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Toasty, it was very toasty, emotionally he did in fact feel like the finest piece of bread possible, sliced pre-packaged and tucked away in a grocery store. Only to be bought, the package ripped open and a slice dropped in between wire coils that burned and cooked the outside. Waiting for a slab of butter to be bread on top of him and lathered in. What did butter taste like?
Why was he so hot?
Thunderclash cracked open his optic, blinking and focusing on the world around him, it was dull, the soft light that ran along the floor, meant to be a guiding light. It was a soft pink, and filled his berthroom with a peach glow. That was normal.
Still, why was it so hot in here?
He took in a moment, letting his frame come back to the land of the living, twitching his peds first, then his digits, and then he shifted his thigh.
“Mmm,” Much smaller digits traced his inner thigh.
He gasped, widening optics as his sensitive planting was toyed with, he buzzed with energy, he was alert in two seconds.
THWAM!
Now he really was alert as his thigh was slammed back down into his berth with a solid thud. Which really shouldn’t be a surprise, all the racer had to do was laugh, or wink and Thunderclash melted. If only he could sweep Thunderclash off his feet.
“No.” A grumbly voice snapped in the middle of berth. “5 more minutes,”
Thunderclash let his helm collapse back onto the plush pillow, really feeling the heat radiate on top of him. Now it was making sense, the exhaustion in his frame, the lag in his processor and the literally burning mech that thought he was a suitable berth.
That was something new, new universe, new friendships, and now this. Whatever this was?
Rodimus snored a lot, the captain, the Prime (technically Thunderclash was also a Prime) the person who had 50% control over the Lost Light. And he snored, and talked in his sleep, even walked some times. That wasn’t exactly a fun thing to wake up to, Rodimus hovering over the energon dispenser and holding the button and muttering something about lighting? For a moment Thunderclash might’ve believed in the paranormal.
At least that all happened around the start of their… partnership. Rodimus was more wound up, he had too much energy. Quick short nights turned into long mornings, even whole days off, but all in his hab, all between them, hidden away. Rodimus seemed to settle, his anxiety vanished over the months. Rarely were there days that he got the ping ‘ sorry I can’t make it tonight, but I’ll make up for it’ .
Which was okay.
Rodimus got somewhere he can relax, somewhere cozy and welcoming, even if he had his own hab, his own life. Rodimus always wound up here, on top of him, snoring.
And Thunderclash got… something, whatever this was. He didn’t like to linger on the topic too much. It was better just to ignore it, push all those feelings away, there was no name for this. For all he knew this was just a hookup, no strings, no names, just late nights, and mornings, some whole days, even little sweet notes and kisses when no one was looking. He got something out of this.
He was the piece of bread in a toaster oven.
At least Rodimus was pretty cute, even with his smushed face, cheek acting like a pillow for the rest of his helm, lips open and admittedly there was a fair pool of drool on his chassis. He was strung about like a rag doll, which was funny to wake up with. One arm was thrown up, yellow digits curled around Thunderclash’s collar, the other was resting on top of his thigh, almost possessive. Rodimus was slotted between his legs.
It really was a sight to wake up to.
He resigned to his fate and leant back down, resting his arm over Rodimus' shoulders. “You’re going to be late for your shift.”
”Mmm!” The servo that rested on his thigh jolted up and clasped his arm, jerking it closer and wrapping Thunderclash around him. “Just 5 more minutes.”
15 minutes had already passed.
It didn’t do good to linger, for either of them. Rodimus was going to be late, he needed to wash up, at least a quick shower. The longer he stayed between Thunderclash’s thighs the harder it was for him to not think.
“Rodimus?”
”Ugh, fine, fine.” He propped himself up, his frame cracking reset his optics and yawned, flashing his fangs. “Mornin’” his spoiler twitched and he took in a deep vent, climbing up Thunderclash’s chassis, slipping digits between panels trailing down the gold pinstripes. “Has anyone from your long list of references on your resume ever told you that you’re particularly squeamish?”
“N-not really. You’re the first.”
Rodimus was the first for a lot of things, first crush, first Captain, first person who treated Thunderclash like he was normal.
He leaned in, resting his helm against Thunderclash’s brim with a soft tok sound, Rodimus’ groggy face and sleep optics softened into a lazy smile. “Yea, one day I’ll find out how ticklish you really are.” His engine purred and his cheeks darkened, that handsome smirk spread across his intake making everything buttery.
It was like being in a toaster oven, warm, held gently but it was getting hotter and hotter. Thunderclash grit his denta and fought the urge to give in. He wanted to know, needed to know. Was this another name on a long list of mechs who used him, treated him as if he was the world only to turn around and flash some arrogant achievement? ”Erm Rodimus, I wanted to talk about-“
The comm pinged and Rodimus pouted and rested his helm against Thunderclash’s shoulder, rolling onto his back. “Rodimus here, what’s up?”
What was he thinking? Ask, really ask, get an answer, end this stupid processor loop. Get the answer that would break him in two, accept that it was the only thing mechs wanted out of him. The only thing Rodimus wanted out of him?
Ruin something he really didn’t want to ruin.
Ruin this?!
Better to shut up and just accept this.
Rodimus only wanted him for his frame. Everyone always wanted his frame, his charm, and his fame. Elegant colors was a stupid mistake, or maybe doing what was right was a stupid mistake. Maybe having these sessions with Rodimus was a massively moronic mistake?
“Wait, they made a strength energon? How is that even possible?… yea the minute you said Brainstorm and tried to explain how chemistry works, my processor connected it to magic. I’ll be down in a bit with the regular committee.” He rolled off of Thunderclash.
Instantly he missed the toaster.
He turned towards the shape of Rodimus, only highlighted by the pastel pink under lighting. How many times did he stare at that back, watching him come and go, leave his hab, leave the bar, leave with someone else. Thunderclash bit his lip and sat up, sending the signal to slowly turn on the main lights.
Then he promptly felt all of his energon rush to his face.
Rodimus was more colorful than normal, like he was fighting a rainbow from a 90’s paint factory, and winning.
”Alright I’ll be there in 5-“
“Rodimus.” Thunderclash reached out, grasping Rodimus’ forearm. “Add at least 10, you’re uhhh.”
Rodimus raised an optic ridge and glanced down at his frame, optics doubling and a flush on his face. “Oh, make that 20, I’ll be down in 20, Captain out” he closed the comm and stared at his frame. “What did we do last night?”
”I’d rather not retell, and let my frame properly reboot over time.” There were a few hickies that he was feeling all over, damn those fangs.
“Good enough answer for me, I’ll hop into the wash rack-wait, you wanted to talk about something?” He paused everything, even leaving his leg up midair.
Don't ruin this.
You can't ruin this.
”N-nothing.” He sat back.
Rodimus hit him with a hard look. “If something is bothering you, I’m here to talk. I mean this isn’t a one way street-but you might need time. Thunders,”
Why did he have to use ‘Thunders’, he had no idea what that nickname did to him. His spark felt like a ball of yarn in a box full of kittens.
”Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” He smiled and it was soft and kind. Then with a flick of his spoiler he turned and walked into the wash rack, Thunderclash watched his back, spark burning painfully.
The hiss of water and Rodimus’ special cleanser that always smelled like Fanta soda filled his hab, and he rested back taking in the quiet moment for a minute. It would be nice, maybe he should ask Rodimus what this was? Get a final answer, something, anything. He should just move on, knowing that the longer he let this go the worse it would get.
He really was a piece of bread in a toaster, and the longer he stayed in the toaster, the worse the burns would be.
“Okaaaay, what am I looking at?” He stood back finding a strange sight, something that was normal on the Lost Light. It was all normal on the Lost Light, no matter what! Space whales trying to probe a planet to see if there are still whales on it. Or that weird planet where there were highly intelligent cats that wanted to enslave them. This was normal.
But still something felt off. From the moment he left Thunderclash’s hab, something didn’t seem right, like a pebble stuck in his plating, it nagged at his processor.
Using a single servo Brainstorm was lifting the Magnus armor, which wasn't creepy at all, how the limbs would fling about and the optics were lifeless. Like a puppet, a whole Magnus puppet.
“It seems that Brainstorm has found a solution that temporarily increases a mech's strength,” Minimus filled him in, he was always the first one on the scene, got the whole story and now was skimming over a datapad reviewing the notes that Brainstorm had on this energon mixture.
“But how long does it last?” Megatron leaned down to Minimus’ helm (which was always a funny sight to see, it looked like a teacher helping another student with a math problem), narrowing his optics as he read. “And what uses does this strength conduction have?”
”Anything you want!” Brainstorm practically wiggled tossing the whole very life-like suit from over servo to the other, laughing as he did so.
”The effects aren’t all well known,” Preceptor held up the mixture in his digits, swirling it. “But it’s been an hour and so far there is only one noticeable side effect.”
”Which is?” Minimus and Megatron asked at the exact same time.
Brainstorm kept laughing, giggling and he threw the suit up, so high that it touched the ceiling, then Brainstorm fell back clutching his chassis still laughing, and the suit came crashing down. Preceptor was quicker, he slapped a button attached to a tow chain and with a jolt Brainstorm was yanked back to the workbench and the armor slammed into the floor right where he was. He could’ve been crushed, not dead but hurt for sure.
Yet the jet was still snickering, unbothered by the danger he was in.
”I have no idea what is causing this, but it’s the only flaw I’ve noticed, the laughter dies down but once it starts it takes a few moments to stop.” Preceptor knelt down next to Brainstorm cupping his helm and unclamping his mask, a wide grin spread across Brainstorm’s intake.
His partner slowed, wiping the tears from his optics and sighing falling back against the bench. “I feel great!”
Minimus hummed and leaned down, looking at Brainstorm’s face. “I still want a medic to look over you, which is why Nickel is inbound, it is still a strain on your frame and engine, the strength juice might be giving you extra power for all we know.”
Rodimus stood back as Nickel rolled in holding her medical kit. “I’ll run a full frame scan and I’ll send the reports back to you.”
“Well that’s that, I guess.” He shrugged, great so now they possibly had laughing gas steroids on the ship, hopefully that won’t backfire, which it probably will. “Good work, Brainstorm give me updates on the energon and lets me know if anything changes.” He waved and stepped out of the lab, letting Megatron and Minimus figure out the rest.
He still felt weird.
Rodimus strolled through the Lost Light, slowly making his way towards the bridge, waving to a few friends and nodding to other crewmates. He wanted this to be a new start, literally. This was a chance to start over. Or well keep going, a whole new universe, new worlds, new Cybertron (which they’re staying away from, didn’t want to handle a new Rodimus or a new Megatron). For him it was a personal restart, Drift was back, Ratchet was back, Megatron was back, and he had his ship back. Getaway was handled and the crew seemed to function with ease.
There was trust now, everyone here wanted to be here.
Which settled his own nerves.
How many times did he screw up? How many sparks were snuffed due to his leadership?
Maybe Getaway was right? He was a horrible captain, and a Prime, and didn’t deserve those titles?
Then Thunderclash punched Getaway in the face.
He heard rumors about that, drunken stories that were followed up with ‘cheers’ and some broken glasses. Which at first Rodimus didn’t believe, Thunderclash punched Getaway in the face? That couldn’t be Thunderclash, at least not the Thunderclash Prime that he knew.
Then he saw the footage.
“Save it, “captain,” On behalf of Rodimus and all those we left to die, I’d just like to say:”
THWAK!
And he saw it again, and again. Thunderclash Prime stood up for him? Thunderclash Prime said that? Thunderclash Prime decked Getaway in the face so hard that it damaged Getaway’s face vents?
That shouldn’t have done things to his spark, or his struts, and worst of all, his spoiler, his prized spoiler betrayed him! It wiggled, it danced while the rest of Rodimus' frame was concrete. So yea that anger, that jealousy and loathing vanished. Then he made an effort after seeing Ratchet and Drift grossly making out for the 15th time in public.
Rodimus wanted to try that, really try it, no flings, not just fragging, an honest relationship. So why not go after the walking white whale of the Lost Light’s love life, Thunderclash himself. Surely there weren't other feelings or decisions that pushed Rodimus into this point.
THWAK!
Okay, he really liked seeing that punch.
He stepped onto the bridge, nodded to Blaster and the rest of the crew, some filtered out and some took their seats. Most of the time bridge duty was a lot of reading reports, sitting in the captain’s chair wrong, and a lot of planning. So Rodimus did what he did best, sit in the chair wrong, throwing his legs over the armrest and his helm on the other. Grabbed his own datapad and started reading.
Started reading the wonders of screen brightness and how to not damage optics on their consoles, truly thrilling. Minimus had done it again, over analyzing everything.
And yet as he read there was no escaping that pebble, that tiny little pebble that nudged itself right under his chassis and over his tanks. It wedged there, rolling, a constant nag. Something was off.
What was bothering him? The morning started out as normal as it could've been, curled up on The Greatest Autobot berth ever. Which yeah he didn’t want to wake up when he should’ve, and surely didn’t want to leave, wanted to have 5 more minutes with him. His boyfriend, the pretty hot looking guy who was always so kind and caring, always welcoming when Rodimus wasn’t in the best of moods.
It was easy to slip back into the past, reflect.
His face was black from the scorch marks, which wasn’t too bad, and paired with cherry red optics it did look a bit scary. The energon burns ruined his top coat which really needed a good touch up anyhow. So Rodimus called in a few favors, even if he was technically supposed to be recharging. Drift would handle his shift (in exchange for Rodimus’ secret fishing spots to take Ratchet out on dates) and that left Rodimus with a very crispy Thunderclash.
Thunderclash’s hab would be better, it was closer to the medbay, and it was much cozier. So Rodimus got to work, tucking in the big mech and rushing around while reading the instructions. He got everything, warm energon, some gummies from Swerve’s that the brave war hero loved (no energex), the softest blanket Thunderclash owned (which was a hard choice, the mech hoarded blankets)
“Be honest, how bad is it?” Thunderclash sat up and pointed to his face, then itched at the peeling golden paint. Thunderclash’s whole paint job was ruined in a matter of seconds.
“Like a burnt marshmallow.” Rodimus hummed, pulling a rag from his subspace and safe paint thinner. “Mind if I touch it up?”
He did that, the stupidly cute thing, his optics would brighten, a faint blush, and to top it off the smallest smile. “S-sure.”
YES! Okay so yeah he wanted to touch up Thunderclash’s paint job for ages, and admittedly Thunderclash had a better set of tools and colors then him. Funny thing was that he had shaky servos, really shaky servos. So detailed work wasn’t the best, and Rodimus wanted to fix his decal the moment he noticed it was a little bit off center. He grinned. “Okay I hope you’re snug.”
“It’s that bad?”
He nodded. “But I have all night as long as you can stop squirming, we’ll be just fine.” Rodimus dabbed the cold liquid onto the rag, climbed over Thunderclash’s arm and sat on his chassis. He took a moment to stare down at the cherry optics. It was strange, feeling this way after so many years of flings, short romances, one night stands. His tanks bubbled, not in a gross way but like a can of soda, and his spoiler danced, and worst of all, he couldn’t stop smiling. So Rodimus swallowed and started working on the handsome face, earning soft giggles and twitches. Which was adorable, but frustrating, Thunderclash wouldn’t sit still! “Alright there,” he cupped Thunderclash’s chin, hearing the faint inhale and a soft rumble under his frame. “Hold still.”
That was hot!
Rodimus smirked, he did a good job with Thunderclash’s touch ups, even some line work, it was hilarious having the big mech squirm under him. There was how his laugh could fill a whole room, or how he was always supportive, thoughtful, kind. That was his boyfriend.
His boyfriend wanted to say something this morning.
Rodimus sat up in the chair, dropping his datapad, spark sinking, helm spinning.
“I didn’t kiss him goodbye!”
The bridge paused, some looked over the railing, others gawked.
Rodimus yoinked his datapad off the ground, hiding behind it and avoiding eye contact. Smooth, no one will surely mention this at all, not like he was trying to keep their relationship secret and protected. His totally wonderful boyfriend that he didn’t smooch!
What was he thinking? Not kissing Thunderclash goodbye? It’s Thunderclash, the poor mech had a hard shell and gooey inside, his processor must be all knotted inside because Rodimus didn’t give him a kiss!
The bar was loud, there was a good group of mechs packed in, some were on the dance floor others cluttered the bar or the tables. The music was loud and the party seemed to keep going, and Swerve, poor Swerve seemed to be overworked. At least Misfire and the Scavengers were a huge help, and they did a good job of not mixing up the drinks. Shockingly Grimlock was a great waiter, bartender and cook.
CLINK!
Thunderclash jolted as two drinks were set in front of him, one was an over the top fruity blend of whipped cream energex and gummy fruit, the other was a simple ice and a hard nightmare fuel. “What are these?”
“Goodies, from two mechs that won’t be named,” Swerve leaned in. “Just know that you’ve caught the optics of someone special .” And winked just as he was pulled away, back to work.
The group around him practically swallowed him up, all turning to the drinks in front of him, they gasped.
“Ohhh, someone’s got a crush!”
“Who? Wait, there’s two.”
He listened to their chatter, his ‘little’ friend group, turns out when you get the title ‘Greatest Autobot of all Time’ you tend to be popular, and that comes with a horde of mechs that love to follow you around everywhere. While, not annoying, but frustrating, they were friends, they enjoyed his company, but there were times he wanted to be left alone. To simmer in his own thoughts.
Which that left him with two very different drinks, one would surely give him a helmache and made his tanks turn, maybe a few hours of purging. The other looked like a sweet treat full of strawberry and raspberry gummies and whipped cream, it made his intake water just looking at it. Someone knew his taste, knew what he wanted, and yet he gravitated towards the nightmare fuel, knowing full well his helm would be hurting tomorrow. Grabbing the smaller drink and holding it up.
He really hated nightmare fuel.
“Here,” Thunderclash turned to one of his ‘friends’ “finish this off for me, tanks can’t take it.” His other servo wrapped around the stem of the fruity energex and he pulled it close, taking the spoonful and savoring the bite. It was delicious, vanilla cream with a little bit of caramel then there was the raspberry syrup with the strawberry gummies. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, it was his favorite drink ever! Without even thinking he wiggled his peds, it was just that good!
“Jeez, does someone have a sweet tooth?” Landmine leaned over and grabbed his own drink.
“It’s one of my many, many, flaws, sweets.” He took another bite and leant back, enjoying the taste.
“Never picked you as a sweets kind of mech. After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve seen?”
He shrugged. “That’s the thing, to me it doesn’t matter what I’ve been through. The war, the endless battles, the lives I've met and lost, the horrors, the great acts, all of it. Even if I am a Prime, nothing beats a good sweet treat that reminds you of home.” Thunderclash took another spoon full and gulped it down, letting the spoon hang from his lips, his peds kicked a little under the bar.
“That’s… a good way to look at it.”
“I guess?” He had no idea what Landmine was talking about, either way it was a good little treat.
The bar was pretty crazy, packed, and he wedged himself between mechs and pushed through, eventually getting slammed against the bar. He grunted and grappled at the countertop, his aft finding a stool and plopping on it.
“Swerve, why is this place packed tigther than a sardine tin?”
The owner rushed over, barkened plating under his optics, “Well I figured it would be a good idea to lift the crew's morale, so it’s a mini party, which turned into a bigger party. The good thing is that sales have been booming, buttt next shoreleave we’re going to need to pick up a few shipments, these gummies are great. There’s no way I can keep them in stock.”
Behind the minibot sat a rather large figure, navy blue and a handsome golden face. Which, unlike his waddling of ducklings, he seemed lost, deep in thought. He had no idea what was going on around him, instead he stared off at the floor, pouting.
Which wasn't a good look for his Thunders.
“Speaking of those gummies, mind sending something to someone, on my tab?” He leaned over.
“Oh? Trying to get someone in your berth?” Swerve dropped everything and leaned in. “There’s a lot of lonely sparks tonight, you can get yourself anyone-”
“I’d like to give my boyfriend a treat, you know that raspberry and strawberry cream treat, send him a large one of those.”
Swerve blinked, then started to mix the drink. “But one question, who is your boyfriend?”
“Duh, it’s Thunderclash.”
“THUNDER-!”
Rodimus slapped his servo over Swerve’s intake. “Yea, we’ve been together for awhile, but I know how this ship works. I’d rather not have my personal life blasted all over. Gossip is rampant here, the moment you mention his full name. So mind making this a mystery, no name, but a secret admirer? Buttt knowing him he’ll figure it out.”
The minibot blinked. “Huh, so what’s going on there?” He continued to mix the drink up, only adding a splash of energex.
“Well…I wanted to try something new, no flings, no frags n run, just a real honest relationship. It’s been pretty nice, having something steady, always coming home to someone. And well, you know…”
“Know what?” Swerve grinned.
“Shut up.” Rodimus rolled his optics.
“Fine fine, but I have to ask you something.”
“What?”
“You two are dating, right?”
“Duh, we are.”
“Wanna tell his fans that?” Swerve jabbed his thumb towards Thunderclash, who was still mentally not there. He stared at nothing, lost in his own processor while the pack of bots were a bit too close, and clingy. Their frames squished against Thunderclash’s, servos resting on him, all too touchy.
“That’s-”
One of them practically climbed over another mech and rested their whole frame on Thunderclash. It wasn’t even a slight lean, not a tried lean, no this was a drape, as if the mech’s alt mode was a freaking blanket from Home Goods. Wrapped all around Thunderclash, coiling around him.
That was Rodimus’ job, and he wasn’t even thinking about typing up his 2-week notice.
“Send the drink.” He grumbled, his mood shifting, all he wanted to do was get himself a little something, maybe flirt a bit and head back to Thunderclash’s hab. But now his energon boiled.
“Alright, but umm someone else ordered him a drink too, just so you know.” He held up the cubed glass full of nightmare fuel, then the fruity sweet treat. “I’ll umm give them both to him?”
He hated nightmare fuel, rough time in his learning years with Ratchet, Thunderclash’s face would pale and he’d gag if it was even close to his intake.
“Sure,” Rodimus grumbled and rested his helm against the cool bar top, watching Thunderclash with narrowed optics. What was going on? He wanted this, he really wanted to try this, drop his own self loathing and try a real honest relationship.
Did Thunderclash want this?
Did Thunderclash want him?
Maybe this was all a MASSIVE waste of time.
Both drinks were set in front of his boyfriend. Even if Rodimus was angry, confused, he couldn’t help but blush as Thunderclash perked up. Resetting his optics and staring at the two drinks.
Then his servo reached forward towards the cube, the Nightmare fuel. The one that would make his helm hurt and his tanks turn, the one that he really hated the burn, the lingering taste. Rodimus felt his engine still, then drop out as the cube was picked up.
He vented and shut his optics, closing off the world.
So that was it, Thunderclash. Choose someone else… Now what?
”Hey, hey, hey, captain,” The energetic jet flopped next to him, Brainstorm grinned, even with his face plate, his optics would scrunch up and his wings would flutter. No wonder Preceptor fell for him, the man was like a wiggling dog after a long day of work.
Thunderclash used to look at him that way.
”What’s up?” He turned away from the colorful himbo, the mech who clung to him, the whole mass of parasites that lingered.
Brainstorm held up a small bottle, it shined in the light, the energon had a darker color pallet to it, but shimmered with iron flakes. “Good news, Nickel said that the laughing would be easier to control with iron flakes, and it tastes a bit better. Between you and me it tasted like pre chewed bubble gum. So gross! And the effect lasts for an hour. This is only a test bottle but as my beloved Percy states: refine the experiment over and over until it is perfected. And as much as it pains me, this is still in testing.” He stood proudly, almost waiting for a whole conference room to erupt in applause.
”Huh?”
Brainstorm opened his optics wide, his hopes crashing and burning, he set the bottle down. “You don’t like it?”
”No-no it’s great, I’m just dealing with some personal… relationship stuff, nothing to do with your strong juice. I’m just twisted up inside for all the wrong reasons.”
”Yea, Captain Roddy’s really feeling the blue berries tonight,” Swerve set down a small shot. “On the house.”
He stared at the microscopic cube, his spoiler sinking. “Your generosity is welcomed.”
Swerve waved as he was called again, rushing to another set of customers.
Brainstorm frowned and sat down. “Alright Rodimus, what’s going on?”
He clicked his tongue, normally he would bug Drift about this stuff. That poor mech had his audio talk off when Rodimus first decided to go after Thunderclash, then all the flaws with himself, then deciding not to go after him. Then the push to go after him, the fall back. Finally Rodimus was pushed by Drift to just go after him.
And Drift was off ship with Ratchet doing something with plants? Fun way to say that they were out being nasty.
He folded and jabbed his thumb towards the mass of mechs wrapped around his Thunderclash. “That’s the problem.”
Brainstorm glanced over. “Landmine trying to hook up with Thunderclash? I didn’t think he was your type.”
”Noooo-“
”Joyride?”
”Ugh no-“
”Powerflash, Slapdash, Jackpot?”
”NOPE!” He cupped Brainstorm’s face. “It’s the other way around, my boyfriend, at least who I thought was my boyfriend-“
”Thunder-“
CLAMP!
”-clash?”
Again blast mask, Rodimus pulled his servos away. “Yea.”
“Him? And you? Both, together? Romantically? In an active relationship? Where do you kiss and hold one another? I owe Lotty so much money.” Brainstorm gawked.
“Yea, it’s been a few months, and it’s been good, just light at first, sure some down time, and I’ve been trying to figure out a date night. But I don’t want to take him to a bar we’ve been to a thousand times, something different, something fun. But that’s,” once again he jabbed his digit at Thunderclash and the hordes of mechs. “The problem.”
Brainstorm hummed. “Interesting, you know he’s had a crush on you for years right?”
What? A crush on him? On Rodimus the screw up Prime? Him? Why? He was a joke of a Prime, a useless captain, and a horrible leader. What was so special about him?
”B-but-“ Brainstorm stuttered seeing Rodimus face deflate. “If you’re in a relationship, I’d figured he would be all over you, or at least push away Slapdash, and Powerflash- You know what I’ll stop there.”
”What?!” He jumped out of his bar stool and leaned over the bar top, seeing not only Joyride, Powerflash, Slapdash, and Jackpot all too close to his boyfriend. Their digits lingered on his strong arms, on his shoulders, one was just latched onto his chassis.
“Woah!” Brainstorm grabbed Rodimus’ shoulder and jerked him back into his seat. “Can’t have you jump over there and roundhouse kick them. You’re a captain, that’s not a great presentation.”
”But!” He whined and flung his servos up, “That's mine!”
“Does he know you’re in a relationship?”
”Does he know-? Yes, duh, he knows, I mean I come over all the time and snuggle, and get- ahem! And we snuggle all morning, I have my own polish in his wash rack for frag sake! And we watch movies, and talk, and play fight, and make out, and-and- yes that’s mine” He pointed to the colorful himbo.
“Rodimus? Have you talked to him about this? Like at all? Or a real date? Or just not…that?”
”Pfft yes.”
”Then why isn’t he all over you?”
The groan escaped his intake and he glanced over to the mech, to the himbo, to his boyfriend. Maybe Thunderclash wasn’t openly affectionate? Or maybe he liked their privacy? But it’s been months, whole months since this started, in fact their anniversary was coming up sooo-
His optics glanced down at the cube, the tiny little shot. “Fine, if he's not going to push them off, then I will.”
”That’s the spirit, tell em off, drag him away-“
Rodimus stared at his boyfriend, blindly reaching forward, grasping the cube and undoing the bottle cap. Downing it, iron, tasty, it had a tangy taste, and ew bubble gum-
“RODIMUS!”
He glanced down at his servo, it wasn’t a cube, not high octane nightmare fuel. Nope. That was a tiny little dark bottle of energon. He giggled, “Well, here's to making a private relationship openly public.” His engine growled, energy sparked across his frame and he burned, oh he burned brighter than the stars themselves.
And he laughed.
”OH no.”
”OH yes,” Rodimus snickered. “I’m getting what’s mine.” He curled his digits around the bottle, hearing it crack then shatter in his servo, energon and glass littered the bar top. With that he stood up, giggling, turning on his heel into the sea of partying mechs.
”The iron did not work,” Brainstorm commed Nickel and Perceptor. “But this is going to be one of the most interesting trial periods I’ve ever seen.”
That was good, very good.
That was what he needed, a sweet treat to ignore the current state of his love life. To just enjoy something small and simple, he licked his lips. He owed someone a thank you, a hug maybe. He stared at the fancy glass, swirling it around by the base, watching the straw roll around and around.
As the sweet fruity flavors melted away on his tongue, the harsh reality sunk in.
His mood spiraled once again. What was going on with him? With Rodimus?
All he wanted was a label, to stop being jerked around. So what he had a crush, well has a crush on Rodimus, that doesn’t mean he needed to hang onto something that would hurt him. This is hurting him. It would probably be best to cut it off, free Rodimus and himself from their ‘relationship’. And yet, he didn’t really want it to end. Sure he enjoyed the long nights with him, the slow mornings, even how every single time Rodimus left or he left they kissed. How the racer would linger around him, or pull him into a hug. To be held again and again, just like that one itchy night.
Then there was that one night, the longest night of his life, it was right after an accident on one of the loading decks. It was a normal day, he was helping reorganize energon storage, rotate the new and the old. Which was a simple task, it was even better now that they ground down the crystals safely and placed energon into cooling cubes. Less explosive.
So under the careful supervision of Minimus they got to work. It was light work, Thunderclash let the green mini bot handle the dates, he had nicer handwriting, a steadier servo, meanwhile he couldn’t hold a tablet pen to save his life. Thus Thunderclash handled moving the energon into the freezer.
Funny thing about freezers, they tend to be slick.
So he was carrying the newly crushed cubes into the back, felt the loss of traction and with a sudden ‘oh slag!’ He held the container up, as both of his peds slipped, he slid out of the freezer, still holding the container. Slammed right into the other wall, perfectly safe.
Then a cube fell right on his face and detonated.
The next few moments (it was jours for everyone else) was a whirlwind.
“So what you’re saying is that he needs to be monitored for a few days and he’ll need to take some iron and copper to rebuild his nanites? I’ll handle it, besides I might as well get a baby leash for him at this point.” Velocity’s cheerful yet tired voice was the first thing he heard, that gave him plenty of clues, he was in the medbay, hooked up to machines again, and nothing really hurt, but he was sore. And itchy, really itchy.
“Nah, don’t worry about it doc, I’ll help out. I’ve been thinking about putting a GPS tracker on him, shore leave is a total nightmare, he gets lost.” A deeper but softer voice pulled on his spark.
“HE GETS LOST?!” Velocity groaned. “How does he get lost? How can anyone lose him? It drives me nuts!”
Thunderclash decided this was the best time to alert his visitors, “I’m right here.” He blinked open his optics and hissed, bright lights, cleanser and a whole lot of aches and pain, so the normal visit to the medbay.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Velocity cupped his chin, it was gentle but trained, she flashed a light in his optics. “Everything checks out, reflexives are at 100%. If anything he’ll need some rest-wait,” Velocity turned away from Thunderclash.
His spark might’ve climbed out of his intake. There next to him was a bright fiery racer, his spoiler was held up, at attention, optics round with worry and maybe some stress lines. To top it all off, it was the middle of Rodimus’ recharge shift too. “I’ll handle him doc,” he smiled.
What that smile did to Thunderclash’s already weakened spark should be considered emotional warfare.
Paperwork was done and everything was handled and next thing he knew his servo was in Rodimus’ and Rodimus was leading him back to his hab. It wasn’t their first time spending the night together, and it was comforting to have company.
Reality slammed back into him, he wasn’t back home curled up on his berth with Rodimus hovering over him, he was at a bar trying to ignore the world for a bit. He wasn’t in a relationship he was being used. Rodimus didn’t love him. Even if Thunderclash wanted to return to that, more than anything, go back to that hab.
He had to do it, end whatever this was with Rodimus.
This was going to hurt.
Thunderclash leaned back, venting and letting his frame unwind, at least Joyride and Jackpot helped unwind his tension.
“You’re pretty quiet tonight, wanna talk about it?”
“Yea, somewhere alone?”
“Somewhere,” A orange and yellow arm crossed his vision resting on Thunderclash’s servo, it was hot, “Alone, sounds nice right now.” Rodimus stepped in, glaring daggers at his friends, his hot digits trailed up and up Thunderclash’s arm and rested on his shoulder.
“Rodimus?”
His spoiler twitched, it was up high, and it had a tension in it that he had never seen, his fangs flashed and to top it all off. He did look pretty hot.
Slapdash, Joyride, Jackpot and Powerflash stood back, sparing a glance at each other. Joyride pushed forwards, bold but admittedly not the best choice when your captain could burst into flame “So what? Not like you’re there for him?”
Rodimus groaned and rolled his optics, a grin spreading on his face. “Pfft-ha- okay- that’s-” he snickered, “this is going to be a problem,” he pushed out between laughter, slipping one arm around Thunderclash’s waist. “I would like- hahah- to talk to my-” He giggled, tugging Thunderclash close, he was strong, was he always this strong? “BOYFRIEND!”
BOYFRIEND?!
He said boyfriend! When did that happen? Why was that happening? Did Rodimus really like him that much? After all the years of snarky remarks, glares, painful comments, even the overall dislike that radiated around Rodimus. Now all that detest, anger, frustration, gone? That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right. Rodimus hated him the moment he stepped onto the Lost Light, he might’ve always hated Thunderclash.
And yet he couldn’t let go of his stupid feelings.
Was gravity off? There must’ve been a malfunction with the artificial gravity generator, or maybe his ped magnets broke? But he wasn’t sitting, his whole frame was lifted up, not at all in contact with anything else except Rodimus’s burning hot frame. He stared down at the floor, at their shadows, watching the golden spoiler shiver with anger. His aft was in the air, and he was draped like a prized beast that Rodimus took down in combat and wore as a trophy
“What?!” Thunderclash squeaked out grabbing at anything desperately trying to regain control of the situation. “Rodimus what did you say?”
Rodimus laughed, his whole frame was shaking with laughter, then he moved, stomping through the crowded dance floor. There was hardly a care in his demeanor, easily lifting Thunderclash like he weighed nothing at all.
“Rodimus put me down! Why are you so strong? Have you been hitting the gym? When did we get a gym?” He wiggled his legs and aft, trying and failing to free himself.
Mechs stared at them, some dropped glasses, even tripped and fell.
“Please, you freaking bodybuilder, set me down!”
“Nope!” He finally spoke between chassis hurting laughter.
“Captain, PLEASE! I want to touch the ground-EPP!”
A hot hand rested on his aft, giving it a tight squeeze.
“That’s my aft!” He yelled, grabbing Rodimus’ shoulders and lifting his chassis up, face burning. “Ow!”
“That’s mine.” Rodimus snorted out, stomping firmly through Swerve’s suddenly not so busy dance floor. The forest of mechs parted everyone with shocked expressions.
“It won’t be there much longer if you keep squeezing it! I would like to have an intact aft! Please set me down, the ground looks so nice from up here! THIS IS NOT HOW YOU SWEEP SOMEONE OFF THEIR FEET!” He fought and yet it was pointless, he was unable to move Rodimus’s iron grip, he couldn’t do anything but wiggle. “CAPTAIN!”
Rodimus was laughing as he marched through the bar, not at all caring who was staring at them.
“Rodimus PRIME! SET! ME! DOWN! I can walk, I have fully operational legs, PLEASE!” He flopped over, he couldn’t fight, couldn’t wiggle, he was trapped on Rodimus’ shoulder. He stared out at the sea of mechs who gawked back at him. He saluted, offering a bright smile, “Remember me fondly.”
The door shut.
“WHO HAD MONEY ON THOSE TWO FRAGGING? I OWE LOTTY A LOT OF MONEY!” Swerve yelled out behind the closed doors.
The racer still laughed trotting through the halls, acting as if Thunderclash didn’t weigh anything at all. He might as well be a purse dog, maybe a poodle? He waved at a few mechs, feeling his faceplate heat up as they stared at him.
What was going on with his life?
Thunderclash groaned as he was carried away, he gave up. Knowing Rodimus he wouldn’t give up that easily, if he wanted something he would do it. “Rodimus?”
They finally stopped as Rodimus pinged his own hab, doors opened up then shut, leaving them engulfed in darkness. Then, and only then, did Rodimus’ frame seem to cool, but his chassis still bubbled with laughter.
Thunderclash had a hard time finding this funny at all.
Warm servos lifted him up, then set him down. It was careful, calculated, he stood tall, letting his back struts pop, towering over Rodimus. The mech still laughed, optics watering, his fangs glinted in the darkness. His laughter filled the hab, Rodimus’ hab. They were alone now, just them. Thunderclash felt sick, he wanted to run off, hide in his own hab, lick his wounds and ignore the world.
They only ever stayed in his hab, only his hab. This was the answer, the painful answer he wanted, Rodimus was using him. They only ever met in his hab to make it easier. Hide him away like he was a dirty secret. He was being used. This wasn’t a relationship. Rodimus didn’t love him, he was just like all the others. Another fling that would be tacked onto his ‘resume’, right under the references section.
He didn’t want this to end! Thunderclash loved waking up hot in the morning, feeling another mech on top of him, purring and drooling. Having Rodimus around making dorky jokes, building pillow forts or just watching movies. He was a better painter than Thunderclash, and his steady servo would be missed.
Thunderclash loved his golden pinstripes.
Most of all he’d miss Rodimus, in every sense.
Thunderclash wanted this to work.
He needed to be the bigger mech he had to do this now, before this only got worse. He knelt down on his knees and grasped Rodimus’ shoulders, taking a deep vent. “Rodimus, whatever is going on, I- umm, I want this to stop, you’re a great mech and I’m sure that anyone would be grateful to have you. This can’t keep going on, our fragging sessions, this isn’t healthy for us.”
“Thunders-pfft-ha!” He giggled, swaying slightly, resting his frame against Thunderclash’s arm.
“Rodimus can you please stop laughing?” This was starting to hurt.
Rodimus snorted into his shoulder. “Why-hahaha- did I do something wrong?”
”I think this isn’t good for you.” For me. He twisted away from Rodimus mentally screaming at the pain in his chassis. Why did he want this to work? All the long years pinning after the racer. He just wanted to be in a relationship where he wasn’t an object. Was it too much to ask for a normal healthy relationship, to be able to come home every day and curl with someone, hardly need to talk but be welcomed in every way?
“We umm should see other people?”
Something wasn’t right, Rodimus was still laughing, it was the gasping one where he dragged in air. The racer sat back, lowering his helm unable to meet Thunderclash’s gaze, his digits still trailed along the pinstripes. Thunderclash wanted to go back, rewind to that night he got the pinstripes. Where Rodimus held him so close and he didn’t mind the heat.
The sprayer hummed and the cool paint splattered on his face. He tried hard to keep a straight face, not to flinch or snort, but it was so hard! It was so cold!
“Thunders if I have to do this a third time, I swear.” Rodimus grumbled.
“Mmmm” He couldn’t talk, couldn’t move his face, so he was stuck there, optics shut as the icy paint dried on him. Then it happened again, no matter what he couldn’t stop it. There was that tiny bit of paint in his nose and. “Mmm!”
“Don’t you dare move.”
“Mmmmph,”
A hot servo landed on his chin.
His optics opened and there was Rodimus, inches from his face, a puff of hot ex-vent escaping the racer who sat on his chassis. Rodimus was striking with the light above him, burning, his face was twisted in focus, a faint blush under his icy optics. Thunderclash gasped and felt his spark leap up, he curled his servos in unable to figure out what to do with them.
“Primus, if this paint wasn’t- frag it” Rodimus leaned in, kissing his cold wet lips.
Thunderclash caved and rested his servo on Rodimus’ aft.
“I think it’s good.” He hated this stupid feeling, being trapped, once again thrown into the toaster, burning and smoking. He was pinned between Rodimus and the door, flames or freedom. “You’ll be fine without me.”
Rodimus couldn’t stop giggling, falling forward and holding Thunderclash’s arm. “But-hahaha-why?”
This was another classic stable, this question, Thunderclash hated this question. “Well, um you’re great, really, you’re a perfect captain, but this isn’t good for you. I’m not good for you.”
Rodimus snorted. “You’re not great for me? Pffft-hahaha! You’ve got to be joking.” He giggled and ran his digits down Thunderclash’s arm, chassis still heaving.
“But-”
“Did I do- hahaha- something wrong?” He still didn’t look up at Thunderclash, resting his helm down.
“What no-no-never-you were-wonderful- truly ,” He rested his servo on Rodimus’ back, feeling his engine buck with laughter. “You’re kind and caring, it’s nice that you always check in on me, that you repainted me, and often treat me well. I lo-I personally liked that you were comfortable around me, that you didn’t need to put on a mask and you treated me like I wasn’t some broken bot.” He was going to miss that.
Rodimus curled up.
“It’s me, I’m the problem. Besides you’ll find someone so much better for you-”
He was laughing again.
He wanted to lash out in anger to at least brush Rodimus off. It was burning this feeling, it burned his frame, his spark, everything. Thunderclash should’ve done this sooner, he shouldn’t have ever let Rodimus into his hab that first day. This crush should’ve been snuffed out years ago but instead he let it grow and grow entangling himself more and more. This was agony, every giggle, every snort, the cute way his fangs would keep out between his laughing lips. “I wish you weren’t laughing.”
“I can’t-” Rodimus snorted and swallowed, taking a deep breath, his whole frame shaking.
Hot liquid fell on his arm, a small splatter, then another.
“I can’t stay here,” Rodimus spat out.
“What?”
“Not without you,” He sobbed out. “What did I do wrong?” He sniffled it as a mixture of laughter and crying.
“What? No no, Rodimus you’re fantastic, you did nothing wrong. You were you, warm and kind, understanding and well-” He swallowed he couldn’t say loving, this wasn’t a relationship, none of this was. The toaster was burning hot, searing into his plating, bubbling his paint and all he wanted to do was shy away from it. But not Rodimus.
“Then,” he giggled and pulled his face from Thunderclash’s shoulder. “Why are we breaking up?”
The hab was quiet.
“Are we dating?” He squeaked out feeling small.
”YES WE ARE!” Rodimus cupped his face, squishing his cheeks. “I enjoy spending time with you, I like coming to a place that feels lived in and snuggling up at night, waking up to your engine purring. I love the little blush you have when I catch you staring at me, when you snort at my stupid jokes. Because you make this crazy ongoing adventure across universes a little bit more sane.” He pulled Thunderclash close.
”I didn’t think you wanted me, that I was just an easy frag for you, a temporary fling that wouldn’t go anywhere.” He swallowed, leaning into the warm touch.
”Just a fling? You? You’re the greatest Autobot alive! Do you know what anyone outside those doors would do to only hold your hand? And I'm surely not up for sharing this handsome face ever.” His hot lips pressed against Thunderclash’s.
“You like me?”
“YES!” Rodimus threw his hands up and giggled. “You, only freaking you.”
His spark melted. The toaster didn’t seem so bad now, he wasn’t burning, he wasn’t caught in a trap. Warm thumbs brushed his cheeks and cleared away any tears, banishing the pain, the uncertainty. He pulled Rodimus close, holding him tight. Resting his helm against Rodimus’ touch, shutting his optics and savoring the feeling, the answers he wanted, that Rodimus wanted him, truly wanted him.
“Well?”
“What?” He blinked open his optics.
Rodimus tugged on his shoulders pulling him up and onto his peds, still strong. “I should give you a tour of the place!” He beamed and took Thunderclash’s servo, “It’s a bit messy, but it’ll do.” Right away he was towed along.
The living room was large, at least a few close friends could sit in comfort, ideal for a good movie night. The sofa was squishy and inviting, but had a venus flytrap demeanor to it, once you sat down you wouldn't want to get back up. There was a soft rug on the floor and tickled his peds. To top it all off a massive holoscreen that seemed a bit dusty.
“The living room, I’m thinking next date night we’ll make some treats and watch something, not sure what but-something we’d both like. HOWEVER I do plan on kissing you there,” He pointed at the plush cushions in the farthest corner, then the middle. “Then there, andddd,” his digit trailed down to the closest corner of the couch. “And here too, to be safe, maybe also on the floor, but that depends on if we make a pillow fort,” he shrugged.
“Oh, um seems like you have plans.”
“I do,” he nodded, then spun around still holding Thunderclash’s servo, yanking him along. Which was kinda pointless, being that Rodimus flipped them around to face the kitchen. “This is the kitchen, I don’t really do much cooking unless I want something special, but I can make a mean fire energon jelly that will melt your face off, but I’ll kiss it better.”
“I’m sure my face won’t melt off, but I’m noticing a theme here.”
“There is a theme,” he then pulled Thunderclash over to the wash rack (which was double the size of Thunderclash’s) and it looked like he wouldn’t have to crouch to get the top of his helm. But yet, as big as the rack was, it was empty. “Here is the makeout corner.”
“You’re dropping hints like they’re bowling balls.”
Rodimus snorted, “Good, we’re learning.”
“What are we learning?”
“That I’m going to throw you on the berth and kiss you until morning, might include other activities. But mostly kissing until your processor understands that we’re dating and this is a full honest relationship that I want. So yes in summary,” He took Thunderclash’s other servo, resting them on his shoulders, a cheeky grin spread across his face as he stepped closer, warm digits trailed down and rested on his thighs, with a soft grunt he lifted Thunderclash up, again.
“RODIMUS!” He squeaked, wrapping his legs around Rodimus’ midsection and clinging to his boyfriend.
Rodimus laughed, carrying him with complete ease, stomping towards the berthroom. His aft made contact with a silky surface, and Rodimus unwound them, still standing while Thunderclash was sitting on his berth. There was a small moment when he was able to really inspect the room. On the walls were little trinkets, photos, some datapads and parts of the meteor boards, some tools. The ceiling had painted on glow in the dark stars, which was cute. And there was a neat pile of pillows and blankets that were folded up at the head of the berth.
It was lived in, sure, but not exactly welcoming.
“How come you never took me here?”
His spoiler flicked and Rodimus leaned against him, resting his helm on Thunderclash’s shoulder. “As stupid as it is, it’s lonely here. Sure it’s my hab, and it’s double the size, maybe even triple, but it’s just so dull, and cold. But you’re not really here, I mean I know that I could always find you in your hab, wait for you, or sneak on in after shift. You were there, always there, and it’s cozy when you’re in the same room with me. It felt nice, welcoming, and admittedly you’re a pretty comfy berth.”
“You’re a good space heater.”
“So romantic, really woo-ing me.”
“You want to be wooed ? You’re the one who swept me off my feet, twice,” he chuckled and pulled Rodimus closer, this time he plucked the racer off the floor, holding him close. His engine purred and his spark bloomed with affection. It was all concrete every moment, every long night and lazy morning, all the stupid jokes and the play fights. The tedious processes of painting pinstripes. This was all real, no subtext, an honest relationship, with Rodimus? The Rodimus?
Yea, that Rodimus.
“You have no idea how dorky you look when you think about me. You get this dorky little smile and your cheeks darken, your optics brighten, and if you weren’t sitting your aft kinda wiggles. It’s adorable.”
“Enough talking.”
“You wanted talking! I can’t admire my dorky ass boyfriend?”
Thunderclash swallowed, he still couldn’t believe it, boyfriend,. This was real, it was all official, and with that public display in the bar, it surely wasn’t secret anymore. Movie night sounded nice, maybe curling up on that couch or in a pillow fort would be pleasant. “Maybe we’ll talk in the morning?”
“How about during lunch?”
“That sounds good, I’ll make your favorite.”
The racer curled up on his chassis, engine purring and he gave Thunderclash that warming smile. Naturally he wrapped his arm around Rodimus’ lower back and just under his spoiler, laying back with a soft sigh. It didn’t take long for the night to settle, Rodimus returned to his snoring and his drooling, melting on top of Thunderclash like a piece of butter.
Funny he could only imagine what butter tastes like, but maybe Rodimus was a good piece of butter for his burnt toast.