” Hound said. Silently he hoped that nothing came up that he needed to talk about. He felt out of place during the meeting yesterday, like he didn’t belong in the nice meeting room, listening to the formation of the peace treaty. Because that was all he did—listen. He didn’t have anything important to add to what everyone else was saying. He could barely understand what they were talking about sometimes.

Prowl glanced up at Hound and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Before Hound could respond, saying that Prowl didn’t need to thank him for that, the meeting door opened and Optimus and the Decepticons walked in. Optimus’ field twitched like it always did before they were about to start a hard battle, but his face didn’t show any nervousness or worry. One of the advantages of wearing a face mask.

Optimus strode to his seat in the middle of the Autobot’s side of the table while the Decepticons settled into the same seats as last time. Once everyone was in place Optimus said, “I believe the first issue we should cover is Primus’ failing health. Have you found anything?”

“Yes. I have been able to confirm Hound’s claim that Cybertron’s health is failing. Looking at records of Cybertron’s activity, even the earliest records show that Cybertron’s activity has slowly been decreasing. This decrease in activity has become more rapid since 850 vorns ago as Hound noted. However, the departure of the Arc and Nemesis 150 vorns ago marked a steep dive in Cybertron’s activity to nearly nothing. My conclusion is that Cybertron is currently in a state similar to medical stasis.”

“That. . . should not have happened.” Optimus slowly said.

“No? What do you think was supposed to happen when you left with the Matrix?” Megatron asked.

“The Matrix doesn’t need to be on Cybertron to keep Primus’ health stable. It should have kept decreasing at the same rate, not gotten worse. I’m not even sure why it suddenly started getting worse.”

“Then what is the Matrix’s importance in Cybertron’s health?” Shockwave asked, his audials twitching in what Hound suspected was excitement.

“I should tell you the entire story I was told.” Optimus said. “When Primus first created us, he did so by tearing out parts of his spark. First, he made, well, the first Cybertronian. And then he made thirteen spark-siblings who were known as the Thirteen Primes: Prima, Vector Prime, Alpha Trion, Solus Prime, Micronus Prime, Alchemist Prime, Nexus Prime, Onyx Prime, Amalgamous Prime, Quintus Prime, Liege Maximo, Megatronus, and Rodimus Prime.”

There were various reactions of shock around the table from Deadlock’s whispered, “what the frag” to Prowl’s more calm consideration.

Optimus continued speaking as if no one said anything. “This was too much for Primus. Creating the Thirteen Primes took too much of his spark and it began splintering apart faster than he could recover his energy, the tiny flickers of his spark that spit off becoming the Cybertronains that emerge from hot spots. To help Primus recover, the fourteen of them would regularly visit Primus’ spark and taking turns to give their own spark energy to him, bolstering Primus’ draining reserves. This would have been enough, except the Quintessons attacked, and despite driving them back, the Quintessons killed twelve of the Thirteen Primes, leaving Rodimus Prime as the last surviving member of his siblings.”

Jazz’s field recoiled in horror at that, but his frame didn't so much as twitch.

“Rodimus created the Matrix before this as a generator for spark energy. He gave the Matrix to Primon, the first of those who have the title of Prime because they bear the matrix, before leaving to do what he could to save Primus’ spark. Whatever he did was enough because while progress was slower, the Matrix alone was enough for Primus to recover. But I suppose after the false primes kept this position unfilled for so long whatever Rodimus Prime did could no longer keep Primus’ spark stable. If things truly are as dire as Shockwave says, I doubt the Matrix alone would be enough to heal his spark.”

“We can’t just give up on Primus.” Deadlock protested. “Can we give him our spark energy?”

“Absolutely not!” Ratchet shouted. “If you try that you’ll die, and at the energy levels we’re talking about it won’t even help. Right?” Ratchet finished, turning to Optimus. Daring him to say Ratchet was wrong.

“Ratchet is right.” Optimus said, and Ratchet settled back into his chair giving Deadlock an “I told you so” look.

“However,” Optimus continued, “All hope is not lost. If we can find the first Cybertronian, that might be enough to save Primus.”

“If he didn’t die like the Primes, why hasn’t he been helping Primus already? And who even is he?” Jazz asked.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know who he is.” Optimus said.

“You seemed happy enough to name off the Thirteen Primes earlier. What makes him so different?” Megatron asked.

“Because no one remembers his name, appearance, or really anything about him. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.” Optimus somberly said.

Wait, was this going where Hound thought it was?

“Apparently anyone who interacts with him forgets him, and it’s possible he doesn’t remember who he used to be either, or else he would have sought the Primes out a long time ago.” Optimus finished.

It was. Well, it looked like Prowl got his wish. Hound had something to add to this meeting after all.

Red Alert was twitching in his seat. “There’s a mech that everyone forgets? How do you even began locating someone like that.” Panic started raising through Red Alert’s voice as he spoke. “How would you remember if someone like that attacked you?”

“Calm down Red Alert. Even if you can’t remember the person, I’m sure your security footage could still remember them.” Ironhide awkwardly said in an attempt to comfort Red Alert.

“We need more security cameras. If someone like that is here, then we can’t even rely on victim’s testimonies!” Red Alert said, working himself into an even worse panic.

“Red Alert, you can talk to me about expanding the security system after the meeting, but I doubt it will be necessary. Our current systems are already exemplary because of your efforts.” Optimus reassured Red Alert.

“You sure Prime?” Red Alert asked.

“I am.”

Optimus’ reassurance was finally enough for Red Alert to calm down, but he still felt more stressed out than before.

Ironhide frowned. “Our security doesn’t change the problem of how we’re going to find a mech that no one can remember.”

“I think I know who we’re looking for.” Hound said, trying not to show his nervousness as everyone focused on him. “His name is Rung. He’s a therapist on the Arc, and everyone always forgets him.”

Chapter Text

“Who?” Optimus asked, looking at Hound in confusion.

“Rung. Like I said, he’s one of our therapists. I don’t really know much about him other than that.” Hound said.

“How are you sure this is our mech?” Jazz asked.

“Because he was—” Hound cut himself off before he could say Perceptor’s name. Actually, he probably shouldn’t talk about Perceptor going to therapy around the Decepticons. Wreckers all had mandatory therapy sessions, but the Decepticons didn’t need to know that. If Perceptor wanted the Decepticons to know he went to therapy, he would tell them himself. “A friend of mine saw Rung. They were talking about it to me recently and couldn’t remember Rung was their therapist until I reminded them. And, well, apparently no one remembers Rung, at least not until they’re reminded about him. I told Perceptor about it, and he is looking into why everyone forgets Rung, but I don’t know if he figured it out yet.”

As Hound was talking, Ratchet pulled out his datapad and frantically started scrolling through it—presumably looking for Rung’s information.

Red Alert, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack from the news; he was rapidly venting, and his frame violently shook. His field was panicked. It always held at least a faint trace of panic, but this was stronger than Hound had ever felt from Red Alert.

Hound hoped with the war ending Red Alert would be able to relax. But, knowing Red Alert he wouldn’t relax even though they were no longer under attack.

“Red Alert, do you need to leave?” Optimus asked. His servos hovered over Red Alert, wanting to touch him. To lay a comforting servo on his shoulder or pull Red Alert in for a hug. But Optimus kept his distance. Respecitng Red Alert’s preference for personal space.

“No! I’m fine!” Red Alert snapped.

No one believed Red Alert’s assertion that he was fine.

“Red Alert, it’s okay if you need to leave. We won’t think any less of you if you do.” Optimus gently said.

Red Alert was still noticeably trembling as he glared at Optimus, but his venting at least had calmed. “It’s fine. I can handle it. I need to be here.”

Optimus studied Red Alert for a klick before slowly nodding. “Very well, if that is your choice.”

“It is.” Red Alert firmly said before looking at everyone else, as if daring anyone to challenge him. No one did.

Instead, Prowl acted like nothing happened and asked Hound, “You said you told Perceptor?”

Hound nodded. “Yeah. I know he’s looking into why no one remembers Rung, but I have no idea if he figured it out yet.” He trusted Perceptor’s scientific genius, but he had only been working on it for a few days.

“Wait, why’s Perceptor looking into this?” Deadlock asked, trying to hide his confusion.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Hound asked.

Deadlock studied them and carefully asked, “Perceptor is a sniper. Isn’t this a job for a scientist?”

“Perceptor resigned from the Wreckers to return to his initial position as a scientist.” Prowl flatly informed Deadlock.

Based on Deadlock’s frown that didn’t answer his question, but he didn’t ask anything else. His question bought enough time for Ratchet to find what he was looking for on his datapad. “I forgot about it, but Perceptor came to me a few days ago asking how Hound’s processor differed from that of a regular mech to try and see what allowed him to remember Rung when no one else could. I can’t believe I forgot about it. I even made a note to bring it up in our next meeting.”

“Fascinating.” Shockwave quietly said, looking at Hound. No one else seemed to notice him.

“I would like to speak to Rung myself then.” Optimus said.

Jazz lightly hummed. “Calling him to the meeting would just scare him. That’s not helpful for any of us.”

“I wasn’t going to call him here.” Optimus defensively said. “I wanted to talk to him after the meeting.”

Jazz grinned. “Well, in that case, go ahead big guy. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. Be prepared for him to pry into your issues and try to help. He is a therapist after all.”

Optimus raised his brow. “Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah. I remember Rung now that Hound mentioned him. He’s a good mech. Even if he’s not who we’re looking for, I’m glad Perceptor is figuring out why everyone forgets him. No one deserves to be forgotten like that.” Jazz said, his field dimming with sadness.

Ratchet frowned. “I’ll need to talk to him about why he hasn’t come to any of us for help. He should know that everyone forgetting him so easily is a clear sign that something is wrong—even if we don’t know what exactly.”

“His previous attempts to get help may have been unsuccessful.” Prowl suggested.

Ratchet snorted. “Or he may have resigned himself to always being forgotten. It’s going to be a pain to try and get Rung into therapy himself, but he’ll need it. Living like that would leave a mark on any mech, especially if it’s been going on for a long time.

“Then you can come with me when I talk to Rung.” Optimus said to Ratchet before turning to the rest of the table. “Any objections?”

Megatron frowned. “No, but keep us informed of the situation. You may be the one who can heal Cybertron, but it’s our home as well.”

The corner of Optimus’ optics squinted in a smile. “Of course. Now, with that issue out of the way, let’s resume revisions of the treaty.”

And so, the meeting went back to talking about things Hound didn’t really understand. It was relieving to go back to subjects he didn’t have anything to add to. To things that he knew his friends were good at. So, he sat there. Silently listening to what everyone was saying.

As the meeting wound down, and the Decepticons started standing up to leave, Optimus said, “Megatron, I need to discuss something with you. Just the two of us. Shockwave should stay back as well.”

Megatron tensed. Preparing himself to fight as he threateningly said, “Is this about the rumors of Shockwave’s behavior? Because I’m telling you right now—”

“No, It’s not that at all.” Optimus cut Megatron off. “I want him here because we may need him if you agree with my suggestion. I figured it would be better for him to stay instead of returning to the Nemesis.”

Relaxing at Optimus’ words Megatron said, “Very well.” Turning to Hound he asked, “Would you be okay staying here with Shockwave while Optimus and I talked?”

Hound clenched his servos under the table to keep them shaking in nervousness. He was expecting to have more time before having the chance to talk to Shockwave. To apologize. He didn’t feel ready, but it had already been so long. If he waited until he felt ready, he would probably never go through with it. Constantly avoiding the other mech in shame.

Instead of saying all that he smiled at Megatron and said, “It’s fine by me.”

“Then I’ll stay here with these two.” Jazz quickly said.

Hound groaned. “Jazz, go see the other Decepticons out.” He turned to Shockwave. “After all, it’s not like you’re going to hurt me, right?”

“Of course not. That would be counterproductive to our goals.” Shockwave said.

“But—”

Hound pushed Jazz’s shoulder. “Jazz, go with them. I’ll be fine.” He wanted to talk to Shockwave, and he didn’t want anyone else around for it, not even Jazz.

Jazz must have noticed because he easily relented. “Fine, but you’re telling me everything later. Got it?”

Hound grinned. “Got it.”

“Good.” Jazz said before plastering a cheerful grin on his face and leaving with the Decepticons. Optimus and Megatron left with them, presumably to go to a more secluded place.

Leaving Hound alone with Shockwave who was intensely staring at him.

Chapter Text

Hound and Shockwave sat together in silence. Staring at each other. Now that he was alone with Shockwave he wasn’t sure what to do.

Should he apologize right now? Talk to Shockwave first? How should he even start a conversation with Shockwave?

They had only talked to each other once before, but it felt wrong to treat Shockwave like a stranger. He might be different after being shadowplayed, but Shockwave was the first person who actually fought for Hound. The only one who saw what Proteus was doing to him and thought that it was wrong.

It wasn’t some small thing either. Proteus had Shockwave shadowplayed and empurataed for it. Shockwave’s position as a Senator didn’t protect him.

To do all that for Hound, just for him to treat Shockwave as a stranger felt wrong. But even with everything Shockwave had done for him, he didn’t know the other mech. It was times like this where Hound cursed his lacking social skills. Jazz had helped a lot. Quietly listening to Hound’s questions without judgement before answering them as well as he could. But that doesn’t mean he was like Jazz; effortlessly starting conversations with mechs he’d just met and becoming friends with them in a few klicks.

Maybe he should have let Jazz stay instead of pushing him away. He wouldn’t have let the atmosphere stay this silent and awkward.

Shockwave apparently had enough of the awkward silence as well because he broke it by saying, “That was a terrible meeting.

Hound winced. “Was it really that bad?” He thought yesterday and today’s meetings went well. Sure, he felt awkward being there, but no one even tried to start a fight. He was sure Starscream would’ve tried to goad someone into a fight, and instead he was unnervingly enthusiastic about the meeting.

“No.” Was Shockwave’s flat response.

“Then why’d you say that?” Hound asked. It seemed like a strange thing to lie about. Especially since Hound was there and saw how the meeting went in person.

“Complaining about recent events is the most common way to start a conversation. Am I wrong?”

Those words felt like a punch to the gut. This was nothing like the well-spoken mech Hound once met who was able to become a senator despite lacking the financial backing most senators enjoyed because of his skills as a speaker. Now, it was like looking at himself when he first started living with Nightbeat. Repeating what other people always said despite not understanding it.

It must have been another thing Shockwave lost because of the shadowplay. Did anyone even try to teach Shockwave how to interact with others like a normal mech afterwards, like Nightbeat and later Jazz did for him? Would it even work?

Hound had to try.

Searching his memories for Jazz’s explanations of the intricacies of conversation Hound tried to explain. “Complaining at each other is a good way to start a conversation, but it needs to be about something you want to complain about, and your conversation partner would want to join in on. It’s mainly about bonding over complaining about a shared situation.”

If there was one thing Hound noticed, it was that people liked to complain. Both Cybertronians and Humans.

“So, my previous statement was inappropriate because the meeting went well, and you have no negative feelings about it.” Shockwave flatly asked.

“I, yeah. But what about your feelings?” Hound asked. “That’s just as important as what I think about the meeting.” He had never felt so grateful for Jazz’s love of giving in-depth explanations of the reasoning behind common social interactions. Breaking down the things that other mechs didn’t even think about.

“I don’t understand.”

“What are you having trouble understanding?” Hound asked.

Shockwave’s audials twitched slightly. “My emotions.”

“Your emotions.” Hound blankly repeated, processor wrapping around the implications.

Shockwave nodded and said “Yes. I do not understand what emotions I am feeling.” As if that wasn’t something to be upset about.

“I’m sorry.” Hound blurted out.

“Do not be. My lack of understanding of my emotions does not hinder me.”

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” Hound said, cutting Shockwave off. “I’m sorry for being the reason you were shadowplayed. You didn’t deserve it, and—"

“No. My shadowplay was not your fault. It is not something you need to apologize for.” Shockwave firmly said, cutting off Hound.

“But it is. Because you were trying to help me P-Pro—he had you shadowplayed.” He was an influential senator, one of the most influential senators. It was easy for him to convince the others to back him and get Shockwave shadowplayed.

Hound heard Proteus’ rants before that. He thought Shockwave was trying to get Hound away from him so Shockwave could seduce Hound.

“I was warned not to interfere with your integration, and I chose not to listen to that warning. It is not your fault.”

Hound’s frame shook at what Shockwave said. “But why would—you don’t know me.”

“And why does that matter?”

“Because your life was ruined, and for what? To help me? A stranger you only met once?” Hound knew he was crying now. Could feel the damp streaks of dears dripping down his face. “You didn’t even get me out of there, so you can’t say it was worth it.”

“But it was.”

That stopped Hound short. “What do you mean?”

“You are right, I couldn’t get you away from Proteus.” Hound flinched as Shockwave said his name. “But I was able to keep him you from him after you left.” Shockwave tilted his head. “Was Nightbeat a good choice?”

“A good choice?” Hound repeated in confusion. “Wait, are you saying you sent Nightbeat to me? He never told me. . .” Surely Nightbeat would have mentioned it. He had never hidden things from Hound before. Always explaining what was going on to Hound, explaining the reasoning behind his choices. What was so different about this?

Did Nightbeat think Hound would have left him for Shockwave?

He wouldn’t have. Shockwave didn’t need him weighing him down. And Nightbeat became pack so quickly. He wouldn’t leave his pack for anyone.

“I never spoke to Nightbeat about you. However, it was easy to lead him to you with rumors. Was he a good mentor?”

“Yes.” Hound said without thinking. “I wouldn’t be where I am now without him.”

Shockwave’s optic brightened. “Good. What has helped you the most after your integration period?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Victims rescued from integration have made very little progress to recovery. One of my primary directives is to help the victims of integration recover. I need to know how to more effectively do so.” Shockwave explained.

Hound thought back to the dim optics of the other senator’s “favorites” that followed their directions without a word. How defeated they looked, lacking any spark of resistance. He never gave up like they did. He fought and resisted the entire time until he could get out.

What Nightbeat did for him wouldn’t help them.

He needed help learning how to be a normal mech. They needed help learning to live.

“I think they would be better off going to therapy.” Hound carefully said, remembering how much his sessions with Rung helped Perceptor.

“We do not have therapists.”

“But we do. I’m sure if you talked to Ratchet about your problem he’d be happy to give you some recommendations.” He would also probably use that as a chance to make Shockwave go to therapy as well. Maybe even make him visit the med bay to try and figure out how to undo his shadowplay.

It would be nice if that actually worked.

Shockwave paused in thought. Then, almost hesitantly, he admitted, “I do not believe CMO Ratchet would listen to my request. Most mechs do not listen to my suggestions, even when I am backed by evidence.”

“Ratchet would listen. He’s gruff and complains a lot, but that’s because he cares. It wouldn’t matter that you’re Decepticons. If you tell him that these mechs need help, he’ll take that seriously and get them the help they need.”

“You are very sure this will work.”

He was. “Ratchet wants to help people, not just Autobots but everyone. Whenever we take Decepticons as prisoners, he fixes them up. Even when it would be safer to leave them injured. He cares and won’t stand for people being in pain when he can fix it.”

They had captured Starscream once while they were still on Cybertron. He lost a wing in the fight and couldn’t escape when the Decepticons called for a retreat. Ratchet insisted on Starscream being sent to the med bay first to be repaired before he was put in the brig. The one mech who tried to argue with Ratchet about Starscream being too much of a threat to risk healing got the dressing down of the mega-vorn.

No one else tried to fight Ratchet about healing Decepticons after that.

Starscream broke out of the brig an astro-cycle later and escaped. There were only a few injuries in the escape attempt though.

“Then I will take your suggestion under advisement.” Shockwave said.

Hound’s attention snapped to Optimus and Megatron’s EM fields. He had been keeping a passive watch over them since they left for their talk, but he hadn’t expected anything to happen.

Shockwave must have noticed his distraction because he asked, “What is wrong?”

“I’m not sure, but Megatron and Optimus are upset.”

Shockwave’s audials wriggled in what he was pretty sure was excitement. Did Shockwave even know he was excited? “We are nowhere near Lord Megatron and Optimus Prime. How can you tell?”

Right. None of the Autobots knew he could sense EM fields until a week ago. Of course the Decepticons wouldn’t know as well. Should he tell Shockwave?

If it were a week ago, the answer would be an obvious no. No matter how much he owed Shockwave, he was a Decepticon and telling him would just put a big target on his back. But they weren’t fighting anymore. They were making peace, and it was going well. It would be rude to brush Shockwave’s question off.

“Ask me again in a vorn if we’re still at peace.” Hound said instead.

“I will hold you to that.” Shockwave said.

“I know. Huh.”

“What now?” Shockwave asked.

“They’re heading towards us. I wonder what they want.”

Chapter Text

Shockwave, we need to get to Cybertron. Now.” Megatron barked as he slammed the door open. “I’m sorry, Hound. Our visit will have to wait. Something came up.”

Shockwave stared intently at Megatron. “Lord Megatron, what is the emergency?”

Lord? Was Megatron making Shockwave call him that, or did Shockwave decide to do it on his own. It was possible that it was an attempt to cover up his lacking social skills—or just a result of those lacking social skills.

“The emergency is that some Autobots decided it was a great idea to lose the sparkling they took in.” Megatron hissed.

“I think kidnapping is a more apt term.” Optimus bluntly interrupted Megatron.

“They lost their sparkling in the Acroplex before it decided to grow legs and walk away with him. And then they lost the damned thing.” Snapped Megatron.

The Acroplex? “Isn’t that the building in the center of Nyon?” Hound asked. From what he heard, the building was big enough to be it’s own small city.

“It appears that it is also a mech who calls himself Metroplex.” Optimus said.

Hound’s mind went to Click, and his heart clenched at the thought of someone taking his sparkling away from him. He would his damned best to tear their throat out before they could do it. But you couldn’t really fight a city sized mech head on—despite how ready Megatron looked to fight. “Who is the sparkling, and their caretakers?”

“Ultra Magnus and Kup found Hot Rod, a sparkling, alone and likely abandoned by his creators and decided to take him in.” Optimus said.

Hot Rod, huh. Hound didn’t talk to Ultra Magnus or Kup much, but he liked them well enough. They didn’t deserve to loose their sparkling like this. Stolen away by a mech they couldn’t fight.

No one deserved that.

He couldn’t do nothing and let it happen. Standing up Hound stared Optimus directly in the optics. “I’m joining you. My sensors would be invaluable in a search like this.”

“You don’t need to say anything else.” Optimus said, holding up his servo in a stop sign before Hound could begin expanding on how useful he could be. “I was intending on requesting your help. Your assistance would be appreciated.”

“Are you sure about this? You’d be leaving Click behind here—I wouldn’t consider it safe to bring him with us.” Megatron looked hesitant as he asked the question. Like he wasn’t sure if Hound would take offence at his question.

He didn’t. It warmed Hound’s spark to see Megatron so concerned for Click. For himself. “Nightbeat and the rest of my friends would be happy to watch Click while I’m gone.”

Megatron nodded. Accepting Hound’s answer and focusing on other issues instead. Turning to Optimus he asked, “Who else are you planning on bringing?”

“Ratchet.” Optimus instantly answered. “As our best doctor, and one of the few with experience treating sparklings, he’ll be necessary if Hot Rod is injured when we find him. Hound is a skilled tracker—our best—and the both of us should be strong enough to handle any trouble. That just leaves the issue of how we’re traveling to Nyon. You said the spacebridge can only go to Darkmount?”

Megatron nodded.

“I know the wilds very well and could guide you through them, but with speed as one of our main goals it would be better for a shuttle to bring us to Nyon.” Hound said. You couldn’t really drive through the wilds in your alt mode with how rough the terrain was. Flying was the better option. And with how many of them there were, a shuttle would be better.

“Astrotrain will fly us.” Megatron decided.

Optimus raised a brow. “Why him?”

“Because I want one of my people with us, and Shockwave isn’t coming with. I just need him to use the space bridge. Besides, I trust Astrotrain. He might not be a fighter, but he’s not going to abandon us in the wilds if we get in a fight. I’ll call him back now, and he can bring us to the Nemesis.”

Optimus nodded. “Ratchet will meet us at the Arc’s entrance.”

“And during the flight, you two can explain to us what exactly happened.” Hound added.

“I have questions as well. You said the Acroplex is a mech?” Shockwave asked.

Optimus winced. “We’ll explain on the flight to the Nemesis.”

On the way to the Arc’s entrance Hound quickly commed Nightbeat and told him that something came up and Optimus needed his tracking abilities, and that he needed him to take care of Click while he was gone.

Ratchet and Astrotrain were already waiting for them when they made it to the entrance of the Arc.

“Optimus, you better have a good explanation for why you’re sending me out on a mission right now.” Ratchet started complaining as soon as he caught sight of them before pausing. Staring at Hound. “Optimus, why is Hound here?” Ratchet asked in a deceptively neutral tone of voice.

“Hound is coming with.”

“What did you say?”

Optimus froze, noticing the sudden downturn in Ratchet’s mood. “Hound is coming with?” He answered more hesitantly this time.

“What part of ‘Hound is not cleared for active duty’ is so hard to understand?” Ratchet hissed, no longer trying to hide his anger.

Megatron and Astrotrain watched in shock as Optimus slowly backed away from Ratchet, raising his servos in a placating motion. Only Shockwave was unconcerned with the show in front of them.

“I thought he was fine now?” Optimus weakly defended.

“Fine now? Fine now?! I already don’t like the fact that he’s going to our meetings right now, and you want to send him on a field mission? He shouldn’t be doing anything demanding for an astro-cycle!”

“What’s wrong with Hound? Is it because of our fight? He said I didn’t hurt him too badly.” Megatron asked, ignoring Ratchet’s foul mood.

“That,” Ratchet hissed rounding on Megatron, “Is my patients’ personal medical information. Which means it’s none of your business.”

“Ratchet, I’m going.” Hound cut in. He normally listened to Ratchet—thankful enough that he could actually see a doctor to not want to risk pissing him off. But this wasn’t something Hound was going to budge on. He felt fine. His sensors were in tip top shape. And he wasn’t going to stand by doing nothing while a sparkling was kidnapped when he could help.

“No, you’re not. You’re in no state to go to Cybertron on a mission. I let you go to the meetings because you would just be sitting around the Arc for them. But this? No.”

“Ratchet a sparkling is in danger out there. I can’t just sit back and do nothing when I can help.”

“You can be more helpful by staying here and letting someone else take your place.”

“Who? Tell me Ratchet, who is even close to being as good at tracking and finding mechs as I am?” Ratchet grit his teeth and didn’t answer, and Hound knew he won. “That’s right, there isn’t anyone. I’ll listen to your concerns, but I’m coming with.”

“Fine, but only on two conditions. One, if something feels off, tell me immediately. I don’t care if you don’t think it’s serious—tell me. Second, you need to try and recharge while we’re traveling. Your processor needs the rest, especially if you’re going to increase the amount of sensors you’re using.”

“I’m not recharging until I have the full story of what’s going on, but I’ll recharge afterwards.” Hound argued. He needed to know what was going on to help the search better.

Ratchet pursed his lips, clearly unhappy with Hound’s compromise. “And my first condition?”

“I’ll tell you if something feels off.” Hound agreed.

“Then you can come but know I’m telling your friends that you insisted on coming along against my medical advice.”

“Please don’t.” He could already imagine what would happen. Adding this on top of everything that happened since he adopted Click, his friends wouldn’t let him out of their sight ever again. He had already stressed them out enough already. He felt guilty about how much trouble he’s caused his friends recently.

“I’m not covering for you when your friends ask why I even allowed you to go to Cybertron while you’re still on medical rest. You can deal with the consequences of your actions. And Optimus,”

Optimus straightened to attention. “Yes, Ratchet?”

“I’m telling them you asked Hound to come.”

Optimus winced. “My friend, do you want me to die?”

Ratchet snorted. “No, but I know better then to try and keep secrets from Jazz and Prowl.”

Optimus buried his face in his servos. “Prowl is going to give me so much extra paperwork.”

“So, now that it’s decided that Hound is coming, can we get going now?” Astrotrain awkwardly asked.

“I am ready to hear your explanation of the Acroplex being a mech.” Shockwave added, not reading the room at all.

“As long as Hound will listen to me we can.” Ratchet said.

“I will. Now let’s get going, we don’t have time to dawdle.” Hound said, pushing Shockwave to the door.

“Why are you pushing me?” Shockwave asked.

“I’m trying to get you moving so the others will follow us out instead of waiting around for someone else to leave first.”

Shockwave’s resistance disappeared as he let Hound push him to the door.

“Is that an easy way to get others to move?”

“Yeah, you can see everyone else is following us.” And they were. Megatron looked like he was holding back a laugh while Ratchet’s steps were just shy of stomps.

Exiting the Arc to Oregon’s open sky Astrotrain transformed into a shuttle. “Hop on in and I’ll fly us to the Nemesis. Just don’t jab anything or I’ll crash. I normally shuttle cargo, not mechs.”

“You didn’t crash when a fight broke out in your hold.” Shockwave pointed out.

“S-shut up! That doesn’t count.”

“You didn’t crash when Rumble used his pile-drivers in you. You won’t crash if we poke you.” Megatron agreed with Shockwave.

“Are you hurt?” Ratchet asked, his frown deepening.

“Wh-no. Of course not. Hook patched me up and the numbskulls got punished for it. I don’t need you fussing over me too. Leave that fussing for Hound.” Astrotrain said.

While they were talking Hound walked into Astrotrain’s hold. It was completely empty unlike Skyfire who had seats for mechs to sit.

“Are we supposed to sit on the floor?” Hound asked.

“Stand, sit, whatever’s fine. Doesn’t matter to me. It’s not real fancy in here. Like I said, I normally carry cargo, not mechs.”

Hound slid to a sitting position on the ground with his knees pulled up to his chest and his back leaning against the wall. “This fine?”

“Yeah. You don’t actually have to worry about me crashing, I’m a professional. I was just joking.” Astrotrain awkwardly said.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to make you uncomfortable. We’re in your frame after all.”

“I don’t have many sensors in my cargo hold, so as long as you aren’t fighting or fragging we’ll be fine.”

Hound gagged at the thought of mechs fragging in Astrotrain’s hold, in front of other mechs. “That’s disgusting. Don’t even joke about that.”

His reaction got a chuckle out of Astrotrain. “You’d be surprised at what mechs get up to. Of course, I ejected that couple before they could really do anything. There was no way I was dealing with that. And now that everyone’s finally joined us I can take off. Brace yourselves.”

That was all the warning Astrotrain gave before his door closed and he took off. Ratchet stumbled at the sudden movement, but Optimus caught his shoulder before he could fall. Only letting go when, a klick in, the flight evened out.

“So, since Ratchet wants me to sleep, why don’t you explain what’s going on real quick?” Hound asked.

Optimus nodded. “I suppose I should start at the beginning for context. After we left Cybertron in the Arc, Kup and Ultra Magnus found three newly emerged mechs and a sparkling. They didn’t want to force the newmechs into a war they didn’t choose to fight in, but they also didn’t trust that they or the sparkling would be safe in the neutral colonies. Because of that, Kup and Ultra Magnus took all of them in and essentially dropped out of the war. Focusing instead on staying away from battles and salvaging the ruins of cities for what they needed to survive.

“A few cycles ago they were in Nyon and had an encounter with some Decepticons that ended with Hot Rod falling into the Acroplex. Which then turned into a giant mech named Metroplex who stood up and left with Hot Rod still inside him. Kup managed to catch up to Metroplex and join Hot Rod, but Metroplex is apparently convinced that Hot Rod is Rodimus Prime and refused to let Hot Rod go until after they visit Primus.”

Rodimus Prime? Did Optimus mean one of the Original thirteen Primes he was talking about earlier.

“Like I said,” Optimus continued, “this was a few cycles ago. Ultra Magnus hasn’t been able to contact Kup since then. Our main goal will be to find Kup and Hot Rod and ensure their safety.

“If they’re in a giant mech, why do we need Hound to find them? Better yet why are we going to Cybertron at all?” Ratchet asked.

“Because they lost the city sized mech.” Megatron snarked back.

“Yeah right. What’s the real reason?”

“That is the real reason. They lost the city sized mech that had their sparkling. Despite there being four of them.”

“How’d he disappear? At my size I already have trouble loosing people, and he’d have to be way bigger.” Astrotrain asked.

“If Nyon is like the other cities I’ve been in, he probably went into the tunnels.” Hound said.  Every city seemed to have a large tunnel network underneath it. He could feel the tunnels beneath his pedes, even if he had never managed to find their entrance.

“But those would be way to small to fit Metroplex.” Optimus said.

Hound shook his head. “There are some really big tunnels. If Metroplex was around during the time of the first Primes, the tunnel could have been made big enough to fit him specifically.”

“That could be, but I’m not sure.” Optimus said.

“This is such a fascinating situation. You must tell me what you find.” Shockwave said.

Megatron waved his servo at Shockwave. “Sure. I’ll tell you when we get back.”

“Now, since we’ve been debriefed, are you actually going to recharge Hound?” Ratchet asked, danger tinging his voice.

“I’ll try. Just don’t be surprised if I can’t recharge.” Hound said, relaxing against the wall. He had to at least attempt to recharge—even if he doubted it would go well.

Chapter Text

When Astrotrain landed in Nyon Hound was ready to move. He hadn’t managed to recharge during the flight, but to appease Ratchet he tried his best to relax during the entire time. They didn’t actually end up going to the Nemesis, but a nearby area where the spacebridge was built. The only one allowed out was Shockwave, to activate the spacebridge.

Shockwave was left at Darkmount as Megatron said he would be while Astrotrain flew the rest of them to Nyon. Hound spent the rest of the flight trying to ignore how empty Cybertron felt without its EM field resting over everything. The one constant of Cybertron no matter where you went was gone.

As Astrotrain touched down, rolling to a stop Hound’s optics turned on.

“You didn’t recharge at all, did you.” Ratchet flatly asked.

Hound sheepishly grinned at Ratchet. Standing up as soon as Astrotrain stopped moving. “Sorry. I tried, but it didn’t really work.”

Ratchet sighed. “I suppose I should have expected that. Just don’t try and overextend yourself.”

“I won’t. I know my limits.” Hound reassured Ratchet.

The others were leaving Astrotrain, and Hound followed them out, Ratchet following behind him. As soon as the last mech left him Astrotrain transformed back into his root mode and stretched, whining about how long a flight it was.

“You’ve flown longer.” Megatron snapped with a gruff affection that spoke of a long acquaintanceship between the two mechs.

Astrotrain chuckled. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that going from Darkmount to Nyon is a short trip.”

“It seems Ultra Magnus noticed us flying in. He’s coming towards us.” Hound said, looking in the direction of Ultra Magnus’ incoming EM field. He was surrounded by three other mechs Hound didn’t recognize. They must be the three newsparks Optimus mentioned.

Megatron raised his brow. “You can tell he’s coming? Impressive.”

“Hound is our best tracker.” Optimus proudly declared.

Ratchet, however, was scowling. “I told you to go easy on your processor. Your sensors are the opposite of that.”

Hound nodded. “Yeah, that’s why my sensors are only half as sensitive as I have them on patrol. Besides, I can’t just come here to help and not use my sensors.” It was so easy to pick out Ultra Magnus without Cybertron’s EM field covering everything.

“Just—go easy on your systems. I don’t want you to crash because you overworked yourself.”

Hound didn’t crash. His processor had never crashed—even when he started taking in too much data to fully process. Hound held in a sigh. “I will. Try not to worry so much.”

“It’s my job to worry.”

“Hound, what way is Ultra Magnus?” Optimus asked, cutting off his conversation with Ratchet.

“He’s pretty close, only a few klicks away. Follow me.” Hound said, walking in the direction of Ultra Magnus.

He heard them long before catching sight of them.

“Are you sure we should be going towards the Decepticon? I thought we were supposed to be avoiding fights whenever we can, not run towards them. And what about Hot Rod? I thought we were trying to save him and there’s no trace no trace no trace of him!” A very quickly speaking, nervous mech Hound didn’t recognize said.

“Peace Blurr. These are not our enemies. They’re going to help us find Hot Rod” Ultra Magnus responded, as solid and calm as ever.

“How can you be so sure they’re not our enemies? That shuttle is big enough to carry over a dozen mechs here to fight us.” A much more aggressive mech snapped.

“Calm down Springer. I’m sure Ultra Magnus has a good reason to trust them enough to bring us with.” A third, much calmer voice spoke up.

“Yeah, so we can help him when it turns into a fight.” Springer shot back.

“This isn’t going to be a fight.” Ultra Magnus calmly broke up the conversation between Springer and the third, as of yet unnamed mech.

Springer scoffed. “And how can you be so sure?”

“Because Optimus Prime is going to be there.”

“I don’t trust it.” Springer grumbled.

“And you don’t have to. I just need you to be willing to listen. Like I said, they’re coming here to help us find Hot Rod and Kup.” Ultra Magnus said.

“But why would Decepticons be willing to help us? And to come with Optimus Prime too? They hate us they hate us they hate us!” Blurr rambled.

“I told you, we’re at peace with the Decepticons now.” Ultra Magnus reassured the nervous mech.

“You can’t blame Blurr for being nervous about this. We haven’t even had peace for a cycle. How can we trust them? How can you trust them?” The unnamed mech asked.

“I don’t, but I trust Optimus’ judgement. He wouldn’t bring Decepticons with him if he thought they would hurt us.” Ultra Magnus said.

As he spoke they finally entered Hound’s view. Ultra Magnus was dirtier than Hound remembered. His normally well-maintained paint was now covered in scuff marks and a faint layer of grime. Next to him were the three other mechs. It was easy to figure out who the nervous one, Blurr, was. He was clearly some sort of racer frame, painted all blue, and constantly moving with a nervous energy fast enough to match his quick speech.

The other two, Hound wasn’t sure about. One was a strong looking mech with green paint that Hound couldn’t tell the alt-mode of. The other was pink. Her frame matching that of Elita One and her crew.

“Ultra Magnus, we’re here!” Hound called, waving at the group. The three younger mechs startled at his greeting, pulling their guns out.

“Arcee, Springer, Blurr, put down your guns.” Ultra Magnus ordered. “This is Hound, he’s an Autobot.” So, the other one was named Arcee. The only question was, which one was Arcee, and which one was Springer.

“And the others?” The blue one asked, confirming that he was Blurr.

“Optimus Prime and Ratchet are the other Autobots here. But I must say, I didn’t expect you to come yourself Megatron.”

At the name Megatron the trio’s grips on their guns tightened, but they didn’t raise them again.

“How could I not?” Megatron said. “I wanted to talk to you myself before agreeing to let you through my spacebridge to Earth, and I can’t in good conscience not help you save a sparkling.”

The green mech quietly snorted as Megatron said the word “conscience.”

“And the other Decepticon?” Ultra Magnus asked, nodding his head towards Astrotrain.

“Transportation. We can’t fly from Darkmount to Nyon by ourselves after all.” That was true. Almost all of the Decepticons had flight mods that allowed them to fly—but it was nowhere near as fast as a flight frame, nor could they fly long distances. It was why Decepticons might fly to flee a battle that is going badly, but for long distance operations flight frames had to carry the other mechs at least most of the way to their goal.

Ultra Magnus nodded his acceptance of Megatron’s answer before turning to Optimus. “Thank you for coming to help us so soon.”

Optimus’ optics crinkled in a smile. “It is no problem my old friend. I just hope you could tell me about your new family once you return to Earth with us.”

“Family?” Ultra Magnus asked at the same time the pink one asked, “We’re going to Earth?” She sounded like the as of yet unnamed mech, meaning that she was Arcee and the green one was Springer.

“Yes, Megatron has agreed to let you use the spacebridge to come to Earth with us as long as long as he could talk to Magnus and Kup first. Can I know who you are, Magnus and Kup were quite unwilling to give up the names of their mentees over the comms.”

“I’m Arcee, and this is Springer and Blurr.” Arcee said, gesturing at the other two as she spoke. He got their names right.

Hound loudly clapped his hands together startling everyone. “Great. Now that introductions are over, let’s get to the reason we’re here. Finding Kup and Hot Rod. Optimus explained what you told him. Could you show us where you last saw Metroplex so I can pick up a trail?”

“But there isn’t a trail! We tried looking where we last saw him and couldn’t find anything.” Blurr said, looking like he was at the edge of panicking.

Ratchet frowned. “Kid, when was the last time you had a check-up with a proper doctor?”

Blurr froze at the question, and Ultra Magnus answered it for him. “Since Crossflare died over 50 vorns ago.”

“All of you are going to the med bay as soon as we get to Earth. No arguments.” Ratchet ordered.

“But—” Springer started to protest when Ultra Magnus cut him off. “Listen to Ratchet. He’s one of the best doctors on Cybertron, even before the war started, and it has been too long since any of us had a proper check-up. If Ratchet hadn’t ordered it, I would have scheduled them for us anyways.”

Springer looked away with a huff. “Fine.”

Turning to face Hound, Ultra Magnus asked, “Are you sure you can find them?”

Hound nodded. “Yeah. With how big he is it should be easy to follow Metroplex’s trail. And if I can’t do that I know how Kup feels and find him that way, and Hot Rod should be with him.”

Ratchet looked unhappy at what Hound said but didn’t try to argue with him again about using his sensors.

“Then follow me.” Ultra Magnus said before turning around and walking deeper into the city, his three mentees keeping close to him, periodically glancing back at the rest of them nervously. Their gazes most often focused on Megatron and Astrotrain. Servos gripping their guns. Ready to protect themselves and Ultra Magnus if the Decepticons (and the rest of them) proved to be a threat.

Hound didn’t think much of it when Optimus mentioned they found the three mechs after they left Cybertron on the Arc. But thinking about it now, they’ve likely lived fairly isolated lives, constantly traveling between Cybertron’s destroyed cities and only occasionally meeting with the few other Autobot groups that stayed on Cybertron. When was the last time they met someone new who was friendly? Who wasn’t just a Decepticon they had to fight?

The neutrals all fled the planet within a vorn of the fighting starting. And most of the Autobots and Decepticons were on the expedition that ended with them crashing onto Earth. There couldn’t be that many mechs living on Cybertron right now.

Hound was considering the three new mechs when he felt it. Rising up to the surface of Cybertron was Cybertron—Primus’ EM field. Weaker then Hound had ever known it to be, yes. But it was still recognizably Cybertron. It was still here.

He was so focused on taking in Cybertron’s EM field, like taking in how your oldest friend had changed after not seeing each other for vorns, that he stumbled.

Ratchet was on him in an instant already fretting. Servos gentle as they touched Hound’s frame despite the gruffness of his voice. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come. A responsible patient my aft. You’re a trouble patient. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong Ratchet, I was just startled.” Hound reassured the doctor as he straightened up. He knew that if he were to focus his audials, he’d be able to hear the innerworkings of Cybertron moving once more.

Ratchet was not convinced. “Don’t try and act like you’re fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is! I was just startled, like I said. Hey, Optimus?”

“Yes Hound?”

“Are you sure the Matrix being on Cybertron isn’t important for Primus’ health?”

Ultra Magnus and his mentees were looking at Hound in confusion at his question.

“I’m sure. Why do you ask?” Optimus said.

“Because Cybertron just came back to life. Or, no, according to Shockwave it would be more like waking up from medical stasis.”

Chapter Text

“Cybertron is alive again?” Optimus weakly asked.

“Yeah. I haven’t felt anything from it since we got here, but now it’s suddenly back.” Hound explained.

“I—as much as I wish it was, it was not me. You need to be at Primus’ spark to help. . . Ultra Magnus, you said Metroplex was convinced that Hot Rod was Rodimus Prime.”

“I did. Optimus, what is happening?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“Yeah, what do you mean Cybertron is dying or was dying?” Blurr asked.

“Cybertron—Primus has been dying for a long time. The original job of the Matrix bearer was to use the Matrix to heal Cybertron. But, before that it was done by the Thirteen Primes. It was only after the rest of them died that Rodimus Prime gave the Matrix to Primon and left to help Primus. We don’t know what happened to him after that.” Optimus explained.

“Are you trying to say that Metroplex was right? That Hot Rod, a sparkling, is an ancient Prime?” Springer incredulously asked.

“I’m saying it’s possible. Rodimus Prime is the only mech unaccounted for that has enough spark energy to heal Primus.”

“I guess that means we really have to find them. Standing around and talking won’t help anyone.” Hound cut in.

“You’re right. We’re almost to where we last saw the Metroplex.” Ultra Magnus agreed before leading the way again, but this time he was walking faster than before. Ratchet practically hovered around Hound as he followed Ultra Magnus. Prepared to catch him and make him rest if he tripped again—regardless of his protests.

They only walked for a few klicks before Ultra Magnus stopped, gesturing to the destroyed streets of Nyon in front of them. “This is where we last saw Metroplex.”

Megatron looked around the area. “From the size you described Metroplex to be, I would have expected more damage.”

He was right. Just seeing the empty crater at the Center of Nyon Hound knew Metroplex had to be massive. For a mech of that size to not leave any noticeable pedeprints in the ground or damage the already destroyed buildings further was impressive. But perhaps it’s not surprising considering that Metroplex was living in the center of a city. It wouldn’t do for Metroplex to pave a path of destruction every time he had to walk somewhere.

“Can you find him?” Arcee asked Hound, ignoring Megatron. Actually, all three of Ultra Magnus’ mentees were looking at him expectantly. Thankfully, he wasn’t going to disappoint them. Despite it being a few cycles since Metroplex was here the faint scent of a mech remained in the area—intermingled with the scents of Arcee, Springer, Blurr, and Ultra Magnus from their time searching the area—but still distinct enough for Hound to make it out and follow its trail.

“I can. Which way did Metroplex come from?”

“Over there.” Springer said, pointing towards the empty crater at the center of the city. “He walked in a straight line all the way here.”

Hound nodded and turned in the other direction. He lowered himself to all fours bringing his head to the ground to pick up Metroplex’s scent better.

“What is he doing?” Springer whispered.

“I don’t know.” Arcee whispered back.

“I’m going to follow Metroplex’s scent.” Hound answered.

They jumped. “You heard that?” Springer asked, embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you going on all fours then?” Arcee asked, not at all embarrassed at being caught whispering about a mech behind their back.

“Because scents don’t move around as much near the ground. They stick around longer and clearer which makes it better for tracking”

“Could you teach us how to track like you do?” Arcee asked.

“A few tricks yeah. But unless you have sensors like mine, I can’t teach you most of what I do.”

“I can almost guarantee that no one has sensors like Hound.” Ratchet dryly cut in. “And don’t you dare trying to get mods to try and match him. They don’t exist, and even if they do exist your processor wouldn’t be able to handle the strain.”

“Are they really that advanced?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“Yes.”

While the others were busy talking Hound was following the trail. It did go straight forward for a little bit before sharply veering off to the side across the buildings.

“Are you guys going to follow me, or do you want to be left behind?” Hound asked.

“We’re coming!” Blurr said, running up to Hound’s side in an instant.

“You’re fast.” Hound mildly said, waiting for the others to catch up to them.

“Of course I’m fast. That’s how I got my name. I’m so fast that to everyone else I’m just a blur. But I can keep up with my speed no problem no problem no problem.” Blurr quickly rambled. When they got to Earth Hound would have to introduce him to Bluestreak.

“It’s a good name.”

“Yeah! It is!”

The others caught up to him while he and Blurr were talking so Hound turned to walk through a mostly intact building while talking to Blurr. Trying to make him feel more at ease. “So, what’s it like living on Cybertron now? Ultra Magnus said they found you guys after we left Cybertron to look for more fuel.”

“We’re always moving. Kup and Magnus don’t like us staying in one place for too long so we’re always moving through cities as we salvage things from them. It’s where we find our Energon and most of our supplies. And then when we’re done in a city we go to the next one. I hate that part. We always walk through the wilds because Springer is the only one with a flying alt mode and the rest of us can’t drive out there. It’s so scary though because of the mechanimals. We encountered a cyberbear once and our guns did nothing to it and Springer’s sword broke when he tried attacking it. And I could run away because I’m fast, but I can’t carry all of them away. It was a disaster disaster disaster!”

“Cyberbears are tough.” Hound agreed. Their plating was some of the toughest around, but they were also one of Hound’s favorite meals. He could taste the dense minerals in the cyberbear, built up from eating so many other mechanimals. A good rule was that the more mechanimals something ate, the more minerals they had. And cyberbears were big enough to keep Hound fed for a long time whenever he took one down. The only thing tastier than a cyberbear was scraplets.

“You’ve seen them before? I thought no one went through the wilds before you left. At least not without a shuttle flying them.”

“That’s true for most mechs, but I spent most of my life out there before other mechs found me and brought me to Iacon.”

“Really how’d you survive out there? Theres no Energon out there.” Blurr asked.

Hound chuckled. “There are no mines, but that doesn’t mean there’s no Energon. You just need to know where to find it. The best source, of course, is mechanimals. But sometimes you can find edible berries. It’s just that those are a lot rarer so hunting mechanimals is a more stable source of Energon once you learn how to do it.”

“Wait, you hunted mechanimals? How?” Springer asked, butting into the conversation.

“It depends if your hunting by yourself or with others. If you’re by yourself stealth is important to get close enough to your prey to catch and kill them without a big chase. They’re made to outrun their hunters, so you don’t want to end up in a chase. Well, you could probably catch up with them no problem, but the others wouldn’t want that. If your hunting with others though you can chase your prey, herding them into an ambush to kill them there. The important thing is to go for the throat because that’s the easiest way to kill a mechanimal. It’s the easiest way to kill anything really.”

“Which ones did you normally eat?” Blurr eagerly asked.

“When I first started hunting my claws and teeth weren’t really strong, so I could only really kill small game like turborats and petrorabbits. But my teeth and claws grew in over time. Electro-deer were my most common meal, but my favorites were cyberbears and scraplets.”

“What are scraplets?” Arcee asked.

“Pests that no one should go near. Ever. They eat everything.” Ratchet cut in.

“Yeah. That’s why they taste so good. They’re absolutely bursting with minerals.” Hound added.

“They have also eaten people alive. And they don’t stop eating ever, the gluttonous pests.” Ratchet stressed.

“Which is why you want to take care of them quickly if you ever see one—before they can establish a nest. They’re a nice treat if you ever spot one, but not something you want taking up residence near you.” Hound agreed.

“Have you ever found a scraplet nest?” Megatron asked.

“Course I have. I couldn’t have been very old at the time; my claws and teeth were just getting sharp enough for me to hunt bigger game when I noticed something was odd and while investigated I stumbled into a nest of about twenty scraplets. They started attacking the moment they noticed me. Took a few bites out of me before I killed them all. After that I made sure to keep the area clear of any incoming scraplets.” He led the rest of the pack to the nest, and they feasted that night. Despite their small size one scraplet was more than enough for a cyberwolf to glut themselves on. It was the hunt that proved his worth to the rest of the pack. Showing that White Fang made the right choice by taking him in. After that they started involving him more in the pack hunts until he eventually took over leading them.

Most members of the pack started to look at him as if he would be the next pack leader after No-Sun Hunter died. But, despite their new acceptance of him Hound never truly felt like he was part of the pack. He left the pack when White Fang died, spending most of his time alone after that.

“Impressive.” Was Megatron’s only response.

“More like reckless.” Ultra Magnus said.

Hound nodded. “Probably, but I survived and am still alive today.”

“Aren’t all these questions distracting Hound? I thought tracking was supposed to be hard.” Astrotrain asked.

“No, I’m good right now. Metroplex left a fairly easy to follow scent trail, and the wind hasn’t dispersed it enough to be difficult to follow. It was actually harder to follow Ravage’s trail through the Arc to find how he got in since vents disperse scent pretty quickly.”

 “Huh. You’re really good at this. Aren’t you.” Astrotrain said.

“Of course I am. I’m, like, 90% sensors.” Hound joked getting a chuckle out of the shuttle.

Hound stopped. The entire time they were talking he was leading the way through the city. But now, the scent trail suddenly disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” Optimus asked, but hound ignored the question to focus on the problem in front of them.

They were at a mountain at the edge of the city. The wall that protected the city from the wilds connected to it, making it part of the city’s defense. The scent trail seemed like it ended here, and the mountain was too tall and smooth for Metroplex to climb, and Hound couldn’t see any handholds Metroplex would have made while climbing the mountain.. That left one option.

Hound knocked on the mountainside. The sound registered to his audials as hollow.

“This is the entrance to wherever Metroplex went. His trail ends here, and it’s hollow. Seems like my theory of him entering a tunnel was right.”

“It seems like it is.” Optimus agreed.

“Yeah, but what good is it going to do us if we can’t get in?” Springer asked.

“Don’t be such a downer Springer. I’m sure we could blow up the door if we can’t find a way to open it.” Arcee reassured Springer.

“We don’t have to be that extreme. Hound, step away from the door.” Optimus said.

“Sure. What do you have planned?” Hound asked as he backed away.

“The Matrix can act as a key to many places.” Optimus said. Walking in front of the mountain to where Hound was standing moments ago Optimus opened his chest, and Hound could feel it when the Matrix’s container opened because the Matrix began to sing.

Hound barely noticed Astrotrain protesting Optimus opening his chest like that, muttering about mechs needing to have some decency and not flash their internal mechanisms at others. He was too busy focusing on how joyful the Matrix felt as its energy pulsed. The mountainside smoothly slid away, revealing the entrance perfectly fitting Optimus’ height before he closed his chest, putting away the Matrix again.

“Hound, is this the right way?” Optimus asked.

Poking his head into the tunnel Hound nodded. “Yeah. The scent trail continues in here.”

“Then we are on the right track. Let’s keep going.” Optimus said, letting Hound lead the way into the tunnels.

Chapter Text

Hound didn’t think there was much of a need for him to lead the way through the dimly lit tunnels. It was only the main tunnel that was large enough to fit Metroplex. The side tunnels that branched off of it were only big enough to fit mechs of around Astrotrain’s size. Large, yes, but not massive. He didn’t even bother going on all fours to follow the scent trail. If they reached a junction he could do it then.

The deeper they walked the clearer and more present Primus’ EM field became.

As they walked Optimus kept glancing around taking everything in, but Hound’s attention was taken up by Arcee, Springer and Blurr as they kept asking him questions. Why was he walking instead of crawling now? What was Earth like? Their favorite questions though were about the wilds.

“I was wondering, you talked about eating Cyberbears, but how can you do that? I mean, our weapons can’t even hurt them. How can you kill them and then eat them?” Blurr asked.

“There was no way I could do that at first.” Hound admitted. “When I was young, I didn’t really have claws or teeth—not ones that could hurt anything anyways. I actually had trouble with even a petrorabbit’s plating back then. I’d pry off any smaller pieces of plating I could eat without chewing and drink the Energon directly from its lines. Eventually my claws and teeth started coming in and eventually I could cut and bite my way through even the toughest plating. If you wanted to try cutting a cyberbear though, I’d suggest an Energon blade of some kind, like my knife or Optimus’ axe. Those tend to cut better than normal blades.”

Hound took his knife out of his subspace and, turning it on, he held it out to the trio to inspect.

“An Energon blade.” Springer thoughtfully mumbled looking at the knife. It seemed to give him an idea.

“How sharp are your claws?” Arcee asked, an interested gleam entering his optics.

Hound grinned. “Very.”

“Do you know how I could get my own claws?” Arcee asked.

Hound shrugged. “I don’t really know the hows or whys of my claws coming in. Just that they did. I’m sure Ratchet could help you get some claws if you really want them or at least send you to someone who can.”

As Arcee’s expectant gaze turned to Ratchet the doctor sighed. “Hound’s claws and fangs probably ‘grew in’ because he needed them and had a mineral dense diet that allowed his frame to make those kinds of changes. We’re called Transformers because of our ability to transform—to change. But that doesn’t stop at our alt-modes. It is proven that over a long period of time if there is a necessity for a certain type of mod, and you have enough extra minerals to make that mod, your self-repair systems will do so automatically. The strength of his claws is due to just how mineral dense his diet was. However, those types of changes generally happen over the course of vorns, and there needs to be a persistent need for that mod. That’s why we add mods ourselves instead of waiting for them to develop now.”

“Do you know someone who could get me claws?” Arcee expectantly asked.

Ratchet rubbed his nasal ridge, and at that moment it struck Hound how tired Ratchet looked. He felt a little bad about setting Arcee on him, but Hound had no idea how to answer her question.

“We have several doctors experienced in mods who could give you claws, but why do you even want them? If you’re planning on using them in a fight any other weapon would be better.” Ratchet finally said.

Arcee grinned. “But it wouldn’t be as cool. Besides, this way I’ll never be unarmed unless I’m literally unarmed.”

Her joke got a chuckle out of Springer and a worried look from Blurr who asked, “You aren’t going to let yourself get hurt, are you?”

“Of course not Blurr. That’s why I want claws—so I’ll never be unarmed and defenseless.”

Blurr’s shoulders relaxed at Arcee’s reassurance. Was he always so wound up and scared? Hopefully not. Hound prayed it was Kup and Hot Rod’s disappearance that had him so on edge rather than that being his natural state. And if he was naturally that stressed, Ratchet would either figure out what was wrong with his systems and fix it, or he would send Blurr in for therapy.

Actually, considering that the three of them grew up in the ruins of Cybertron they might all need therapy.

“You’re hardly defenseless, even without a weapon.” Springer said in good humor.

Arcee’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “True, but as Elita always says, ‘one can never have too many weapons,’ right?”

“You’re absolutely correct.” Ultra Magnus seriously said.

Ratchet’s brow rose. “You’re not worried about her getting a claw mod?”

“No. Arcee is responsible—I’m confident there won’t be any issues.”

Arcee elbowed Springer’s side. “See? I’m responsible.”

“That’s quite the complement coming from you Magnus.” Optimus neutrally commented. He looked like he was fishing for information, but what exactly he was looking for Hound didn’t know.

“It is praise well earned. Arcee, Springer, and Blurr have all grown into competent, responsible mechs that I trust. And if any incidents do arise, they know how to fill out the proper paperwork.” Ultra Magnus said. At the praise Blurr bashfully ducked his head while Springer straightened up with pride.

“Very high praise indeed.” Optimus said, studying the trio.

“What about Hot Rod?” Hound asked.

“Hot Rod is, in the simplest of terms, a servoful. He tries to behave, but he’s very easily distracted and often wanders off. Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve recently taken in a sparkling I found on patrol.”

Ultra Magnus’ optics briefly turned off as he froze mid step processing what Hound said. His optics flared to life as Ultra Magnus snapped to look at Hound. “On Earth? How?”

“We’re not really sure how, and he doesn’t remember either. But, well, sparklings weren’t exactly common—even before the war. I was hoping you and Kup could give me some advice.” As obvious as it was that Megatron adored Click, Hound had some doubts about his parenting abilities after learning that he let his sparkling take the spot of head of communications. Hound was playing things by audial, and as good as his audials were he wanted some good caretaking advice before he messed up around Click.

“You have a sparkling? What’s he like?” Blurr asked, leaning towards Hound in excitement. His previous embarrassment was all but forgotten.

Hound grinned. “Yeah. His name is Click. I. . . I. . . something’s wrong.” Primus’ EM field wildly fluctuated in a way Hound had never felt before. His processor throbbed at every change in Primus’ EM field. Hound tried turning off his EM sensors, but it didn’t work. If anything, it felt like his sensors were becoming more sensitive.

Blurr wildly looked around. “What’s wrong? Are we going to be under attack?”

“No, I—Ratchet. Hurts.” Hound choaked out as the pain increased.

Something touched his head and Hound flinched back hard enough he lost his balance and fell to the floor. It took a moment to realize Ratchet was above him. Looking down at him in concern. Blurr was next to Ratchet also looking concerned and saying something, but Hound didn’t understand anything.

More tones overlapped as mechs started talking over each other and Hound couldn’t make out a single word.

Another wild fluctuation in Primus’ EM field came, and with it a sharp wave of pain. Hound clutched his head, covering his most sensitive EM sensors, but it did nothing against the intense barrage of Primus’ wild EM field.

“Hurts.” He whined.

Megatron was in front of him now, saying something until Ratchet forcefully pushed him out of the way. Ratchet carefully pried Hound’s servo away from his head. Pressing on Hound’s arm to reveal his medical port and plugging in without any hesitation.

The pain disappeared.

Then, nothing.

Chapter Text

Blurr knelt next to Hound as his optics dimmed and his frame went limp in Ratchet’s arms. Blurr felt useless. Just standing there in confusion, asking questions while Hound was in pain.

“Is Hound going to be okay?” He asked. Ultra Magnus had made sure they all at least took the basic first aid training modules in case of an emergency. Hound’s confusion, his trouble processing what was happening, the sudden clumsiness when he fell. Now that he had a moment to think, Blurr realized they were all signs of a processor issue. The training for handling processor issues like this was simple—get them to a proper doctor as soon as possible.

That was already done. Ratchet was a proper doctor, apparently one of the best doctors, so if anyone could help Hound it was him. And he was there when Hound’s issues started acting up.

But he was there from the beginning. Talking about how Hound shouldn’t even be here helping them find Hot Rod in the first place. If there was a preexisting issue why didn’t Ratchet help Hound before this? Why would he even let Hound come if it was that serious?

“He’ll be fine kid.” Ratchet said as he unplugged from Hound’s port.

“But that looked like a processor issue. Those are really bad.”

“They can be, but I was able to put Hound in stasis before any lasting damage could be done. But I’m going to need to wait until we’re back at my med bay before I can fix whatever went wrong and wake him up.”

“But Hound was our guide. How are we going to find Hot Rod without him?” Optimus asked, and Blurr felt an uncharacteristic anger rising in his chest. Hound did so much for them, and he couldn’t even be bothered to look sad. Instead, he acted like Hound’s processor issue was a mere irritation. He wanted to see Hot Rod as badly as anyone else, but that didn’t mean he was fine ignoring that Hound was hurt.

From how Arcee and Springer stiffened, he could tell they felt the same.

“The offshoot tunnels are too small for the Metroplex to walk through, like Hound said. We can continue forward and split up if we reach such an intersection.” Ultra Magnus said, always the calm voice of reason.

“And what about Hound? Are we just going to carry him around?” Blurr asked. It didn’t feel right to leave Hound behind. He had a good spatial memory, so even if their path became more confusing he could find his way back to where they left Hound. But if they left Hound here he’d be vulnerable to anyone who wanders by. There might not be anyone in the tunnels, but they didn’t know that for sure. Metroplex came here with Kup and Hot Rod, others might have found their way in as well.

You never left someone alone when they were too weak to defend themselves.

Ratchet frowned. “I can’t help him now. Either we bring him with us, or we drop him off somewhere safe.”

“I could fly him back to Darkmount. You don’t really need me here, at least until you’re leaving. I could drop him off with Shockwave and fly back to the entrance to wait for you there.” Astrotrain suggested.

“Shockwave? The watcher of Darkmount? Are you crazy?” Springer snapped.

Blurr agreed. Shockwave was the thing of nightmares. They didn’t know what exactly he was doing from his position in Darkmount, but there were rumors. His science experiments on mechs and unusual interest in outliers. His assistants that acted no better than drones. How he had no emotions, operating entirely on logic to get the best results.

There was no way they would leave Hound with him.

“Shockwave wouldn’t hurt Hound. They’ve gotten along surprisingly well.” Megatron dismissively said. Blurr didn’t believe that. Megatron was interested in Hound. He didn’t know what exactly the leader of the Decepticons wanted from Hound, but there was no way he could ignore the way the warlord watched Hound the entire time they were here. If Shockwave didn’t do anything to Hound, Megatron might use this as a chance to steal him away.

Decepticons always took what they wanted with no respect for how it would affect others.

“Are you sure Hound would be safe with Shockwave?” Optimus Prime asked.

Megatron looked offended at the question. “I just told you he would be. Don’t tell me you believe those stories that Shockwave is a sparkless monster.”

“I don’t, but you can’t argue that there isn’t something wrong with him.”

“Yes, the senate fragged with Shockwave’s processor. Yes, he can no longer understand his emotions and has issues communicating. But that doesn’t mean he’ll hurt mechs placed in his care!”

Megatron was straightening up, readying himself to start brawling with Optimus Prime. In defense of Shockwave. Blurr inched closer to Ratchet, readying himself to grab Hound and run if things turned to blows. Ratchet could get out of the way himself. Hound couldn’t.

Optimus Prime realized that too and quickly raised his servos in a placating motion. “Calm down Megatron. I’m sure you understand my worries with leaving one of my people in the care of someone I don’t know.”

“So what? You want to take Hound with us? He’ll be a liability if we are attacked.” Megatron snapped.

“And I’m not leaving him alone with Shockwave.”

“You didn’t have a problem with it earlier.”

“Hound was awake earlier.”

“Calm down, both of you.” Magnus said. His voice was low and level like always, but Blurr could tell he was annoyed by Optimus Prime and Megatron’s arguing slowing them down.

“Apologies, Magnus.” Optimus said. “But my worries about leaving Hound alone aren’t going to change.”

“What if someone stays with him?” Arcee suggested, causing both Optimus Prime and Megatron to stare at her.

It was hard to read Optimus Prime’s expression due to his face mask. But he seemed to be considering Arcee’s suggestion. “Ratchet and I cannot go—we are needed here—and it can’t be Megatron. But you are here for Hot Rod. Would any of you be willing to leave and stay with Hound?”

“I can. Tell them I can do it Ultra Magnus.” Blurr immediately volunteered. He was the best choice. Magnus was obviously out of the question as he was Hot Rod’s caretaker. Hot Rod always went to him and Kup for comfort whenever something happened, and Blurr had a feeling that Hot Rod would need Magnus’ solid presence after this. Springer was also out. He was trying not to show it, but Blurr knew he felt guilty for being the reason Hot Rod fell into the Acroplex in the first place causing the whole situation. He needed to be part of the group getting Hot Rod back or else he’ll be even harder on himself.

That left only him and Arcee as possible options. Arcee was strong, but this wasn’t a mission that required strength. This was about keeping Hound safe. And the best way to stay safe was to not be there when trouble started.

It was a philosophy that served Blurr well over the vorns.

Springer and Arcee were fighters. They took to fighting lessons and sparing with an ease and glee that Blurr just didn’t have. He wasn’t strong like them, and fighting never really clicked with him. He could do it, and he could do it well. Kup and Magnus would have never allowed otherwise. But it was never his strong suit. What he was good at was being fast.

Nothing could out-speed him when he tried, not even an electro-deer. Because of that he often scouted ahead. If there was any danger he could run from it and report to the others that they had to go another way, or they could plan around it.

He didn’t normally carry mechs while he ran, but he could. If Shockwave did turn out to be a threat to Hound it would be easy for Blurr to take him and run to one of the many shelters he knew before figuring out a way to make it back to the others.

“Are you sure Blurr?” Magnus asked him.

Blurr looked at him straight in the optics, trying to convey that he thought it through as he said, “I am.”

That was enough for him. Magnus trusted their judgement. “Very well. Blurr will go with Astrotrain to Darkmount and stay with Hound while the rest of us continue down the tunnel looking for Hot Rod and Kup. Any objections?”

There were none.

“Astrotrain, come here. I’ll teach you how to carry Hound.” Ratchet ordered. Astrotrain looked scared as he hurried over and listened to the doctor’s instructions.

Springer and Arcee pulled him away to the side to have a little talk. They huddled up to whisper so no one else could hear them. Ultra Magnus wouldn’t want to take part in their planning for plausible deniability later. “You sure about this Blurr?” Arcee asked. There was no doubt of his capabilities in her question, only worry that he was going to be so far away from them. It would be farther apart than any of them had been from each other before.

“I thought about it before volunteering. I’m the best choice. If something goes wrong I can take Hound and run.”

“Where?” Springer asked. Already planning how they’d meet up after this.

“With Elita One if I can. Otherwise, I’ll leave Darkmount and start heading to one of our shelters in the nearest city.”

“Elita One would take care of both of you, and it would be easier to reunite if you’re with her.” Arcee thoughtfully said.

“We’d be better off going to her straight away instead of bringing him to Shockwave first. Megatron wants him for something.” Springer grumbled.

Blurr nodded. “I know. I’ll stay alert the whole time and run at the first sign of trouble.” He wasn’t sure about the politics going on between the Autobots and Decepticons, so he wouldn’t run away with Hound preemptively, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Hey, kid, you coming?” Astrotrain shouted at him. Hound was carefully cradled in his arms.

Blurr straightened up, striding over to Astrotrain. “My name isn’t kid, it’s Blurr. And yes, I’m coming.”

Astrotrain jerkily nodded. “Good.” Before walking away leaving Blurr to catch up with him.

It was quicker leaving the tunnels than their walk in was. Astrotrain’s long strides were faster than the normal walking pace they kept up before, but it was easy for Blurr to keep up with him.

When they finally stepped outside Astrotrain knelt and held out Hound. “Take him. I’m going to transform.”

Blurr took Hound from Astrotrain, cradling him in his arms like Astrotrain did. It was more awkward for him due to their similar sizes. As Blurr adjusted his hold on Hound, Astrotrain transformed into a massive ship and opened his door.

“C’mon in kid.”

Blurr hesitantly stepped into the massive shuttle. Looking around it was completely bare. No seats or anything, just an empty space.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sit down, or stay standing if you really want to. Just don’t make trouble and we’ll arrive to Darkmount safely in a few groons.”

Blurr ended up laying Hound flat against the ground near the wall and sat next to him. Ready to catch him if Hound started sliding around.

“You’re settled in, good. I’m taking off now then.”

As soon as Astrotrain finished talking Blurr felt him start to move and felt a sudden stab of panic as he finally realized what he signed up for. Staying trapped inside a mech as he flew across Cybertron. Blurr would have been better off running there on his own. He could have run to Darkmount in less time than it would take Astrotrain to fly there.

Now he was trapped at the mercy of a Decepticon.

He was only jostled a little bit as Astrotrain took off, before he quickly smoothed out.

“You okay there kid?” Astrotrain asked.

“I’m fine.” Blurr said. His high-pitched voice and quick words gave away that Blurr was not fine.

“Listen, kid, I don’t want you getting hurt. If something’s wrong, tell me and I’ll try to fix it.”

Astrotrain. . . sounded sincere. Blurr had never actually met a Decepticon before that didn’t start a fight right away. But Astrotrain seemed nice enough. Blurr doubted that there would actually be lasting peace, but he could try trusting Astrotrain. Just Astrotrain.

“I’ve never flown in a shuttle before. I don’t like how trapped I am.” Blurr admitted.

“Huh. I haven’t thought about that. I don’t normally fly mechs though. Can I do something to help?”

Blurr shook his head before realizing Astrotrain might not be able to see that motion. “No.”

“Hmm, well let me know if you think of something.” Astrotrain said before falling silent again.

Blurr didn’t say anything in response to that. He just curled up and kept an optic out. Staying alert for anything that might happen.

The ride went peacefully. Soon enough, Astrotrain was telling Blurr that he was going to land. He barely felt the landing, and as soon as they hit the ground he was picking Hound back up, ready to leave as soon as Astrotrain opened his doors. It was a sight Blurr knew, but never from this angle. They were on a landing pad at the Decepticon’s main base in Darkmount.

Astrotrain transformed back into his root mode as soon as Blurr left him, and already waiting for them at the entrance to the base was Shockwave.

“You have arrived. Give Hound to me. I will bring him to a medical berth.” Shockwave said as a greeting, already reaching out for Hound.

Blurr stepped back. “No. I’m not letting Hound go or leaving him alone with the likes of you.”

Shockwave jerkily nodded. “Very well. Follow me.” He turned around and started walking away without waiting for them.

Blurr glanced at Astrotrain. “Should I?”

Astrotrain shrugged. “Might as well follow along. Shockwave generally means well—he’s just not good at talking.”

Blurr nodded and followed Shockwave into the base. Keeping an optic out for possible escape routes. It was a long route through the base they took, with several turns that would have gotten Springer and Arcee turned around. Despite the long walk Blurr only spotted a few Decepticons that, when they noticed him, ran away to hide. Eventually Shockwave led them into a proper med bay. It was the sort of thing Blurr had only seen holo-images of. Clean and stocked full of the latest medical equipment from before the war, as well as several instruments Blurr didn’t recognize.

Shockwave gestured at a berth and said, “Lay Hound down here. I will begin his repairs.”

“No. I’m not letting you operate on Hound.” Blur said, defiantly glaring at Shockwave and preparing to run at his inevitable retaliation.

Except Shockwave didn’t try to attack him or order him to put Hound on the medical berth. Instead, he stared at Blurr for a moment before saying, “Hound is injured. I have medical experience and can repair him.”

“It’s a processor issue. I’m not letting anyone except Ratchet fix Hound, and Ratchet said he wouldn’t risk fixing it until he was in his med bay.”

Shockwave paused, staring consideringly at Blurr. And then his audials drooped. “I am unable to fix processor issues. I will wait for Ratchet to fix him. Do you require medical assistance?”

“What.”

“Do you require medical assistance? Or extra fuel?” Shockwave asked again.

“I’m fine.” Blurr snapped.

Shockwave tilted his head. “You show signs of malnourishment. I will acquire Energon for you.”

With that he walked away leaving Blurr and Astrotrain alone in the med bay. Blurr looked at Astrotrain in confusion. “Is he normally like that?”

Astrotrain shrugged. “Yeah.”

Blurr was really starting to question what he signed up for.

Chapter Text

Hound came to awareness with a jerk of panic. His sensors all turned on at once, flooding his mind with information. From smell alone he knew he was in Ratchet’s med bay. Not to mention that he could see Ratchet leaning over him, the room visible behind him. Ratchet’s servo was shoved in his mouth, plugging into his processor.

Forcefully relaxing his mouth, Hound opened it as wide as he could to avoid biting Ratchet’s servo off. Hound asked, “What happened?”

Ratchet unplugged from Hound and pulled his servo out of his mouth. He frowned, studying Hound. “What do you remember happening?”

Hound looked through his latest memory files. “I was leading you all through the tunnels. I was talking to the others and then. . . panic.”

“Panic?” Ratchet asked.

Hound nodded. “Yeah. Cybertron—Primus’ EM field. It was so much stronger in the tunnels, and he started to panic. It was so much. Too much. I-I couldn’t turn off my EM sensors and it hurt.  Ratchet, what happened? I—” Hound jerked up into a sitting position. “Hot Rod! Did we find Hot Rod?”

How could he have forgotten that they were trying to save Hot Rod?

“Relax Hound. We found Hot Rod, and he’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

It took a moment for Hound to process what Ratchet said. “Me? Why are you worried about me?”

“Because you were having processor issues. Thankfully it wasn’t as bad as a crash, and I was able to put you in stasis before there were any real issues. But it could have been much more serious.” Ratchet grimly said.

“Oh. Was it really that bad?” He felt normal before that, and then in the moment the only thing he could feel was pain.

“Yes.  And it is exactly the type of situation I was trying to avoid by keeping you off duty.” Ratchet pinched his nasal ridge and let out a long sigh.

Hound winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“Just. . . stay off duty until I clear you and go easy on yourself. That includes overusing your sensors.”

“I will.” Hound promised.

“Good. I’m keeping you here for observation for a few hours before letting you go—just to make sure that I didn’t miss anything when I checked your processor.”

That made sense. Ratchet didn’t like taking chances when it came to his patient’s health, and he probably owed it to Ratchet to stay after everything he’s put the doctor through.

“Okay.” Hound agreed.

Ratchet decisively nodded. “I’ll let Jazz know you’re awake and that he can visit.”

Jazz. Frag. Jazz was going to be so upset at him for this. Running off without a word to him after he waved him away after the meeting. And then it ended with him in the med bay. He owed all his friends an apology after this.

Hopefully Nightbeat didn’t have too much trouble with Click in his sudden absence. Speaking of Click, “How long was I out?”

“A few days. I didn’t want to risk working on you outside of the med bay, so it had to wait till we returned to Earth.”

Hound nodded. “And can you tell me about what happened after I went into stasis?”

“We didn’t want to risk what would happen if we were attacked while carrying you around, so Astrotrain brought you to Shockwave at Darkmount to keep you safe while we kept looking for Hot Rod. Since none of us except Megatron and possibly Astrotrain trust Shockwave Blurr stayed with you to make sure nothing happened.”

He would have to thank Blurr for making sure he was safe.

“We kept going down the main tunnel until we actually found Metroplex. Unfortunately, Kup and Hot Rod were already gone, and we couldn’t understand a thing he said. Fortunately, we were at a platform Optimus could use to talk to Primus. Primus lit up the deeper tunnels leading us to Kup and Hot Rod who he was already leading out. After that we got out of the tunnels and Astrotrain flew us back to the Arc.”

“I’m glad you didn’t need my help.” Hound said.

“I wouldn’t say we didn’t need it. We probably would never have found that tunnel without you. You were right when you said no one can match your tracking skills.”

Hound lightly hummed. “That’s true. But now that I’m thinking about it more clearly Ravage probably could have done it.” He was so focused on the fact that a sparkling was in danger that he wasn’t really thinking about the situation.

Ratchet raised his brow. “Do you think they would have followed a Decepticon?”

“No.” The answer came to Hound instantly. Arcee, Springer, and Blurr were already distrustful when they arrived. They might have taken a liking to him, but they wouldn’t have given Ravage a chance.

There was a knock on the med bay door. “Hey Ratchet, I’m here to see Hound.” Jazz’s voice said through the door. That was fast. Was Jazz waiting nearby for when Ratchet told him Hound was awake.

“Come in.” Ratchet said back.

The door opened and in came Jazz. He looked happy with his grin and relaxed posture, but Hound could feel that he was upset.

“Ratchet, could I have some alone time with Hound?” Jazz asked.

Ratchet consideringly glanced between the two of them. “Fine. I have some errands I can do—but if anything goes wrong comm me immediately. I don’t care if you think you can handle it, you need to comm me.”

“Will do.” Jazz cheerfully said.

Ratchet left leaving Hound and Jazz alone in the med bay. As soon as the door closed behind Ratchet, the grin slipped off of Jazz’s face.

“Hound.”

Hound flinched at how toneless Jazz’s voice was. This was worse than if Ratchet had actually decided to scold him.

“Hi Jazz.” He weakly said, trying and failing not to shrink into himself.

Jazz cupped Hound’s cheek. Lifting his head so their optics met. It felt wrong to see Jazz without his smile. “You are an idiot. Do you realize how much you worried us?”

That question elicited a full body flinch. It was only Jazz’s grip that kept Hound’s head in place. “Sorry.”

“I don’t want sorry. I want you to take care of yourself!” Jazz snapped.

Oh.

Jazz wasn’t just upset. He was angry at him.

Jazz hated being angry. And he hated showing it even more.

And he just snapped at Hound.

Hound messed up.

Hound made his best friend angry.

Panic overwhelmed Hound and he began to cry.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I’ll do better. Please don’t be upset. D-don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone again.” Hound begged through his sobs.

Solid arms wrapped around Hound, pulling him into Jazz’s chest. Jazz rubbed a servo up and down Hound’s back in the same soothing motion he did for Prowl. Jazz shushed him as Hound continued babbling apologies.

“Shh. I didn’t mean to upset you Hound. I’m not angry at you. Shh. It’s okay Hound. You don’t need to apologize. I promise I’m not leaving you. You won’t be alone.”

“You’re not mad?” Hound choaked out.

Jazz pressed his lips against the top of Hound’s head in a chaste kiss. “No, I’m not. I’m worried for your health, but I’m not mad. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Hey! What the frag are you doing to Hound?” Arcee shouted as the door slammed open. Hound startled, but Jazz’s grip kept him cradled against his chest. Hound was so distracted that he didn’t even realize that Arcee, Springer, and Blurr were coming. What were they doing in the med bay?

“Yeah!” Springer and Blurr joined in.

“Ah. Arcee, Springer, Blurr why are you three here? Did you need Ratchet?” Jazz lightly asked, acting like they didn’t just yell at him.

“We’re here to see Hound. Now answer the question.” Arcee cooly responded.

“I was just having a private conversation with my friend.” Jazz said. What was unsaid was that they should leave to keep the conversation private.

“Your friend? Why the frag do you think we’d believe that Hound is your friend when you’re making him cry?” Blurr snapped.

Jazz’s arms tightened around Hound.

Oh no. He could tell this was heading towards a fight.

“Let me go.” Hound grunted, pulling away from Jazz. There was a moment of hesitation before Jazz let go. Sitting up Hound got his first good look at Arcee, Springer, and Blurr. They all looked to be in good health and were busy glaring at Jazz. They were tense. Ready to attack at any moment.”

“Blurr, Arcee, Springer, how are you doing? How do you like Earth so far?” Hound cheerfully asked in an attempt to get rid of the growing tension. Maybe if he acted like everything was normal they would calm down.

“Earth is fine. But I think this guy upsetting you is more important.” Blurr said.

Hound winced. Well, that plan failed. “I think there may be a misunderstanding.

“You don’t need to cover for him.” Arcee said, jerking her head towards Jazz. “We all saw you crying. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“We heard it too.” Springer added.

This was embarrassing. Hound didn’t need mechs he’d just met to protect him from his best friend. Especially since Jazz wasn’t even trying to hurt him and was instead comforting him after his stupid breakdown.

“I really wasn’t crying because of Jazz. He’s a good friend of mine and things have been. . . rough recently. I just needed a shoulder to cry on.”

“Oh.” Blurr glanced away looking embarrassed, but the other two kept his gaze without even a hint of shame.

Jazz sighed, pinching his nasal ridge. “Now, why are you three here?”

“We wanted to see Hound and make sure he’s okay.” Springer said.

“Ratchet wanted me to stay here under observation for a while to make sure everything was okay, but I’m fine.” Hound reassured them.

“You heard him. Now out, you can talk to Hound later after he’s discharged and talked to all of his friends.” Jazz said.

At the trio’s hesitation Hound suggested, “How about I visit you once I’m done reassuring all my friends I’m fine. I could bring my sparking Click, and you can introduce me to Hot Rod. It might be good for them to meet another sparkling.

Arcee, Springer, and Blurr looked at each other. Silently debating their decision before Arcee spoke for all of them. “Do that. And if we don’t see you in a few cycles we’ll hunt you down again.”

Hound smiled at them. “Sounds like a plan.”

With that the three of them left leaving Jazz and Hound alone in the med bay once again.

Jazz dramatically groaned. “Hound, what did you do to make them so protective of you?”

“I don’t know.” Hound honestly answered.

Jazz flopped down onto the bed next to Hound and pulled him into a hug. Hound leaned into Jazz’s chest. Soaking up his presence surrounding him. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Huh? I told you; you don’t need to apologize.”

“Not for that. For the crying, and being the reason Arcee, Springer, and Blurr started yelling at you.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that either.” Jazz said. “None of that is the sort of thing you need to apologize for. If I started crying now, would you ask me to apologize?”

“Of course not!”

“Then try and remember it’s the same for me.”

“Oh. I still feel like I need to apologize.”

“And I told you; I don’t need your apologies.” Jazz paused. “Hound, I’m worried for you. You need to take better care of yourself. It hurts me to see you hurt so much, and you have a sparkling now. You can’t be so reckless with your health. Please, promise me you’ll pay more attention to your health.”

“I promise.” Hound whispered.

Chapter Text

Jazz’s arms wrapped comfortably around Hound’s frame. Hound lied on top of Jazz, practically melting into his frame with how comfortable he felt. Hound enjoyed the peace and Jazz’s presence as much as he could.

“Are you feeling better now?” Jazz softly asked.

Hound nodded.

Jazz hummed. “That’s good. Do you want to talk about what upset you so much, or anything else? I’m always willing to listen. You were right, a lot has happened recently.”

Hound really didn’t want to talk about his earlier crying fit. It felt too embarrassing. But, “I want to tell you about what’s going on with me and Megatron.”

Jazz stiffened. “What happened? Did he hurt you? Threaten you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Hound quickly reassured Jazz. “There were no threats, but, well. . .”

“But?” Jazz prompted when Hound trailed off.

“Megatron asked for permission to court me.” Hound whispered against Jazz’s chest.

That didn’t stop Jazz from hearing him.

“He what?” Jazz asked, his voice dropping low and gaining a dangerous edge. It was in moments like this that it was easy to see why Jazz, despite his normally cheerful demeanor, was the head of Spec Ops. It was easy to see why the Decepticons feared Jazz.

“You heard what I said. Megatron asked permission to court me.” Hound hesitated before quickly adding, “I’m considering accepting.”

“Hound, you don’t need to lie to me. You may not have talked about it, but I know you’re not interested in a relationship. It doesn’t have to be a normal threat for it to be coercion.”

“I’m not being coerced into this. I. . . I panicked when Megatron asked me and blurted out that I’m not interested in interfacing or getting conjunxed. Do you know what he did?”

“What?”

“He asked if I had any other boundaries for a relationship.”

“What’s so special about that?” Jazz didn’t sound impressed. Hound knew Jazz wouldn’t care about his disinterest in interfacing, but did he not understand how rare that was?

“Whenever I rejected a mech straight up before they would insist that they could ‘fix’ my disinterest for interfacing. You know, show me a good time. Teach me what I’m missing out on. They would get so pushy and I hated it.” It made his plating crawl. The only time it happened where Nightbeat could see, Nightbeat flattened the mech with a punch before tightly grabbing Hound’s servo and storming out of the bar. They were there to gather information for a case, but Nightbeat didn’t bother staying there to finish questioning the workers.

It made Hound happy, to see Nightbeat act so protective of him.

Hound could hear Jazz’s teeth grind together from how tightly he clenched his jaw. “Who? Was it one of ours”

Hound shrugged. “I don’t know who they were, but they weren’t Autobots. I learned not to be so direct when rejecting someone long before the war started.” Hound didn’t bother stating the obvious. Those mechs, whoever they were, probably died when they war started. And even if they didn’t die, they likely fled Cybertron with the rest of the neutrals.

“Still, just because he’s the first decent mech to ask you out doesn’t mean you need to accept. If this is because of Click—"

“I want to.” Hound quietly admitted. “When Megatron described what he wanted out of a relationship—I wanted that. Yeah, our connection through Click probably helped, but I wouldn’t be considering it if it was only for Click. There were other ways they could be Click’s co-caretakers.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of Autobots who would be happy the kind of relationship you want.” Hound had a feeling that Jazz was thinking about a specific Autobot when he said that, but he didn’t ask who.

“Hmm, maybe. But it’s not like I’m going to accept today. Even if I do say yes, it won’t be for a while.”

Jazz sighed. “I don’t like this.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I don’t think any of you will.” Hound admitted.

“You’re sure about this?”

Hound nodded.

“Fine but promise me this: if you ever want out tell me. I’ll get you out.”

“I will.” Hound promised.

Jazz relaxed. “Good. Now, who else knows about this?”

“Ricochet and Nightbeat.”

“Ricochet? You told Rico before me?” Jazz sounded hurt.

“No, it’s not that.” Hound rushed to reassure Jazz. “He dropped into my first meeting with Megatron, quite literally. Actually, he started threatening Megatron.”

Jazz groaned. One of his servos moving up to pinch his nasal ridge. “That idiot. Did Megatron realize anything was off?”

“I, uh, don’t think so. But you might be better off asking Ricochet yourself. You guys are better at noticing this type of thing.” Hound would often see the physical signs, but not realize they meant anything until Jazz explained it later.

“I will.” Jazz darkly said before shaking his head. His voice was much lighter when he said, “I’m assuming you told Nightbeat.”

Hound nodded. “Yeah. I still need to tell Prowl, Perceptor, and Bluestreak.” He was not looking forward to it. He doubted any of his friends would be happy to hear he was considering letting Megatron court him. Wait, Hound jerked up to look at Jazz straight in the optics. “Do all of you know?”

“Know about what? You need to be a little clearer. I may be good, but I’m no mind reader.” No, that was Click.

“My general disinterest in romantic relationships.” Hound clarified. “Do all of you know about that or is it just you.”

“Prow and I have talked about it before, and Ricochet probably knows. I don’t know about the others.”

Hound winced. That would make telling Prowl more difficult. Hopefully Perceptor and Bluestreak won’t make too much of a fuss when Hound told them.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just. . . not looking forward to telling the others.”

“I could tell Prowl for you.” Jazz practically jumped to suggest.

That made Hound raise his head off of Jazz’s chest to glare at him. “And start planning how you’re going to kill Megatron together?”

Jazz chuckled. “Of course.”

“I—Jazz, I don’t care if you make plans to kill Megatron, but I don’t want you actually killing or even hurting him. Go ahead and scare him all you want with your ‘shovel talk’ but I don’t want you actually hurting him when we’re still figuring each other out.”

All the humor drained out of Jazz in an instant. “And when he hurts you?”

“If he actually hurts me. . .” Hound groaned. “I don’t know. He’s Click’s caretaker, but—”

“You’re Click’s caretaker too.” Jazz cut in.

Hound stared at Jazz for a moment. “Of course I am. But Megatron’s been Click’s caretaker for longer.”

“I’m just saying that you’re important to Click too. The little guy won’t like you getting hurt just to try and make him happy.”

The reminder of Click brought a smile to Hound’s face. “No, he wouldn’t.”

Jazz sighed. Placing a servo on the back of Hound’s head, Jazz guided it back to his chest. Hound let him.

“I won’t do anything to Megatron if you really don’t want me to. But if he hurts you I won’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I can really ask for.”

“You can ask for more.”

Hound’s servos curled into fists. “You’ve done so much for me already. I mean, frag, you guys are taking turns sleeping with me like I’m some kind of sparkling needing someone there to keep the night fluxes away.”

“Hound,” Jazz cut him off before Hound could keep talking, “you needing more help now isn’t a bad thing. It doesn’t make you a burden, and I’ll have you know that I’m looking forward to having my turn sleeping with you. I’m still upset Rico stole my turn with you.”

“Is that why you’re here now?” Hound teasingly asked.

“Yes.”

That response got a small chuckle out of Hound. “I don’t think I’ve said if before, but thank you, for everything you’ve been doing for me. I know I’m causing you a lot of trouble recently.”

“Eh, I’ve caused more. Besides, a lot of your ‘trouble’ has ended up pretty good for us. I mean, you managed to convince Megatron to meet for a peace treaty. Optimus has been trying to do that for the entire war.”

“You’re trouble actually tends to be planned with a purpose. I feel like I’m just flailing around from disaster to disaster.”

Jazz chuckled. “Let me give you a tip Hound. If you act confident people tend to think you’re a lot more put-together than you actually are. Most of my biggest stunts were not planned at all.”

“Oh.” Hound hadn’t actually thought about it before. Jazz always seemed like he had things under control. “Is it like that for everyone?”

Hound could feel Jazz’s frame shift as he shrugged. “Probably yeah. I mean, even with his tac-net, Prowl can’t plan for every eventuality. Even he is surprised sometimes and most mechs are nowhere near as good at planning as he is. Everyone’s just got to deal with the cards their delt as best they can.”

“Do you think I’m doing a good job? I’m worried that I’m not doing enough for Click. That he deserver better than I could ever give him.”

“I think you’re doing wonderfully.” Jazz softly said. “Click adores you, and because of you we have an actual chance for peace.”

Chapter Text

“Hound!” Click practically shrieked as Nightbeat walked into the med bay carrying him. Click squirmed in Nightbeat’s arms, forcing him to set Click down on Hound’s cheat, to which Click immediately clung onto Hound’s side. “Hound is okay.”

“Yeah.” Hound weakly said, wrapping his arms around Click, pulling him down in a hug. “I’m okay. Sorry for worrying you.”

Click glared at Hound, but the effect was ruined by the tears gathering in his optics. “Hound was reckless. *Click* was scared.”

Hound flinched at the admission. “I’m sorry sweetspark. I’ll try to do better.”

Shoving his head against Hound’s chest, Click whispered, “Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“You gave us quite the scare when we heard you were in stasis when Optimus and the others came back.” Nightbeat softly said. He pulled out a chair next to the berth and sat down. “What happened?”

“We were going through the tunnels under Nyon and Cybertron, Primus’ EM field started fluctuating wildly in what I’m pretty sure was panic.” Hound winced. “It hurt and I couldn’t turn off my EM sensors, so Ratchet put me in stasis. Apparently, I was having processor issues. I, er, don’t know what happened after that, but apparently they found Kup and Hot Rod which is good.”

Nightbeat frowned. “I’ll ask Ratchet about your health when he gets back. You are going to listen to whatever he says this time.”

Hound quickly nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” A small smile crossed Nightbeat’s face. “Now, Jazz was whining about some new friends you made when he stopped by. Care to explain what happened?”

Hound felt his face begin to heat up. “That would be the three mechs Kup and Ultra Magnus were mentoring. I think they’ve taken a shine to me since I helped them find Hot Rod.”

Click peeked up at Hound, interested in what he was saying but not trying to show it.

“I, um, started crying when Jazz was here, and the three of them burst in here to, er protect me. From Jazz.” Hound admitted. He was burning up from embarrassment.

A startled laugh left Nightbeat. “Sorry for laughing, but the idea of Jazz ever trying to hurt you—it’s absurd. No wonder he was upset.”

Click sat up, pouting at Hound and patting his chest. “Hound is hot. Cool down.”

“Hnngh.” Hound groaned, burying his face in his servos. “Just let me offline from embarrassment alone.”

Click jerked up in horror. “No! Hound can not offline!”

Frag.

Hound pulled Click into a tight hug and began to purr as Click started to cry. “No, no, sweetspark. I’m not going to offline. I’m here to stay. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I’m here. Can you feel my purr? Just feel my frame moving. See? I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hound frantically rambled to try and calm Click down.

He was such an idiot. Why would he ever say something like that in front of Click? Who had a very real fear of his caretaker dying and leaving him alone. Why did anyone think it was a good idea for an idiot like him to be a caretaker. Click would be better off with someone more capable, and at least he wouldn’t mess up on patrol. That, at least, was one of the few things he was good at.

“No!” Click shouted, pushing himself out of Hound’s hug to glare at him at the same time as Nightbeat cooly snapped, “Hound.”

“Er, yes, what. . .” Hound’s purr stuttered out. He was suddenly very scared that both Click and Nightbeat were mad at him. Did he say something wrong?

“Hound no insult Hound.” Click ordered.

“Click is right. I can tell you’re insulting yourself. What have I said about that?”

“Not to?” Hound said more like a question than a statement.

“That’s right. And what were you doing?”

Hound wanted to shrink and disappear from Nightbeat and Click’s piercing gazes. “Insulting myself.” He whispered.

Nightbeat pulled Hound into a hug with Click squished between them. Hound’s nervousness left him as Nightbeat’s comforting presence covered him radiating concern and love. No matter how hard he searched he couldn’t find a hint of annoyance in the presence that Hound knew as home. Hound never did, not when it came to him.

“Nothing you have done is worth beating yourself up over.” Nightbeat said. He always said that, and Hound always had trouble believing him.

“Yeah.” Click chirped from between them. “Hound good.”

He couldn’t believe it. “You two are ganging up on me.” Hound whined.

“If that’s what it takes to make you believe me, then yes.”

Click nodded. “Nightbeat and *click* partners in crime.” Click paused a moment before turning to Nightbeat. “*Click* say the phrase right?”

Nightbeat grinned. “You did. And what a dastardly crime it will be, helping Hound see his worth.”

Oh no. Hound may have made a terrible mistake introducing these two and then leaving them alone to bond for so long. Well, as long as it made them happy. Plus, it would be fun to see them ganging up on other people.

Hound was overtaken by a sudden wave of fondness. “I’m happy you’re getting along, and. . . sorry.”

Nightbeat looked at Hound in confusion. “What for?”

“I’ve just been gone so often lately and, well, it makes me feel like I’ve been neglecting you. I—you know I love you, right?”

Nightbeat’s expression softened. “Of course I do. And I don’t mind that you’ve been so busy, I know that they’ve been asking for your help lately, and that you didn’t think that you could refuse.  Now that that’s all over with though, I think you should take this time to actually rest with us.”

Panic gripped Hound’s spark. “What do you mean it’s all over? Did the peace negotiations fall through?” Did the war restart and no one bothered to tell him? Why wouldn’t Jazz mention it when he was visiting earlier?”

“What? No. Megatron didn’t realize that you were supposed to be on medical leave. Apparently, he insisted you stay out of negotiations, at least until Ratchet gives you the all clear.” Nightbeat paused for a moment before adding, “I think your processor issue scared him.”

Oh. That was fine, great even. Hound relaxed back into the berth. “I’ll be glad if I never have to go to another meeting again. I felt so out of place, and they kept asking me for my thoughts. I was the least qualified person there.”

Nightbeat chuckled, finally pulling away from his hug with Hound. “I’m sure you had some good suggestions, but enough of that. Do you want to hear what Click and I have been up to?”

“Yes! How has the book been going? And have you done anything fun while I was gone?”

Click lit up at the question. “The book is good. Nightbeat is teaching *click* to read. Nightbeat said *click* is doing good.”

“Click is learning to read quite well.” Nightbeat fondly said before launching into a recollection of what he and Click had done when he was gone.

Chapter Text

It had been a day since Hound had been discharged from the med bay, and he had talked to all of his friends and reassured them that he was okay. He even managed to tell them about Megatron!

Perceptor slowly nodded when Hound told him, his lips pursed in a thoughtful frown. “I won’t stop you if this is what you want to do, but just know my rifle is always ready if you need it.”

He made Bluestreak promise not to tell anyone about Megatron when he told him. Hopefully it would be at least a week before the rest of the Arc learned about it as well. He was already sick of the rumors going on around him. He didn’t need to add more fuel to their fire.

Prowl just nodded and started asking very specific questions about how he wanted Megatron to be delt with if Megatron hurt him or Click. He convinced Prowl he didn’t want Megatron killed if things went badly between them. He was not as kind if Megatron ever intentionally hurt Click.

With all that over he was meeting Springer, Arcee, and Blurr like he promised. He even brought Click with him to meet Hot Rod.

In their short time on the Arc, the three mechs had already taken over one of the less used rec rooms as their own. It was normally empty because it was near the Dinobots’ rec room, but apparently they didn’t care about that too much.

In an attempt to follow Ratchet’s instructions and rest his processor as much as possible Hound had turned off his EM sensors. It was disconcerting to have a sense he relied so heavily on gone. He could get by without it of course, but it was unnerving to not constantly sense everyone’s EM fields.

He had to keep reminding himself that he was safe on the Arc. That no one was going to attack him and Click. It was hard to believe, so he would turn on his EM sensors, just for a few klicks occasionally to make sure they were safe. Nightbeat seemed to be able to tell whenever he did it, but thankfully he didn’t even mention it.

Reaching the rec room that Arcee, Springer, and Blurr took over it was odd to know they were in there but not feel them. He didn’t even know what Hot Rod’s field felt like. That was something he should probably fix before Hot Rod got kidnapped or something.

Hound was snapped out of his thoughts by Click lightly hitting his chest. Looking down he could see that Click was glaring up at him. “No more thinking.”

“Am I taking too long?” Hound asked with a chuckle.

Click nodded. “Yes. *Click* wants to meet Hot Rod now.”

Right, this meeting was for Click just as much as it was for him. Probably even more so. Brushing a kiss to the top of Click’s head Hound straightened up and walked into the rec room.

Everyone’s attention snapped to the door when he walked inside, servos inching to weapons, except for Hot Rod who looked ready to run. When they saw it was him Arcee, Springer, and Blurr relaxed. Seeing the others relax, Hot Rod settled down, looking at him and Click in open curiosity.

Pretending like he didn’t see their panic, Hound smiled at the group. “As promised, I’m here.”

“Hound!” Blurr shouted, running up to him in an instant. “You’re back, I’m glad to see you’re doing better. Ratchet said you’re good, right right right?”

It took Hound a moment to process Blurr’s rapid speaking. “Well, Ratchet released me from the med bay, but I’m still off duty for a little longer. He wants to be safe that no more accidents will happen.”

“Why the frag would you even try and help us when you were on medical leave?” Springer blurted out.

Arcee hit his shoulder. “Don’t say that word in front of Hot Rod.” She hissed.

“You know he’s heard worse from Kup.” Springer shot back and Hot Rod was nodding in agreement, not that Arcee saw him.

“But that doesn’t mean he needs to hear it from you too.”

“Anyway,” Springer turned back to Hound, “my question?”

“It’s simple, I’m the best tracker here, and when I heard there was a sparkling in danger I had to help.” Sure, Optimus was coming to him for help, but he demanded that Optimus let him come along before he could ask Hound for his help.

Click glared up at Hound at that. “Hound needs to be careful. *Click* worried.”

“I promise I’ll be more careful in the future.” Hound promised.

Click decisively nodded. “Good.”

“Are you Hound’s sparkling?” Blurr asked, leaning down to Click’s height.

Click nodded, holding his servo out to Blurr. “Me *click* you?”

Blurr shook Click’s servo. “I’m Blurr, and these are Springer and Arcee.” As he spoke he nodded his head to the respective person. “And the other sparkling here is Hot Rod.” Click nodded, looking at all of them.

Arcee leaned over Blurr to look at Click. “You’re so small. How do you get around here?”

“Hound and Nightbeat carry *click,* and,” Click pulled the ladder Huffer made him off of his back, “Huffer made this for *click!*”

While they were talking Hot Rod hopped off of the table he was sitting on. He stumbled for a moment when he hit the ground but stayed upright before running over. “What is it?” Hot Rod asked, looking up at them.

Springer picked up Hot Rod and in a long-suffering tone asked, “How many times have we told you to ask for help getting off of places instead of jumping.”

“Lots, but I can jump just fine.”

“You doing things like this is why you keep getting into trouble.” Springer grumbled, securing his grip on Hot Rod.

Hot Rod squirmed, but he didn’t budge at all in Springer’s hold. Pouting he went limp.

“What wrong with being carried? *Click* likes being carried. Being carried is safe.”

Hot Rod scowled, which looked absolutely adorable on his tiny face. “But it’s so boring. No one lets me see anything interesting.”

“That’s because it’s dangerous Roddy.” Springer said, poking Hot Rod’s cheek. “And if you think any of us are letting you out of our sight after what just happened you’re crazy.”

Hot Rod’s scowl was starting to look like a pout as he whined, “Why not?”

“Because we love you Roddy.” Arcee answered.

That quieted Hot Rod down as he looked away from them and was definitely pouting now.

Heading over to the table Hound set Click down on top of it before taking a seat, the others joined him, but Springer kept a hold of Hot Rod. “So, how has Earth been treating you? I enjoy the planet myself, but I know it isn’t the same for many other Autobots.”

“I’ve never seen somewhere so open.” Blurr said.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Hound asked. He knew that it depended on the person and was curious what Blurr thought about it.

“I’m not sure. It’s nice that I can run around as fast as I want without worrying about hitting something but being without cover feels wrong.”

Hound nodded. “I can get that.”

“There’s too many people.” Springer quietly admitted.

“I suppose it would have only been you six most of the time on Cybertron.”

Springer nodded. “Yeah. We met with Elita-One and her people occasionally, but it was just us most of the time.”

“Well, it seems that you’ve realized that most mechs avoid the areas where the Dinobots normally hang out.”

“The Dinobots?” Arcee asked.

“Yeah, they’re a group of five mechs that Ratchet and Wheeljack built here on Earth. They’re called the Dinobots because their alt modes are ancient Earth animals called Dinosaurs that are no longer alive and the Humans only have fossils of to prove their existence. They’re really strong and aren’t the most graceful so most mechs try to avoid them.” Hound explained. He remembered when Wheeljack tried showing how they’d gained more control since they first came online, and they started crashing into each other starting a fight that put Teletraan-1 out of commission for a while.

“Dinobots awesome!” Click blurted out. “Dinobots are so strong and they fight so cool and awesome! It’s like—” Click started miming his servos attacking each other making sound effects. “And, and Hound wrestled Dinobots and beat Snarl.”

Hound chuckled at Click’s enthusiasm. “Don’t forget that I lost to them most of the time.”

“But Hound beat Snarl once. Snarl strong.”

“They are all very strong.” Hound agreed.

Blurr twitched. “Is—should we find somewhere else?”

“No, no. the Dinobots have enough control now that they aren’t going to destroy anything on accident. They’re safe, most mechs are just too scared to go near them.”

Springer frowned. “Just because they’re strong? That sounds awful.”

Hound nodded. “It is, but they’ve got plenty of mechs who do like them. If you want, I could tell you about the other emptier places on the Arc if you want to try avoiding most mechs.”

“You’d do that for us?” Arcee asked.

“Sure.” Hound said, “So, like I said, most people don’t go here because this is where the Dinobots are, but another place they like to avoid is—” Hound launched into an explanation of the best places to be on the Arc if you want to be left alone. Everyone, even little Hot Rod, was paying close attention to his explanation. Hopefully he wouldn’t use this information to run away from the others in a fit of rebellion and cause a ship-wide panic. While explaining he carefully turned on his EM sensors and memorized Hot Rod’s field. Just in case. He made sure to turn it off when he was done so he definitely wasn’t straining his processor at all, Ratchet.

At the end of his explanation, the others had already decided to check out several of the places Hound had mentioned when Kup or Ultra Magnus were watching Hot Rod.

“They’re trying to get some work to do from Optimus Prime, and it’s not going well.” Arcee admitted.

Blurr added, “He keeps on insisting that since they’re caretakers he’s not going to make them fight, and that they should take some time to rest and spend time with all of us before he’ll even think of giving them a desk job.”

“When I took Click in they moved me from fieldwork to a deskjob with the agreement that they’ll call me out if they need to since I’m the best tracker we have—that’s not me bragging but a fact. They did give me a break first though, to give me and Click time to get used to living with each other. Of course, that only lasted, like, two shifts before the Decepticons attacked and Ratchet put me on medical leave. And now I’m wondering with the war ending if they’ll need me here.” Even if they didn’t he was going to stay on long enough to make sure their patrol and scouts could actually make decent reports and knew what they were looking for.

“Is that what caused your processor issue?” Blurr asked before a look of horror crossed his face as he seemed to realize just what he asked. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Hound waved his servo dismissively. “Nah, it wasn’t that. That was because my vocalizer stopped working after Megatron choked me out, the other thing happened later.”

The mention of Megatron choking him made the others choke on the air.

“Why was Megatron choking you?” Springer asked.

“’Cuz when he was pinning me by my shoulders I bit a chunk out of his shoulder.”

“Cool.” Arcee whispered to herself.

Blurr stared at him with wide optics. “Is that why Megatron was staring at you so much? Does he want you dead for that? Oh thank Primus I stayed with you when they sent you to Shockwave. What if they took that chance to kill you.”

“They wouldn’t do that.” Hound protested.

“But how do you know?” Blurr asked.

“Megatron wants to court Hound! Megatron wouldn’t hurt Hound!” Click blurted out.

“Click, that isn’t something you should tell others.” Hound sputtered. He could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Megatron is courting you?” Springer asked, looking even more horrified then when he asked why Megatron was choaking him.

“I said I’d think about it! That isn’t a yes!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Megatron wants it to be a yes.” Arcee teasingly said causing Hound to bury his head in his servos and groan.

“But that would just give them even more reason to kidnap you!” Blurr shouted and Hound could hear him heavily venting in panic.

“Blurr, you don’t need to worry about that.” Hound tried to reassure the other mech.

“You don’t know that! Just because it turned out fine this time doesn’t mean it couldn’t have gone worse.”

“I’m not worried because Shockwave would never agree to go along with something like that.” Hound said staring Blurr in the optics.

“I’ll admit Shockwave was weirdly nice, but that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t go along with what Megatron wants.”

“He wouldn’t, not if it was kidnapping a mech into a relationship.” Hound reiterated.

“You seem oddly sure about that. Why?” Arcee asked.

“That,” Hound said, “is something sparkling’s shouldn’t hear about.”

Arcee perked up. “Does that mean you’ll tell us if Hot Rod and Click aren’t here?”

“Click can handle bad things.” Click protested, pouting up at Hound.

Hound nuzzled the top of Click’s head. “I know you can, but that doesn’t mean you should.”

“We could drop the sparklings off with Kup and finish this conversation in our room.” Springer suggested.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving Click with a mech he doesn’t know.” Hound admitted. Nightbeat was using this time to relax, and Hound didn’t want to bother him after relying on him so much to take care of Click recently. Jazz and Prowl were very busy mechs due to their positions so he couldn’t ask them, and Perceptor was currently very busy trying to figure out why everyone always forgets Rung and undo it so everyone else could actually remember their conversations with him. That left only one mech free that could help. “I’ll see if Bluestreak is willing to watch them too.”

He was, and after dropping Click and Hot Rod off with Bluestreak and Kup the others led Hound to their room. It was empty, and the only notable thing about it was that the berths were all pushed together to make one massive berth. Maybe he should get an extra berth and do that so he could make a bigger den to fit more of his pack in with him.

As soon as the door closed Arcee ordered, “spill.”

“Okay, so, before I get into this I need to know, what do you know about Cybertron before the war?” Hound said. He needed to know how much background he needed to explain.

The three of them shared a glance before Springer admitted, “Not much. Kup and Ultra Magnus don’t like talking about it.”

Blurr nodded, quickly adding, “Kup has lots of war stories, but he doesn’t like talking about Cybertron itself. I’ve heard them talking about Nyon to Hot Rod a few times though since that’s where we found him.”

“I see.” Hound slowly said. “So, I’ll need to explain everything.”

“What does what Cybertron used to be like have to do with Shockwave?” Springer asked.

“Everything. Before the war started Shockwave used to be Senator Shockwave and, well. . .” Pulling his memories of what Shockwave looked like when he was still Senator Shockwave into his mind he used it to create a hologram to show the others. “This is what he looked like.”

“He looks. . . kind.” Blurr whispered, staring at the hologram with wide optics.

“He was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” Hound confirmed.

“He looks completely different! I mean his face, and the gun arm and paint—and he looks like a flyer, not a gun. What happened to him? Did he—to himself?” Springer asked.

Arcee was the only one of the three to not have a big reaction to the hologram of Shockwave. Instead, her optics narrowed and lips pursed as she quietly studied it.

Turning his attention to Springer’s question Hound answered, “It was, in fact, not Shockwave’s choice. Have you ever heard of empurata?”

The three of them shook their heads at his question.

“Empurata was an abominable practice of the senate to mark mechs as other. It usually consisted of removing their face and servos—replacing them with a new face that couldn’t show emotions and servos that don’t have the dexterity of their originals. I know one of the wreckers, Whirl, is also an empurata victim.”

“But—why would they do that?” Blurr asked, his voice trembling as he spoke. Springer wrapped one of his arms over Blurr’s shoulder, pulling his shaking frame against him in a hug. He looked angry while Arcee stayed composed despite clenching her servos.

“Because the Senate didn’t like that Shockwave was trying to help people.” Hound let out a heavy vent. Crossing his arms so his servos could grip his elbows to hide how much they were trying to shake. “What do you know about integration?”

“I assume you’re not talking about combining things into one big thing.” Arcee dryly said.

“You’d be right.”

“Then no, we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slowly, Hound cycled the air in and out of his vents once. He could do this. He could talk about this—it wasn’t even about him specifically.  “Integration was what the senators referred to their process of ‘acquiring’ mechs they were interested in.”

Arcee straightened up. “Interested in how?”

Hound tried to channel Jazz and his faux casualness. “Oh, however they wanted. Though it usually ended up being sexual. There’s a reason why the mechs they ‘helped’ almost always ended up becoming their secretaries.” Hound spat. His servos were digging into his arms now and he was resisting the urge to unsheathe his claws. He faintly realized that he didn’t do a very good job of pulling off casual, but now that he was talking about it he was so fragging mad. “If they saw a mech that caught their interest they could legally kidnap them and hold them in their mansion for an entire vorn where they had complete control over their life. What they did, when and how much they ate, their fragging paintjob—everything. And in the meantime, the damned Senator would be spending that vorn ruining that mech’s chances at getting a job and living on their own by the time the vorn is over, so they’ll have no Primus damned chance of getting away and they’ll have to take the Senator’s job offer.”

Faintly Hound was aware that he was shaking, but that didn’t matter compared to the pure rage burning in his spark.

“That sounds awful.” Blurr said.

“This doesn’t sound like something you’ve only heard of.” Arcee carefully probed.

“I hated it.” Hound admitted, and in a moment all his rage turned to grief. “I hated it.” He repeated, through sobs. He was crying now.

The three of them shared a glance before Springer pulled away from Blurr and opened up his arms. “Do you need a hug?” He asked.

A hug. The thought of sinking into someone else’s arms in that moment was something he both leaned into and recoiled from. He craved for someone to wrap their arms around him, to whisper that it would be okay. But the thought of someone he didn’t know, of someone he didn’t trust wrapping their arms around him— “No.”

“Okay.” Springer accepted lowering his arms to his side. “Is there something we can do to help?”

“I don’t need help.” Hound said wiping the tears away from his face. “I can finish this. I have to.”

“No, you don’t. We can wait for answers if it’s too hard to talk about right now.” Arcee said.

“I-I can do this. This isn’t even about me, it’s about what those viruses did to Shockwave. He was trying to help me, to get me away from that damned Senator—and they ruined him for that.”

“The empurata, right?” Blurr shakily asked.

Hound shook his head. “No, not just that. They shadowplayed him too. They went into his processor and changed it. Made it so he wouldn’t be a problem.” A bitter laugh left Hound. “Not that it worked seeing as Shockwave helped destroy the Senate. It just turned him into a different type of problem.”

“Oh.” Blurr quietly said. “Is that why you don’t think Shockwave would let Megatron kidnap you?”

“Yeah. He was so against the practice that it was one of the reasons he joined the war. There’s no way he would go along with Megatron doing it.”

“I think that’s all we need to know. Why don’t you rest and calm down for a bit?” Springer suggested.

That sounded like an excellent idea. Stumbling over to the berth he sat down, buried his face in his servos, and allowed himself to cry. Through the sound of his own sobs, he could hear what the others were whispering to each other, but he ignored their conversation. He wouldn’t listen when they clearly didn’t want him to.

Eventually the sobs turned into sniffles, and then even those went away leaving Hound sitting on the berth feeling exhausted.

“How are you feeling?” Blurr hesitantly asked after Hound sat there motionless for a few klicks.

“Tired.” Hound admitted. He was straightening up when he realized just how much he had told the others. “Uh, could you all do me a favor and not talk about this to anyone else?”

Springer furrowed his brows. “But why wouldn’t you want anyone to know about what happened?”

“You can talk about what happened to Shockwave, but I want you to keep me out of it.” Hound clarified. “This isn’t something I want others to know about—frag, I didn’t even mean to dump it on you.”

“Sure, but why do you want us to keep you out of it?” Arcee asked.

“Because as you’ll soon learn, the people here love to gossip, and I have been the main subject for the last few orns. If you even mention it where someone else could hear everyone will know in a breem, and I don’t want the entire Arc learning about the worst vorn in my life.”

Arcee winced. “Yeah, that makes sense. I promise we won’t tell anyone anything you shared about yourself here.”

Hound tried to smile at them, but he didn’t think he did a very good job, so he settled on a “thanks” before standing up. “I should probably check on Click. I hope he and Hot Rod are becoming friends."

Chapter Text

Hound was walking to where he left Bluestreak and Click with Kup and Hot Rod when he heard Bluestreak’s panicked rambling. “—I mean, Hound entrusted Click’s care to me. How can I face him after this? Tell him that I lost his sparkling when he trusted me to watch him? He’ll hate me after this, I know it. I mean, how could we lose two sparklings? Prowl, Jazz, and Nightbeat didn’t have this problem when they were watching Click, am I just that bad?”

Realizing that Bluestreak was talking about Click going missing Hound started running.

“Calm down lad. They’ve got to be around here somewhere; they couldn’t have left through the door.” Kup reassured Bluestreak.

Hound slammed the door open, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed in scanning the room for Click. “Click? Sweetspark, where are you?” Hound called to no response. Not even a mischievous giggle.

“Ah, Hound, how much did you hear?” Bluestreak asked, looking at Hound in fear. Right, he thought Hound would hate him for loosing Click. Why would he hate Bluestreak though? Bluestreak was pack. He would never try to hurt him or Click, would never betray them. Click’s disappearance wasn’t because Bluestreak wasn’t watching him. There was nothing for Bluestreak to apologize for.

“That the sparklings are missing. What happened?” Hound said instead.

Bluestreak cringed. “Click and I were talking when Kup noticed Hot Rod was gone. Click disappeared when we were looking for him.”

“I doubt they went far. The door was closed the entire time.” Kup added.

Hound nodded. He needed to find the sparklings fast. The best way to do that was—

“No!” Bluestreak shouted interrupting Hound’s thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” Hound asked looking around for what could have caused that reaction. Nothing had changed since he first got there.

“You’re supposed to be resting, Ratchet’s orders. That means not using your EM sensors.” Bluestreak scolded Hound.

Bluestreak was worried for him. He didn’t need to be. “It’ll be fine. They won’t even be on for a klick.” Hound reassured Bluestreak.

“No.” Bluestreak firmly said. “You aren’t supposed to use your EM sensors at all. I don’t care if it’ll be less that a tick, you aren’t turning your EM sensors on.”

“But I need to find the sparklings.” Hound argued.

Bluestreak’s frown deepened. “We are on the Arc which is safe. I’m not letting you disregard your health again if you don’t have to. You were just in the med bay because you didn’t pay attention to your limits.”

Hound suddenly remembered how much he worried his friends recently and felt a wave of guilt. He didn’t like the idea of not trying to find the sparklings when they could be in danger, but that wasn’t what Bluestreak was asking him to do. He just didn’t want Hound to use his EM sensors. It would take longer, but “What if I used my olfactory sensors and tracked them that way?” He offered as a compromise.

Bluestreak considered it. “Ratchet mostly focused on not letting you use your EM sensors because they use so much processing power and were the reason behind your previous issues. It should be fine if you’re using your olfactory sensors but promise me you’ll stop if it starts causing problems. There are other ways of finding the sparklings.” Bluestreak said.

“I promise.”

“So, how do these olfactory sensors work?” Kup asked.

“It’s simple.” Hound said, going onto all fours and turning his olfactory sensors’ sensitivity up. “I find their scent trail and follow it. It’s the same way I found the tunnel Metroplex took you to.”

As he explained Hound began walking around the room pickling up Click and Hot Rod’s scent trying to figure out which way they went. In the end both of their trails ended at the same spot against the wall and looking up Hound could see why. “They escaped through the vent.”

“How can you tell?” Kup asked looking up at the vent in curiosity.

“Other than their trails stopping here? Look at the vent cover, the screws holding it in are gone.”

Bluestreak’s optics widened. “Click’s new ladder can reach that high. If they made it a team effort they could have escaped without us noticing. Click’s questions could have been meant to distract us while Hot Rod escaped, and then while we were looking for Hot Rod he helped Click up while we were busy looking somewhere else and they got away. But I wonder where the idea of going through the vents from.”

“Click probably came up with that idea if they were planning on escaping together.” Hound said. “He knows the vents can be used to travel around the Arc. I may have brought him through them once.”

“You? I would expect that sort of thing from Jazz, not you.” Bluestreak said.

Hound winced. “It was, ah, after the thing with Tracks.”

Bluestreak’s expression became sad at that admission. Hound said the wrong thing. Turning his focus back to the vent Hound reached up and pulled out the vent cover, setting it down against the wall. “I’ll be back with the sparklings.” He said before jumping up into the vent without waiting for a response.

Crawling through the vents, following the sparklings’ trail it wasn’t long before Hound heard them whisper arguing with each other.

“I thought you said this was a good way to get around.” That was Hot Rod.

“It is. This is just, *click* doesn’t know where everything is.” Click defended himself.

“How do you not know where everything is in your home? If I had a home I’d know where everything was.”

“*Click* has been here for a week. *Click* went to the canteen once.” Click hissed.

“So? Once should be enough to know where it is. I can’t believe we’re lost because of you.”

“Not lost. Just trying to figure out where we are. . . Hound made this look easier.”

Hot Rod snorted. “He’s your caretaker. Caretakers make everything look easier than they actually are.”

“Hound is the best.” Click proudly said in agreement.

“That’s not what I—” Hot Rod groaned. “Never mind. Just tell me when you know where the canteen is.”

As the two of them were busy arguing Hound had managed to catch up to them. Silently stalking through the vents on instinct from being on all fours neither of the sparklings noticed Hound approaching. He was right behind them and they didn’t notice him until Hound asked, “And why are you trying to go to the canteen?”

Hot Rod tripped as he whipped around at Hound’s question. Hound caught Hot Rod before he hit the floor. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine. Where the frag did you come from?” Hot Rod said, trying to sound brave despite his fear. Hound felt bad, he didn’t mean to scare the sparkling.

Seeing Hound, Click’s face lit up and he rushed to hug Hound’s side. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here. I was worried when I got back from talking to the others only to hear that you two went missing. I followed your trail here.”

“Hound is the best.” Click agreed.

Hound hummed lightly at that statement. “Now, can you two answer my question.”

“Hot Rod didn’t believe *click* when *click* told him how much Energon was in the canteen. *Click* was going to prove him wrong.”

“He’s got to be wrong. There’s no way so much Energon is piled up in one place for anyone to take.”

“Why didn’t you ask Bluestreak about it then? Or even just ask them to bring you to the canteen?” Hound asked.

Hot Rod pouted. “I can’t trust that Bluestreak won’t just take Click’s side because he likes Click more. And Kup never takes me anywhere.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d be fine taking you to the canteen. Most mechs refuel there.” Hound said.

“I already told you, he won’t.”

“Well, how about this. When I bring you back to Kup we can ask him about bringing you to the canteen, and if he says no I’ll bring you there when I get the chance.”

Hot Rod’s expression suddenly became pained as he muttered “I’m going to be in so much trouble for this.” At the same time Click panicked. “No! Hound can’t go to the canteen.”

Hound nuzzled the top of Click’s head. “Why not sweetspark?”

“Because Hound didn’t like how people talked to Hound and *click.*”

Ah, that’s right. “They aren’t bad people, just. . . excited to see a sparkling. Now, let’s get back to the others. Do you want to walk back?”

Hot Rod nodded mulishly. “I can walk.”

Click reached up. “Carry?”

Hound chuckled. “Yes, yes. I’ll carry you sweetspark.” Turning around in the vents he scooped Click up in one arm and began walking back through the vents the way he came. He heard Hot Rod walking after him, the sparkling small enough to walk through the vents while Hound had to crawl.

“You’re the one that followed Metroplex, aren’t you.” Hot Rod said.

“I am.”

“And you followed our ‘trail’ here. How’d you do that?”

“I’m about 90 percent sensors.” Hound jokingly said getting a giggle out of Click before he more seriously answered the question. “I followed the scent trails. You see, everyone has a scent, and they leave a trail of it behind wherever they go. My olfactory sensors are sensitive enough that I can pick up those trails and follow them.”

“And you can do that whenever?” Hot Rod asked.

“As long as the trail is fresh enough for me to follow, sure.”

“You knew he was going to find us.” Hot Rod accused Click.

“Of course Hound can find us. Hound is the best.” Click said, not at all trying to defend himself.

“Click, as much as I love your faith in me, please don’t run off when someone else is watching you. I was really worried when I heard Bluestreak talking about you two going missing, and I know you scared Bluestreak too.”

“*Click* scared Bluestreak?” Click worriedly asked.

“Yeah sweetspark, you did.”

“*Click* didn’t mean to scare Bluestreak. Click just wanted to prove Hot Rod wrong.”

“I didn’t think you did, but you need to apologize for running away on him when we get back. He was worried it was his fault you ran away.”

“*Click* will apologize.” Click solemnly agreed.

“Good.”

They made good time going back through the vents and soon enough they were back to Bluestreak and Kup. Hound slid out of the vents and handed Click to Bluestreak. He could hear Click apologizing to Bluestreak for running away when he reached up. “Come on down Hot Rod, I’ll catch you.”

Hot Rod looked at Hound, considering him for a moment before he jumped into Hound’s arms.

“There we go, out of the vents safe and in one piece.” Hound held Hot Rod out to Kup. “You want your sparkling back?”

Kup took Hot Rod from Hound, his touch stayed gentle as he started scolding Hot Rod for running off. “What was even going through your processor lad?”

“Click said everyone can get as much Energon as they want in the canteen and he had to be lying. We were trying to go there so I could prove that he was wrong, but he got lost. I can’t believe he lives here and still managed to get lost.”

“You were trying to get to the canteen.” Kup flatly said.

Hot Rod suddenly looked uncertain at Kup’s statement, hesitantly answering with a “Yes?”

“Why didn’t you just ask me to go there instead of running away?”

“Because you never let me see anything.”

“Because we were on Cybertron and Cybertron is dangerous. We’re on the Arc now. If you wanted to see the fragging canteen you should have told me, and I would have brought you there.”

“You would?” Hot Rod quietly asked.

Kup softened at the question. “Yeah lad, I would.”

Hot Rod hesitated. “Then, can I see the canteen?”

“Yeah. You can.” Kup weakly answered.

“A word of warning if you’re going to the canteen. The people there will probably bug you to get to meet Hot Rod.” Hound warned Kup.

Bluestreak wrinkled his nose. “I don’t get what their problem is. They’ve been gossiping about Hound way too much ever since he took Click in. I mean, someone was even waiting outside of Hound’s room to catch him! Red Alert delt with him, but that’s no way to handle their curiosity. Where’s their basic respect for another mech? Just because he’s a caretaker now doesn’t mean they can say whatever they want about him.”

Kup’s face darkened throughout Bluestreak’s rant. “They’re lacking respect?”

“Yeah. It’s none of their business, but ever since Hound became Clicks’ caretaker they’ve been gossiping about Hound’s interface preferences, or what he’s looking for in a partner. It’s disrespectful.”

“Well, it sounds like I need to teach some mechs the meaning of respect.” Kup darkly said. “Ya’ wanna help Roddy?”

All of Hot Rod’s previous hesitance was gone as he brightly answered “Yes!”

“Then it looks like we have a mission.” Kup said as he started walking off with Hot Rod.

Bluestreak had a satisfied look in his optics as he watched Kup walk away while plotting about his ‘mission’ with Hot Rod.

“You planned that, didn’t you?” Hound asked.

“I saw a chance and took it.” Bluestreak corrected. “Those people really are being way too rude. Kup will set them straight. No way he’d give them the chance to say those sorts of things about Ultra Magnus.”

Hound leaned against Bluestreak’s side. “Thanks.”

Bluestreak smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you want to do something now that we’re both free?” Hound asked.

“Ooh, what do you think about me teaching you guys how to shoot? I found a gun for Click that’s his size and has barely any kickback.”

“Oh? You found one? Is it a human gun?” Hound asked.

“Actually, Brainstorm made it as some sort of apology to you two since Perceptor asked him to. He’s really good at making guns.”

“Oh, him.” Hound flatly said at the same time Click said, “*Click* no like Brainstorm. Brainstorm mean to Hound.”

“Ah, I guess that’s why it’s an apology.” Bluestreak said.

“Perceptor knows about the gun?” Hound asked.

Bluestreak nodded. “Yeah. He said it was good when he gave it to me.”

“Then the gun should be fine.” Hound said before turning to Click. “What do you think? I know you were interested in learning how to shoot.

Click’s disgruntlement at the thought of Brainstorm making him a gun disappeared the instant that he realized he could learn to shoot his gun. “Yes! *Click* wants to learn how to shoot!”

Hound chuckled at Click’s enthusiasm. “Well then, it looks like we’re going to the shooting range.”

Bluestreak’s doorwings fluttered in excitement. “Follow me! I know the best shooting ranges on the Arc!”

Chapter Text

“So, the first step in learning how to use a gun is learning gun safety, how guns work and how to maintain them.” Bluestreak said before pulling out the standard issue gun everyone was given and trained to shoot with when they joined the Autobots—even those who mainly worked office jobs and didn’t join the battles. The thought behind it was that if the Decepticons ever attacked the offices they could protect themselves.

Without pause, Bluestreak continued talking. “This is the standard issue gun of the Autobots, and thus the most common gun you’ll find around here. Lots of mechs have other guns, but everyone has one of these. Normally for this part we would be focusing on your gun, but while Brainstorm makes some amazing guns let’s just say they can be touchy when it comes to maintenance. Don’t worry, I’ll handle all that for you for now until I can trust that you won’t accidentally break your gun. We’ll start you off learning maintenance with this gun instead.”

As Bluestreak talked Click looked up at Bluestreak with his complete attention. “Then we shoot?” Click asked.

Bluestreak chuckled, setting Click down on a table. “Yeah, after we go through that we’ll have you shooting on the range. But first, basic gun safety. Rule number one, always act as though your gun is ready to shoot—even when its safety is on. Accidents can happen with guns going off when they’re not supposed to. Keeping the barrel pointing away from people stops those accidents from becoming deadly.”

Click nodded seriously at the first rule. “*Click* saw lots of accidents and fake accidents in the pits. Other mechs didn’t listen to rule one. Got punished for damaging fighters outside of fights.”

Hound frowned at the mention of the pits. He didn’t like that Click’s earliest memories were in such a dangerous place. He would make sure the rest of Click’s childhood was as safe as he could make it. He was keenly aware that he couldn’t keep Click completely safe from danger, but he would do his best.

Hound listened as Bluestreak walked Click through the rest of the rules for gun safety before taking apart his blaster to show Click how it worked and teach Click how to clean it. The gun in question was comically large compared to Click. Click was the same size as a human, and the gun was bigger than Click. Hound knew that Spike had carried one of these guns into battle before to fight the Decepticons, but Hound doubted he was able to do any aiming beyond point barrel at enemies and shoot.

With the gun cleaned and put back together Bluestreak said, “Now, before I give you your gun, can you go through the gun safety rules for me.

Nodding Click quickly recited the rules for Bluestreak.

Bluestreak smiled. “Good, you committed them to memory. Make sure you don’t forget them. These rules were all made for a reason. They’re there for your safety and the safety of everyone else around you, not to be a killjoy.”

“You get that a lot?” Hound asked.

Bluestreak groaned. “You would not believe how many mechs flout the basic rules of gun safety and then complain when I try and remind them. It got to a point where I just started telling Prowl and he’d make them go through the gun safety courses again and they’d have to pass if they wanted to keep their guns. It’s not just themselves they put in danger by being reckless, but everyone else around them. Like Prowl said, we don’t need mechs who are a danger to their own side walking around armed all the time.”

“Anyone I should look out for?” Hound asked.

Bluestreak paused to think for a tick. “It should be pretty obvious, but a repeat offender is Whirl, the Wrecker.”

Hound nodded. “If it’s really such a problem I’ll keep an optic out for it as well.”

“Thanks, now let’s get to the fun part. Shooting!”

Click cheered at that as Bluestreak carried Click over to one of the shooting stalls and setting him down on the counter separating the shooters from the range.

“I’m going to talk Click through how to shoot, why don’t you go to your own stall and get warmed up.” Bluestreak suggested.

“Sure.” Hound agreed, walking to the stall next to Bluestreak and Click. He could hear Bluestreak start explaining to Click how to aim as he pulled his own gun out of subspace and, with practiced movements, he checked it over. Just because he rarely used his gun didn’t mean that he took bad care of it.

Deeming his gun as good to shoot Hound moved into the basic shooting position he was taught. Aiming at the target through his sights he fired.

BANG!

Hound heard a squeak of surprise from Click as Bluestreak reassured him that the noise was just Hound.

Several shots later Hound pressed the button to bring the target to him. He was curious about how badly he did with his sensors lowered under Ratchet’s orders. He wasn’t a good shot, but he wasn’t completely terrible. He could generally hit the target; he just didn’t hit anything important usually. He didn’t do a good job of grouping his shots either. There was a good reason why he preferred to use his knife instead of a gun if he ever had to fight someone.

That was why Hound was surprised when he got his target back. All his shots were grouped nicely together near the center of the target. It was the best he had ever done at the shooting range.

It was odd though. Why would his aim suddenly improve now of all times when he was barely using his sensors?

“Hey, Bluestreak, come here for a tick.” Hound said.

“Is something wrong?” Bluestreak asked walking over.

“Maybe, look at this.” Hound pointed at the target.

Bluestreak studied the target for a moment. “I don’t understand what’s wrong? It looks normal.”

“The problem is how good I did. I’m normally terrible at shooting, I know I’ve told you about it. This is the best I’ve ever done, and I don’t understand why I’ve improved all of a sudden.”

“That is strange.” Bluestreak admitted. “Has anything changed since the last time you were at the range?”

“The only thing I can think of is how little I’m using my sensors right now, but why would my shooting suddenly improve now when my sensors are worse?”

Bluestreak’s optics widened, and he asked. “Hey, Hound. How’d you learn how to shoot?”

Hound didn’t understand what Bluestreak was thinking of, but he answered anyways. “I got the shooting module everyone got.”

Bluestreak twitched, his servos clenching. “They gave you a shooting module?”

“Er, yes. I thought everyone who didn’t know how to shoot got one. Is there something wrong with it?”

“Yes! The problem is that shooting modules are made for mechs with normal sensors. It’s completely wrong for mechs with enhanced sensors, and you absolutely apply to that category. You need to lean how to shoot the good old-fashioned way—with practice. I’m going to have a talk with whoever was in charge of teaching you how to use a gun I mean—"

“Their dead.” Hound interrupted Bluestreak. No need to let Bluestreak get ready to fight a mech who had died several hundred vorns ago. Then, the implications of what Bluestreak was saying hit Hound, “Wait, you mean I can actually learn how to shoot?”

“Of course you can learn. I’ll teach you right now. Wait, no, that won’t help since your sensors are turned down. I’ll properly teach you how to shoot after Ratchet gives you the all clear to use your sensors. That way we won’t have this problem again.” Bluestreak said. “I can’t believe that they gave someone with clearly enhanced sensors a normal training module and thought it would turn out fine. Didn’t they notice anything was wrong?”

“They declared I was unteachable and kicked me out of the shooting range saying that the best I could do was to point my gun at the Decepticons and pray to Primus that I hit someone.” Hound admitted.

“Unteachable.” Bluestreak darkly spat. “Did the other teaching instructors know about this?”

Hound shrugged. “I don’t know. I generally avoided the shooting range after that, and no one asked me about it.”

“I’m going to need to tell Prowl. This is something we need to look into—”

“Later.” Hound firmly said. “You can look into it later. You’re here to spend time with me and Click, starting a crusade against bad shooting instructors can wait till we’re done here.”

“I, you’re right.” The fight drained out of Bluestreak in an instant. “It’s been hundreds of vorns already and we’re not getting any new recruits for them to teach. It won’t hurt if I wait for another breem to tell Prowl. Thinking about it, he’s probably in a meeting right now.”

Hound chuckled. “Yeah, Prowl’s a busy mech. Enough of this for now. How about I just watch you and Click for now.” He didn’t feel like trying to shoot anymore after that revelation, and it would be nice to see Click use a gun for the first time.

Bluestreak lit up. “Yeah, let’s get back to Click.”

Chapter Text

Bluestreak had fun teaching Click how to shoot. He had never been given the opportunity to teach someone how to use a gun from the very beginning since he only joined the Autobots after Praxus was destroyed.

He was young when it happened—less than a vorn old and still living with his mentor. His mentor who died with everyone else when Praxus fell. Bluestreak, as far as he knew, was the only one from Praxus who was there when it fell that survived. Prowl and Smokescreen were already Autobots and away from the city when it happened.

It was only after joining the Autobots that Bluestreak learned about his affinity towards guns, quickly becoming one of the best snipers in the Autobots. That didn’t mean he taught other mechs how to shoot. The basic lessons were given to other, more experienced mechs, but with what Hound mentioned about his shooting instructor Bluestreak really had to wonder how suited they were for the job.

Bluestreak did teach some mechs once. It was a smaller class, meant for Bluestreak to teach some promising mechs how to be a sniper.

It was terrible.

None of them respected him. They saw his youth and his tendency to ramble and decided that he wasn’t an expert in his own field. That they could ignore him. That it would be fine if they went to the range and tried shooting like they saw in the holofilms ignoring the fact that the films don’t even show mechs properly shooting normal guns, let alone sniper rifles.

By the end of that lesson Ratchet had multiple mechs visiting his med bay and Bluestreak stormed up to Prowl and declared that he was not going to have another lesson with them before launching into a rant about everything that happened.

Prowl agreed that Bluestreak shouldn’t try teaching them again. They ended up getting punishment duty for their behavior and Prowl changed their teacher to Perceptor, somehow managing to guarantee some time from him while he was still in the Wreckers. From what he heard Perceptor managed to terrify them into actually paying attention and learning, but Bluestreak was just glad he didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

Teaching Click was nothing like that. It was a joy to have someone eagerly paying attention to his explanations and actually following directions. He was a little worried after Click and Hot Rod ran away when he was helping watch them that Click didn’t like him and wouldn’t pay attention like the last time he tried teaching. Click did apologize afterwards, but Bluestreak privately wondered if he only did that because Hound asked him to. He was glad that wasn’t the case.

After only a few breems of Click shooting at targets and preening under Hound’s praise Hound started nodding off. Quickly checking the time Bluestreak realized why. “It’s almost time for you to sleep Hound. Jazz is with you this time, right?”

“I am.” Jazz said.

Hound jumped to his feet at Jazz’s voice. He looked scared as he wildly turned around to face Jazz who was casually leaning against the back wall for who knows how long without being noticed.

“Whoa, calm down Hound, it’s just me.” Jazz said, throwing his servos up.

Hound was shaking. “I didn’t realize you were here.” He quietly said. “How could I not—how long were you here!”

“I got here a breem ago looking for you, but it looked like you were having fun, so I didn’t want to interrupt. That was some good shooting for a first-timer.” Jazz gently said.

Click lit up at the complement. “Bluestreak is a good teacher.”

Jazz chuckled. “Yeah, it looks like he is. You have fun?”

Quickly nodding Click said, “Yeah! *Click* can shoot now!”

Relaxing as Click and Jazz chatted Hound added, “He’s a better shot than I am now.”

Bluestreak pushed down his spark of anger at the reminder of Hound’s previous shooting instructor. He knew when he saw Prowl again he was going to rant about it and by the time he is done Prowl will already know the best way forward with that information.

Jazz whistled at Hound’s comment. “Now that’s impressive. Do we have a new sharpshooter on our servos?”

Click giggled at that.

“Well,” Jazz continued, “It’s time for your caretaker to have a nap. You coming with us?”

“Yes!” Click said, holding his servos out at Jazz.

Jazz walked over to them, and as he passed by Bluestreak, Jazz whispered in his ear, “Prowl’s office in one groon. Be there.” Before scooping Click up and leaving with Hound.

A secret meeting in Prowl’s office that Jazz didn’t want Hound to know about. Bluestreak had an idea of what it was going to be about. He couldn’t be the only one who was concerned when Hound told him that Megatron wants to court him and Hound was considering saying yes. Not when he noticed how uncomfortable Hound was with the idea of getting into a relationship with someone else.

The idea that Hound was suddenly okay getting into a relationship with someone else, and for the other mech to be Megatron of all people. Something was wrong here. Jazz and Prowl were at the meetings for the treaty that Megatron asked Hound to attend. They would have a better idea of what was going on and how they could help Hound.

Bluestreak wasn’t letting Megatron steal his friend away and hurt him. Not when Hound admitted he considered Bluestreak to be his amica.

Bluestreak didn’t think he could ever find an amica after Praxus fell. Sure, he had Prowl, but Prowl had taken it upon himself to act as his mentor. He got along with Smokescreen fine, but he wouldn’t consider them close.

Most other mechs avoided Bluestreak because of how much he talks. Even his friends couldn’t stand to stay with him for longer than a groon or two before getting tired of his yapping. He expected that the same thing would happen when Hound first started hanging out with him, but it didn’t. Instead, Hound was the few mechs that didn’t mind him constantly talking, and even better he paid attention to what Bluestreak said and would occasionally chime in with his own questions or comments.

There was no way Bluestreak was going to stand around and do nothing when Hound was in trouble.

That was why Bluestreak arrived in Prowl’s office at the time Jazz specified. It looked like everyone else was there because he could see Prowl, Nightbeat, Perceptor, and, “Jazz? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Hound right now?”

Jazz just grinned at the question but didn’t answer Bluestreak. Instead, he clapped his hands and said, “Looks like everyone is here, it’s time to get this meeting started. I’m sure you all have figured out why we’re here.”

“This is about Megatron, right?” Perceptor asked.

“That’s right. Now I’m sure Hound has told all of you that he is not being coerced or threatened in any way into accepting Megatron’s courtship, but I don’t buy it and I know you haven’t either.” Jazz said with Prowl nodding along with him.

I don’t agree with his decision, but I don’t think he’s actually being coerced.” Nightbeat cut in.

“What makes you say that? I mean, I may not have known Hound as long as you have, but I think it’s pretty obvious that Hound doesn’t want to date anyone, and I doubt that calling it by a different name would change that.” Bluestreak asked.

Nightbeat frowned. “Hound hasn’t talked a lot about it with me, but I can tell he’s seriously considering it. He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t interested.”

Jazz frowned. “I know that Megatron said he’s fine never interfacing with or conjunxing Hound, but I don’t trust it. He could just be saying that to get Hound to agree, and then in a few vorns when Hound is firmly connected to him and can’t leave on his own Megatron will go back on his word.”

“Does that happen often?” Bluestreak asked.

Jazz shrugged. “I’ve seen it often enough.”

Prowl nodded. “As have I. This peace Megatron is offering is genuine, he wouldn’t be putting in this much work if it wasn’t. But I don’t trust that he won’t hurt Hound.”

“And what do you want us to do? Hound is his own mech, and he won’t appreciate us meddling in his love life, even if it is in an attempt to protect him.” Perceptor asked.

Jazz groaned, burying his face in his servos. “I don’t know, but we can’t just let Megatron get away with this.”

“What if we act as Hound’s protectors for this?” Nightbeat suggested.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Bluestreak asked. This whole meeting was supposed to be about how to protect Hound from Megatron.

Nightbeat shook his head. “No, I mean we officially act as Hound’s protectors in the Decepticon way. That means we could keep an optic on the courtship and if Megatron does act in the way we fear he would, we would be well within our rights to kill him.”

A wide grin stretched across Jazz’s face. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. And if Optimus gets upset we could just call it a cultural exchange. There shouldn’t be a problem with all of us being Hound’s protectors either. Most Decepticons, if they have a protector, only have one, but that’s moreso because only one mech wants to be their protector than there being a limit on how many protectors a mech could have.”

Prowl slowly nodded. “Yes, that does sound good. But how are we going to become Hound’s protectors officially?”

“Normally it’s a pretty public declaration, but with all the rumors about Hound going around right now, I don’t think he’d appreciate that.” Jazz said, and Bluestreak winced at the reminder. He hoped Kup would be able to get them to stop. He could tell Hound avoided going near other mechs after the rumors really kicked off. “Fortunately, the main purpose of that is to make sure everyone else knows they have a protector to preemptively stop people from trying to mess with whoever they’re protecting. We should be fine if we just declare it to Megatron instead.”

The thought of seeing Megatron face-to-face instead of through a scope, and to do it so aggressively too. It was scary, but Bluestreak would do it for Hound.

Nightbeat didn’t hesitate for a second before asking, “Is this going to be before tomorrow’s meeting?”

“After.” Prowl answered. “Megatron requested that we let him stay later to see Hound and Click, and Optimus agreed. We’ll do it after the meeting when Jazz and I are bringing Megatron to meet Hound.”

“Should I bring my gun?” Perceptor asked.

If Jazz’s visor wasn’t covering his optics Bluestreak was sure there would be a manic look in Jazz’s optics to match his wild grin, “Yes. You too Bluestreak, we’re supposed to scare Megatron enough that he doesn’t want to risk trying something.”

Chapter Text

Hound slowly woke up, enjoying slowly stretching his limbs as he leaned back against Jazz. Jazz chuckled. “Have a nice nap?”

Turning around to nuzzle against Jazz’s neck Hound mumbled, “Yeah. You?”

“We had a good time hanging out, right Click?” Jazz said and Click responded with a cheerful “Yeah!”

“That’s good.” Hound said, relaxing against Jazz again.

“You need more recharge?” Jazz asked. Hound could hear the concern in his voice.

That sounded nice, but first Hound needed to know, “Do they need you today?” He didn’t want to force Jazz to stay if he was needed elsewhere.

“There’s another meeting with the Decepticons about the peace treaty today, but they won’t need me for that for a few more hours. We have some time before that if you want to recharge some more.”

“It’s not a problem?” Hound asked.

“Not at all.” Jazz promised. “I’ll wake you up before I need to go.”

“M’kay.” Hound murmured, dozing back to recharge.

He was woken up later by Jazz shaking him.

“Is it time to go?” Hound murmured.

“In a hour. I figured you might want to be awake for a bit before that though.”

“I thought I wasn’t going to the meetings anymore.” Hound whined.

That got a chuckle out of Jazz. “You’re not. But Megatron did request that we let him stay after to see you and Click, and Optimus agreed.”

Megatron wanted to see him? He supposed that made sense. “Do you know where we’re meeting?” Hound asked.

“The rec room I was going to show you two to after the last meeting. I’ll show it to you before today’s meeting and let you know when we’re coming over.”

“You’re going to be there too? Why?” Hound asked, turning over to look at Jazz.

Jazz frowned. “Because I’m worried. I know you said it’s fine, but I don’t trust Megatron.”

Oh, Hound knew what that look on Jazz meant. “Jazz, what are you hiding from me?” Hound sternly asked, and he could hear Click giggle at the question. Was his sparkling in on the secret too? Or did he think the sight of Hound scolding a full-grown mech was funny.

“Nothing!” Jazz quickly responded at Hound stop him a flat glare to show he didn’t believe him. “It really is nothing Hound. I haven’t done anything. I promise.”

“Yet. You haven’t done anything yet. What are you planning?” Hound asked.

Jazz winced. “It’s not bad I promise.”

Hound frowned. “If it’s not bad then why won’t you tell me.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you.” Jazz relented. “But just so you know, there’s no way you can stop us from doing this.”

Us?

Jazz continued talking. “After today’s meeting me, Prowl, Nightbeat, Perceptor and Bluestreak are going to declare to Megatron that we’re your protectors.”

Hound had a feeling he was missing something. There was no way Jazz would be making a big deal out of just letting Megatron know that they protected each other. That was a given since they were pack.

“I think I’m missing some context. What does that mean?” Hound asked.

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know. It’s a Decepticon practice where someone declares that they’re someone else’s protector, and it’s mainly about keeping other Decepticons from starting a fight with whoever they’re protecting. But if someone starts courting you a Protector’s job is to make sure that whoever’s courting you actually follows the boundaries you set. It’s common practice that if a Decepticon asks to court you and you don’t have a protector one of your friends will step up and act as your protector for the courtship period.” Jazz explained.

Hound frowned. That didn’t seem bad necessarily, but “does that mean Megatron would also have a protector?”

Jazz shook his head. “No. It’s, ah, how do I explain this? Megatron is the one asking to court you. That means he wants this relationship, and that his main job is to, er, woo you into wanting to date him as well while following whatever boundaries and rules you give him. He’s obligated to follow them as part of the courtship process. Our job as your protectors would be to make sure he listens to you, and to stop him if he doesn’t.”

“Wouldn’t you just say no if you don’t want to be in a relationship with them? Why does everyone need a protector for it?” Hound asked.

Jazz winced. “For Decepticons courting is generally treated as a trial period to see if you want to get together, but if someone asks to court you then you have to allow them to court you for a mega-cycle. You can say no after that, and they can’t ask to court you again, but you do have to give them some sort of chance. If two mechs want to get together they’ll just skip the courtship part and go straight to dating.”

The thought that someone could ask him out and that he’d have to entertain them for a mega-cycle made Hound feel sick. If Megatron tried to pull that on him instead of making sure Hound knew he could say no, Hound would have refused outright. And if Megatron kept insisting on it, Hound would have punched him in the face.

“I guess if it’s that important you can act as my protectors.” Hound said.

“Can *click* be Hound’s protector?” Click asked, perking up.

Jazz chuckled. “You’re a little small for that. You might want to wait until you’re a little bigger.”

“Jazz is short and a protector, and *click* can shoot now.” Click protested.

“Hey! I’m not that small.” Jazz protested picking up Click with a grin. “I mean, I can do this.” He said before tickling Click’s sides to Click’s delighted shrieks.

“Oh no. I think Jazz beat you Click. Do you need a rescue?” Hound jokingly asked.

Between his giggles Click said, “Yes!”

Taking Click from Jazz, Hound set him down against his side. “You might want to practice some more before you try and take Jazz on in a fight again.”

Click nodded, leaning against Hound. “*Click* will. *Click* will be very strong.”

“I’m sure you will be when you’re all grown up. But there’s plenty of time until then and I’ll protect you until you’re strong enough to protect yourself.”

“But who will protect Hound?” Click asked.

“We will.” Jazz answered.

That’s right. Apparently Jazz and the rest of his friends were going to officially become his protectors too. Wait a tick. How did Jazz know they were all going to do it after this meeting? “Jazz, did you have a meeting about keeping me safe from Megatron without me?”

Jazz winced. “Maybe?”

“Jazz. When?” Hound asked.

Jazz threw his servos up. “It was last night, and I wasn’t even there.

“So Ricochet attended for you since you were here with me.” Hound concluded. “And you all decided that you’d become my protectors and tell Megatron before we saw each other again today.”

“Yeah, that’s basically everything that happened.” Jazz admitted. “How are you so good at telling when I’m trying to keep a secret.”

“Because I know you Jazz, and I was trained to be a detective. I know how to solve a mystery. It’s just, I don’t get why you’re trying to hide this from me. It’s not like you did anything wrong.” In fact, thinking about it he probably would have done the same thing if one of his packmates was in his situation.

Jazz stared at Hound for a full tick in incomprehension for a full tick before asked, “You’re not mad?”

“About your plans? No. I am upset that you think you need to hide it from me though.”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d think.” Jazz admitted slumping over. “You’ve just been so sensitive about the whole Megatron thing, but I know you haven’t been interested in being in a relationship before. It’s just. . . I’m worried that you’ll rush into something and get hurt, but you aren’t listening to us.”

That answer drew Hound up short. “Have I really been that bad?”

“You’ve refused to really consider any of my concerns about Megatron.”

“I. . .” Hound slumped over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. . . I really have been a bad friend lately.” You were supposed to listen to and trust your pack above all others. And yet here he was, getting so caught up in the possibility of having a partner that he was ignoring his friends’ advice—letting it get bad enough that they went behind his back to try and figure out how to protect him while expecting him to get mad at them for it.

Jazz sighed, pulling Hound into a hug.

“Do you want me to say no?” Hound asked. He wanted a partner, but if his friends really thought it was a bad idea he’s say no to Megatron. Click let out a little whine of protest at Hound’s question.

Jazz hesitated. “I don’t trust Megatron.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in that statement.” Hound said.

“I don’t trust him. . . but you really want this, don’t you Hound.”

“I do.” Whenever Hound’s thoughts strayed towards Megatron he felt a deep craving for what Megatron was offering him. But he couldn’t let that get in the way of his pack. Pack always came first.

Jazz groaned. “Then you can give it a try, but I want one of us to be with you whenever you’re Megatron. We’re going to be your protectors, so let us do our job.”

“Okay.” Hound paused for a moment before asking, “Does that mean you’ll stay with us today?”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah. The others can all have their turn, but I’m staying with you today.”

“Then I’ll say yes when I see Megatron again.” As he said that a spark of giddiness welled up in Hound. Click hugged Hound’s side, rapidly clicking in excitement. There was no way he was going to recharge again before he saw Megatron, even if he was still tired.

Chapter Text

Jazz led Hound and Click to the empty rec room before leaving for the meeting. On the way there Jazz slid into an empty room. Leaning against the wall he buried his face in his servos and took some time to breathe.

Why did he think it was a good idea to say yes to Hound? He could have told Hound to let down Megatron. To end the incoming disaster before it even started. But no. Jazz just had too look at Hound and see how much Hound wanted this; Jazz couldn’t bring himself to say no after that.

Why couldn’t he have held strong for once? He could have. It would have been so easy. But. . . it would have made Hound sad. As much as Jazz hated to admit it, Megatron genuinely seemed to care about Hound—his reaction to Hound’s processor issues during their rescue of Kup and Hot Rod proved that. But that didn’t mean Jazz trusted Megatron to do right by Hound.

Hopefully Click’s presence would stop Megatron from doing anything to really hurt Hound. It was obvious how much Megatron cared for Soundwave with all the effort he put into keeping his sparkling safe, from how hard he worked to keep Soundwave a secret. With how attached Click was to Hound there was no way he would let Megatron hurt Hound. Even with Megatron being his first caretaker.

He couldn’t waste time thinking about this. He had a meeting to get to. With one final deep vent Jazz straightened up. With his signature smile on his face Jazz left to the meeting room, cheerfully greeting the mechs he passed in the halls. It was a quick trip to the meeting room. He was there early so only Prowl and Red Alert were already there. Prowl was relaxed, reviewing a datapad while Red Alert was nervously scanning the room a datapad in hand.

Jazz slid into the seat next to Prowl. There was no need to keep a spot between them for Hound now when he wasn’t attending the meetings anymore. Jazz was glad about that. As important as the things Hound brought up in the meetings were (and how the frag had no one even realized that Cybertron was dying) it was obvious to Jazz that Hound was uncomfortable the entire time he was there.

Leaning into Prowl Jazz asked, “You ready for the meeting?”

Prowl nodded, still looking at his datapad. “I am. You?”

“Yeah. Just so you know, Hound figured out about our plans for after the meeting, but he’s fine with it.”

Prowl raised his brow, looking at Jazz for the first time since he entered the room. “How did Hound get that out of you?” Prowl asked with a chuckle.

Jazz shrugged leaning back into his seat. “You know how good Hound is at telling when I’m trying to keep a secret. He wasn’t even awake for a full klick before he started demanding answers.”

“Poor Jazz. Unable to hide anything from your ‘bestest friend,’ how does it feel?” Prowl teasingly asked.

“Good. It’s one of my favorite things about both of you, how easily you can see through me.” Jazz said, leaning against Prowl’s side. The small smile that graced Prowl’s lips felt like an accomplishment.

“Flatterer.” Prowl said, a faint blush beautifully dusting his cheeks. Jazz wanted to make him blush even more.

Chuckling, Jazz said, “I live to please.”

Unfortunately, Jazz didn’t have the chance to push his flirting anymore as Ironhide walked in. Red Alert was aware of their relationship due to the nature of his job and his glitch, but that didn’t mean they wanted anyone else to know about it. Hound figured it out, and Jazz knew Bluestreak at least suspected something was going on, but they were friends and didn’t spread the news around. But that didn’t mean that Jazz could be careless around everyone else, which is why he reluctantly pulled away from Prowl.

Ironhide looked like he was in a bad mood. He was one of the Autobots’ most battle-hardened warriors, and he didn’t like the idea of letting the Decepticons on the Arc for the peace treaty discussions arguing that they were likely just a Decepticon trick. Not that he let any of that slip around the Decepticons. He wasn’t going to let them know the was ‘onto them’ so that when the Decepticons did make their move they wouldn’t realize Ironhide was ready to take them on.

“How’s it going Hide?” Jazz called.

Ironhide groaned, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge. Apparently he wasn’t only upset about the meeting.

“What happened?” Jazz asked.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just Kup kicking up a racket in the canteen yesterday.”

“Isn’t someone always kicking up a racket somewhere?” Ratchet asked walking in.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect Kup to do it when he hasn’t even been on the Arc for a full orn yet. And in front of his sparkling too.”

Jazz wouldn’t have expected it before either, but they were in stasis on Earth for 150 vorns. That was plenty of time for a mech to change, and there were plenty of reasons for Kup and Ultra Magnus to start changing. Taking care of three mentees and a sparkling while constantly hiding from Decepticons and scavenging for their survival for 150 vorns—there was no way they were going to be the same after that.

And from how those mentees broke into the med bay ready to fight him—an unknown mech—for Hound—a mech they only knew for a few groons max—made it easy to believe that Kup would be willing jump into a fight.

Prowl frowned, glancing at Ironhide. “Did Kup say why?”

Ironhide shrugged. “He was complaining about their gossiping. Didn’t say what exactly they said, but, well, you know how they can be.”

Oh, Jazz was well aware. He knew the rumor mill better then anyone else here did seeing as it was part of his job to keep an audial on it. Several times over the last few days it had taken all of his willpower to not punch several of his fellow Autobots in the face because of all the slag he heard them saying about Hound.

Not that it was all bad. Huffer had actually been taking delight in keeping what the others were saying about Hound in line, so it was better then he would have expected. But that didn’t mean everyone listened when Huffer said Hound was uncomfortable with all the gossip about him, and it was generally the worst offenders who ignored Huffer.

Of course, a frequent topic of debate was Hound’s interface preferences. Not only was it a frequent topic about anyone who caught their attention, but Hound was also attractive. Even if Jazz preferred someone rounder in the chest, he could admit that Hound was attractive, and that was only improved by his friendly personality. The only reason why more mechs hadn’t realized it was because they were so focused on his bland dark monotone paintjob that they didn’t focus on his frame. If Hound ever taken Sunstreaker up on his offer of a proper paintjob, he would be turning heads.

It was for the better that he never did that then, although it didn’t really matter now. Apparently lots of mechs had a thing for caretakers with how much attention Hound gained when he became Click’s caretaker, or maybe they just liked how soft Hound was with Click. It was absolutely adorable watching them interact. And then Hound fought Megatron, driving him away from the Arc and everyone could see how much Hound hurt Megatron. That was what really caught almost everyone’s attention. They have been at war for a long time after all—strength was attractive, and not even Optimus could hurt Megatron that much in their regular fights.

“Some people are taking it too far this time.” Red Alert said.

“Really? You don’t think it was just Kup overreacting to the gossip mill after being away from it for 150 vorns?” Ironhide asked in surprise.

Red Alert’s face darkened, and Jazz was surprised by how angry Red Alert sounded when he spoke again. “One of my people who should know better went through our records to find someone’s room. Just so they could ask them for answers to the rumors that we didn’t have in our files.”

How the frag did Jazz miss that happening?

“They broke into the files?” Prowl sharply asked.

Red Alert shook his head. “No, they only got into the dummy files, otherwise I would have informed you all of the security breach. And we can find people’s rooms for emergency purposes, but clearly I’m going to tighten security on that information. But I can’t accept that kind of behavior in my people, so they’re no longer in security and I put them on the worst punishment duties for two mega-cycles. What happens to them next depends on their behavior between now and their punishment duties ending.”

It could be considered a harsh punishment, but Jazz knew none of them would try and argue with Red Alert about it. Security was one of the tightest run jobs in the Autobots, and they had to be with the Decepticon spies and saboteurs they delt with. There was no room for someone willing to look into personal files out of curiosity working in Security. But unless they proved that they were a threat to their fellow Autobots they wouldn’t get kicked out—they couldn’t afford to lose people in the middle of a war. Although that might change soon with the peace treaty in the works.

“If you want to talk about this more find me later. Optimus is bringing the Decepticons in.” Red Alert said after a moment. Everyone got the message. They didn’t need the Decepticons hearing about their internal issues.

Ratchet and Ironhide settled into their regular seats, leaving one seat open in the middle of the Autobot side of the table for Optimus. As they sat in silence, waiting for the others to arrive Jazz tried to work out what he’d say to Megatron after the meeting. He normally wouldn’t bother with this sort of thing, but this was important. He was making sure Megatron knew he and the others were Hound’s protectors. It had to go well.

Jazz’s attention shot to the door as Optimus walked in with the Decepticons behind him. Time to get to work.

Except before they could get to work Shockwave walked up to Ratchet. Jazz tensed, ready to act if Shockwave tried to attack Ratchet. But instead of doing anything violent Shockwave said, “I have a query Doctor Ratchet. Has Hound’s condition improved?”

“Why do you want to know?” Ratchet warily asked.

“Hound is in my care. His continued wellbeing is important.” Shockwave answered.

Jazz didn’t like the sound of that. He knew what Shockwave was, what the Senate did to him. Having him shadowplayed and turned into a monster that had no emotions and worked purely off of logic. And whatever control the Senate had over Shockwave that could keep him from committing atrocities was already broken because he was the one that originally came up with the plan that destroyed the Senate.

Ricochet had never been able to sneak into Shockwave’s lab, not even during his longer stints spying on the Decepticons, but he still heard rumors about what went on in there. Rumors couldn’t always be trusted, but with so many of them focusing on Shockwave’s job, saying that he experimented on other mechs, there had to be some sort of truth for it.

Hound must have caught Shockwave’s attention when they were left alone together. He should have ignored Hound and stayed. Or better yet, had Hound join him with leading the Decepticons out of the Arc to keep him away from Shockwave. But no, he couldn’t do that and now Shockwave was interested in Hound. Interested enough to ask Ratchet about how he was recovering.

Ratchet, thankfully, didn’t look happy at Shockwave’s answer. “Your care? Don’t you dare say that Hound is in your care. He is my patient.” Good old Ratchet, getting territorial over his ‘problem’ patients. With how much Hound was in the med bay recently it looks like Hound’s position was upgraded from an easy patient to a problem patient. He was going to have to deal with Ratchet demanding he come in more often for regular check-ups. It was how Ratchet showed that he cared.

“I am not a medical doctor. However, Hound’s continual wellbeing is important. Answer my question: has Hound’s condition improved?” Shockwave said, pausing for a moment before adding, “please.”

The Decepticons apparently didn’t expect this either as they watched Shockwave in shock as he kept asking Ratchet about Hound’s health.

“Listen, Shockwave. Just because we brought Hound to your tower while he was in medical stasis doesn’t mean he’s your patient.” Ratchet said.

Shockwave tilted his head as he studied Ratchet. Before he could continue their argument Jazz cut in, “Hound is fine.”

Jazz may not like Shockwave’s focus on Hound, but he could tell Shockwave wasn’t going to give up. It was better to answer his question with as little information as possible so they could actually get the meeting started and not ruin their chance for peace because Ratchet attacked Shockwave for trying to ‘steal’ one of his patients.

Shockwave focused on Jazz, his single optic intently studying him. “Does that mean Hound is awake?” Shockwave asked.

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Or rather, he was fine enough to be released from the med bay under strict instructions to keep his sensors low and his EM sensors entirely turned off. Physically that was fine, but it was clearly a scary situation for Hound. Jazz felt sorry for sneaking up on Hound in the shooting range the other day. He was so used to Hound just knowing exactly where he was that he didn’t even think of letting Hound know that he was there. . . he felt bad about how much that scared Hound.

Shockwave hesitated like he wanted to ask something, but instead he said, “Thank you,” before walking back to his seat. Megatron watched Shockwave thoughtfully as he walked back to his seat before focusing on starting the meeting.

Thankfully after all that nothing exciting happened during the meeting. It was just the usual—Decepticons bringing up points that they had amendments to that they then discussed in length before deciding if they would go with the Decepticons suggestion, the initial terms in the treaty, or a compromise of some sort. It was a long process, but Jazz couldn’t hate how many things the Decepticons brought up because every addendum and edit they suggested had an actual potential issue behind it and they did bring actual practical solutions to the problems they pointed out.

That didn’t mean the Decepticons had the best solution every time, or even that everything the Decepticons brought up was actually an issue that needed solving. But it did make Jazz feel more confident that this peace would actually last with the Decepticons putting so much effort into it. Jazz could admit that he didn’t understand why Megatron brought who he did to these meetings but seeing them in action Jazz could see admit that all brought important observations and ways of thinking to the table.

When the meeting ended Jazz got himself and Prowl out of bringing the Decepticons to the entrance of the Arc by saying that they were bringing Megatron to Hound. And they were. He just didn’t mention that he was bringing Megatron on a little detour first.

Quickly messaging Nightbeat, Bluestreak, and Perceptor that the meeting was over Jazz and Prowl led the way to the unused office Ricochet and the others had picked out in the meeting last night. Ricochet was going to be watching the entire thing from the vents.

Thankfully Megatron didn’t try and make any small talk with them. And when they got closer Jazz could hear Bluestreak and Perceptor discussing the best way to shoot someone that’s chasing them while on a flying vehicle.

“I’ve always found that hanging upside-down out of a transport gives me a better angle to shoot at.” Perceptor said.

“But it would make you more vulnerable to being shot yourself.” Bluestreak argued.

“Not if I shoot them before they can shoot me. Besides, the other wreckers take up a lot of space. It was too crowded to make a good shot.”

Megatron stopped walking. “You’re not bringing me to Hound, are you.”

Damnit. He was hoping to get Megatron into the room before he realized what was going on.

“Of course we’re bringing you to Hound.” Prowl said.

Megatron huffed out a laugh. “Don’t lie to me. You’re bringing me to the wrecker and his friend that are discussing the best ways to shoot someone.”

“We are bringing you to Hound, but first some of us wanted to talk to you.” Jazz said.

“And who exactly is ‘us?’” Megatron asked.

“Hound’s friends.” Jazz responded.

Megatron’s optics brightened in realization. “A shovel talk then.”

Jazz grinned. “Now you’re getting it. Now come on big guy, let’s get this over with.” He said before leading Megatron into the room. Perceptor and Bluestreak had moved on to discussing the differences in their preferred rifles and their advantages and disadvantages. Nightbeat was leaning against the wall, watching the entrance.

“You made it.” Nightbeat said.

“Five people teaming up for a shovel talk? I’m impressed.” Megatron said as he looked around the room.

Perceptor looked over at Megatron. “You made it.”

“I told you we’d bring him here.” Jazz cheerfully said before turning to glare at Megatron. “Now, let’s get started.”

“Yes, let’s.” Nightbeat said walking up to Megatron and fearlessly glared up at him. “I am Nightbeat, Hound’s Mentor, and seeing as you’re trying to court him, I will also be acting his Protector.”

Megatron glanced around the room. “This is a small audience for declaring yourself Hound’s protector, but I suppose it’s fine since it’s for my courtship of Hound.”

“We would be doing this a bit more publicly, but Hound’s already upset enough about all the rumors about him recently and we don’t want to make them worse.” Bluestreak said, grinning as he walked up to Megatron with his rifle very obviously still held in his servos. “I’m Bluestreak, Hound’s friend. Now that you’re trying to court him, I’m also going to act as his Protector.

Megatron didn’t get a chance to react before Perceptor said, “I am Perceptor, and Hound is a dear friend of mine. I am also acting as his Protector due to your courtship of Hound.

“You’re all going to act as Hound’s Protector,” Megatron said.

“You’re correct. As you know, I am Prowl, one of Hound’s friends, and I will also be acting as his Protector.”

Jazz grinned. “And last, but very much not least is me, Jazz, Hound’s best friend. I’ll also be his protector.”

Megatron frowned, taking them all in. “Five is a lot of protectors. If you know of this practice, then surely you know most people only have one.”

“Yeah, but that’s more of an issue of them not having more people willing to act as their protector. There isn’t a limit on how many protectors a mech could have, and none of us are willing to give this up.” Jazz said. “Besides, we’d all be doing this even if Hound started dating an Autobot. We’re just declaring it to you all formal like because that’s how Decepticons do it and we wanted to make sure you understood.”

Chapter Text

Hound crawled towards Click, a smile breaking out over his face. “I’m going to get you” He playfully called, reaching out to grab Click.

“No!” Click happily shouted running away from Hound, ducking behind one of the booths.

“Huh? Where’d Click go?” Hound asked exaggeratedly looking around the room as he stood up. He could hear Click giggling where he was hidden. Rather than going straight to where Click was hiding he started wandering around the room. “I wonder where Click could have gone. Is he, perhaps, under here?” Hound dramatically asked as he looked under a table. Click giggled again, the sound moving behind him as Click moved to a new hiding spot while Hound was ‘distracted’ looking under the table.

Giving Click time to hide again Hound slowly straightened up. “Hmm, just where could he have gone? Maybe over here?” Hound asked walking away from where Click was actually hiding much to Click’s delight based on his muffled giggles. Hound couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Hound heard the door open and turning around he saw Megatron walk in, guided by Jazz. Click also saw them because he ran over to Megatron, brightly shouting, “Caretaker! You’re here!”

Megatron softened at Click’s bright greeting, carefully picking him up. “I am. What are you two doing?”

Click stiffened. “Hide me.” He whisper-yelled at Megatron.

“Too late.” Hound brightly said taking Click from Megatron’s servos. “I caught you. Now what’s my reward?”

“Doesn’t count! Hound had help!” Click protested.

“Help? I didn’t ask anyone for help.” Hound asked, laying on his confusion hard enough that it was clear he was acting.

Click pouted at him. “Caretaker helped Hound. Doesn’t count.”

Hound pouted back at Click. “Does that mean Megatron won? Since he’s the one who caught you?”

“No! There is no winner.” Click said.

Hound couldn’t pretend to be sad any longer, breaking out into giggles. “I suppose we’ll just have to try again when no one can interrupt us.”

“Yeah, and then *click* will beat Hound.” Click brightly said.

“What are you beating Hound at?” Jazz cheerfully asked. He looked genuinely happy.

“If *click* can avoid being caught by Hound *click* wins.”

“I thought we had a longer wait since you said you were talking to Megatron before bringing him here.” Hound added.

Jazz shrugged. “It didn’t take too long. Megatron knows we’re your protectors and what’ll happen to him if he ever hurts you and that’s all that matters.”

They must have been efficient at scaring Megatron since it was so quick. Maybe Jazz gave them all pointers, no it would have been Ricochet doing that during the meeting last night.

“Caretaker wouldn’t hurt Hound. Caretaker is strong and good at protecting.” Click protested.

“I’d have the same concerns even if Optimus himself started courting Hound.” Jazz said.

Hound waved his servo dismissively. “You know Optimus wouldn’t ask to court me.” He was part of a trine with Ultra Magnus and Elita One and hadn’t so much as looked at anyone else. It would be good for Optimus to have one of his trine mates back.

From the way Jazz glanced at him Hound didn’t think Jazz actually knew what he was referring to, but Jazz didn’t bring it up in front of Megatron, so Hound didn’t bother clarifying. Instead, he changed the subject, “How are you doing?” He asked Megatron.

“I should be the one asking you that.” Megatron softly said. “I was worried when you collapsed on us.”

Hound smiled at Megatron. “I’m fine now.”

“You don’t have to lie for my comfort. I know processor issues take time to heal.” Megatron said.

Hound scowled. “Ratchet is being too cautious. I’m fine.”

Jazz sighed. “Hound, what have I told you?”

“That I need to take better care of myself.” Hound mulishly said.

“Exactly. And part of that means listening to Ratchet’s instructions. He knows what he’s doing.”

Jazz was right. Ratchet knew what he was doing—he was one of the best doctors on Cybertron, even before the war started. It was just, “I don’t like having my sensors so low.”

“You know why Ratchet doesn’t want you using your sensors. They use a lot of processing power and were what triggered your processor issues. And you won’t have to keep them this low for too much longer.” Jazz reassured Hound with completely reasonable facts and logic. Hound didn’t want to listen to facts and logic right now.

Scowling Hound looked away from them. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to follow Ratchet’s instructions.” Jazz said. “How are you feeling now? Any pain or nausea?”

“I’m fine.” Hound grumbled. “You should know that. You saw me before the meeting.”

“Yeah, and that was breems ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Megatron blurted out.

Hound looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?” It wasn’t like this was Megatron’s fault. Not really. Sure, losing his voice because of Megatron helped trigger his bad memory flux that deleted almost all of his language modules, which was why he was even having processor issues in the first place. But Ratchet’s rant made it clear that the only reason that memory flux could even cause those problems was because he couldn’t properly finish a single recharge cycle throughout almost the entire war.

He couldn’t blame Megatron for not being able to finish his recharge.

“I didn’t realize I hurt you so badly in our fight. And then I asked you to join the peace talks without considering that you needed time to rest. And when we went to save the sparkling—I should have let you stay here when Ratchet said it could be dangerous for you. Ravage is a good tracker. If there wasn’t another Autobot that could take your place we could have taken him instead.”

Click stiffened at Ravage’s name and Hound started purring to relax Click. Megatron stiffened when he heard Hound’s purr but didn’t comment on it. “You hurting me didn’t cause my issues, and I would have insisted on helping save Hot Rod even if you said no.” Hound dismissively said. If he wasn’t listening to Ratchet then there was no way he was going to listen to Megatron about staying back.

“Even if that’s the case, I still apologize for the trouble I caused.” Megatron said.

Hound sighed. “You’re going to keep apologizing until I accept it, aren’t you.” It was annoying when other people did that. Constantly apologizing for something and forcing Hound to accept it if he didn’t want it brought up every time he saw the other person. And then they would take Hound’s acceptance of their apology as meaning there was nothing wrong between them anymore.

“No, no. I don’t want to make you feel like I’ll keep bothering you about it if you don’t accept my apology. I won’t ask again, no matter what your response is. It’s just, even if you say certain things aren’t my fault that doesn’t erase the ways I did hurt you.” Megatron rushed to clarify.

Hound wasn’t sure he believed Megatron, but he wasn’t actually angry at Megatron. Accepting Megatron’s apology Hound moved onto other things. “Why don’t we all sit down if we’re going to keep talking?” Hound suggested walking over to one of the room’s booths. Setting Click on the table he turned to look ag Megatron and Jazz who followed after him. Jazz sat down next to him leaving Megatron to sit across from them.

“So, how have you been?” Hound asked trying to get the conversation moving. Frag, when should he say yes to Megatron’s courting? Is Megatron going to bring it up and ask Hound if he made his decision? Or was Hound supposed to tell Megatron he accepted? He had never tried to figure out how to say yes, more focused on figuring out how to reject someone with no hard feelings.

For now, Hound decided, he would let the conversation flow naturally. And if he didn’t have a chance to naturally bring it up he would tell Megatron about his decision before he left.

“As I’m sure you were told, our rescue of the sparkling was successful.” Megatron said.

“I did hear. In fact, Click and Hot Rod had a play date yesterday. They got along so well that they decided to run away from the mechs watching them.” Hound playfully said, poking Click’s cheek.

Click whined. “*Click* wasn’t playing. *Click* was proving a point.”

Hound chuckled. “That doesn’t change the fact that you ran away from Bluestreak giving him a spark attack.”

“*Click* didn’t mean to scare Bluestreak.” Click protested.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you did scare him. What did we learn from that?”

“Ask to go places instead of sneaking there myself.” Click grumbled.

Megatron’s expression melted at their exchange. “You made a friend?”

“Was proving a point.” Click corrected.

“To your new friend.” Hound added. “Hot Rod wants to see you again.” Ultra Magnus had messaged him that morning about setting up a regular meeting time for Click and Hot Rod. He was happy Hot Rod found another sparkling to be friends with and wanted to encourage their friendship. In the message Ultra Magnus mentioned that he was worried that Hot Rod would have issues getting along with all the new mechs on the Arc when he grew up with only a small circle of mechs that he frequently interacted with.

Click perked up. “Can *click* see Hot Rod again?”

“Of course.”

“You have a friend.” Megatron happily repeated. “That’s wonderful. Thank you Hound.”

Hound hunched into himself at Megatron’s praise. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It’s because of you we were able to save Hot Rod.” If Megatron wasn’t willing to let them use the space bridge there was no way they could have gone back to Cybertron to save Hot Rod, let alone bring him and the others back to the Arc.

Megatron shook his head. “You’re the one who did most of the work to find them. Now, has anything else happened?”

“*Click* can shoot a gun now!” Click proudly declared.

“You can?”

Click nodded. “Bluestreak taught *click* how to shoot! Bluestreak showed *click* how to take care of a gun and all the rules of gun safety first before letting *click* shoot.”

“He’s turning into quite the marksman. He’s an even better shot then I am already—not that that’s saying much.” Hound added.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad.” Megatron said.

Hound snorted. “Don’t bother trying to make me feel better—I’m a terrible shot. Theres a reason I almost never use a gun.”

“Don’t say that Hound. I heard Bluestreak talking about helping you with your aim. You won’t stay a terrible shot forever.” Jazz said.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to need a gun soon enough.” Hound said. Once the war officially ended there wasn’t going to be a reason Hound needed to regularly fight others.

Megatron hummed. “Bluestreak, he’s the grey and red Praxian with the sniper rifle, right?”

Why would Megatron know what Bluestreak looked like, Hound wondered before he remembered that Megatron just came from his entire pack threatening to end him if he ever hurt Hound. The reminder of his friend’s protectiveness made Hound happy. “Yeah.”

“Is he a good shot?” Megatron asked.

Jazz chuckled. “You kidding me? He and Perceptor are the Autobot’s best snipers.”

“I knew Perceptor was good from how Deadlock talked about him, but I didn’t realize he had a match among the Autobots. Your friends are all quite impressive Hound.”

Hound preened at Megatron’s complement. “They’re the best.” If they weren’t they wouldn’t threaten Megatron to his face for Hound.

Megatron nodded. “I would have expected Jazz or Nightbeat to become your protector, not five different mechs. Ah, speaking of them becoming your protectors, have you made your decision?”

Megatron was asking if Hound was accepting his courtship. This was his chance. Hound could do this. Steeling himself Hound nodded. “Yes. I thought about it, and I would be happy to accept your courtship.” Hound said.

Megatron’s face practically lit up with a brilliant smile. “You do? Oh, this is wonderful, you won’t regret it. Please, take this. As a sign of our courtship.” Megatron said, pulling out a plain grey box from his subspace and sliding it across the table to Hound. Opening it Hound saw the same sturdy hilt of the Energon knife Megatron gave him when he first asked to court him.

Hound carefully picked up the Energon knife, nervous about scuffing the hilt. He knew its pristine look would fade with time and use, but he wanted to keep it looking nice as long as he could. “Thank you.”

“No. I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Megatron said before looking down at the Energon knife in Hound’s hands, his cheeks darkening with a blush. “It fits you so well. Having a knife made instead of a gun really was the right choice.”

Chapter Text

Jazz clapped his servos together. “As nice as this is, I think we need to set some ground rules before you do anything with Hound.”

“Ground rules?” Hound asked, looking over at Jazz.

“Yeah, what do you want Megatron to do and not to do, and I suppose Megatron could also add his preferences as well.” Jazz said.

“But didn’t I already do that with the no conjunxing and no interface rules?” Hound asked. How could he ask anything more of Megatron after that when those were already such important parts of a relationship he was rejecting? He didn’t think anyone else would be willing to get in a relationship with him that had those restrictions.

Jazz shook his head. “Those were dealbreakers. If Megatron refused to agree to those rules you would have never agreed to a relationship with him. This is more about setting expectations for how you’ll act around each other going forward.”

Megatron smiled at Hound. “It makes sense to figure this out now. I don’t want to upset you on accident.”

That was nice, but Hound had no idea what he should ask for. “Why don’t you start Megatron?” Hound suggested.

“No, I’m not letting Megatron pressure you into something you don’t want. You’re going first.” Jazz said.

“But what should I even ask for?” Hound asked Jazz.

Jazz stared at Hound, his optics resetting. “Anything you want or don’t want to happen.”

That wasn’t useful advice. “I don’t know what I want to ask for.” Hound hissed. “That’s why I’m asking you for help.”

“Oh. Well, we could go through some things, and you can think about what you want out of it. For example, how do you feel about touch?”

Hound liked touch. Cuddling with his friends, feeling them pressing against his plating. But this was about him and Megatron. Hound may like touching his friends but touching strangers with more than a helping hand was uncomfortable. He could bear it, but he didn’t think that was what Jazz was looking for. Megatron wasn’t a friend. He could grow to be more, yes, but they weren’t close enough for that yet.

After thinking about it for a klick Hound finally said, “I’m not comfortable with touch yet.”

“Hound doesn’t like touch?” Click worriedly asked, twisting around where he was sitting on the table to look up at him.

“I do like touch, but only with my friends. I don’t know Megatron well enough now to be comfortable with it.” Hound clarified.

Click frowned before asking, “Like with Tracks?”

Hound held back a shudder at the reminder of the disaster that was Tracks trying to ask him out. “Like with Tracks.” Hound agreed.

Click glared up at Megatron. “Caretaker can’t touch Hound. Hound doesn’t like it.”

“At least not until we know each other better.” Hound added.

Megatron frowned. “If you're sure that’s what you want then I won’t argue, but I have to ask. Why even accept my courtship offer if you’re this uncomfortable with just touch? I don’t want you saying yes to this courtship out of some obligation to Click or the Autobots.”

“It’s not out of obligation. I—when you explained what you wanted out of a relationship with me, I wanted it. I know we didn’t know each other very well when you asked to court me, so if you’re having regrets—”

“No!” Megatron blurted out. Jazz stiffened at Hound’s side, his servo drifting towards his Energon knife. Jazz was the one who gave Hound his first Energon knife, just in case he ran into trouble on patrol. “I don’t regret this, I’m worried you will.”

“Oh, well, I’m here because of my own choices, and I do want this. I just. . . don’t think I’m comfortable with touch yet.” Hound said.

“Good. So now we know you two aren’t touching for now. See how important it is to get this all out of the way first.” Jazz brightly said.

“I do, I just. . . can’t think of any of this on my own.” Hound admitted.

Jazz softened. “That’s fine. I’m going to help you through this. What about other signs of affection?  Like nicknames?”

“Nothing that relates me to a mechanimal or a pet.” Hound instantly answered. He was Proteus’ ‘pet cyberwolf’ throughout his integration. Being reminded of that time would probably end up causing another ‘incident’ like what happened with tracks earlier. But beyond that, even if it didn’t cause issues Hound didn’t like being referred to as a mechanimal. He was a sentient being and wanted to be treated as such.

“I can do that, but can I ask why you don’t want those nicknames in particular?” Megatron asked.

Hound shifted in his seat, looking away from Megatron. He didn’t want to talk about it but, “I suppose you should know if we’re getting into a relationship. I was found and raised by cyberwolves in Cybertron’s wilds and grew up out there for most of my life. It wasn’t until around 850 vorns ago that I found Proteus on a turbofox hunt. He had me kidnapped and tried to integrate me. He had a. . . preference for unique things and nothing was more unique than his pet cyberwolf.”

Hound practically had to force himself to spit out the last of it. His fingers dug into his arms, the pain centering him in the here rather than letting him get lost in his memories. Click whined, hopping onto Hound’s lap to hug him. Letting go of his arms Hound carefully wrapped Click in a hug.

Out of the corner of his optic Hound could see how strained Jazz’s smile was as he asked, “You want a hug from me too?”

Hound nodded, not daring to speak.

Leaning over Jazz pulled Hound into a hug. His touch was gentle despite how angry he was. Tucking Hound’s head in the crook of his neck Jazz began to hum. Hound went limp against Jazz, taking comfort in his friend’s presence. He would make sure Hound was never put in such a situation again. As long as Jazz was here Hound was safe.

After a few klicks of staying like that Megatron slowly said, “My interest in you comes from who you are as a person, not your past or how unique you are. Integration is a practice we as Decepticons stand against, but if it makes you more comfortable, I won’t refer to you in such a way.”

Hound had assumed that the Decepticons were against integration because Shockwave mentioned that he was helping the other integration victims recover, but it was good to hear Megatron say it himself.

“I think you can see why we’re all worried about you courting Hound now.” Jazz said, his arms minutely tightening around Hound.

“I can. He said it was Proteus?” Megatron said.

Jazz nodded. “Yeah. He’s dead. Starscream killed him on camera when you first destroyed the Senate.”

“Good.” Megatron solemnly said. “Those senators, they really were viruses.”

“They were.” Jazz agreed. “If one thing came from this war it’s that most of them are dead, and those that survived have fled Cybertron. I know Optimus wouldn’t agree with it, but it would be better if we dealt with them soon now that we’re reaching peace among ourselves, before they have the chance to return to Cybertron and reinstate the old government.”

“My people would never agree to that.” Megatron said.

“I would like to say that ours wouldn’t either, but I know some mechs who joined when Sentinel was still Prime and leader of the Autobots would jump at the chance to return to the old Senate. They’ve been removed from any real positions of power, but they’re still here.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Megatron asked.

Wait a tick, where they discussing killing the remaining senators in front of him and Click?

“I’d like to do some covert assassinations. Killing the old senators and the biggest fanatics before they can cause problems, but Optimus would never agree to that. Even if they’re currently abusing the mechs in their colonies and could cause enough instability to start a new war.”

“Are you saying you want me to give those orders?” Megatron asked.

They were.

“No. I’m saying they’re a future threat that we need to start seriously considering if we want lasting peace.”

“But Prime wouldn’t allow it.”

“He won’t allow violent options until they attack us, and even then, no assassinations. Why do you think you’re still alive when I’ve been in your base so often. I had thousands of chances to kill you over the vorns.”

“Are you sure Click and I should be here while you’re talking about this?” Hound asked.

“Of course you can be here. You’re a good secret keeper, right Click?”

“Yeah! *Click* can keep all the secrets!” Click brightly said.

“And I think we all know how good you are at keeping secrets Hound.”

Hound glared up at Jazz. “I didn’t even know those were supposed to be secrets.”

“Which means you’ll be better at it when you know something is supposed to be a secret.” Jazz said.

Hound groaned. “If you’re going to start planning how to kill the leaders of the colonies you can at least do it far enough away to give us plausible deniability.”

Jazz brightly laughed at that.

Chapter Text

Hound didn’t enjoy the next breem he spent talking through his boundaries with Megatron at Jazz’s direction. Jazz would ask him a specific question to give him a starting point, and if Hound didn’t know how to answer he would ask more specific questions. It felt so self-centered with everything focusing on him and what he wanted, Megatron never getting to have a say. Megatron had to have his own preferences, and it felt wrong to only focus on himself when Megatron was there as well—a relationship had two people after all.

So, when Jazz brightly said, “That’s everything!” Hound asked, “What about Megatron?”

“What about him?” Jazz asked looking at Hound in confusion.

“Well, this is supposed to be about establishing our boundaries, right? Then that should mean we both talk about what we want, but we’ve only been focusing on what I want. Megatron should be able to say what he wants.”

Megatron’s sharp edges softened at Hound’s question. “You don’t have to worry about me Hound. There isn’t anything I need to add.”

“Need, maybe not, but what about what you want?” Hound shot back.

Megatron started blushing at the question. “You don’t need to worry about that. Nothing you want is something I’m uncomfortable with.” Megatron paused for a moment before adding, “I would prefer some more closeness, but I understand you need time and I’m willing to wait until you’re comfortable. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

“You want us to be closer? How?” Hound asked, ignoring how Megatron said it was fine. It wasn’t and this, at least, was something Hound could do

Jazz glared at Megatron.

“You really don’t have to worry about it.” Megatron rushed to reassure Hound.

“Caretaker is doing a lot for Hound. Hound wants to do something nice back.” Click blurted out.

Hound felt his cooling systems engage as he began heating up from embarrassment. “Click. You can’t just say something like that.” Hound whined.

Click looked up at Hound in confusion. “Why not? It’s true.”

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it.” That was a lesson Hound learned early into his time with Proteus, and it stayed true long after he was free. People hated it when Hound caught them out on their lies—even when it became his job.

Megatron stared at Hound in open wonder. “You want to do something nice? For me?”

Hound awkwardly shifted, pulling Click tighter against his stomach.

“It’s just. . . a relationship is between two people, right? We’ve been focusing so much on me and what I want, but you’re part of this relationship too. If feels wrong that I’m the only one whose wants are being focused on.”

Megatron’s entire demeanor softened even more if it was even possible. “Hound, if you really want to do something for me then don’t push yourself into doing something you’re uncomfortable with just because you think it will make me happy. I knew when I first decided to court you that it might take a long time for you to be comfortable with a lot of things and I’m fine with that. What I can’t stand is if you hurt yourself to try and make me happy.”

“Oh.” Hound looked away from Megatron. A feeling of shame bubbled up inside of him. Was he really that much of a mess that Megatron realized it so easily?

Jazz snorted. “You barely interacted with Hound before this.”

“I asked if anyone knew Hound.” Megatron admitted. “Shockwave told me Proteus tried to integrate you, and it failed. It was enough to draw some conclusions.”

“You know a lot about integration then?” Jazz asked.

Megatron shrugged. “I know some of it and that was enough to oppose it, there was no need to learn more. That’s more Shockwave’s area; he’s been trying to help them recover you see. But I don’t interact with them much since they’re skittish around other people, especially those with authority.”

Hound nodded. “Shockwave indicated as much to me when we talked.” He hoped Shockwave took his advice and talked to Ratchet about getting them a therapist.

“You left Shockwave be in charge of integration victims? Why in Primus’ name would you ever think doing that was okay?” Jazz snapped. His sudden aggression startled Hound. Sure, he had been upset this entire time, but he wasn’t actually angry.

“Because Shockwave wanted to help them, and we don’t exactly have care facilities to do that. We don’t have that many normal doctors, let alone therapists. Higher class mechs either joined you or fled Cybertron to the colonies.”

“But Shockwave? You couldn’t have chosen anyone else? I’ve heard what everyone says about his labs.”

Megatron pinched his nasal ridge. “Shockwave does not engage in human experimentation. How many times do I have to say this?”

“Then what about Sunstorm? He left Shockwave with the ability to emit deadly amounts of radiation.”

“And before Shockwave helped him, he couldn’t control how much radiation he emitted and was isolated from everyone so he wouldn’t kill anyone on accident!” Megatron snapped. “That’s what Shockwave does, help people. Everyone Shockwave ‘worked on’ in his labs had an outlier that was hurting them or others unintentionally, and he finds ways to help them control it. Ask them if you want, they’ll tell you that’s the truth.”

“Oh, I’m sure they would love to tell me about how they were experimented on.” Jazz sneered.

Bang!

Click flinched as Megatron slammed his servos on the table as he stood up. Megatron looked ready to throttle Jazz. “Shockwave does not experiment on people.”

“Oh, he might tell you that, but how can you be sure?”

“Jazz, calm down. Shockwave wouldn’t do that.” Hound snapped.

“Hound, I know you had a nice little talk with Shockwave the other day, but that isn’t enough to judge another mech by.”

Hound rolled his optics. “I am not judging him only by our last meeting.” Their last meeting just proved he was the same mech as before, even with how much the shadowplay damaged him.

Jazz stiffened. “When did you meet Shockwave before?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t like how interested he is in you. He was asking about you at the meeting.”

Hound held in a sigh. “Of course he was worried for me. He knew I was having processor issues—he literally saw me in medical stasis. And for your information we first met before he was shadowplayed.”

That information made Jazz pause. “Wait, you know who Shockwave was before he was shadowplayed?”

“Yes? Isn’t it obvious?” The senate didn’t even bother changing his name. Sure, he looked different, but that’s what happened when you went through empurata.

“No! The only concrete information I could find about him was that he was Senator Shockwave’s murderer. That’s why he uses the senator’s name now, as some sort of trophy.”

“What? No. Shockwave is Senator Shockwave. The senate shadowplayed and empurataed him because he was against integration and was trying to stop it.” Hound said.

“What.” Jazz flatly said.

“Wait, Shockwave was a senator?” Megatron asked.

“Yeah, did you not know?” Hound asked, turning back to Megatron. Megatron looked confused, but still ready to respond if a fight broke out. At least he no longer looked like he was going to be the first one to throw a punch. They did not need Jazz and Megatron attacking each other right now.

Megatron glanced to the side. “Shockwave isn’t one to talk about his past, but, well, you can tell what happened just by looking at him. I didn’t want to push him for details if he wasn’t comfortable bringing it up. It didn’t really matter anyways. I saw enough of him when we first started the war to judge his character.”

“Didn’t you have anyone look into him?” Jazz asked.

“Ravage did some research on his own and found what you said. That Shockwave killed Senator Shockwave. And, well, I know he was generally one of the best senators, but I figured Senator Shockwave was just better at hiding his shady business than the other senators and one of his deals screwed over Shockwave which is why Shockwave killed him.”

Click stiffened at Ravage’s name and Hound tightened his grip around Click to reassure his sparkling that he was safe. Ravage wasn’t a threat to them anymore, but even if he was Hound would stop him before he could even touch Click, even with how terrible his senses were right now. Ratchet may have had Hound lower his sensors, but he didn’t dull Hound’s claws.

Hound shook his head. “Shockwave was never part of the other senator’s ‘shady’ business meetings. He was the only one that was never invited."

“Wait, were you there for them?” Jazz asked.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. Proteus only showed me off at his parties. I just listened in on all of his meetings, so I knew what was going on. Not that anyone realized that.”

Jazz grinned. “Prowl’s going to love that.”

“Yeah?” Hound asked.

“Yeah. He’d love a clearer idea of what their plans were. But I have to ask why you trust Shockwave. Even if he was a good senator he was shadowplayed. He can’t feel emotions and can only operate on logic.”

“Shockwave still feels, he just can’t understand his emotions.” Hound corrected.

“Is that your expert opinion?” Jazz jokingly asked.

Hound grinned. “It is.” The grin slipped from Hound’s face. “Shockwave is a good mech at spark, and no matter how much shadowplay has changed him, it hasn’t changed his spark. He’s still doing his best to help victims of integration, and I think that shows a lot about him. Yeah, he’s more socially inept than I was when we first met, but that doesn’t change who he is.”

“While Shockwave operates on logic his goal isn’t efficiency or anything like that. It’s to improve people’s lives.” Megatron added.

“Fine, I’ll lay off of Shockwave.” Jazz relented. “But don’t you dare think I won’t keep an optic on him. You may trust him Hound, but I don’t.”

Hound smiled. “I figured. You’ll see why I think Shockwave is good if you actually take the time to talk to him.”

"I hope you're right."

Chapter Text

Hound walked back to his room with just Click since Jazz was busy guiding Megatron out of the Arc. Hound had offered to join them, but Jazz just gave him a flat look and said that he needed to recharge and that he could handle Megatron on his own. It was true, their meeting had gone on long enough that Hound was starting to feel tired.

“Did you like seeing your caretaker again?” Hound asked as he carried Click down the Arc’s long hallways. “I’m sorry this whole meeting ended up focusing on our relationship and you didn’t have much time together.”

“*Click* doesn’t mind. *Click* is happy Caretaker and Hound are together now. Caretaker will keep Hound safe.”

“Keep me safe?” Hound asked.

Click nodded. “Caretaker is strong! Caretaker can beat anyone! No one can hurt Hound now.” He said with a bit too much glee at the thought of Megatron beating someone up for Hound.

“I’ll have you know I’m very strong and capable of keeping us both safe myself.” Hound said. He knew Click would have seen Megatron demonstrate his strength many times growing up in the gladiator pits, but it hurt a little that Click thought he needed protection. He could have killed Megatron if he wasn’t looking for answers about why the Decepticons were so interested in Click.

“Tracks.” Click simply said making Hound wince.

“Tracks is a fellow Autobot. I couldn’t exactly stop him with violence. . . even if that is how it ended.” He should probably apologize to Tracks for that soon, but the thought of seeing him again in that paint and with that accent made Hound sick.

“Hound stopped Tracks but was hurt. Now no one will try and hurt Hound like that. No one wants to upset Caretaker.” Click looked so proud when he said that.

Hound fondly shook his head. “You do know that some people might target us for our connection to Megatron, right?” It was often easier to attack people close to someone important or strong than to attack the person themselves. He doubted that the Autobots or Decepticons would so blatantly try and destroy the peace like that, but Jazz was right. The neutrals who fled the war were a threat.

“Caretaker will beat them.” Click said getting a chuckle out of Hound.

“You do know that we won’t always be with Megatron, right?”

“Why not? Caretaker and Hound are courting, and Caretaker loves Hound.”

Hound stumbled. Megatron loved him? Sure, Hound could understand a crush, but love? It was way too fast for him to be in love with him. They barely knew each other!

Click must have realized what Hound was thinking because he protested, “Caretaker does love Hound.”

“Did you get that from your mind reading?” Hound asked, trying to calm down.

“Yeah, but it’s obvious just watching Caretaker. He never acts like that around anyone else, even the other gladiators he likes.”

Hound could admit Megatron was. . . soft around him. It would have been hard to imagine Megatron acting like that if he hadn’t seen it himself. But was that enough to say he was in love with Hound? People also acted differently around their crush.

“Well, whatever he feels there’s no need to rush. We have the rest of our lives to work through it.” Hound decided.

“Then we can move in with Caretaker?” Click asked.

“I. . . maybe?”

Hound hadn’t actually spent much time thinking about where he’d live after the war. He assumed that he’d either move back in with Nightbeat or go back to living on his own depending on the housing situation after the war. He never made any real plans though. With the war soon to be over there would be no reason for him not to live with Megatron—well, no reason other than how much it would worry his friends. Most lifelong partners lived together too.

“I’ll think about it.” Hound acquiesced.

Click leaned against Hound’s side and whispered, “I want to live with Hound and Caretaker.”

Hound melted at Click’s admission. Rubbing his thumb soothingly against Click’s back Hound said, “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything until the war is officially over.”

“Why not.” Click whined.

“Because I’m an Autobot and he’s a Decepticon. We’ve been at war for a long time. I can’t start planning after the war only for my hopes to be crushed when the peace talks fall apart and we start fighting again.” Hound admitted. He probably should have waited until the peace was finalized to accept Megatron’s courtship offer as well.

“Why can’t Hound become a Decepticon? Caretaker would be happy if Hound joined.”

“All my friends are here. I can’t just leave them.” He was never leaving his pack for anything. Pack came first. Always.

“Hound’s friends can come too.”

Hound chuckled. “They’d never join the Decepticons. They’re loyal people, that’s why I like them so much, and their loyalty is to the Autobots. They’d just try and bring me back if I left.” They’d never leave, not with how important they were to the Autobots. Prowl and Jazz were literally the Autobots’ second and third in command—they’d never betray what they fought so hard for, and Hound would never betray them by leaving.

“They should be loyal to Hound.” Click grumbled.

“They are, that’s why they’d try and get me back. I don’t think you need to worry about it though. The peace treaty looks like it will go through since both sides really want this to work. And even if we don’t end up living with Megatron afterwards I’ll make sure we see him lots.”

Click looked up at Hound with wide optics. Hound felt his spark turn to goo from how cute Click looked.

“You promise?” Click asked.

“I promise.”

Click nodded. “Good.” He said before curling against Hound’s side.

They fell into silence after that as Hound kept walking to their room. Unfortunately, the peace couldn’t last when another mech walked into the hall. The other mech perked up when he noticed Hound and walked over.

Hound cursed his luck. He had hoped that he and Click would be able to make it back to their room without being interrupted, even without his senses to guide him away from everyone. He was not feeling up to talking to anyone—especially this specific person—after the long meeting he just had with Megatron and Jazz.

He could already tell this wasn’t going to be a quick conversation either. And Hound couldn’t just tell him to frag off like he wanted to because that would be rude.

But Hound was tired. He just wanted to crawl into his den and cuddle with Click and whichever friend joined him this time as he recharged.

He didn’t want to be nice and social.

Not with this mech.

Especially not now when he was exhausted.

“Hound! What are you doing over here?” Powerglide called as he strutted over to him. Hound tried to hide his wince at Powerglide’s grating voice. Hound knew that Powerglide was a fine mech, if a bit arrogant about his flying skills (not that there were many other flying Autobots to compare him with), but something about his voice just hurt Hound’s audials. It was normally fine, but now that Hound was tired the sound grated at his processor.

Hound shot Powerglide what he hoped looked like a smile and not a grimace. “Hi Powerglide. I was just heading back to my room; it’s time for Click to recharge.”

Powerglide unfortunately didn’t hear Hound’s unspoken, “so leave me alone,” and instead leaned over to look at Click.

“He looks fine to me.” Powerglide said studying Click.

Hound fought the instinctive urge to puff up and growl at Powerglide to give them some space. He didn’t like how close Powerglide was to Click. He and Powerglide weren’t even friends. They were passing acquaintances at most.

Unaware of what Hound was thinking Powerglide straightened up and asked, “So, you want to hang out with me and some of my friends?”

“Sorry, I’m a little busy right now.” Hound said.

“You can drop your sparkling off before coming if that’s what your worried about. Most of us haven’t seen you since you brought Click over to the canteen.”

“I’m not just going to leave Click alone!” Hound protested.

Click, who was content leaning against Hound’s side watching Powerglide talk, glared at the other mech and snapped, “*Click* stays with Hound!”

Startled by Click suddenly shouting at him Powerglide backed away, placatingly raising his servos. “Hey, calm down pipsqueak. There’s no need to be upset.”

“Hound stays with *click*” Click repeated as he clung to Hound’s side.

“You can both go if you want.” Powerglide said.

“Click really needs to recharge. I can’t hang out right now.” Hound firmly said leaving out the fact that he also needed to recharge. Apparently now that he was on a regular recharge schedule he also started feeling tired when it got close to his recharge time.

“Come on Hound don’t be like that. Relax and have some fun.” Powerglide said.

Hound sighed. “I really can’t right now. I’m not leaving Click alone. Maybe later.”

If Powerglide’s mouth wasn’t covered by a face plate Hound was sure he’d be frowning. “Are you sure? No one would mind you bringing your sparkling.”

Hound had to fight to keep the grimace off his face. Why couldn’t Powerglide accept no for an answer and leave. “I am, thanks for offering though.”

“Powerglide’s brows furrowed for a moment before they smoothed out. “Okay, but you can stop by when you’re free. We’d be happy to see you.”

“I’ll try. See you later Powerglide.” Hound said before starting to walk back to his and Click’s room.

As soon as Powerglide was out of sight Click scowled up at Hound. “Do we have to see Powerglide later? He’s loud.”

Hound sighed. “He’s a decent mech, if a bit proud. But no, we don’t have to.”

Good.” Click said getting a chuckle out of Hound.

“Do you hate Powerglide that much? You’ve only met once before, and he’s not a bad mech.”

“Powerglide sounds annoying and bothered Hound when Hound wanted to be left alone.”

Hound groaned. “He did, but Powerglide really isn’t a bad mech. I just wish he wouldn’t push so much whenever I decline his offers to hang out. I know a lot of people do that; Jazz explained it to me once. Sometimes people invite you to something just to be nice and don’t actually want you to come so it’s polite to refuse once. If they insist on you coming then you know they actually wanted to invite you.”

“But Hound didn’t want to go.”

“I didn’t, but some people unfortunately won’t accept no without an actual reason for why you won’t come. Saying that I don’t want to hang out with them sounds mean, and some people also don’t accept ‘not feeling up to it’ as an answer. So I’ll usually say I have patrol if I don’t want to hang out with someone—it was true a lot of the time too, and whenever it wasn’t true Prowl covered for me if they ever asked. Although, I suppose I can’t use that as an excuse now.”

“Hound can always use *click* as an excuse.” Click said.

“I probably will—oh we’re here.” They finally made it to their room. Walking in Hound saw Prowl sitting at the desk looking down at a datapad with a frown.

“I didn’t realize you were my cuddle buddy tonight.” He would have expected Prowl to be too busy with them in the middle of making peace with the Decepticons.

Prowl’s head jerked up when Hound started talking. Setting the datapad down on the table Prowl walked over to Hound and started looking him over. “I expected you to be here klicks ago. Jazz commed me when he started escorting Megatron out and it shouldn’t have taken you so long to get back to your room. Did something happen?”

Hound sighed. “I was waylaid by Powerglide on the way here.”

Prowl’s frown turned concerned. “Powerglide? Did he do anything?”

“Powerglide kept asking Hound out.” Click blurted out.

Prowl froze, his tone turning glacial, “He what?”

“Not like that!” Hound rushed to say when he realized how Click’s statement could be interpreted. “He was just trying to invite me to hang out with him and his friends.”

Prowl relaxed at Hound’s reassurances. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I just want to recharge and not deal with anyone else.” Hound grumbled.

“Then let’s get you into your den. Do you want me to hold Click while you crawl in?” Prowl asked, guiding Hound over to the den set up on his berth. Prowl’s servo pressed against his back was so gentle. Hound relaxed at the touch.

“You go in first. I’ll crawl in with Click after you.” Hound said.

He mourned the loss of Prowl’s comforting servo as the other mech crawled into his den, but as soon as he settled in Hound crawled in after him. Hound collapsed into the safety that radiated from his den. He scooched back until he was leaning against Prowl who pulled him into a hug.

A contented purr easily escaped from Hound as he practically melted in Prowl’s arms.

He thinks Prowl asked him something, but Hound couldn’t understand it. His processor too muddled as he slipped into recharge.

Chapter Text

Hound woke up to Prowl explaining why well-written reports were important to Click.

"Having fun?" Hound mumbled

Click let out a few happy little clicks and nuzzled against Hound's chest.

"Yes. You?" Prowl asked.

"Feels nice in here. How long was I recharging?" Hound asked

Prowl's thumb began to soothingly rub back and forth against the base of Hound's neck. Hound practically melted into the touch with a purr. "You were recharging for only a few hours. I was wondering if we could go through everything you know soon, just to make sure we aren't missing any important information."

Hound leaned back against Prowl. Jazz had mentioned Prowl wanted to do that. "Sure. It's not something Click should hear though." He'd probably end up talking about his time with Proteus because he heard everything that went on in the manor. It wasn't the sort of thing he wanted Click to hear.

Click puffed up offended by Hound's statement. "*Click* can handle it. *Click* wants to hear."

"It doesn't matter if you can handle it. This is a private conversation between me and Prowl. ls there someone you'd prefer to stay with while we talk? Any of my friends would be happy to have you, and I know you' re still working through that book with Nightbeat."

Click pouted. "*Click* wants to stay with Hound."

"We can be together for the rest of the day when l'm done, but this conversation is just for me and Prowl."

"Fine." Click whined, flopping against Hound. "Nightbeat and *click* will finish story."

"Are you enjoying the story?" Hound asked.

Click's face was buried into Hound's side when he nodded. His voice was muffled when he said, "*Click* is going to catch the perpetrator before the detective finds them. Nightbeat is teaching *click* to be a great detective."

"If Nightbeat is the one teaching you l'm sure you'll succeed." Prowl said.

Click's head jerked up to stare at Prowl. "Prowl thinks so?"

"I do. Nightbeat is an amazing detective, and anyone would be lucky to be taught by him."

"He's a good teacher. He's the one who taught me." Hound added.

"Nightbeat is the best." Click declared.

"That he is." Hound said. "Now, why don't we get up and see if Nightbeat can watch you today."

"If I remember correctly he should be free all day today. Since I just have data work to do today I can do our meeting at any time." Prowl said

"Hmm, I don't have any preferences for when we meet, so do you have a preferred time Click? Ah, wait, you're meeting Rung tonight, Did you want me there for that?"

"Rung? Who's that?" Prowl asked, his brows furrowing.

"He's the therapist that everyone forgets. Oh, that's right, did Optimus ever meet with him? I know he said he was going to, but then we got distracted by saving Hot Rod and he might have forgotten about it."

"I. . . don't actually know. We should probably ask. You should be there to make sure we don't forget again."

"For the meeting? I don't think that's something I should be there for."

"Wha—oh no. I know you're not comfortable with that sort of thing. I was thinking you could make sure Optimus doesn't forget about Rung before meeting him, you wouldn't have to stay for the meeting"

"*Click* wants Hound for meeting Rung." Click spoke up

"Hmm, what do you think about this? We get you to Nightbeat now and then make sure Optimus has his meeting with Rung. Then Prowl and I have our meeting, and I pick you up when it's over. We'll spend the rest of the day together after that, and when you have your meeting with Rung l'll stay outside the room like the first time you met him. I won't hear whatever you talk about, but I'll hear you if you call for help. How does that sound?" Hound suggested

Click's face scrunched up in thought. "Fine. But Hound stays with *click* tomorrow."

"That's fine with me. I don't have anything to do tomorrow since I see Rung two days after you. What do you think Prowl?"

"Optimus is open to seeing people now. It sounds good to me." Prowl said.

"Great. Now, let's get you to Nightbeat." Hound said, scooping Click up a and crawling out of his den. While he was waiting for Prowl to leave the den Hound commed Nightbeat.

::Hey Nightbeat, could you watch Click for me for a few hours?::

He didn't even have to wait as Nightbeat instantly responded, ::Of course, I'm free today. When can I expect you?::

::Prowl and I are going to head over now. We'll probably be talking for a few hours, but I'll be back before Click meets his therapist tonight. Click wants to read with you again.::

::I can do that. I'll see you soon::

ProwI made it out of the den by the time they finished talking. It was a quick walk to Nightbeat's room. They passed by several people on the way, but all it took was one glare from Prowl for them to run away.

"You know, everyone's going to think you're in a bad mood today." Hound said.

Prowl snorted. "Would you prefer for me to allow them to bother you? Besides, I'm always in a bad mood."

"Oh, Primus no. Everyone's just going to do their best to avoid you now."

Prowl smirked. "I know. I act like this on days I don't want to be bothered. If everyone thinks l'm in a bad mood they'll actually bother to fix their messes instead of bringing all their problems to me like I'm their sparkling sitter."

Hound chuckled. "Well, that's one way to make people behave. Who else knows?"

"Jazz, and now you and Click. Can you keep it a secret Click?" Prowl said.

Click giggled. "*Click* is a great secret keeper. *Click* will tell no one."

"Good."

"Can *click* scare mechs like Prowl?" Click asked.

"Not until you're bigger. It's a matter of reputation. Everyone is liable to coo over you and try and make you feel better if you act upset because you're a sparkling. Why?"

Click scowled. "Everyone bothers Hound. *Click* wants to make them stop bothering Hound."

"Unfortunately, you're a little too cute. If you act out they'll start paying more attention to the two of you instead of less."

"That isn't something you need to worry about either." Hound added. "They don't bother me too much, and I'm sure the worst of it will pass soon."

"But Powerglide—"

""Didn't do anything wrong." Hound finished, interrupting Click. "I was tired and find his voice to be irritating, yes. But none of that is his fault. "I can understand being upset at Tracks and Brainstorm for what they did, but Powerglide doesn't deserve it."

"But Hound didn't like it." Click protested.

"I didn't," Hound agreed, "but that doesn't mean Powerglide did anything wrong. I would have been upset at anyone who was there—no matter how they acted—because I was tired and didn't want to deal with anyone. But, Powerglide was just being friendly and doesn't deserve to be hated for that."

Click scowled, but stopped arguing. Hound was worried about how defensive of him Click felt he had to be. Click was still a sparkling, he shouldn't feel the need to fight someone on Hound's behalf. It wasn't even something that Hound would let his friends fight on his behalf for. There was a difference between annoying and harmful, and Powerglide was decidedly in the annoying category.

"Ah, we made it to Nightbeat's room." Hound said, knocking on the door.

Nightbeat was there in seconds, bending over to look at Click and ask, "I heard you're staying with me for a bit. How are you feeling?"

Click pouted "*Click* wants to stay with Hound, but Nightbeat is good."

Nightbeat smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Can I hold you?"

"Yes." Click said, holding his arms up to Nightbeat.

Nightbeat picked up Click and set the sparkling on his side like Hound did. "I heard you wanted to finish our book."

"*Click* does." Click said, leaning against Nightbeat's side.

Fondly smiling at Click, Nightbeat said, "Then that's what we'll do. hope you two have a good meeting.

"Thank you. Have fun with Nightbeat, Click." Hound said.

"*Click* will. Hound be back soon." Click said.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Hound promised

With Click now being watched by someone Hound trusted, their next stop was Optimus' office

"Are you sure he won't mind us interrupting his work?" Hound asked.

Prowl snorted. "He'll love us walking in with something else for him to do. I know for a fact that Optimus dislikes datawork and would welcome the distraction. Besides, this is important. He'd never be upset because someone needed to tell him something important.

Hound nodded. "Well, you're the one who knows him."

"I do. If he has forgotten. . . uh. . . what's his name again?"

"Rung." Hound reminded Prowl.

"Right, if Optimus forgot about Rung he'll appreciate the reminder. And if he already had his meeting with Rung he'll be happy that you cared enough to check.

They fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the walk to Optimus' office, Prowl's glare keeping anyone from approaching them.

Reaching Optimus' office Prowl sharply knocked on the door. "Optimus, it's Prowl. I'm here with Hound; we need to talk to you about something."

"Come in." Optimus called through the door. Optimus was looking up from his data pad towards them when they walked in. "What's so important that you needed to see me Prowl?" Optimus asked

Prowl set his servo on Hound's back. "Go on, you tell Optimus."

"Me? Why do I have to be the one to ask him?" Hound hissed. He thought that Prowl would be the one to ask. He's the one who worked with Optimus all the time after all.

"Because you're the one who brought it up. I told you Optimus wouldn't be upset by your

question." Prowl said

"You can bring any concerns you have to me." Optimus warmly added.

"I. . . It's not really a concern. I was just wondering if you had that meeting with Rung yet. It's just—we got distracted with saving Hot Rod right after the meeting where you said you'd talk to him. . ." Hound awkwardly trailed off. Was he saying too much? Too little?

"Rung?" Optimus asked, his brows furrowing in confusion

"Yeah. He's the therapist everyone forgets that we think may have been the first Cybertronian." Hound clarified.

Optimus' expression cleared. "Ah, yes, him. Thank you for reminding me Hound. I'll schedule a meeting between us. l should add Perceptor as well, you said he was studying why everyone forgets Rung?"

Hound relaxed as Optimus didn't look like he was upset. He couldn't say for certain what Optimus was feeling without being able to sense his EM field, but if Hound had to guess what Optimus was feeling it would be happy.

"He is. I'm sure he'd love to share his theories with you." Hound said. Perceptor loved sharing his theories with anyone that listened. Hound didn't understand what Perceptor was talking about half the time, but he was always happy to lend a listening audial to his friend

"That does sound like Perceptor." Optimus warmly said, looking down at his datapad. "I sent a message to both of them asking them to come here in a breem, Thank you for reminding me Hound."

Hound ducked his head at the praise. "You don't have to say that."

"I don't but it's the truth. So, thank you for reminding me Hound."

"I told you Optimus wouldn't be upset by you asking." Prowl said

"Why would I ever be upset by that?" Optimus asked, completely baffled

"Because you're busy." Hound answered. He knew Optimus wasn't like the senators. Like Sentinel Prime. But important people hated being interrupted when they were busy.

"I'm never too busy to listen to my people's concerns. I understand you're friends with Jazz and Prowl and you can talk to them when you're worried, but you should never be worried about bringing your concerns to me as well."

"I'II remember that." Hound weakly said.

"Great. Now, do you need anything else?" Optimus asked.

"No. I'm good." Hound rushed to say.

"We'll see about that. Hound's going to tell me everything else he knows and never bothered telling anyone about. We might have several new crises to take care of by the end of the day knowing the other things he never bothered telling anyone." Prowl said, his servo on Hound's back migrating to
become an arm around his shoulders.

"I would have told you something that important earlier once I realized you didn't know Cybertron was dying." Hound protested.

"You would share that if you knew it was important, but you might not realize how important Some of your information is." Prowl said. "Now, unless you have anything for us I have a meeting with Hound to start."

The corners of Optimus' optics crinkled in a smile. "Go, have fun at your meeting."

Prowl didn't bother giving Optimus a response as he pulled Hound out of his office. "Now that our errands are delt with let's get to the fun part."

"Are you sure you want to call our meeting fun?" Hound asked. He could tell it was going to last most of the day, and day long meetings weren't his definition of fun.

"Of course it's going to be fun. I'll be spending most of the day talking with you." Prowl said.

Well, if you put it like that it sounded nice.

Chapter Text

Prowl pulled out his nice chair for Hound before sitting down at his desk and pulling out a data pad.

“So, what do you want me to share? I know lots of things, and we’d be here for orns if I tried to go through everything.” Hound asked as he sat down.

Prowl’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Well, I think it’s best to start with things only you would know. Not necessarily secrets, but things no one else would be able to notice without sensors like yours. I’m confident in our information gathering, so that’s the most important stuff for us to know.”

There wasn’t a lot of things that Hound could say he was the only one to know about. Most of the secrets he knew belonged to other people—he just happened to notice them. Like Jazz and Prowl being conjunxed, or the fact that Jazz and Ricochet were playing at being the same person. Jazz kept a lot of secrets, it was part of his line of work. There was one thing he could think of that only he would know about. He noticed it recently and was trying to figure out if he should ask Prowl about it before he found Click and it slipped his mind with everything that happened after that.

“There’s a Cybertronian ship crashed below New York City. It’s old and based on how it’s buried I’d say it was crashed intentionally.” The ship looked like it crashed straight down into the planet at a high speed with how deeply it was buried despite the ship staying relatively intact. It was completely different from how the Arc landed in it’s crash.

“What can you tell me about it?” Prowl ordered.

Hound began listing off what he knew about the ship—from its size to the materials it was made of to it’s general shape. As he spoke Prowl frantically looked through his datapad, looking for a ship that matched the description.

It took Prowl a few klicks to find what he was looking for. “I think I know what ship is crashed under New York. It’s the Proudstar, the ship Nova Prime left Cybertron on. We need to send people to look over the wreckage immediately.”

“Is it dangerous?” Hound asked in alarm. The ship seemed dead to him, which was why he didn’t bother bringing it up when he first noticed it. But the ship was located under a human city. If something did go wrong it could kill thousands of humans easily, they were too fragile to handle much danger.

“Potentially—it was fueled by plasma energy which Is highly unstable, and we know longer know how to harness it safely. However, more importantly Nova Prime brought the Ferrotaxis with him. It contains much of our lost culture and technology from the Golden Age.”

Hound didn’t really get why that made the Ferrotaxis important other than how happy Perceptor would be with all the new (old?) science it contained. But if Prowl thought this all was important then it was important.

“So, you’re going to send some people to investigate?” Hound asked.

Prowl nodded. “Yes. It’s too valuable and potentially dangerous to leave alone for the humans to stumble on. But,” Prowl frowned, “now that we’re making peace with the Decepticons we’ll have to involve them with this in some way. I can only hope it doesn’t cause a fight.”

“Why would it cause a fight?” Hound asked. Megatron seemed reasonable to him, and the Decepticons followed his lead. Besides, it was just a ship.

“Because they might see the Ferrotaxis as a symbol of the old corrupt government they started the war to destroy, and that retrieving it would signal its return.”

“Just because we have the Ferrotaxis doesn’t mean we’ll rebuild the old government. The Decepticons might have been more violent about it, but we opposed the old government as well.” Hound pointed out. “Besides, I’m sure they’ll understand why we don’t want humans finding it. It’s in the middle of one of the United State’s largest cities—there’s no way the Proudstar staying hidden forever. I’m actually kind of surprised the humans haven’t found it yet.”

Prowl suddenly groaned, burying his face in his servos. “We’re going to have to work with the humans for this. I can already tell it’s going to be a pain.”

Hound winced. “Are they really that bad? I thought we liked humans. Sparkplug, Spike, and Carly are nice.”

“I do like humans, but I’m going to have to talk to their government to coordinate this. I hate working with the government, and I doubt they’re going to like this either. Some of them are undoubtably going to try and claim that the Proudstar belongs to them because it’s under their city. Those types are too interested in our weapons for my comfort, and the humans could accidentally do irreparable damage to this planet with the Proudstar.”

“Prowl, is the ship a weapon?” Hound hissed, leaning forward.

“Not a traditional one. Hound, what do you know about the Proudstar, about Nova Prime’s mission?” Prowl asked.

Hound shrugged. “Basically nothing. I know he left Cybertron, leaving the Matrix to his successor who was apparently the first false Prime. But other than that, nothing.” He never paid much attention to history and people that were long dead.

Prowl frowned. “Nova Prime’s mission was Cybertronian expansion. He found uninhabited worlds and cyberformed them to be perfect planets for Cybertronian colonies and outposts. Those cyberformed planets are the same ones the neutrals and remaining senators fled to once the fighting started. If the humans were left alone with the Proudstar they could start its cyberforming protocols and make this planet uninhabitable for them. And even if they could survive on a cyberformed planet, the process itself would kill most of them. It would kill any of us that are on Earth when it happens.”

Hound saw how that could be dangerous. “Do you expect the humans would realistically be that much of a threat?”

His question made Prowl pause. His doorwings twitched while he was deep in thought. Hound stayed quiet, letting Prowl go through whatever simulations his tac net was running.

“No.” Prowl finally said. “The humans legally can’t gain ownership of the Proudstar—everything of Cybertronian origin legally belongs to us. They won’t obviously fight us about it. They might send spies to investigate the Proudstar, but we can handle them. The Proudstar being here is a complication, but it’s one we can handle. I’ll talk to hmm. . . the mayor of New York City might be best. I’ll talk to him, get the area cleared out, and send a team to investigate.”

Prowl gave Hound a datapad with a map of New York City. “Can you draw where the Proudstar is?”

“Sure.” Looking through his memories Hound did the mental math to figure out where the Proudstar was. Going from where the Proudstar was in relation from him while in New York he began drawing a general outline.

Giving the map back to Prowl Hound said, “It’s pretty deep down, but it should be in the area I outlined.”

Prowl looked over the map with a keen optic. “We’ll probably have to leave the Proudstar there, but we should be able to enter it without destroying any buildings and take anything important. I’ll get this sorted when we’re done here.”

“I guess you were right earlier.” Hound joked.

Prowl looked at Hound in confusion. “Right about what?”

“That I’d give you more crises to deal with. I thought it was just a ship that crashed here thousands of vorns ago. Didn’t realize it could cause such a mess.”

Giving Hound a wry smile Prowl said, “That’s why I wanted to go through it with you. I’m made to notice things that will become issues if left as is and to deal with them efficiently. I see connections no one else can.”

“I’d bet Jazz loves that.” Hound honestly said, trying to distract Prowl from the darker places his processor turned to when he talked about how he was made.

It worked. Prowl softened at his comment, cheeks darkening with a blush. “It’s one of his favorite things about both of us.”

“It. . . is?”

“Come on Hound, you’re the definition of observant, and you can tell whenever Jazz is plotting something.”

“Yeah, but I can’t put those details together like you can. I didn’t even realize the Proudstar—”

“Hound.” Prowl sharply said, cutting Hound off.

“Yes?” Hound meekly asked.

Prowl reached over his desk and gently cradled Hound’s face, tilting his head so he was looking at Prowl. “I will not listen to you badmouth yourself. I was built to handle things like this and have hundreds of vorns of experience. I doubt that most other mechs would be able to realize what a mess the Proudstar’s situation can become. I don’t blame you for not realizing it either.”

Logically Hound knew Prowl was right. There was a reason why he was the Autobot’s SIC. But that didn’t stop Hound from feeling bad about not even trying to bring the ship to Prowl’s attention. It was just—Prowl was so busy, and Hound didn’t want to distract him from his important work. The ship had been there for so long, he didn’t think it would matter if they left it there for a while longer.

“Hound.”

“Yes, Prowl?”

“Do you want to keep going today?” Prowl asked, every inch of his body language radiating concern.

“Of course I can keep going. We only talked about one thing.”

Prowl frowned. “I’m sure you can, but do you want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Hound asked.

“I upset you. Most people don’t want to finish a meeting when they’re upset.”

“Wha—you’re not the one who upset me!” Hound protested.

“Aren’t I? You only got so upset because you were talking to me.”

“I upset myself.” Hound bluntly said. He was the one who brought up the topic in the first place. “And I do want to finish this. Or, at least, I think there’s something I should probably tell you about.”

“What’s so important?” Prowl asked.

“Well, I just realized you might want to know what I know about the senators.” At Prowl’s confused look Hound clarified, “I heard a lot of things that you might find useful.”

Prowl furrowed his brows. “Why would they let you into their meetings?”

“They didn’t. I listened in on them. I thought you might find it interesting because some of them are still alive in the colonies.”

They were the only meetings Proteus never brought him to, for security concerns if he had to guess. Proteus may have insisted Hound was his pet, but he was well aware Hound wasn’t some dumb beast. Hound listened to all of them. He may not have understood the deals they were making, the implications in what they said, but he still remembered every word. Now Prowl would be able to actually make those long groons spent listening in fear, listening for a single hint of what Proteus planned to do with him, worth it.

“You know their backroom deals?” Prowl asked. He was eagerly leaning forward, waiting for Hound’s response.

“I only heard what happened in Proteus’ manor, and only for the vorn I was there.” Hound prefaced, “But yes.”

“It doesn’t matter if your information is outdated. Knowing what their alliances back then were would help me figure out their current structuring. How well do you remember everything?”

“Perfectly. If my vocalizer could mimic people like Jazz can, I could recite their conversations word for word, including their inflections.”

Prowl’s lips curved up in a manic grin. “That’s perfect. Let’s go through what you know by person, and we’ll see how far we get before you need to pick up Click. Now, to start with, what do you know about Clampdown?”

Hound’s smile matched Prowls as he started talking. Yes, Prowl was going to use this information well.

Chapter Text

When Hound left to bring Click to his therapy session Prowl waited for a klick, just to be sure Hound wouldn’t hear, before burying his head in his servos and groaning. The next few days were going to be a pain. He could already tell. Prowl was going to be busy dealing with the Proudstar, and he knew the humans would take that chance to bombard him with questions about their peace treaty with the Decepticons.

Prowl didn’t know how much he could—should share. Because discussions of Cybertron’s past would easily lead to an explanation of the Senate that he didn’t want to share with the humans. No need to give the worst of their politicians inspiration. They were capable enough of horrific acts all on their own.

Maybe he just shouldn’t let them know that they knew which ship exactly it was. Every ship of that size that was missing was from the Golden Age and they all used plasma energy which was unstable and dangerous enough to destroy an entire city. They would have to take care of it, even if it wasn’t the only reason they wanted to get into the Proudstar.

Even with knowledge of that incoming helm ache Prowl couldn’t push away the excitement at the other information Hound shared with him.

That being the most comprehensive map of the senators’ allegiances, rivalries, and holdings that Prowl had ever seen. It was better than the one Prowl made when he was actively working to undermine the Senate before the war wiped most of them out. Most of what Prowl figured out was collaborated by Hound’s accounts, but being able to listen to their inner dealings meant Hound knew so much more.

It was outdated, yes, but it was a solid foundation to help Prowl figure out how they changed since the war—and more importantly, how to exploit their weaknesses. Prowl’s tac net was already full of plans on how to turn the senators against each other. To destabilize the colonies with the least risk to the Autobots (and Decepticons) and civilians from those colonies.

Optimus would never agree to it. Too many civilian casualties in the chaos for him. But Optimus would never agree to a simple assassination either. It was one of the things Prowl liked most about Optimus, but it also made dealing with outside threats difficult.

It was infuriating how Optimus refused to do anything about the colonies, saying that mechs deserved a place to avoid the war and interfering with them would just make the civilians a target. Privately, Prowl thought that drawing the Decepticon’s ire would be better than living under the rule of the remaining senators. It was something Prowl had discussed with Jazz many times—the senators could not be allowed to have a servo in shaping Cybertron’s future. Not again. Not after everything they’d gone through under those very same mechs.

Optimus would happily allow the colonies to join their efforts to rebuild Cybertron. As the ones with all the resources and money the senators were the rules of the colonies. That meant that they were the ones helping shape the new Cybertron which Prowl couldn’t allow.

He would talk to Jazz about making the senators start infighting soon.

But before that he needed to inform Optimus of the Proudstar being buried under New York City.

He knew Optimus would agree with his plans for the Proudstar. After getting the Prime’s approval he would either contact the mayor or inform the Decepticons. Thinking through it logically, he should inform the Decepticons first, so he knew how involved they wanted to be with this. That way he could answer that for the mayor when they talked. He didn’t want to scare everyone by letting the Decepticons show up with no warning.

Okay, he had a plan. Optimus, Decepticons, then the mayor.

Knowing Optimus should still be in his office he went straight there. Knocking on the door Prowl announced himself and Optimus called him in.

“How was your meeting?” Optimus warmly asked as Prowl walked in and sat down in front of him.

“Enlightening.” Prowl dryly said. “Turns out I have a new problem that needs to be delt with as soon as possible.”

That peaked Optimus’ interest. “Explain.”

“The Proudstar—it’s here on Earth under New York City.”

“That certainly is a situation. I assume you already have a plan?”

“We can’t excavate the Proudstar, not now when we haven’t been able to dig our Arc out of the mountain. And it’s deep under the city, but large enough that I worry about the area’s stability if we do remove it.”

“But?” Optimus prodded.

“But we need to remove what we can from the ship and destroy its systems so the humans can’t use it.” Prowl finished.

“Come now Prowl, isn’t that a little extreme?”

“The Proudstar was made to cyberform planets. You know this. I am not risking that ship accidentally turning on and killing us all while cyberforming Earth. Let alone the risks involved in the plasma core activating and destroying the entire city.”

Optimus winced. “I can see why that may be necessary.”

“I was planning on coming the Decepticons and figuring out what they want to do before calling the mayor since I know he will ask about it.”