Work Text:
“You’re a monster! I bet no one has ever loved you and you don’t even know what love is!”
Tarn left the traitor for the team to have their fun.
He did not respond to the bot that he had been wrong.
Once someone had loved him.
Four Million Years Ago
Damus felt a servo touch his arm drawing his attention.
He paused his work at his desk where he was seated in their apartment looking up at the other.
“You should rest your arm. I can tell you’ve been at it for quite some time by the way you’re holding your shoulder and body,” commented Pharma with a slightly furrowed optic ridge.
Pharma had just arrived home from work and spotted his conjunx hunched over the table carefully engraving music notes onto the metal sheet in front of him.
“Just a little longer I’m almost done,” insisted Damus.
“Doctor’s orders,” said Pharma sternly.
“Fine,” relented Damus, clearly pouting even if he didn’t have a face to express it.
Damus allowed Pharma to help him out of the writing aid that Pharma had designed for him. The writing aid was attached to his arm through a series of mechanical clasps that manually snapped on and off. It was designed in a way that Damus could take it on and off himself if needed even with his claws, but it was much easier having help especially after a long period of use.
The first time Pharma had brought home the initial prototype of the writing aid and explained what it was Damus had cried at the gesture. The Senate would never allow Damus his servos back, but Pharma was determined to find ways to circumvent it in any way he could to give back what was taken even if it wasn’t the servos themself.
While typing on a datapad or using a voice to text feature on one would have worked for most bots, Damus’ outlier ability meant that any datapad he used had the unfortunate risk of blowing up on him. Using a datapad to record his writing or music was always risky as his outlier made the devices glitch in a way where if the entire thing didn’t just blow up or shut down the file would sometimes get corrupted and he lost all his saved data. Hours of work could be lost, which was why he preferred to record his music onto physical sheets of metal. A computerized engraving machine would have been faster, but faced the same problem as the datapads due to his outlier ability.
Which left the option of manually engraving the work. Except it was nearly impossible to do that level of fine detailed work without servos. The clumsy claws his servos had been replaced with could not properly hold the tools for engraving the notes. Pharma had taken all of that into account when he’d gifted him the device.
The assisted writing device seemed simple as it didn’t run on any electronic components at all and was purely mechanical in design. They’d improved the design over time as Damus tested the device and made adjustments as needed. The device could hold the engraving tools and had a slot to switch out the notes and letters. He could now compose and write again when he thought such a thing was gone forever. While any other bot could have used a more complex device with more intricate components for more calibrated movements, due to his lack of control over his outlier ability any complex machinery was most likely going to break on him. To anyone else the thing might have looked antiquated, but to Damus it was perfect.
Pharma was also working on treatment plans that might help him to at least mitigate the painful backlash that his outlier caused. Even though they haven’t found a permanent solution yet, the fact that Pharma was taking time outside of his already busy schedule to help him made Damus feel cared for in a way he’d never been before in his life.
Damus rotated and stretched his arm relieving the stiffness in his hinges that had built up over the hours.
“I suppose I’ll just try completing it tomorrow,” said Damus with a sigh.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t finish it. I said you need to rest your arm,” said Pharma as he moved to sit next to Damus.
Pharma grabbed the extra engraving tools from the desk and moved so the half finished metal sheet was in front of him.
“I don’t want to burden you with more work. You just got home,” protested Damus.
“If I didn't want to do it I wouldn’t,” stated Pharma matter of factly.
That was true. Pharma was quite headstrong in that way. He had what could be described as an indomitable will.
It was one of the many things Damus loved about him.
“Now the next note?” prompted Pharma, holding the engraving tool between his digits above the metal plate.
Damus told him the next series of notes while also humming the melody of the song he was composing.
This was not the first time they had done this.
Before Pharma had built him his writing aid, the only way Damus had been able to record his music was when Pharma offered to write it down for him.
Pharma didn’t have much knowledge of musical composition nor the ability to immediately recognize the notes simply from hearing a song. Pharma could appreciate listening to good music, but music itself was not his area of expertise. However, he had steady servos and was capable of transcribing the work for someone else with enough direction. The only reason Pharma knew the basics of the names of each note and where they went on the musical staff was from the amount of times he had done this with Damus.
Damus watched Pharma’s skilled servos carve the bar lines and staff of the next sheet admiring the other as he worked.
Sometimes Damus thinks he must be dreaming to have somehow managed to have Pharma as a conjunx.
Living with Damus wasn’t convenient or easy.
He accidentally broke things all the time.
Sometimes he had terrible nightmares.
His lack of servos made many tasks difficult and inconvenient.
He couldn’t hold down a steady job because inevitably either the stigma of empurata or his outlier ability acting up would cause him to lose another job. After the last job’s abusive working conditions had gotten so bad that he’d come home injured, they’d had a talk about what was best for the future. They’d decided that for Damus’ safety they could manage to live off of Pharma’s income alone. Damus was concerned he’d be a burden not just financially but his very presence in Pharma’s life. However, Pharma quieted those fears each time asserting that he’d rather have Damus in his life knowing he was safe and alive than risk losing him when he was capable of supporting them both.
Not only that, but conjunxing a social pariah like him reflected badly on Pharma’s character in most people’s optics. Why would you willingly attach yourself to a disgusting empurata? Who knows where he’s been or what dangerous depraved behavior is lurking under the surface?
It would be one thing if Pharma was just fragging him like a dirty secret or even dating him casually. People had strange fetishes or clandestine affairs all the time. Damus would always yearn for more, but he was aware of his position in society and would have understood if Pharma decided they could never be anything more serious. But to go so far as to conjunx him spoke of an entirely different meaning.
Pharma said he didn’t care what the rest of the world thought. He wanted Damus as his conjunx and if that meant people liked him less then so be it. He didn’t have many friends anyway and even if he did it would not change his opinion.
How could Damus not feel loved?
Most people did not think Pharma was very agreeable or nice. Cold, aloof, and polite in a detached professional manner was how he was described by most people.
It was true that Pharma was not the type of person that people would typically classify as nice. His demeanor didn’t exactly scream approachable and cuddly on the surface.
But he was kind.
The more Damus got to know him it was very obvious that Pharma at the core of his spark was kind.
Damus would rather have someone who was truly kind than someone who was just nice to his face.
On top of being competent, smart, confident, and beautiful, Pharma could be very cuddly and playful once he was close enough to someone as Damus had discovered. It just required a bit more work and willingness to let the other open up at his own pace.
“I got you a gift. I know our anniversary isn’t for another month, but it arrived early and I want you to have it sooner rather than later,” said Pharma with a small grin holding a packaged box out expectantly.
Damus opened the box and looked inside with curiosity at the sight of a strange looking metal contraption.
“It’s a music typewriter. I got it custom made and based it off of this device that some organics use to record their data. Of course I needed to make some modifications, but I think it turned out well. I had it commissioned a while ago, but we needed to iron out some of the logistics in terms of design. I know it looks a bit primitive and odd, but it’s purely mechanical so it shouldn’t break due to your outlier. I know hand engraving each note takes a while and it’s sometimes frustrating for you to have to work at a much slower pace when you already have it all ready to go in that processor of yours,” explained Pharma.
“If you don’t like it you don’t have to use it. I’m still willing to help transcribe your music when I’m home, but I know I’m usually at work most hours and it must be frustrating to have to wait until then to write down what you want. I thought this might help speed things up and also lessen the strain on your shoulder and arm if you wanted to work for longer,” said Pharma, his wings moving with anticipation awaiting the other’s response.
“I love it. Thank you,” replied Damus softly, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.
Pharma wings fluttered happily back and forth at the knowledge that Damus liked his gift.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” said Damus reaching out and pulling Pharma into a hug.
“Well that’s not very hard considering the shit luck you’ve had in life,” replied Pharma dryly.
A sharp comment like that might have made Pharma cringe in the past at putting his pede in his intake that could lead to a potential argument with others over his abrasiveness, but Damus simply laughed at the comment.
He knew Pharma could be sharp and blunt, but he liked him just the way he was.
Pharma helped him to set up his new gift at his desk and explained how the levers and buttons worked.
“Don’t you want to try it out?” asked Pharma, when he saw Damus still standing and not making a move to sit down to use the device.
“I do and I will. But first I want to enjoy some time with my beautiful and amazing conjunx first,” said Damus with a heated gaze as he brought Pharma’s servo to where Damus’ lips would have been and gently pressed the palm of the other’s servo to his face letting off a small charged vibration.
It was a simulacrum of an actual kiss, but it felt just as good as the real thing if not better.
It didn’t hurt.
It never did.
However, the intimacy of the act always left Pharma venting a little faster and his spark spinning rapidly making him feel like he was about to fly.
“I missed you,” said Damus earnestly.
“You saw me this morning,” pointed out Pharma with a fond scoff, feeling his faceplate warm from Damus’ sincere affections.
“Doesn’t stop me from missing you any less,” purred Damus, his engine revving a bit.
“I suppose we should make up for lost time?” asked Pharma with a playful tone.
“Most definitely,” agreed Damus as they made their way to the berthroom.
Even without a face, Damus looked at Pharma in a way that made him feel like he was the most loved bot in the whole world.
Damus could play with his new toy tomorrow. Right now he just wanted to be engulfed in Pharma’s company and drown in their love.
Tarn knew what it was like to be loved.
It was hours of patiently carving each note of his compositions because he didn’t have servos to do it himself.
It was soft mornings and kisses before work.
It was creating new ways to give him back access to his passions when he thought they were no longer in reach.
It was listening to hours of new medical theories and surgical techniques over dinner.
It was watching movies together with his helm in the other’s lap as they simply basked in each other’s presence.
And like all things that were important to him it was violently ripped away from him.
Kaon had just commed him an update about the new CMO of Delphi. Apparently the Autobots finally sent a replacement after the DJD killed the last one. The name of the new CMO was not listed and little information was found on who had been chosen. No matter, Tarn supposed he would pay a personal visit to the new doctor and see if he’d need to dispose of the other right away or if he could perhaps get a few cogs out of them before he killed them.
But that could wait until later.
For now, he had a few hours before they arrived back on Messatine and he wanted to compose a new song.
The ship had passed a nebula whose colors had reminded him of his long lost beloved and the heavy melancholy that weighed down his spark begged for an outlet.
Tarn had a lot more control over his outlier ability now. He’d mastered and refined it well enough that he could use datapads to write and compose if he wished. For work and reports to his team he did use datapads. But often when he composed a new song he’d pull out a well maintained typewriter and a new sheet of thin metal and compose the song the old fashioned way. It took longer than if he’d used a datapad to record it, but speed wasn’t the goal. The familiar ritual helped soothe a part of his spark that would never truly heal as the action reminded him of the love that he had lost and made him feel closer to the other even if he knew Pharma was gone.
The typewriter wasn’t the original one Pharma had gifted him. The original had been destroyed along with the rest of their home long ago. However, over the years, Tarn had an exact replica made of the one Pharma had gifted him, even adding the scratch mark he’d left on the side of the metal when he’d first been getting used to the tool.
The only thing he had of his original works was a half torn metal sheet of a song he’d composed for Pharma that had survived in the rubble. It was the first song he had written down using the typewriter Pharma had gifted him and had been his gift in return to Pharma on their anniversary.
It was the only thing that had survived.
Tarn kept the piece of metal in his room like a relic carefully preserved and cherished.
Unbeknownst to him, the other half of the song’s torn page currently resided in Delphi.