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His processor started to flicker back to life, alerting his subsystems and main systems. Gradually he began to come back online. Starting with his peds and digits, pumping fresh oil to his limbs, then his legs and arms. Finally sitting up and gasping as his back struts felt as if they were stretched far too thin and would snap at any second. Gritting his teeth and inventing he curled his servos into fists and rested his helm between his knees. The strain lessened from a sharp pain to a dull pestering ache, shifting his legs to the left. Once more rolling his peds before finally rising to his full height.

    He checked the time, reaching for his morning energon. “45 minutes, not bad Thunders. Better than 3 hours.” He mumbled to himself, activating the lights. Swirling the cube in his servo mixing the metal additives, sucking in another invent and forcing the whole cube down his intake. He gasped slamming the cube on the counter as his tanks twisted and shivers ran down his plates. Bitter, always bitter. He stuck out his tongue, his face shriveled up.

    Lumbering over to the wash rack and activating the hot cleaning oil, tiny droplets rolled down his plates. Groaning as oil seeped down and into wires and internal mechanics, he wiggled his shoulders and back strut, loosening up. The ache started to fade away as hot oil poured on his back. Shutting off the stream of oil and switching the fans on, he stepped around in a tight circle, drying himself.

    He grabbed a polish cloth and stepped out of the rack, looking at the tiny mirror. Photos of friends, loved ones, a mix of organic and cybertronian. Velocity sticking her digit up his nose in one, Tinder hung off his shoulder, a horrible picture of Swerve mid sneeze. He smiled looking at them all before looking at himself, his intake dragged down. His paint was fading again, his once bright yellow face was a dull grey, even his optics were darker. Resting a servo over his chest plates. With that he grabbed a servoful of datapads and stepped out.

    “Hey Thunders!”

Instantly he was surrounded with bots, a smile curled up on his lips, side stepping away from the small group and taking the lead. “Good morning mechs, how are we today?” He asked, hearing many of them say mostly positive things. Only to come to a stop as a white alt-mode sped by, drifting easily around a corner, shifting into 3rd gear and booking it down another hall. A flame alt-mode skidded at the turn hitting his ped.

“That’s cheating Drift!” Rodimus yelled pushing his engine and flooring it after his friend.

“Hey!” One of his followers shouted. “‘Tsk, what a jerk, at least say you’re sorry!”

Blaster elbowed him in the side. “Want us to trash his place?”

“No it wouldn’t be worth it.” Thunderclash said, his optics following the skid marks, his spark fluttering. “I don’t want to hear any of you did it behind my back either.” He snapped separating himself from them. “Now if you excuse me I need to see my medic.” He moved quickly ignoring the loud ‘aw’, he didn’t mind a handful of mechs swooning over him every now and then. But every morning?

He rapped on Velocity’s door.

“Come in Thunders,” She shouted from the inside, he found her hunched over a datapad holding a steaming cube of energon. “Do you always have to use that cheesy knock?”

“Well you know it’s me, so what’s the problem?” He took a seat on one of the medical berths, pushing himself as far back as he could, letting his peds dangle and mindlessly kicking them.

Velocity rolled her optics. “How do you have so many fans when you act like a new spark?”

He laughed. “I have no idea.”

She got to her peds, waving him to lay down. “This wasn’t a scheduled visit, something wrong?”

“It only took me 45 minutes to wake up this morning.”

“Mhm, better than 5 hours.”

“5 hours? When?”

“When you were first recovering,” He tapped his chest plates, they flung back revealing a small shining ball of light. “So, what is it this time? A funny feeling in your ped? That tacky orange scratch? A minor helmache?”

“My paint is darker.”

Velocity didn’t say much after that, putting aside her jokes, as she examined his spark. Humming as she took notes, he felt cold, exposed and small all at once. There was a time his spark shone brightly, that medics said they would go blind, now it was small, shriveled up, weak. Velocity’s tap brought him out of old memories, closing up his panels and sitting up slowly.

“Well?” His tanks turned, digits dug into the berth below him.

Velocity sat down, scrolling through medical files. “It’s smaller.”

His intake felt tight, an almost microscopic shiver ran through his plating. “So it’s finally happening?”

She nodded, pulling up his files. “Last month your spark was about 15 inches in diameter, now it’s 12.” She shut her pad down, tossing it to the side. “You know your options.”

He frowned. “Stay here and die slowly, or return Vis Vitalis.” Rising slowly to his peds. “I’ll come back everyday so we can monitor it.”

She nodded unable to look at him, cupping her intake.

He shot her a sad smile stepping out of the medical wing, pulling up a list of to-do’s, anything to keep his processor off of his small spark. First things first Swerve wanted to have him test a new drink.

He chugged it down, his face screwing up, tongue sticking out with a gasp. “What the frag is that?” He hunched over the bar.

“Ten?” Ten rested a servo on his shoulder.

His servo rested on top of the giants. “I’m okay, my friend.” He huffed, lifting his helm, maybe his morning energon wasn’t that bad? “A little bit too strong, it’s a bit sour going down. Who was this drink made for, Overlord?”

“Ha!” Swerve laughed snapping his digits and pointing his ‘guns’ at Thunders. “Perfect, the Overlord Shot.”

“You have a sick sense of humor.”

Swerve only grinned at that, pouring another small cube. “How about this? Should be sweeter but not too sweet.”

He took a moment, once again drinking the whole cube down, this time it was much sweeter, it has a slight coppery taste to it. “I like it, damn good cube.”

“Ha, Twin Peaks?”


“A show, good show, worth a watch.” He shrugged. “It’s...strange.”

“What’s this drink called?” He held up the empty cube, surprised to see a blue film left over.

“I was thinking Tiny Tailgate, I’m sure Cyclonus would order tons of them for himself.”

He laughed. “Smart marketing,” Mentally checking his schedule as Swerve picked up the empty glasses submerging them in cleaning liquids. He did need to look at the engines again with Perceptor sometime today, then have lunch with Rung and show up an hour early for his advisor shift on the bridge, check communication systems with Blaster, some quick maintenance in the air shafts. Thunderclash got to his peds, processor swimming. “I think we should’ve planned this after my shift.”

“Ten?” Ten grabbed his elbow just as he leaned a bit too much to the right.

Thunderclash shut his optics before opening them again. “Get me some cool energon please.”

Swerve rushed off. “Sorry about that Thunders, I can’t believe I forgot about your spark.” He came back holding a large cube of cold energon, so cold that mist wafted upwards.

He smiled. “Thank you, and don’t worry about it, I thought my tanks were stronger than that.” He drank it down slowly and stared off at a tiny dent on one of the tables.

Swerve stood next to him, arms folded on the bar. “What’s it like?”


“What’s it like having half a spark?”

He vented sipping down more of the freezing energon, settling his tanks and jolting his processor back to normal. “I slowly wake up everyday, I constantly check my health, I rarely go over 50 MPH, and death is constantly lingering over me.” And now I’m dying.

“Ten.” Said mech patted his shoulder, face pulled down into a frown.

Swerve looked down at his digits. “At least mechs will remember you.”

“They’ll remember the stories, what I did in the war, ‘Thunderclash the greatest Autobot of all time’, not just Thunderclash.” He stared off for a few moments, shaking himself and drinking down the rest of the energon. “Thanks for the cube Swerve, put it on my tab.”

Swerve nodded. “Pay me back when you can.”

He shook his helm. “No, next time I come in here you have to remind me to pay you back.” He thanked Ten and Swerve before leaving the bar, making his way to Rung’s office. He may have full tanks but the idea of Rung refueling alone didn’t really sit well with him, that and Rung could make some mean energon gummies. He sent the therapist a ping,looking out  of the starboard windows, millions of stars twinkled at him. ‘You flare, you flicker, you fade, and in the end, all your tomorrows become yesterdays’.

He stirred at Rung’s message

Give me a few minutes I’ve hit a break through with one of my patients.

Thunderclash smiled at the message. Take as long as you want, I’m glad that they’ve taken a massive leap for their mental health. He turned away from the window, taking a rare moment for himself and hunching over the window sill. Tapping digits against the sill, the stars shone outside, his ghostly reflection stared back at him. “‘Greatest Autobot of all time’.” His shoulder slumped as he pulled away from the window.

I’m sorry Thunderclash can we reschedule at a later date?

He hummed. That works for me! He continued down to the bridge, why not show up a few hours early for his shift?

Thunderclash stepped on the bridge and instantly his spark was torn in half. It shouldn’t be a surprise seeing a gun metal grey frame, unspoken power and terror in one single mech.

Megatron leaned against the captain's chair reading a datapad. He seemed to be studying it, looking into every word, only to look down at the chair. “Rodimus is there a problem with the lower level sprinklers?”

“What?” Rodimus shifted in the chair his peds sticking out on one of the arm rests. “Now what’s wrong with them?” He stood up on the chair, his helm just barely poking over the top, the new polish gave him a new glow.

His intake tightened just by looking at the mech, his digits inched as he passed them waving weakly. Fight an army of ‘Cons? No problem. Save a few planets? He could do that in his sleep. Talk to his crush? He’d rather fling his frame into a dying star.

A shiver ran up his back strut, Rodimus was looking at him. He tried to ignore it, looking over a few helms and chatting with a servoful of mechs.  “Shouldn’t you be checking the starcharts?” He leaned forward as a Toaster was playing an old Earth game.

Toaster jolted up. “Y-yeah,” His faceplates burned to a bright blue.

Thunderclash laughed. “I won’t tell, as long as the ship doesn’t crash and burn.” He smiled stepping back.

“We should really start making some profiles of theses new planets.” Rodimus said looking lazily at his datapad.

“Profiles?” Megatron repeated towering over the younger captain.

Rodimus shifted a little in the seat holding up his datapad. “Yeah, I mean why not?”

Megatron rumbled looking at the datapad. “You do have a point, but can we spare the time?”

Rodimus laughed. “‘Spare the time’?”

Megatron shrugged. “It could be beneficial for the crew.”

Rodimus let his datapad drop on his midsection, clapping his servos together. “The nerds would love it! I’ll check with them before I talk to Magnus.”

Megatron nodded. “I’ll talk to Magnus about it, he’ll require a few written reports.”

Rodimus groaned, instantly deflating. “Wonderful.”

Megatron left shortly after, Rodimus remained, keeping half an optic on the bridge while he dozed off on the chair. Thunderclash tried to sneak a few glances here and there, only to have his captain twitch sending him into a miniature panic and look away. Ultra Magnus took over, Rodimus briefly mentioned his plans on the new planets. Magnus told him to write a few 5 page essays on how the plan would help the crew and how they would document each planet. Rodimus practically ran off the bridge contacting Drift.

Thunderclash took over his position, checking the coordinates, data, everything, but then there was nothing to do. He pulled out his personal datapad, reading over a few new messages before pulling up an art program. A few sketches of planets, still lifes, even some alien creatures, he hovered over a locked file, one that needed a code to open, scrolling down to see some incomplete sketches. He picked one of Iacon before the war, numbing himself as he doodled away and distressed.

Thunderclash was just touching up the sky as a servo slapped his shoulder, Landmine stood behind him. “Oh, give me a second.” He subspaced his datapad and said goodbye and no thanks to a few mechs, turning towards Perceptor and Brainstorm’s shared lab. Sending Perceptor a quick ping as he turned towards the stairs. Smiling as Perceptor sent him a ping back.

The second his ped landed on the floor both scientists turned towards him, a determined look in their eyes. Brainstorm dashed forward tripping Perceptor and jumping on top of Thunderclash. “AH-HA!” He flipped the red mech off. “I WIN!” He slipped off of Thunderclash and dragged him over to Brainstorm’s side of the lab. “You can just wait.” He snapped at the red frame that just laid still on the floor.

“Uh?” Thunderclash stared at his friend then back to Brainstorm, he knew that the scientists were more involved than sharing data (there’s a reason why the lab is on the lower decks). “A quarrel?”

Brainstorm snapped, fishing out some tools and a massive black case. “More than a ‘quarrel’ if you ask me.”

Perceptor lifted his helm up. “He kicked me out of my own berth and his berth because of gravity.”

“It’s clearly not a theory.” Brainstorm snapped popping open his case.

“It’s a theory.”

Thunderclash stood still, sly remarks and rude gestures were being thrown back and forth, clearly this wasn’t just an argument about gravity. Perceptor got to his peds brushing off some dust as he shot a quick scowl at Brainstorm and turned his back to the jet, working alone.

“Here!” Brainstorm slapped a strange new gun in his servos.

He hunched over at the surprising  weight of it. “What is this?” Thunderclash stood tall and held the weapon gently.

“So, a while ago I was watching this zany movie, ‘Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy’, British, great humor, great characters (one of them shouts Rodimus). But it gave me an idea, there was this Point of View Gun, where the shooter can transmit their emotions and their own point of view to someone .” He put emphasis on ‘someone’ and glared at Perceptor.

“Okay…” Thunderclash simply nodded along.

“I mean think of it, it could be used almost anywhere, therapy, interviews, in the berth, terrorist attacks, discovering a new species, in the berth, in public relations, in the berth.”

“I see.” He nodded along.

“Did I mention ‘in the berth’?”


“Oh, good.” Brainstorm ducked under his workstation, fetching a few power cables tossing them around Thunderclash’s shoulders. One by one he plugged them into the gun, checking the readings and power levels. “Alright.”

“Thunderclash and I have to look at the quantum engines.” Perceptor clasped the jet’s wing.

“You can check my quantum aft while you wait.” Brainstorm snapped back, flicking Perceptor’s servo off of him. “Okay, now holding it up a bit more.” He crawled under plugging in more wires.

Thunderclash was covered in wires, the weight of the gun doubled now, Brainstorm was going over a mental checklist as he yanked on a few wires. Perceptor watched and waited, tapping his ped, displeased with his lover’s behavior.

“Okay, lets see if this’ll even turn on.” Brainstorm said, flicking a switch on the gun.

Thunderclash felt it before he heard it, it was humming, quietly. “Brainstorm, is it supposed to hum?”

The jet shrugged. “Most of our blasters do, just no one notices it, give it a few minutes.”

Preceptor groaned rolling his optics.

The door slid open as Rodimus drifted in, skidding to a stop and changing into his root-mode. “Okay I got some more forms from Magnus, what would you catalogue on each new planet?” He glanced up from the datapad, instantly his face scrunched up as his optics landed on Thunderclash.

“I think we’d take not of the atmosphere, plant life, wild life-”

“Okay.” Rodimus shoved the datapad to Perceptor.

The gun started to hum louder, and louder, shaking a little in his servos “Uh, Brainstorm?”

Brainstorm hovered over him. “That’s strange, I checked my calculations and everything.”

“You never double or triple check.” Perceptor snapped.

“Okay you know what Percy!” Brainstorm twisted around glaring daggers at the mech.

“Um,” The gun grew louder.

“Can I just get my forms filled out?” Rodimus groaned.

“Brainstorm?” By now he saw that the metal was steaming,

“What? That I lock other mechs out of their own hubs?” Perceptor slammed down the datapad.


“What?!” He spun around looking at Thunderclash, Rodimus and Perceptor watched.

“I think we have a prob-” Thunderclash was thrown, his vision faded to static and he knocked into stasis.


His processor warmed up, instantaneously his systems began running, everything whirled to life in seconds, main systems, subsystems. Feeling his peds, servos, every system was working perfectly. He checked, it was a record time for him to wake up, only 5 minutes? His spark soared, a fire burned through his frame, it felt like he was hooked up with the engines and he could drive the whole surface of Cybertron in an hour.

However he did notice how stuffy and thick the air was. Pulling himself up, gasping as coolant rolled down his back strut. It felt like he had a virus, he was burning, wires and processor scorching.

There was quick knock on the door. “Hello?”

“C-come in.” He gasped out, cupping his throat, the high temperature, light voice, spark literally burning and processor racing, he had to be sick. He stood up and reaching for a cube of energon.

Cyclonus stepped in, towering over him, the purple jet looked him over. He never hated the purple jet but sometimes even that cold stare scared him more than Megatron’s. Thank Primus Tailgate got the mech to smile.

“Can I help you?” He asked leaning against the wall, clearing his intake. What kinda virus is this?

“Ultra Magnus has told me to inform you that your shift has been taken over and other duties Megatron has seen to.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He rubbed his helm failing to recall what he was doing before recharge. “What happened?”

Cyclonus folded his arms. “An explosion in the lab.”

He jerked up immediately, the drinks at Swerve's, cancelled lunch with Rung, his shift on the bridge. Going to the lab to help Perceptor. Brainstorm stealing him away to test a new gun. Brainstorm circling him bickering about Perceptor, Rodimus walking in, the gun exploding. “Is everyone else okay?”

“Ratchet was the first on the scene, then Drift, besides some dents and scratches everyone is fine. Tailgate and I are checking on everyone else.” The purple jet turned to leave. “We don’t have a long list but I do favor the idea of spending as much time as I can with my Conjux.”  

“Thank you.” He set the empty cube down. “Everyone else in their habs too?”

“There was no space in the medbays, I was sent to check on you.” Cyclonus stepped out, the door shutting behind him.

Thunderclash vented, eyeing the wash rack as his plating felt sticky and hot. “What kind of virus is this?” He stepped into the wash rack turning on the water and letting it run for a few seconds. “I’ll check on Brainstorm and Perceptor first, then… Rodimus?” He wasn’t a moron, okay maybe he was having some sparkling crush on a mech who was...distasteful towards him. Curse his spark, and his tanks in fact curse his whole existence and Primus himself for making Rodimus.

Thunderclash stepped into the rack relaxing as the hot oil ran down his plating, making sure oil got into every crevice. Flicking on the fans and grabbing a cloth to clean a few tricky spots. He reached to get between his shoulder plates, only to stop as his frame wasn’t the dull blue, white and gold mixture, instead it was orange and yellow with a thick polish. He shut the fans off stepping out of the rack and in front of the mirror. “Oh.”

That wasn’t his face, pointy chin, blue optics and grey paint. He grabbed at his frame, orange plates, small peds, sharp angles. “Rodimus?” Thunderclash looked into the mirror again, shoulders sinking down, optics growing wide, and his tanks twisted. He grabbed at the orange plating and yellow wires. “Where’s Rodimus?” He squeaked out.

He ran out of the wash rack, out of the hab and turned to the right, passing Tailgate and Cyclonus earning a glare from the purple jet. He didn’t care, skidding to a stop before dashing to the left. He hasn’t run this fast in years, what other wonders could Rodimus’ alt-mode could do? His engine roaring as he came to a stop.

Banging on his door with one servo while his other typed in his personal code, the door slid open revealing his dark hab. His processor spun seeing his own frame laying still on his berth, his frame tingled inching closer to his body, grabbing a massiver servo and holding it. “H-hello?”

“Mmm!” The mech grunted (did I always sound like that?), frowning yet his optics didn't flicker on. His yellow face plate scrunched up.

“Okay listen I need you to wake up slowly, and go and take a hot oil wash.” He hovered over himself, patting the mech’s shoulder.

“I feel like slag, leave me be.” The mech grumbled, swatting him away.

Thunderclash practically vibrated with anxiety, whoever was in his body was going to be in a world of pain. “Okay didn’t want to do this.” He let go of the servo pushing his frame out of his berth, gasping at the sheer weight that his frame had. “Come on, get up!” He grunted out, Rodimus may have power but his frame was not built to lift anything. Frag what was his frame made out of? Lead? His digits slipped, he fell face first onto his berth and his frame came crashing down on top of him. Thunderclash gasped, his legs flailing and kicking in the air, slapping his servos against the mech. Terror struck in his spark, this was it, he was going to be smothered by his own frame, and some mechs considered this a kink?

“What the frag?” His frame sat up, stretching and gasping in pain. “Primus what did I do?” The mech grumbled stepping into the wash rack with a loud creak.

Thunderclash watched as his frame lumbred through, each ped step earned a loud hiss.  He activating the wash rack, a surrealistic feeling kept over him. Who was in his frame? Can this be fixed? If so how long would this last?

“I know you’re watching me.” He mech snapped at him, shooting a glare only to have his face soften. “Huh, what is it Halloween? Good disguise you look just like me.” He laughed shaking some oil off. “Still doesn’t excuse you for staring at me like some porno-mech while I’m in this-” He looked around, placing his servos on the walls. “Tiny little wash-rack?” He snapped, it was Rodimus.

Thunderclash nodded numbly looking at his (well Rodimus’) peds, Rodimus was in his frame and he was in Rodimus’ frame. He sat there numbly already piecing together a plan to hunt down Brainstorm and ask how they could fix this. That is if Brainstorm was himself anymore. “Oh frag.” His tanks dropped, if he was in Rodimus’ body, Rodimus was in his, and that Rodimus was aching that meant that their sparks didn’t switch. Rodimus was in his frame with his dying spark.

Rodimus was dying.

“Better, so much better!” Rodimus stepped out, letting the oil drip off of him an grabbing a cloth. “So what is up with the costume?” Somehow his trademark smile spread across Thundercash’s lip plates.

“Um.” Thunderclash started at his frame. “Okay so Rodimus, I just want you to calmly look in the mirror.”

Rodimus laughed. “What is my paint scuffed? Or did Drift draw a few spikes? Did my polish peel again?” He shrugged turning back into the wash rack and looking into the mirror. He laughed. “Okay Drift has outdone himself this time, huh Drift?” He glanced at Thunderclash. “Putting me in Blunderclash’s ‘frame’, ha! Got to say it looks pretty spot on.”

“Rodimus, I’m not Drift.” It hurt hearing that nickname, and finally figuring out where it started. “It’s me, Thunderclash.”

“Okay and? What is this some hologram that Brainstorm cooked up?”

“No Rodimus, it’s… I was holding this Point of View Gun, and it blew up and I guess… I’m in your frame and you’re in mine.”

Rodimus frowned. “Prove it.”

Thunderclash stood up, stepping in front of Rodimus. “Open your spark chamber,”

“Open my spark? Are you crazy?” He shouted slapping Thunderclash.

He was thrown down against the ground. “Think you’re old frame could literally throw someone around like a football?”

“I don’t know where this strength is coming from but I’m going to throw you out the airlock!” Rodimus ran towards him.

Thunderclash squeaked crawling under his berth. “Listen to me, I’m Thunderclash!” He poked his helm over the berth when Rodimus ran into it.

“I don’t care if you claim to be the ‘greatest Autobot of all time’, and even if you are kicking your aft is going into space!” Rodimus roared, grabbing the end of his berth and twisting it like an oil can.

Thunderclash panicked jumping onto Rodimus and scrambling on top of his shoulders, clinging to them. “Rodimus you NEED to calm down!”

“I’m going to beat your perverted aft!”

He dodged a servo. “I’m just trying to prove a point!”

“BY SEEING MY SPARK?!” Rodimus snapped.

Thunderclash avoided another servo, clinging to that one spot that he could never reach. “I’M SORRY BUT THAT’S MY FRAME AND THIS IS YOURS!”

Rodimus growled running back slamming Thunderclash into the wall. “Scrap!”

Thunderclash weezed. “Rodimus please!”

Rodimus slammed him into the wall again, pinning him there. “Get off!” He scraped Thunderclash off of his back and turned around pinning him against the wall. “Okay if this is some kind of joke,” His ped crushed Thunderclash’s legs. “It’s not funny.”

Thunderclash groaned. “Fine.” He snapped open his chest plates.

The room was blinding, a fire unknown to him burned through his frame. Rodimus stumbled back hiding his optics. It was a bright blue, like a tiny star, but far brighter then any spark Thunderclash had ever seen.

“What the frag?” He mumbled shutting his plates and resting a servo over them. “Rodimus?”

Rodimus was on the floor staring at him, his face was paler, optics stretched wide in this unknown horror. “That’s my spark…”

Thunderclash nodded. “We’ll find Brainstorm and Perceptor, explain this to them and.” He gasped clutching his plating a little harder. “And… we’ll fix this.” He reset his optics looking at Rodimus. “You’re spark.”

Rodimus hissed. “Not a word about it.”

“It’s beautiful, like a star.”

“This can’t be real.” Rodimus shuffled back into the wash rack, the Autobot badge splitting down the middle and pulling back. Revealing his tiny flickering spark in a massive chamber. “Oh.” Rodimus wobbled, resetting his optics, his yellow face plate turned even lighter, his chest closed up as his frame came crashing down, breaking the tiny sink with his helm.

Chapter Text

He felt heavy, as if the weight of Cybertron rested on his frame, if he were to move just a single digit it would feel like he was moving an entire mountain. He settled his panicking spark, timing his vents just as he felt his medical plug in open up, scanning his systems. It felt like sleet was invading his systems, reading over every bit of data, from tank content to your last polish.

    Hey, one heck of a fall dumb dumb.

    The last events before his fame went into emergency recharge surfaced, hissing as he curled in his digits. A slight tingle ran through his lines, his plates itched, and there was this strange coldness to his frame. His helm ached.

    Well duh, it’s gonna hurt, you smashed an industrial sink with it.

    That wasn’t Ratchet, way too relaxed to be Ratchet. Having Ratchet as your Medic was like having a Cactus Crystal as an interface toy, the smooth feeling of having your value torn out. Uhh… hello?

    You just can’t let me be happy, can you?

    No, I really can’t. He shot back, the weight still not leaving his frame, and the tingling started to amplify, sinking into his inner protoform, now his tanks felt as if they were lined with sparks. The worst part was the sparks started to crawl upwards, flickering up his intake tubes and into his mouth.

    Relax, you know your frame is just reacting to trauma.

He forced himself to vent, just as his helm filled with ringing, fierce ringing almost driving him to have a processor ache. He felt the medic tweak his systems lowering the ringing and allowing his audials to reset.

You systems are going to be slow, but there’s no major damage, mostly chipped paint and a few dents.

The steady sound of medical equipment in the background filled his helm, it sounded like a femme and a mech were discussing something. Strange that the mech sounded eerily familiar. He groaned as his optics came online, the blinding light burned, but soon a blurry blue figure hovered over him.

“You sure that he just collapsed?” A blue femme frowned, shining a light in his optics.

“Yeah, I just went to check on him and he fell.” The mech stood at his peds, resting a servo onto one of them. He was bright orange and yellow, and hauntingly familiar.

Suddenly he got a com link request. It has a familiar code, accepting and opening the com.

Okay, Rodimus I need you to keep a cool head. Move slowly for now.

He groaned aches and pains ran through his lines as he pulled himself up, frowning at the uneasy weight. He hissed as he finally sat up, clutching the sides of the berth. Who’s this? His vision cleared, Velocity was reading a datapad and taking notes, while a bright orange and yellow frame stared back at him.

It’s me, Thunderclash. I’m in your frame and you’re in mine. His frame gave him a sheepish smile tapping a digit on his massive blue ped.

It all came rushing back, waking up, the unexplained soreness in his frame, the needed wash, doppelganger, and his reflection. He felt his spark drop, the pang in his processor only hurt more as a realization came over him. Brainstorm!

Thunderclash turned towards Velocity. “Hey is there anything that you need me to look out for?” He stepped away from Rodimus’ glare, shielding himself behind Velocity.

She shook her helm. “Just let me know if you get dizzy Thunders.” She turned towards Rodimus patting his knee. “And you know. Take. It. Slow!” She slapped his knee harder before turning towards ‘Rodimus’(A.K.A. Thunderclash). “Keep an optic on him captain, I mean the lab explosion and now this? Keep my aft safe, or else!” She flicked the center of Thunderclash’s orange helm before spinning around, cupping ‘Thunderclash’s’(A.K.A. Rodimus) helm in her servos and kissing it. “Got it Rodimus?” She snapped glaring at Thunderclash.

“Yes!” Thunderclash and Rodimus said in creepy unison.

She shrugged grabbing her datapad and leaving the medical bay.

Thunderclash rushed over and shut the door, slapping his back against it, and sinking down a little. “Ow!” He hissed grabbing at the bright yellow spoiler. “ Ow!

Rodimus growled. “Yeah it’s sensitive, don’t scratch it up.” He forced one leg to shift off the berth only to gasp in pain. “What the frag?”

“Wait, you have to move slowly,” Thunderclash ran up to him resting his servo on his ped. “I mean slowly, your frame tenses up whenever you go into recharge, so you have to give yourself time to move.” A sad smile spread across his lip plates.

“Why?” He crossed his arms cringing at the tingling pain.

“Half a spark,” Thunderclash vented slipping onto the berth, swinging his legs like a sparkling. “Twice the average frame size.”

Rodimus groaned, wiggling his peds. “We’re going to talk to Brainstorm about this.”

Thunderclash perked up. “We should tell the medical staff, Magnus and Megatron too. Maybe the whole ship should know?”

“No,” He snapped, rubbing his optics. “We can’t, just Brainstorm and Perceptor, they can fix it.”

Thunderclash’s face melted down into a frown. “Why?”

Rodimus threw his massive blue arms up, one servos smacking into a self while the other spilled a cube of energon. “Scrap.” He mumbled. “We can’t been seen like this, Thunderclash The Great stuck in my frame, there’s no way your dumb aft is going around saving sparklings from wells. Not to mention whatever is left my reputation, ‘Prime to warlord babysitter’, can not get any worse.”

Thunderclash stopped swinging his legs, scrunching up his face plates. “Wh-”

“Gross, okay stop doing that with your face, it looks bad.” Rodimus frowned unable to look at his own face. “Please don’t tell me I scrunch up my face like a sparkling.”

Thunderclash rubbed his helm. “Okay, I’ll stop, but yes you do that a lot.”

He vented. “Wonderful.”

“Alright, we just won’t tell anything that we’ve switched frames, besides Brainstorm and Perceptor. Hopefully, they can figure something out but that’ll take time, so we’ll...act.” His frame deflated, shoulders slumping and he fell back on the berth only to shoot up with a loud hiss. “Your fragging spoiler is sensitive!”

He would’ve laughed, instead his optics drifted down to his peds, his massive navy blue peds. It didn’t take long for Thunderclash to form a plan, his spark sunk, he would’ve fragged up just coming up with a plan. His optics drifted back up to Thunderclash hissing over his spoiler, what a Prime should look like. At least the Lost Light crew had a true Prime as captain.

“Rodimus?” Thunderclash poked his ped, helm tilted to the side.

Rodimus shook his helm. “Don’t tilt your helm like that, makes you look clueless.” Once again he rolled his optics, something that he knew he’d be doing for awhile. Twisting his frame to the side and placing his peds on the floor.

Thunderclash stood up on the berth resting his servos on Rodimus’ shoulder. “Okay listen to me, slowly, I mean it, if you move too fast you’ll snap one of your struts. So morning washes, and until you loosen up you need to move slowly.”

“You’re kidding me?” He pulled himself up, never before in his whole life did he ever feel so sluggish.

“Well not that slow, I don’t have one servo in the smelter.” Thunderclash smiled but that smile suddenly turned into a grave look.

“What?” He stood up, shaking his arms and then his peds.

“Nothing,” He jumped off the berth. “We should go.”

“WHO SPILLED MY ENERGON?!” An unholy voice from the bowels of Unicorn howled from the back of the med bay. Thunderclash clung to Rodimus and Rodimus squeezed a whole servo around Thunderclash, the two of them scrambled out of the bay as Ratchet picked up the cube. “I’m gonna snap one of theses days.”

Thunderclash jogged at his side, holding onto his forearm while gasping. “Could. You. Slow. Down?” He said between steps.

Rodimus paused looking down at Thunderclash. “Why?”

“You’re twice the size of me, huge peds, massive steps, and you speed walk like a 30-year-old woman in Macy's.” Thunderclash gasped steadying his frame against Rodimus’. “I can see the light now.”

“Oh please, it’s not that bad.”

“You swing your aft around with each step, all we have to do is give you a wig and find a manger.”

“So, I speed walk in m-” He stopped looking around, pleased that there wasn’t a mech in sight, before lowering his voice. “I speed walk in my frame, what’s so bad about it in this one?”

“At least you have a nice aft to look at.” He spat out, immediately his optics grew and his plates grew darker and blueish.

Rodimus snarled. “No, you’re not allowed to look at my aft, you nasty mother fucker.” He scooped Thunderclash up in one servo, oddly satisfying that he could pick up the biggest thorn in his side just like that. For a split second he thought about chucking Thunderclash as far and he could and shout ‘yeet’, instead he threw his fragging hot frame over his shoulder.

“You are not.” Thunderclash twisted on his shoulder. “No, put me down.”

“You’re in a speed frame, zoom zoom bitch.” He shot back, “so get used to looking at your flat aft.”

“I do not have a flat aft.” Thunderclash wiggled on his shoulder, Rodimus held him down with one massive servo.

“I can put a leveler on you aft and that bubble would not move, you’re flatter than a tire.” He snapped and turned left.

“I have two massive planets.”

“Surrrre.” He nodded taking another left.

“I will prove it, I don’t have a flat aft!” Thunderclash shouted just as a group of mechs stopped, all of them looking up at the two of them.

Rodimus halted looking down at all of them, processor screaming with only one answer, joke. He slapped the thick orange aft. “Well...I have to admit it’s juicy.”

The mechs pursed into laughter, one of them running up and high fiving Rodimus. “Nice one Thunders. Hey, there’s a party at Visages, we gonna see you there?”

He smiled, when was the last time a mech invited him to a party? But the smile faded as the wiggling mech slumped on his shoulder. “I might, no promises, I’m still recovering from the explosion.”

“Alright, well see you later mech!” They parted letting him pass.

Rodimus couldn’t help but grin, he almost always had to ask others to move out of the way, or high five himself. Maybe being ‘Thunderclash’ wasn’t that bad?

Thunderclash squirmed under his servo. “You’re not going to that party.”

He groaned. “What could happen carrier?”

“There’s a group of mechs that go there for those parties and they turn into orgies.”

“So? I’m Thunderclash I can smash.”

“I don’t smash with them, and if you do I will repaint your frame.” He growled right into Rodimus’ audial.

“Oh please.”

“I will used burnt sienna.”

Rodimus stopped, picking Thunderclash up off of his shoulder, holding him like a human doll. “You wouldn’t.”

Thunderclash grinned. “With a light pink.” A devilish look curled onto Thunderclash’s face.

“You’re the spawn of Unicron aren’t you? Fine!” He tossed Thunderclash over his shoulder again. “I won’t go.” He stopped in front of Brainstorm’s hab, knocking on the door. “Brainstorm?”

The door slid open, the teal mech stood in the doorway. “Thunderclash...and Rodimus?” Brainstorm’s face barely twitched, his optics looking up at the two of them. Rodimus set Thunderclash down in front of him. His shoulders sunk as he stepped back into the hab. “Hey, sweet spark, they’re here.” He called waving the two of them in.

“Door,” Thunderclash said, stepped aside.

“Hu-?” He said just as his helm slammed into the top of the door. “Mother!” He sunk down and stepped in, holding his aching helm in his servo. The door shut behind him and Perceptor stepped out holding two cubes.

“Oh perfect I was about to comm both of you.” Perceptor grinned, optics almost sparkling. “Great, so… how do you feel?”

“We’re fine.” Thunderclash said shifting his weight from ped to ped. “Perfectl-”

Rodimus groaned. “We switched bodies.”

“OH THANK PRIMUS WE’RE NOT THE ONLY ONES!” Perceptor relaxed turning to Brainstorm. “Okay, this is good news.”

Brainstorm vented, it was long and tiresome, like the mech hadn’t recharged in weeks, but what was stranger was that wasn’t Brainstorm. “How the frag is this good news?” He grit his teeth. “HOW IS ANY OF THIS GOOD NEWS BRAINSTORM?!”

Perceptor flinched back, optics growing wide, his servos twitching. Rodimus felt his tanks shift, wires froze, and it felt as if his spark was thrown into an airlock and launched into space. “No. Fragging. Way.” He stepped between the two scientists, pointing at Perceptor. “No,” Then to Brainstorm. “No,”

Thunderclash who also came to the same conclusion only fell on his aft. “We’re screwed.”

“You two switched bodies.” Rodimus mumbled cupping his intake. “We’re boned.” He fell on his aft, the ground shaking at the sudden weight. “Brainstorm.” He pointed to the microscope, “Perceptor.” He glared at the jet. “Right?”

“Right,” Thunderclash said, defeated he hovered over Rodimus digging his tiny digits between Rodimus’ shoulders, easing the stress.

“Don’t worry we’re already working on a way to fix this.” Perceptor A.K.A. Brainstorm said holding his servos up.

Brainstorm A.K.A. Perceptor pulled out a datapad. “We already have the ‘Point of View Gun’s blueprints.”

“And we’ve been checking our math and our symptoms.” Brainstorm’s blue optics grew wide, the microscope grinned, a rare sight. “In a way the gun did work.”

“Work?” Rodimus hissed out.

Thunderclash gripped his shoulder, shooting a look at him before turning to Brainstorm. “Can we fix this.”

“Well, that depends if our processors just swapped or it was our sparks.”

“It’s our processors,” Thunderclash said. “Just our processors, we need to transfer them back, and soon.”

“Okay, we’ll contact Ratchet, Ultra Magnus a-”

“No,” Thunderclash stepped in again. “We can’t tell anyone, the ship would be in chaos, one of the captains is out of his frame.” He crossed his arms, frowning. “Can we get some basic calculations of when we might be back to normal by the end of this cycle?”

“That works, but are we going to be...acting like one another?” Perceptor asked, eyeing Brainstorm, his frown deepened.

“That’s our basic plan.” Rodimus finally pushed in, getting to his peds. “Update us whenever you can.” He placed a servo on Thunderclash’s spoiler, the red frame jumped, his aft sticking out just a bit. So that’s what he did when someone touched his spoiler, Drift was going to have a talk once this was all over. “Okay, Brainstorm, act boring and dull. Perceptor, you’ve gotta be more flamboyant than any known flamingo.” He pointed at the two of them dragging Thunderclash away.


Thunderclash led them to his hab, a few mechs came to stop Rodimus asking him a few questions and inviting him to parties, only to have Thunderclash reset his vocalizer and tugged on his arm. The mechs all glared at Thunderclash before rolling their optics and walking off. The door finally slid close and Rodimus sat down on Thunderclash’s massive berth, looking around at his hab.

“Okay so if we’re going to act like one another we need to nail this.” Thunderclash once again took the lead rubbing his helm. “I’ll go first, this is my hab, the code is 000000,”

“Wait eight zeros? That’s your code?” He frowned. “That’s stupid.”

Thunderclash vented. “Who’s going to steal from me?”

“That’s a good point.” He snapped. “What else?” He hunched over folding his arms.

“Okay, don’t hunch it’s bad for your back struts. Every morning I need to take this specially mixed energon, it tastes horrible but my frame needs it. Then a hot wash, and I mean a hot one, my frame is always tense when I wake up, move slowly before your wash.”

“Okay, Carrier,” He mocked already annoyed, he was twice his frame, could pick up almost any mech like a human, but one tiny bump and his frame would fall like glass. “My turn, always a morning wash, and check if your paint is scratched and I swear if I see one scratch Thunderclash not even Ratchet can save you.” He growled, Thunderclash inched back, fear in his optics. “Then a polish.”

“Alright, I generally have a list of mechs to talk to before my shift, you’re everyone’s mech here. You almost never say no and if you’re lost about something com me and I’ll try to help you out. I missed lunch with Rung lthe ast cycle, so try to make up for it.”

“What a thrilling life you have. Okay show up about 30 minutes early for your shift, steal the captain's chair from Megatron, and I can’t stress this enough don’t let him get the chair.” He  looked into Thunderclash’s optics. “Be as snarky and quick-witted as you can, get under Meg’s plating.”

“All I do on the bridge is look at data and make sure we’re not passing through any territories, then I just sit and doodle until it’s time to go.” His face suddenly grew darker. “Don’t you dare use my datapad for doodling.”

Rodimus couldn’t help but grin. “Oh my, got some smut? Thunderclash why I would never.” He laughed as Thunderclash’s face grew darker hiding his helm in his servos. “I have to write a few reports to Mags, com me if you need help. Then I spend my off shift with Drift, or driving around in the lower levels.”

Thunderclash finally peeked out of his fortress of digits. “That sounds kinda lonely.”

He shrugged. “I’m not the greatest aft-kissing Autobot of all time, Thunderclash.”

Thunderclash was about to say something but only vented and let it go. “I generally hang out with Velocity, she makes sure I’m healthy, listen to her Rodimus, one thing could go wrong and my frame would be graying before you know it. Hey, I overheard you were thinking of stopping off at a planet soon.”

He snapped. “That’s right I gotta fill out that paperwork, I was thinking a good place to stop and let everyone stretch their peds and T-cogs for awhile.”

“Thanks, I’ve been dying to climb and paint...frag.” He slapped his helm.

“Yeah,” Rodimus looked down at his massive peds and servos. “I was wishing I could race Drift around.” He vented. “This sucks.”


He brought two cubes of energon, each one had a lot of copper and a tiny bit of iron in them, and mixed with some powdered rust, along with some rust sticks. Carrying them in servo as he headed towards Rung’s office. After the morning stretches and hot wash his day almost seemed boring, besides the constant bumping into mechs and talking or high fives everything was...slow. Almost processor numbing slow, if his frame wasn’t so big and bulky he would’ve been racing in the lower levels by now. I’m almost there.

Alright, I just finished packing my lunch, I’ll be out in a minute or two.

Who knew that Thunderclash spent his free time with Rung, not in a session but as a friend, kind of him, the aft kissing sweet kind but still kind. He stopped next to Rung’s office looking around, occasionally he would talk to the therapist, vent here and there, nothing huge if anything he generally talked to Drift and let things roll off his back. What does Rung and Thunderclash talk about?

Okay, so how much paperwork does Ultra Magnus generally give?

Rodimus hid his grin. A lot, think about a few 10-page essays.

Rodimus please help me.

Now he had to laugh, the mighty Thunderclash can’t keep up with Minimus? Fine, fine, skim over it and give me a few details, Magnus likes to describe more than he should. We’ll meet up after my shift and I’ll help you with it.

The door whooshed open as the tiny orange mech stepped out, even now he seemed much smaller. Smol. Picking up Rung would be like picking up a stick in his digits. Rung stopped and smiled up at him, holding two jars. “It’s good to see you again Thunderclash, I do love our weekly picnics.”

His spark warmed at that, weekly picnics with Rung sounded so small and yet so sweet. “I enjoy them too, it’s good to slow down and just enjoy a quiet lunch.” He didn’t speed walk instead kept pace with Rung, letting the orange mech take the lead. “How has your cycle been?”

Rung vented. “Tiresome, some patients have make progress while a few relapsed, I even got a comm late into the cycle, and opened my office.” He turned a little towards Rodimus. “I heard about the explosion, how are you doing?”

“Oh you know,” He sheepishly smiled trying to think of what Thunderclash would say. “A shot in the spark couldn’t kill me, so a tiny explosion can send me to the Allspark.”

Rung tsked “I thought you would drop that act around me.” His tiny smile turned into a disappointed frown.

“Oh, uh, sorry?” He stumbled back resetting his optics, act, was Thunderclash just acting? Slag, that’s no act. “I guess I fell back into that…” He commed Thunderclash in a split second. What the frag do you and Rung talk about?

“You’re making progress.” Rung lead them towards the reservoir. “How did the explosion really affect you?”

Okay just be open with him, I mean open. Like no secrets or anything, spark to spark and always ask him how he’s doing.

Rodimus paused for a moment, cupping his chin. “It...was sudden, terrifying, and you’d think after all this time an explosion wouldn’t do that to you? I guess no matter how thick your plates are it still affects you.”

They stepped onto a lift. “I’m glad that you finally recognize that,” The doors closed and Rung finally looked up at him. “We all have our flaws Thunderclash, no matter how much you tell yourself that you don’t have any, you do.” He vented, putting both of the jars under his arm. “Could you?” He held his servos out.

“Sure.” Thunderclash what am I supposed to do with his servos? He took the much smaller servos in his own.

My bad I forgot, okay gently roll his wrists around clockwise and counterclockwise, then slowly move each joint. Let him know you forgot the heat pack and that you’ll give it to him after your shift.

He did just that, taking one servo in his and rolling it and flexing the joints, Rung gasped and winched. “Sorry ‘I’m all thumbs’ as the humans say.” He winched when Rung did, as ice ran through his back strut.

“It’s okay, my servos needed this last cycle, you’d think with my old age I would take better care of myself.”

“Well why don’t you get new servos? I’m sure Ratchet wouldn’t mind.” He took the other tiny orange servo in his own, surprised that Thunderclash could do something so minuscule with his colossal digits.

Rung shook his helm. “I’ve always liked my servos even if they are old and need a good oil bath now and then, I’ve created so many stories with them. Silly I know.” He weakly laughed, wincing again.

“No that’s not silly at all.” Would Rodimus want to replace his sensitive spoiler? Never, even if it was always a struggle to keep still when mechs grabbed, but it was his spoiler a piece of him. Was that how Thunderclash felt about his spark? Or if he somehow could replace his spark would he? He let go of the other servo. “Sorry I forgot the heat pack I’ll give it to you after my shift.”

Rodimus, give me something snarky to say to Drift, help he said your paint is tacky.

His wires boiled. Oh that fruit ninja didn't just say that, tell that period pad paint job of his does not bring out his optics. Rodimus did not have a tacky paint job, it works for him, frag he bursts into flames how is orange and yellow not his colors?

Rung flexed his digits testing every one of them before smiling and looking up. “Thank you, I might be in another session with another patient of mine, comm me to check.” The lift doors opened and they were greeted with the sight of the reservoir.

It was always dark down here, but Drift with the help of Cyclonus and Tailgate put up fire proof lights. The new lighting gave the reservoir a more warm feeling, like that time on Earth where he went down a back road and found a small pond. He would often go there to think and admittedly fall into recharge, the only downside was he would need a wash afterwards.

Yet the two mechs found that they weren’t alone, instead, there was an all too familiar navy blue helicopter who was humming? Whirl hadn’t noticed them, instead his back was facing them.

Rodimus lowered himself to Rung’s helm. “Should we come back another time?” He whispered.

Rung shook his helm. “Lets not interrupt him, he’s visiting, we’ll just leave him be and sit over there.” He pointed way over the right, stepping out of the lift. Rodimus followed him, instantly cursing Thunderclash’s heavy frame as one step alerted Whirl that they were there. Whirl watched them but only turned back. Rung didn’t mind only sitting down and setting the two jars next to him before patting next to him for Rodimus.

Rodimus sat handing Rung a cube and set the rust sticks between them. “How have you been?”

Rung hummed opening his cube, smelling the copper and rust. “You’ve definitely spiced up the energon this time.” He took a sip, resetting his optics and coughing.

“Too strong?”

Rung shook his helm. “Strong, not as sweet as last time, that turned my tanks inside out this… is something new.” He dipped a digit in and licked it. “It burns at first but is smooth and ends with a sweet after taste. I like it.” He smiled. “Oh and I’ve been good, nothing really new, well besides becoming a therapist again,” He shrugged. “I just didn’t know what to do with myself afterwards.”

“Oh I see, maybe you should look into a new hobby? Maybe stargazing?”

“I didn’t think of that, maybe that’d be nice?” Rung smiled opened up one of the jars and handing the other to Rodimus. “Stargazing, that’s something humans do, and ‘all thumbs’, that’s something humans say too. I’ve never really heard you use any human terms before.”

“Oh, uh,” Think Rodimus, what would Thunderclash say? “I wanted to read more about them, so I picked up a few new data slugs and even asked some of the crew here.”

“Ah, I see, interesting little race aren’t they? I’ve noticed that they’re like us in many ways but also aren’t. I wonder if we never brought the war to their planet would they advanced enough to find Cybertron on their own? And what would they think of us?”

Rodimus nodded, opening his jar and eating a gummy, Rung could make some good gummies. “What do they think of us now?”

Rung shook his helm. “Oh, I almost forgot, how did that go?”

That ?” Hey Thunderclash, quick question what is ‘that’? He waited looking into Rung’s blue optics, digits twitching.

Oh! ‘That’, okay just know that ‘that’ didn’t happen, I honestly forgot about ‘that’. He’s going to give you a pep talk about ‘that’ too.

“Oh, that! I completely forgot about ‘that’, I mean the week just went by and the explosion.” He admitted to himself that he had no idea what ‘that’ was about.

Rung vented, his face falling. “I have to admit I was expect by now you would’ve at least built up the courage to ask this mech out.” He cleaned his intake. “I respect that you have chosen to not tell me who this mech is, but it’s been over 6 months, Thunderclash.”

“I know I’m sorry, I just keep forgetting or I get scared and…” Thunderclash had a crush? ON WHO? Rodimus couldn’t help but grin, maybe he could make a total aft out of Thunderclash in front of his crush? Some new (or rather old) polish, maybe a repaint, ask this mech on a date and totally blow it. Or flat out not act like Thunderclash at all, and more like himself? Then again with my luck, Thunderclash will be bonded to this mech in 2 cycles no matter how I act.

“You’ve got that smirk on your face again, thinking about this mech?” Rung grinned. “I would say here are your two options, you either ask them on a date and see how it goes, or move on. Sometimes it’s not worth it.” Rung took another sip of the energon, licking his lip plates afterwards.

Rodimus ate another gummy processing what the orange mech said. “You’re right, I think I’ll give it one more shot and if they say no, that’s it.” He shrugged, devouring a few more gummies. Thunderclash mind if I eat all the gummies?

I in fact do mind. Okay, it’s kinda freaking me out but...Does Megatron even blink? Or...vent? Is he still alive?

Rodimus burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, someone just commed me an inside joke.” Okay now is the time to say something, tease him.

Rodimus he hasn’t moved for a solid hour and a half, I want to chuck an empty cube at him.

I dare you to. He sat back, clearing his intake. “My bad Rung, I know this is meant to be one on one time, it just popped up.”

No, are you crazy?... oh frag, oh frag, Rodimus he's looking at me, help, he’s still not blinking. RODIMUS!?

Rung only nodded. “It’s okay, if I may ask what was the joke?”

Relax, he won’t do anything. Just say ‘You doing okay there champ?’ like you’re talking to an upset sparkling. “Oh yeah, so they’re on their shift now and they just told me that Megatron hasn’t blinked or moved for over an hour and it’s freaking them out.”

Rung chuckled at that. “I wonder how Megatron can do that.”

Oh, frag Rodimus he’s glaring, help!

Stick out your tongue and look at a datapad, don’t look up at him or shiver. Poor Thunderclash, he got used to Megatron’s stone like persona, but he had to admit that the first few months were unbearable. “I have no idea either, he just stands there, unblinking moving for hours and when he does move it scares me half the time. It’s like seeing the wall move.”

Rung laughed. “I thought you had your shift with Ultra Magnus?”

“Oh, a few mechs vent to me about how strange our captains are, or how Magnus is.” He stifled a laugh, Magnus spent his time cleaning, that bridge had been bleached more times then he could count.

“What about Rodimus?” Rung asked holding back a laugh.

What was he like on the bridge? Fun, he was fun on the bridge, but what would his crew complain about? He chewed on his lip. “Rodimus isn't too bad, he’s fun, not that intimidating. He’s… lazy” Really lazy. “He just sits there and plays video games, I hear that he lets mechs do whatever they want most of the time. If I could I would switch my shift I wouldn’t mind him.”

Rung grinned that same devilish smile. “Is Rodimus your crush?”

Instantly he threw his servos up, his tanks turned inside out and his spark was burning. “No, no, no, nope. He is not, I mean have you seen the way he treats me, there’s no way that Rodimus and I would ever work out in that sense.”

Rung nodded slowly, a slag eating look on his face. “Surrre.”

Thunderclash who’s your crush? Rung thinks it’s me. He commed, plates itching.


Rodimus groaned slapping his helm. Thunderclash who’s your fragging crush?!

“Oh,” Rung suddenly frowned. “You shift Thunderclash, you’re late.”

“Oh!” He jumped up, his frame wobbled at the sudden movement, his helm spun. But he steadied himself and vented, optics landing on the jar of gummies. “Mind if I?”

Rung shook his helm. “No, go ahead.” He handed Rodimus his gummies, energon and rust sticks. “We’ll plan out our next lunch, and hopefully by then you’ll finally ask Rodimus out.”

“Y-yeah finally.” THUNDERCLASH! He stuffed the treats in his subspace. “Thank you Rung.” He painfully smiled turning to the lift. You better answer me, or so help me Thunderclash!

Chapter Text

If he didn’t know any better he’d say he had a nasty virus or his heat just started, but frag it all Rodimus’ frame was hot. Not hot in a sexy way (even if he was extremely attractive) but hot to the point where Thunderclash hasn't moved for an hour and a half. “You’ve already taken two cold washes today, you’re not taking a third one Thunders.” He scolded himself as tiny puffs of steam left his intake. He watched as gaps from ‘his’ frame pumped out small clouds.

The night in Rodimus’ hab wasn’t too bad, Rodimus did have a bigger hab, way too big for Thunderclash’s old frame. But it was cluttered with solar boards, piles of data slugs, and tins of polish. He didn’t care too much to clean at the moment but now after recharge and a few washes, he had a need to clean. He pulled himself up, hissing as his spoiler dragged across the berth. “How the frag does Rodimus get anything done with this stupid spoiler?” He snapped glaring at it, already only a cycle and a half and the paint were scratched. “He’s gonna hate me.”

Thunderclash jumped off the berth glaring at the pile of solar boards in the corner, almost starting a staring match with them. He huffed stomping over and picking up one, setting it down on the berth, then another and another. Five boards, Rodimus had at least five, technically six but the last one looked like Whirl tried to make an origami crane out of it. He left that one alone, picking up a rag and filling a pail of cleaning solution before diving helm first into cleaning. “What did he do? It’s just burnt, all of it…” He grumbled just as there was a ding at the door. “Come in.” He yelled scrubbing the soot off.

“Hey Roddy,” Drift stepped in and instantly stopped, resetting his optics at the sight. “Feeling alright?”

“Fine.” He snapped scrubbing even harder until he saw paint under all the soot. “You?” Thunderclash didn’t even look up.

“Uhhh, sorry I didn’t visit you last cycle, I was helping Ratchet an-”

“Fragging in the closet again?” He didn’t even look up, watching Drift and Rodimus from afar helped him understand their relationship, and how he needed to act, snarky but playful. He paused his work with a small smile curling up his lips as he looked up. “I heard that last time it was a little bit too loud?”

Drift sunk down a little, his blue optics growing wide and his cheeks burned. “Well…”

He laughed, about a week ago he was helping Velocity when there was a loud but familiar clunking sound from the closet. That poor femme thought that a few boxes fell and opened up to the sight of an intense interface. It was fun watching Ratchet get chewed out for once. “I thought after last time you two would think it through.”

Drift cleared his intake. “So how you feeling?”

“Horrible,” He admitted. “I need to blow off some steam or something.”

“It is pretty hot in here, maybe go for a short drive or,” He patted the board. “You need to relax, it looks like that explosion and Thunderclash’s accident shook you up.”

He vented. “The explosion did, but Blunderclash’s helm ramming into his sink? Nah, almost laughed my aft off.”

“Oh come on Roddy, you gotta quit this whole ‘Blunderclash’ thing.” Drift groaned, clearly annoyed at his or rather Rodimus’ behavior. “So what if Thunderclash has an ego the size of the sun and everyone likes him.” He threw his arms up.

Thunderclash felt his spark sink, chewing his bottom lip plate. “Well… he…” He vented, mentally beating himself up. “He’s got an ego, a toxic one when he can’t even walk around for an hour and mechs stalk him.” He snapped, resetting his optics and looking down at the board, scrubbing a little harder than necessary.

“And what? You want that?”

“I’m not sure what I want.” He snapped, did Rodimus really want that? For a few weeks was nice but after awhile Thunderclash wanted to just jettison himself out of his own ship. There were times he couldn’t take two steps without hearing his name being called or running peds. It often drove him into hiding.

Drift groaned. “Okay, fine, just turn him down alright, we both know he’s got a crush on you and you’re just ignoring him.”

If his spark wasn’t in his tanks before, it was now. “If you’d just shut up about it then fine, I’ll turn him down.”

“And not burn him?”

“Fine.” He snapped focusing on the board below him.

“Good.” Drift shuffled from ped to ped, looking around, venting. “I’ll...I’ll see you later.” He turned and stepped out of the hab, leaving Thunderclash to his work.

He grumbled, feeling his frame burn, steam wafting up out of his plates. “I wasn’t that horrible. I mean sure I started a little bit too much and stuttered around him but…” He grumbled, servos moving faster cleaning the board. “I only drooled once…” He tossed the cloth and set the board aside, holding his helm in his hands. “Well frag me.” He grumbled just as his alarm went off.


“Okay Thunders just don’t flinch around him.” He mumbled to himself in the lift. The shifts went like this, Megatron, Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and Drift, every now and then a mech would cover for one another but for the most part that was how their shifts worked. However, Megatron and Rodimus did share their shifts whenever they planned something. Drift’s shift just ended meaning that Megatron and Rodimus would have a split shift...Well, Megatron the warlord and Thunderclash the greatest Autobot… “I’m gonna die.”

He was the first mech after the cleaning crew on board, remembering Rodimus’ words he stole the captain’s chair. Pulling out Rodimus’ datapad and reading over any notifications. There was a lot of notifications from Ultra Magnus, in fact, there was about 30 of them from the last cycle. He groaned skimming a few of them just as the lift behind him opened up.

    “This would be the best planet to explore.” Ultra Magnus said, stepping up to the captain’s chair. “The air isn’t toxic to us and doesn’t appear to have any lasting effects, it’s mostly land but it’s got thick forests.”

    “I agree, the water is a bit acidic but nothing dangerous if anything a few mechs would need a new paint job.” Megatron joined them on the other side, helm deep in his datapad. “Any input Rodimus?”

    “Uhhh.” He reset his optics pulling them away from Megatron’s unreadable face, skimming the reports. “I haven’t had a chance to read over anything.”

    Magnus only vented. “We understand that you’ve had an accident recently, but per my last report, I sent you all the data we’ve compiled on this planet. I suggest you read it.”

    “Noted.” He sheepishly smiled, Ultra Magnus wouldn’t stop working if Unicron appeared. “I’ll read it when I can.”

    Magnus nodded turning and leaving the two captains alone. Thunderclash glanced up at Megatron, the gray mech didn’t move for a moment reading his datapad before leaning against the wall. Thunderclash sunk into the seat, a twinge of fear crept up his back strut, his digits itched and his frame started to heat up again. He read over the reports, mechs came trickling in taking their positions before starting the day. Thunderclash opened up another report, blanching at the pages, 30 pages, Magnus wrote 30 pages. Okay, so how much paperwork does Ultra Magnus generally give?

    A lot, think about a few 10-page essays.

Rodimus please help me . He stared at the 30-page report, tanks turning as his frame started to burn again.

Fine, fine, skim over it and give me a few details, Magnus likes to describe more than he should. We’ll meet up after my shift and I’ll help you with it.

He whined skimming over, leaving a few notes here and there, highlighting a few parts and even commenting. But soon he felt his processor slip into a comfortably numb state, skimming and barely reading anything or even hearing the words. This was the third time Ultra Magnus mentioned the plant life on the planet, explaining that mechs should be careful around it and not climb it.

What the frag do you and Rung talk about?

Thunderclash perked up at that, thanking Primus that Rodimus commend him. What did they talk about? They just talked. From recipes to stories even jokes, there were just open. Thuderclash was open. Okay just be open with him, I mean open. Like no secrets or anything, spark to spark and always ask him how he’s doing.

He snuck another glance at Megatron, he hadn’t moved from his spot for 30 minutes, only reading his datapad or typing. He watched the crew below him work, glancing at their screens, somewhere play games while others monitored their screens and a few recharged. He felt the slight tug to recharge himself, but the constant strain on his back strut kept his helm up.

Thunderclash what am I supposed to do with his servos?

He jerked up again, stretching his back struts. My bad I forgot, okay gently roll his wrists around clockwise and counterclockwise, then slowly move each joint. Let him know you forgot the heat pack and that you’ll give it to him after your shift. Rung always stressed his servos, he had old hands and would overuse them, like Ratchet, but the little mech refused to see a medic for anything. When Thunderclash found out that Rung’s digits were stiffening he took them and massaged them until they were loose and well oiled. Rung loved the heat pack, he often imagined the thin mech covering his berth with a massive heat pack.

The slight scrape of metal on top of metal scared him, Thunderclash twisted around to find that Megatron wasn’t leaning against the wall anymore. Now the massive gray mech leaned against the back of the chair, he glanced down at Thunderclash before yawning himself. Normally Megatron wouldn’t scare him, but normally he was the same size as the grey mech and knew his strengths and weaknesses. Now he was a tiny twink frame that could only cook energon on his thigh. He was helpless against Megatron if the mech wanted to pick him up and tossing him across the room who was going to stop him?

Megatron glanced away from his datapad and back down to Thunderclash. “Something bothering you?”

“N-no.” Thunderclash shoved his own face into his datapad, he spent the last five minutes staring at the mech like a scared sparkling.

The doors opened behind them as a new mech joined them, Drift’s helm poked out next to Thunderclash’s. “Well?”

He frowned, glancing left then right. “What?”

Drift tsked rolling his optics. “Well did you turn him down?”

“Who?” Thunderclash tried to think of who Drift was talking about yet nothing came to his processor.

“Thunderclash, you dipstick.” Drift’s frown only deepened.

“Oh!” He slapped himself on his helm. “Yeah,” His voice lowered when a mech below spilled their morning rations. “Yeah, I let him down easy.” Thunderclash internally screamed at himself, Brainstorm and Perceptor better finish that damn gun. “He… took it well.”

Drift’s frown pulled up into a small smile. “Good to hear it Hot Shot,” He leaned down putting his servos on his knees. “I’m so proud of you Hot Shot, wanna get energon after work Hot Shot?”

“You’re mocking me aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s easy to with that tacky paint job of yours.” Drift snapped.

He pulled at mental strings yet he had no idea how to insult Drift, he already used the ‘closet story’, he needed something else, something Rodimus would say to his best friend. Rodimus, give me something snarky to say to Drift, help he said your paint is tacky.

Oh, that fruit ninja didn't just say that, tell that period pad paint job that does not bring out his optics.

He fought back a grin folding his arms. “Well, I don’t look like a used period pad, you vegetable ninja,”

Drift gasped, acting upset and playing a servo over his chest. “Well, I never.” He sputtered out uncertain at what he can say next. The swordsmen simply gave up, shoulder slumping down as he headed towards the door. “No energon for you champ.”

“Everyone knows that shade of red does not go with your optics.” He called earning Drift’s middle finger.

Thunderclash smiled sinking down into the chair looking over the mechs under his control. Blaster was currently pirating music and bothering the poor mech next to him. While Riptide was playing with his rubber duckies. He thought back to his time on Vis Vitals, how the crew would work together. While here they seemed to relax and lounge around on the Lost Light, but when they needed to they were perfectly in sync. There was this respect that everyone had for one another here, they viewed Rodimus not as a captain but as a friend, a co-worker.

No one saw Thunderclash as Thunderclash.

He jerked up again as Megatron stood against the railing, typing. How did the crew feel about Megatron? Did they hate him? Tolerate him? Or respect him? How would the Decepticons feel about Optimus?

Hey Thunderclash, quick question what is ‘that’?

Thunderclash watched as the steam billowed out of his plates, tanks turning and twisting to almost being painful. Oh! ‘That’, okay just know that ‘that’ didn’t happen, I honestly forgot about ‘that’. He’s going to give you a pep talk about ‘that’ too. He felt sick, with the accident, the talk with Drift and now ‘that’ .

He stared at Megatron, the gray mech was watching the crew, not one strut moved for the past 15 minutes.

Thunderclash mind if I eat all the gummies?

I, in fact, do mind. Okay, it’s kinda freaking me out but...Does Megatron even blink? Or...vent? Is he still alive? Megatron hadn’t moved, part of him wanted to chuck a cube at the grey mech.

Okay now is the time to say something, tease him.

Rodimus he hasn’t moved for a solid hour and a half. I want to chuck an empty cube at him.

I dare you to.

Megatron grunted turning around and stared at Thunderclash, his red optics unblinking and dim. No, are you crazy?... oh frag, oh frag, Rodimus he's looking at me, help, he’s still not blinking. RODIMUS!?

Relax, he won’t do anything. Just say ‘You doing okay there Hot shot?’ like you’re talking to an upset sparkling.

What kinda sick person called Megatron ‘Hot shot’? Apparently, Rodimus did, Thunderclash cleared his intake. “What’s wrong Hot shot?” He lowered his voice like he was talking to a sparkling, forcing himself to smile. Megatron’s optics only narrowed. Oh, frag Rodimus he’s glaring, help!

Stick out your tongue and look at a datapad, don’t look up at him or shiver.

He vented, one servo curling into a fist as he stuck out his tongue and twisted in the chair, focusing on the datapad on his lap. Glad that Magnus wrote a 30-page report on the planet below, he skimmed it and started to make more notes wandering how Rodimus got through this every day.

Thunderclash who’s your crush? Rung thinks it’s me.

Thunderclash wished that somehow he could go back in time find Primus himself and ask ‘why me?’ Instead, he found himself sinking down into the chair, itching to open the airlock and scream into space. Maybe it’s not too late to restart the war?

Thunderclash who’s your fragging crush?!

Maybe Thunderclash could just chuck a cube at Megatron right now and die? Or throw himself into a sun? Maybe even find a nice asteroid to sit down on and cry.


If he could run right now he could hide in Velocity’s medbay.

You better answer me, or so help me Thunderclash!

“I’m gonna die.”


Rodimus came in, running, he smiled shyly at everyone and took his post, Thunderclash watched him from above. Did you save those gummies? He sent, Rodimus’ massive frame jerked, he spun around shooting Thunderclash a glare. ‘What?’ Thunderclash mouthed, resetting his optics and tossing his hands up.

‘Your dumbaft better tell me who your crush is or so help me.’ Rodimus mouthed back, the only sound coming from him were his lip plates smacking.

‘You will never know.’ He mouthed back tossing his head back.

    ‘Well I’m keeping those gummies and I’ll jam them down your spike if you don’t tell me.’ Rodimus shot back.

    “If I may suggest.” Megatron interrupted, scaring Thunderclash almost out of his seat. “Not publicly arguing like Earth rodents?” He sent both of them a glare.

    Rodimus opened his intake then shut it, screwing his yellow faceplates up before flopping into his seat. Who’s your crush?

    Thunderclash simple vented sitting back in the chair. “He’s going to be the death of me.” He gritted out. You’ll never know .

    Fine . Rodimus wiggled his frame, most likely still mouthing insults at his station. We’ll play the guessing game, Whirl?

    No . He couldn’t help but smile at this, the whole ‘argument’ was childish and extremely funny.



    Okay...okay, I think I know, Swerve?

    You know for someone who's frame is always overheating your kinda cold. He smirked at the reply.

    Rodimus sat up, glancing just over the railing to Thunderclash. My frame is overheating? Frag it is your steaming. Why didn’t you tell me before?

    I didn’t think it was a major issue. Thunderclash’s spark sunk, memories from his injury resurfaced. His servos tightened on the chair’s armrests, tanks almost twisted inside out.

    “Rodimus.” Ultra Magnus called, scaring Thunderclash out of his memories. “Your shift is over, I suggest you get some rest.”

    He nodded weakly getting to his peds. “I’ll get those reports to you tomorrow.” He mumbled.

    Try to relax, I’ll go to my hab after this shift okay? Brush Drift off if he wants to hang out, you need to settle down.

    Okay . He responded stepping into the lift and leaving the bridge. If the size difference wasn’t enough the fire in his protoform was. Frag he wanted to jump into a pile of snow or have someone chuck him into an ocean. The heat wore him down, burning through his wires plating and even his tanks, how in Primus’ name did Rodimus handle this?

    The lift jerked to a stop doors opening and he was met with a servo full of mechs, mechs he recognizes and normally he would smile and joke with them. They looked pissed. “Uh, what can I do?”

    “What was that?” Snapped Crosshairs, his lip plates curled up in disgust.

    “What do you mean?” Thunderclash started to really notice his size difference, they towered over him, cornering him.

    “I thought at this point the message was understood, I guess not?” Flex shrugged.

    “What are you talking about?” He snapped back at them, they all took a step back.

    “I suggest next time you respect him.” Growled Borer. “Or else.”

    Thunderclash reset his optics, theses were mechs he would drink with, tell stories with, helped them in their time of need. This two-faced behavior frightened him, these weren’t his friends. “Fine.” He snapped pushed past them. “It won’t happen again.” He snarled, stomping down the hall. “The frag was that about?” His servos curled into the fists, they ganged up on him, cornered him and threatened him.

    Some friends.

    He stopped at a corner, feeling his plates steaming again. “‘Blundercrash’.” The pieces fell into place. Rodimus’ distaste, Drift’s own annoyance, and his ‘friends’. Thunderclash held onto the corner, cupping his intake. “Frag, frag, frag,” He mumbled out. His ‘friends’ weren’t friends at all, they hung on him like parasites and then would attack their own captain out of spite. He growled, digits sinking into the wall from raw anger. “This has to stop.”


    The knock on the door stirred him from recharge, he grumbled. “Come in.” He stayed on his front, the heat from his frame consuming him. The combined stress from Megatron and the incident in the hall overwhelmed him. The moment Thunderclash walked into the hab he pulled the same board from earlier on the berth and collapsed. Thunderclash didn’t look up as the massive mech entered.

    “How bad is it?” Rodimus asked, strangely his voice was strained, stopping as the steam was too thick to see. “That’s...not too bad.”

    He groaned. “I feel like I swallowed molten.” Frag this frame and frag this damned heat.

    “Okay, not a 10 but a 7, not as bad. Nice little hot box.”

    “What’s going on?” He didn’t look up when a massive servo rested on his back with a faint sizzle. Thunderclash thanked Primus for the cool touch.

    “Well, it’s no secret I’m an outlier, ya know bursting into flames and such.” He slid a cube of energon to Thunderclash. “But I’ve noticed that I can’t sit still, I hardly can focus on anything. My frame builds up, and I need to move, a race, meteor surfing, sparring match, and a good frag tend to lessen the build up.”

    “Oh...wait only lesson?” He slurped down the cube, gasping out steam, his fuel reserves were burning up too fast.

    “I need to burst into flames, there’s no escape.” Rodimus gave him a half smile.

    Thunderclash slumped groaning into the berth. “Okay is there any other way besides setting myself on fire?”

    “Well, a processor numbing overload?”

    “Pass, this is already weird enough I’m not looking at your interface equipment.” He mentally pushed away from the idea, as tempting as it was, he had class damnit...Rodimus, on the other hand, might’ve already snuck a peek at his spike.

    Rodimus laughed at that, patting his back. “So if we were to frag is it fragging or self-servicing?”

    “Where is your God?!” Thunderclash yelled but burst into laughter, lightly hitting the massive shoulder. “This is just a fragged mess.”

    Rodimus laughed. “You’re telling me? I keep slamming my helm into the doors.” He leaned against the berth, pointing to the dents on his helm. “How does Minimus handle this?”

    “You’re gonna help me with those reports?” He propped himself up on his elbow.

    “Just hand them over, I’ll get done what I can.”

    He lazily smiled. “Thanks, Rodimus.” He rested his helm again, the heat building up in his frame. Shoving the datapad to Rodimus.

    Rodimus hummed skimming through Ultra Magnus’ reports commenting and highlighting. Occasionally cursing at his massive digits, it looked like he got three done with ease before giving up on the fourth and setting the datapad down. “How are you doing?”

    He groaned as his tanks emptied, more steam swelled up and out of him, his whole frame was burning. Burning too much to even move.

    “That bad huh?” Rodimus scooped up Thunderclash and rested him in his lap. Thunderclash stared at his chest decal looking up at Rodimus. “Try to relax,” The massive frame was comfortable, and he felt the heat slowly leave his protoform. Dozing as Rodimus rubbed his back, when did that servo get there? “Better.”

    “Mhm.” He smiled, cooling down quickly from the touch, the tension releasing from his frame in seconds.


    Thunderclash didn’t like the idea of moving, not yet, resting his helm back on Rodimus’ massive chest. Admitting to himself that this was as close Rodimus got to him without gagging, it might be selfish. That and he felt safe here, he forgot what it felt to be safe. The feeling of comfort and safety didn’t last too long, listening to his dying spark. “They better fix this soon.”

    Rodimus didn’t notice, and if he did he didn’t say anything, only humming blissfully unaware of the dimming light in his frame. “How are you feeling?”

    “Why are you so comfy?” He whined curling up on Rodimus.

    “I think you should ask yourself that.” Rodimus snorted. “I’m a sucker for cuddling, and your frame is the perfect berth.”

    “Really, why do you like to cuddle?” He asked, every inch of his frame relaxed and practically melted against Rodimus.

    He nodded, pulling Thunderclash closer. “I guess my frame just craves it, but when it was a sparkling I loved being held and feeling safe.” He vented, looking down at Thunderclash. “Think we’ll ever get our frames back?” His digit traced Thunderclash’s lower back.

    “I’m not sure,” He frowned. “I want my frame back.”

    “What? Don’t like my sweet stupid thicc cheeks?”

    Thunderclash laughed at that. “No, I’m going to miss this.” He reached up and started to scratch right under Rodimus’ chin. Instantly Rodimus crumbled, engine purring and eye’s dimming, it looked like he was ready to recharge right there. Thunderclash gasped as he was scooped up, Rodimus pushed off the boards, laying down on the berth, his legs far too long for it, peds hanging off the side. Thunderclash found himself planted right on top of Rodimus’ chest, pinned by a massive servo. He glanced up at Rodimus’ seeing that the mech was at easy.

    Rodimus only laid there, rubbing his back. “Are you okay if I spend the night?”

    He rested his helm, listening to the weak spark below him. “Only if you help me with those reports?”

    “Deal, frag you’re toasty.” He picked up the datapad again, reading with quickly before handing it to Thunderclash. “I read you type?”

    “Sounds good.” He took the pad propping it against Rodimus.

    “‘I do understand that this planet’s plant life might be a danger and we don’t have the time to properly follow procedure. If I may ask could we sent a small group first, to test an area’s plant life? From there we can judge what to do, and the before we contaminate the whole ship with anything we can have a mandatory wash.’” Rodimus finished.

    Thunderclash typed with striking speed, his much smaller digits gliding over the keyboard. “Perfect, I like that it’s not overly wordy, like Ultra Magnus.”

    “Just try to imagine a children’s book written by him.” Rodimus snorted. “Those poor kids would’ve had their brains dripping down their noses.”

    “Gross, you’re gross.” He stuck out his tongue. “Nasty grossman.”

    Rodimus laughed, his chest bouncing Thunderclash around. “Hey, I’m in the yuck truck so…?”

    “I will have you know that I love my paint job.” He placed a servo on the chest decal. “I’m very proud of it.”

    “Like what happened, you asked someone to hit you in the helm and you wrote down the colors you saw?”

    “Well,” He pointed to his yellow plates. “That’s actually gold,” Then to the navy blue. “That’s light blue, that’s baby blue, yes there’s a difference.” His red thighs. “That was originally orange,” And then to the light gray. “That was once white.”

    “Okay so, you’re proud of yourself, you’re respectful but still childish, orange means you have the courage and the white is...Innocence?”

    “Well, purity.” He shrugged. “They all faded when I got worse, I’ve tried to repaint but they’ll just fade. Sometimes they get darker.” He stared at his once golden panels, wishing that his paint wouldn’t darken for once. He would know the truth but his friends wouldn’t, and he could just fake it for awhile.

    “What about the chest decal?” Rodimus pulled him back from his darker thoughts.

    “Oh,” His optics fell onto the symbol. “I was originally thinking gold, but I didn’t want to look prideful, I’m proud that I lived and what I’ve done, but I’m still just a mech. I’m still childish and I make mistakes, but I’ll try to fix them.”

    “Strangely heartfelt,” Rodimus admitted, looking at Thunderclash’s frame. “It’s still tacky.”

    “Whatever,” He said falling back onto Rodimus’ chest and stretching the underside of Rodimus’ yellow chin. Rodimus’ engines purred under him, almost humming. “You better not use this trick when we’re back to normal.”

    “What God is going to stop me?” He grinned. “Oh, I forgot.” Rodimus pulled out an of gummies and handed them to Thunderclash. “Look I didn’t jam them down your spike.”

    “Oh GEE thanks for not jamming gummies down my spike! You’re too kind.”

    “I try to be.”

    “Curse you Rung and you excellent gummy skills.” He almost tore the cap off, pouring the gummimes onto his servo, shoveling it into his intake and handing the jar to Rodimus.

    “You really like them huh?”

    “Honestly Rung could start a business with theses bad boys, look this one is in the shape of a turbo fox.” He squished it, stretching the face.

    Rodimus had a small servo, savoring the flavor before violently crunching down onto it.

    Thunderclash had his fill, his frame was cool and the steam was long gone at this point, so was the heat, or well most of it was. He lazily stared up at Rodimus, this was the calmest Rodimus had ever been around Thunderclash. Thunderclash knew what the problem was. “Hey, Rodimus?”

    “Hm?” He dozed staring up at the ceiling.

    “What did my ‘friends’ say to you?”

    Rodimus’ calm demeanor was instantly gone, he jerked up Thunderclash slid down his frame. “What?” His shoulder tensed, optics growing wide.

    “I ran into some mechs who...weren’t really my friends, well they aren’t anymore.” He sat up between Rodimus’ thighs. “Why didn’t you tell me they were threatening you?”

    Rodimus’ frowned, slumping against the wall. “They said that you sent them, and what can you do when ‘the greatest Autobot of all time’ is threatening you?”

    He vented, “I would never go out of my way for something to petty...I’m so sorry that happened. How often does that happen?”

    “A lot.”

    “Give me a list and what they’ve said.” He reached for the datapad, a new fire burning in him. “I’m gonna raise some hell.”


“How’s the calculations going?” Preceptor stepped in, cursing when his wings scraped against the doorway. He found Brainstorm hovering over a holoboard.

    Brainstorm slowly turned his helm to face Perceptor, he took a deep vent and simply… screamed. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

    Preceptor jumped. “What the frag?”

    “I HAVEN’T RECHARGED AT ALL!” He laughed insanely stepping back from the holoboard. “I.” Clap. “Have.” Clap. “Idea.” Clap. He stumbled back and fell onto his aft.

    “Well, it looks like most of this is right.” He said looking up at the holoboard, jumping as he felt a servo clutch his own.

    “Please-help-me-I-swear-Percy-I’m-going-to-bash-my-helm-in-if-you-don’t.” Brainstorm’s words just tumbled out far faster than Blurr.

Somewhere a certain blue speedster woke out of recharge, questioning his existence.


Chapter Text

“Whats the planet like?” Rodimus trailed after Thunderclash, or well rather almost stepped on him a few times. “Damn peds.” He grumbled.

    “Mostly vegetation.” Thunderclash avoided another massive ped, turning to the right. “It’s twice the size of Earth, and the gravity is a bit...stronger? You’ll feel it once we step off the ship. A small warning: stay away from the yellow spore pods.”

    “Hmmm, alright, you gonna go race Drift?”

    Thunderclash sighed. “Do I have to?”

    “Uh, yeah.” Rodimus picked him up by his tiny waist. “You do, you’re Rodimus Prime, you always race Drift and you always win.”

    “Wait, win? You’re asking a mech who used to downshift on hills to win a race?” He wiggled in Rodimus’ grip.

    “Yeah.” He nodded. “You’re in my frame, I know for certain that no matter the terrain I can go 0 to 200 in 60 seconds. Drift can’t beat that.”

    “Why can’t he beat that?” Thunderclash frowned. “You’ll win just like that if he can’t match your speed.”

    Rodimus vented, setting Thunderclash down. “His addiction messed up his spark, it’s not bad just he can’t move that quickly, he needs to work up his speed.”
    Thunderclash gaped at him. “So… are these races for fun or?”

    “Both, we like to challenge one another, but Ratchet says it’s great for Drift, once his systems are cleaned out and his spark fully recovers, then he’ll beat my aft.” Rodimus smiled, he loved racing against Drift, not to mention watching his bonded so happy (one of a few times Ratchet actually smiled). “Besides, it’s fun, you’ll have fun.”

    Thunderclash’s frame sunk closer to the ground, he was still hot to the touch and that heat was building. “Okay, so...what are the races like?”

    “Tag, but you know ‘nyoom’.”

    Thunderclash groaned. “This is horrible. I would rather be rock climbing and drawing.”

    “Well your slow fat aft is going to get moving, just have fun with it, it really doesn’t matter if you win or lose (besides I’ll make up for it once everything’s back to normal).” Rodimus patted his back. “So what’s this rock climbing?”

    Thunderclash brightened up a little, pulling a small smile. “Well, I like to be alone, a lot, being stalked by mechs is kinda…” He trailed off as Rung and Nightbeat walked by, deep in their own conversation. It’s kinda suffocating. Thunderclash opened their comms. So I like to find a place away from it all, preferably a high lonely place and relax. I do draw.

    Rodimus and Thunderclash continued to walk, Rodimus took large steps making it look like they weren’t walking together, or even talking. Drawing? I’ve always seen you hovering over your datapad, thought you were watching some interface videos or something. Didn’t even think that you were drawing. Can I take a crack at it?

    Thunderclash hung back, looking down a few hallways, acting like Rodimus. You’re doing that mom walk again, and sure I don’t mind. Just make your own file.

    Have to admit this is going to be fun! Rodimus grinned, slowing his mom walk down.


    He almost jumped up and down when he saw the planet, almost running over a few mechs as he tumbled down the ramp and onto the soil. Instantly his frame fell face first into the dirt, the increased gravity already taking effect on him.

    “You alright there Thunderclash?” Ratchet called walking up to him and resting a servo on his back.

    Rodimus laughed, picking himself up. “I got a little ahead of myself, sorry. Sorry, everyone!” He called, looking back to find a few mechs glaring, Rewind crawled up Chromedome, Cyclonus picked up Tailgate and Swerve, and poor Riptide was laying across the ramp. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” He rushed over to Riptide and helped him up. “I wasn’t thinking.”

    “Clearly.” Megatron passed, his red optics narrowed in suspicion, the ex-warlord stepped off of the ramp, grunting at the gravity. “Too old for this.” He grumbled.

    He set Riptide down, Ratchet gave him a quick look over and cleared the boat. Rodimus was about to turn back to the planet when he heard the roar of one engine, Drift flung out of the ship and landed hard, drifting and flooring his engine as Thunderclash slowly walked out. Rodimus groaned. Thunderclash!

    Thunderclash jerked and transformers, flooring his own engine. Are you sure?

    If those tires don’t come back blad I’m drawing horrible tentacle porn on every drawing you have. He glared at the orange sports car. Now go! He yelled over the comm, scaring Thunderclash into burning out.

    Ratchet watched the two speed frames fly over the soil. “Bastards.” He grumbled, turning to Thunderclash. “Fragging morons.”

    “Well hey, better out there than the lower decks.” Rodimus stepped past him.

    “As long as Drift doesn’t come back with dents I could care less.” Ratchet pulled Riptide up. “You’re fine.” He turned to Rodimus. “Watch your two left peds dipstick.”

    Rodimus nodded, changing into his vehicle mode and driving off. They landed in a clearing, for the most part, the planet looked normal, well besides the purple rocks and massive mushrooms. He headed towards the mushroom forest spotting a purple rocky plateau just over the mushroom heads. The crew and their activities faded behind him as he explored into the thick jungle. Halfway into the jungle he changed back into root-mode and stood tall, too tall, instantly his helm was stuck in the thick foliage, he started to tear it up and he stomped on. There were ups and downs to Thunderclash’s frame, he didn’t have to avoid potholes, but it took him three times the effort to stop himself. The morning supplements were horrible and just made his tanks turn, but the overall friendliness from the crew was welcomed. Currently, his height and weight was a blessing and a curse.

    Rodimus sized up the plateau, venting before slamming his helm into another mushroom, he snapped punching the stem of the plant breaking it in two. “Okay, a positive here, I can work with that.” His gaze shifted from the top of the plateau to a massive mushroom, one that was almost as thick as Roller and Ultra Magnus combined. “Okay, let’s see what we can do.” He clapped his servos together stepping up to the mushroom. Rodimus circled it once, then twice before nodding, grabbing a hefty stick and digging into the soft dirt and the stem. Keeping an eye on the top as it swayed back and forth. Pleased Rodimus just went over to the other side and pushed.

    There was a loud crack and a snap and the mushroom swayed and collapsed onto the plateau shaking the earth, rolling a little bit to the left and stopping as a massive bolder held the top in place. Rodimus grinned. “Smarter not harder.”

    What the frag was that?

    The sweet sound of my lazy aft. Rodimus shot back to Thunderclash before he switched to the main comm. It was just a mushroom, no one is hurt and if anyone wants any samples I’d say get them while they’re fresh. He still held onto his stick and started climbing up the massive stem, listening to the roar of engines behind him. It sounded like Whirl and Cyclonus were exploring too, while Thunderclash and Drift were racing and off enough Brain-no Preceptor was failing at flying.

    About halfway up Rodimus found himself struggling to reach the top, it got steeper and steeper with each ped step and he already took a break to vent and fuel. It was the combined weight of Thunderclash’s frame and the new gravity that affected him, not to mention the weak spark and bulky frame didn’t help. “Maybe climbing up the side would’ve been smarter?” He asked himself. Do you have a grappling hook in your subspace?

    Yeah, I do, use it too much to not have it.

    Rodimus grinned grabbing the grappling hook, surprised how heavy duty it was. Is this your BDSM harness? He grinned swinging it around and throwing the hook over the mushroom top, sinking the claws in before continuing climbing.

    Well, frag you found me out, it’s meant to suspend my fat aft in the air.

    Rodimus burst out laughing, almost losing his footing. Shut up, I’m trying to climb! He took a few minutes to vent before pulling the rest of his frame up. Stomping down the top with his massive peds and finally sitting down on the edge of the plateau, Rodimus tossed the grappling hook into his subspace and pulled out Thunderclash’s datapad.

    Watching his crew below him, he smiled as Tailgate and Swerve were carrying one another around, Minimus finally stepped out of his armor and seemed to enjoy a long stroll, Megatron was typing on his datapad before joining Minimus. Rodimus flicked on the datapad and pulled up one of Thunderclash’s programs. “Oh wow.” He looked at Thunderclash’s last painting, it was Swerve’s bar, filled with the regulars, some were blurry and others were sharper and more defined. Your art is wonderful. He saved the file and opened a new one.

    Oh, uh thank you.

    Rodimus laughed imagining Thunderclash’s embarrassment and a slight blush, not to mention that dopey face he gets when someone compliments them. “He’s cute,” Rodimus admitted to himself, taking a few minutes to play with the program and gain some understanding on how it worked. He started with the orange blue sky, painting the clouds with ease, then the landscape below and a crude sketch of the Lost Light. He didn’t attempt to draw the crew, finding that they were too small. He saved the sketch and took a photo of the landscape, before opening another blank page, here he loosely sketched a few mushrooms and some of the strange rocks.

    That's when a tiny blue lizard-like creature crawled out of some rocks, it looked at him, blinked and scuttled over onto a bigger rock.

    Rodimus’s digits moved faster, sketching the lizard on the rock, just as another joined the lizard, only for the two of them to fight. He loosely sketched them fighting, the two lizards collapsed and the bigger one submitted. “Are they?” The smaller lizard tackled the bigger and next thing Rodimus knew that was a space lizard penis. “Really? Right in front of my datapad?” The lizards grunted before snapping at one another and scurrying off. The bigger lizard crawled back onto her rock and slept. “Mother nature.” He shook his helm.

    Hey...Hey Rodimus?

    What? He looked over to the clearing, there wasn’t two speedsters racing, instead, there was Ratchet and Drift ‘passionately’ making out. Where are you? He heard the roar of his engine growing louder and louder. Rodimus got to his peds as Thunderclash’s bright orange frame appeared between the mushrooms.

Rodimus watched as Thunderclash sped up the mushroom stem, engine roaring. He didn’t slow down instead of speeding up the stem and using it like a ramp, his frame flinging in the air. Thunderclash changed in mid-air, landing on the mushroom, on his side, Thunderclash propped his helm up and one leg up while resting his other on his hip, posing like a pin-up bot.

Thunderclash grinned. “Ka-chow.”

Rodimus snorted, breaking into a fit of laughter. “Ka-chigga.”

The two roared with laughter, Rodimus fell on his aft and held his sides. Thunderclash tried to get up but failed as his knees buckled under his laughter. It soon died down and Minimus asked if they were alright. Rodimus returned to his seat before, overlooking the clearing once more. Thunderclash sat down next to him, humming and swinging his legs.

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” Rodimus asked, sneaking a glance at Thunderclash.

“The race? Yeah, I wish I could move like that all the time,” He shrugged. “My fat aft and spark. How was the…” He gestured to the massive mushroom.

“Fun, windy, but nice.” Rodimus patted his back. “I always hated feeling lonely, but up here away from the crew it’s kinda nice.”

Thunderclash snapped his digits. “Exactly! I kinda love/hate the attention, up here I finally get to relax.” He leaned against Rodimus. “I’m not lonely up here, I just like being alone.”

Rodimus snorted and rolled his eyes. “Did anyone ever tell you, that you have a stupid smile?”

Thunderclash paused for a moment, his gray face turning a shade darker and his frame started to heat again. “Well yeah.”

Rodimus shook it off like he always did whenever Thunderclash acted like this. They both looked over to see Brainstorm, or rather Preceptor failing at flying, baking a little bit too much to the left. “Owch.” Rodimus cringed away as the teal jet scrapped against a mushroom top and crashed into another, lucky the tops were pretty soft and squishy, his helm popped out a few seconds later.

“How do you think they’re handling it?” Thunderclash asked, craning his helm up to look at Rodimus.

“Horribly, I mean it’s tough enough with our height differences and my frame’s overheating, and your spark. They have to deal with a hyper jet and a stick in the mud microscope.”

“Huh.” Thunderclash shifted a little closer as the wind picked up. “Ever wonder how they ever...hooked up?”

“Huh, no, never really thought about it. Brainstorm clearly has a huge crush on Perceptor, but after that whole time travel nonsense over your dead crush would’ve at least put Perceptor off.”

“That’s true, but Brainstorm is a challenge to Perceptor, not just in the scientific field but he challenges Perceptor in almost anything. If it were Wheeljack or Jetstorm, Perceptor wouldn’t ever need to talk to anyone else for anything, I wouldn’t think he would even step out of his lab.”

“They fight a lot.” Rodimus finally said, thinking back to all the reports he would get about Brainstorm’s pranks and how many times Perceptor locked him out of the lab.

“Really?” Thunderclash reset his optics. “I mean I’m not that close to Brainstorm but...Well, okay I can see it, Perceptor isn’t that…”

“Social butterfly?” Rodimus recalled all the events where the microscope sat against the wall.

“Well he’s not socially awkward like Brainstorm, just listen to him explain things.”

Rodimus nodded. “But I think they’re...happy.”

“Good,” Thunderclash vented his optics sinking.

“That reminds me.” A devilish grin spread across Rodimus’ face. “So who’s got the rest of your spark?” He elbowed Thunderclash in the side.

Instantly he perked up. “I told you-”

“I’m not going to stop,” Rodimus stuck his tongue out. “Okay...Minimus?”

“You’re the spawn of Unicron.” He snapped. “No, hand me my datapad.”

“Nope, let me draw something.” Rodimus snickered his digits flying as he started to draw. “Megatron.”

“No.” Thunderclash groaned. “You’re not gonna get it out of me.”

“That’s not gonna stop me. Drift?”

“Oh hell no, Ratchet would rearrange me, and it’s not Ratchet either.”

“No, what are you drawing?”

Rodimus laughed handing him the datapad. “I drew my humansona, stupid thicc Thunders.” A crude drawing of a buff human with massive hips and butt, with Thunderclash’s colors and his iconic chest.

Thunderclash rubbed his helm, his optics peeking out between his digits. “I hate you.”



Thunderclash froze, watching Drift roar across the clearing. “Relax it’s going to be fun.” His engine was already purring, glancing over to Rodimus who was once again, mom walking.

Drift honked at him, turning his wheels away and flooring it. An easy race? Wow Rodimus, at this point I might as well steal the captain chair from you.

Thunderclash vented, pushing himself forward, and using the fear in his tanks to simply drive. 50 mph. “Okay Thunders no bad, but” Drift was already way ahead, effortlessly drifting around a mushroom. “I’m gonna fucking die.” 120 mph, his engine roared, his frame burned and his wheels shredded the soil. The wind roared past him, his tanks unwound, twisting his frame just right and using his e brake to drift around the mushroom.

Come on slowpoke, Ratchet can move faster than you!

Eat my aft! His frame roared catching up to Drift, giddy with excitement Thunderclash flew past him.

Oh no, you don’t! Drift caught up, both of them pushing it to 200 mph, passing Tailgate and Swerve who both screamed.

I am speed. Thunderclash said, pushing his engine to 220.

Don’t you dare quote the car’s movies to me again! Drift caught up with him.

The piston cup is mine! Thunderclash took a sharp left, surprising Drift.

Wow. Drift mimic Owen Wilson, his engine roaring to catch up.

Wow. Thunderclash did the same. Such a lovely day.

Look at that sun. Drift was next to him.


They spent the next hour racing around, and Thunderclash admitted it, this was fun. They both drifted to a stop, letting the purple soil roll over their frames. Thunderclash sat there for a few minutes, his engine still roaring, his spark burning and his frame started to cool down. Thunderclash changed back into root-mode when a loud thud echoed around them and the earth shook. What the frag was that?

    The sweet sound of my lazy aft.

    Thunderclash glanced around, gasping at a massive mushroom that fell over. “Hey…” He turned towards Percep-Brainstorm. “Are the plants?”

    “As long as they don’t explode in your vents you’re good.” Brainstorm held an emotionless voice, keeping Preceptor's face as still as possible.

    Drift only shrugged. “Huh, so that’s what Thunderclash does on these, I’m surprised his fan club isn’t trailing him.”

    “Shocking isn’t it?” Thunderclash folded his arm, last time his…’ friends’ followed him he lost them on purpose, and later asked them to leave him alone. It was better to lose them at the time, he didn’t want to snap at them and cause a scene.

    Drift shrugged, slapping Thunderclash’s aft. “Oh, we’re not done!” He started to jog over to Ratchet.

    Thunderclash rolled his optics, watching Brain-Perceptor change into a jet, while Brainstorm started to collect samples. His weight shifted from ped to ped, the excitement started to die down. Is this what Rodimus did? Just race with Drift? All the other mechs seemed to have their own groups and yet.

     Do you have a grappling hook in your subspace?

    Yeah, I do, use it too much to not have it. He turned to watch Rodimus fish out his hook.

     Is this your BDSM harness?

    Thunderclash grinned at that, he had done some things, but nothing like that, in fact, he never had more than one mech at a time (too shy). He tried to imagine himself in a BDSM harness and just simply couldn’t. Well, frag you found me out, it’s meant to suspend my fat aft in the air.

    Rodimus stumbled and his frame shook, laughing as loud as he could. Shut up, I’m trying to climb!

    That’s when Drift came back, slapping Thunderclash’s back as the two of them changed once again and sped off. This time at a slower pace, relaxing rather than racing. Thunderclash felt comfortable, it had been too long since he felt this at ease with his frame (well Rodimus’), he didn’t worry about his engine, stalling, or flat out dying. He glanced up at Rodimus, his own frame, his tanks turned. “Coward.” He mumbled to himself.

    Your art is wonderful.

    Thunderclash slowed, letting Drift pass him. Oh, uh thank you. Frag his stupid spark, his engine roared with new found energy, zooming past Drift. Curse this stupid crush! His tires squealed as he rounded a rock, passing Drift who was trying and failing to catch up with him. Thunderclash circled around the Lost Light once, then into the mushrooms and finally back out. Drift you take five.

    Okay, you fragging glitch! Drift slowed down and drove towards the Lost Light.

    “Okay, just say it, okay? Frag it? Right? Like who cares?” He said to himself. Hey...Hey Rodimus? He aimed for the mushroom stem, engine roaring.

    What? Rodimus glanced around, missing him, Thunderclash pushed his frame. Where are you?

    He flew up the stem. “Just say it? You’ll feel better.” His frame flew up into the air, changing back into root-mode and slapping on top of the mushroom’s squishy guts. “Ka-chow.” You fragging moron!

    Rodimus burst into laughter and Thunderclash joined him.

Thunderclash sat up, nodding his head. “Welp, our favorite mechs just crashed into a giant spore, and now they’re full of contagions.” His frame started to burn again, but not as bad as before.

    “Flex, Crosshairs and Borer?” Rodimus asked.

    “Yep,” Thunderclash tossed his servos up. “I swear they think they can get away with anything, just because they call me their ‘friend’.” ‘Friend’ was spat out, and his face scrunched up.

    “Welp you’re the captain, you can punish them.” Rodimus shrugged, eyeing the stem, that was going to be a lot of fun.

    “Yeah’re Thunderclash.” He grinned at Rodimus.


    “Rodimus you can discipline them!” He jumped up, shaking one of Rodimus’ massive shoulders. “You’re me, you can use that!”

    Rodimus laughed at himself. “Wow, why didn’t I think of that...or did I?”

    That earned a punch in the shoulder.


    He was glad that Thunderclash stayed by his side as they drove up to the ship, frag Thunderclash’s frame was heavy and big and horribly slow. But the presence of Thunderclash kept his processor off of it. They both pulled up to Minimus and Megatron, Thunderclash started talking to Minimus.

    “So they intentionally blew up one of the spore plants that everyone was told not to touch?” Thunderclash repeated a little bit louder. Do it now.

    “I’m sorry they did what?” Rodimus stepped in, Minimus nodded at him and started to explain again while Megatron stared at him with narrowed optics. Rodimus brushed it off, pushing past them and passing Megatron who kept the three mechs in a designated area.

    “Oh hey, Thunders.” Crosshairs jumped up, turning to his friends. “See I told ya.” He mumbled to them.

    “Sit down!”

    Crosshairs sat down, a sheepish smile on his face, while his two friends started with big optics up at him. “Well, we-”

    “I don’t care, you were given one order, an order everyone else followed.” He growled.

    “We jus-” Flex spoke up.

    “Nope, no excuses, the only mechs meant to handle any of the spores were Brainstorm and Perceptor. You were not authorized for anything.”

    Borer sunk into the soil. “Are we still going to get cleaned?”

    He vented. “Yes, unfortunately, Ratchet and First Aid will clean you. But next shore leave, you’ll be stuck on the ship, Megatron and Rodimus can find a fitting punishment for you.”

    “What?!” Flex jumped up. “That’s not fair.”

    “Fair? Okay how about instead of being correctly disciplined Flex, I’ll gift Whirl a few barrels of Flex Seal and you, and ask him to give you a new paint job. Crosshairs I think you’d like being a new test subject for Brainstorm’s weapons, and-” He paused over Borer. “I have no idea but you’re on thin fucking ice.” He jabbed his digit on the mech’s chest. “Watch it.” He snapped sharply turning to Megatron, Minimus, and Thunderclash. Megatron was resetting his optics, a small smile on his face, Minimus looked like his processor just crashed, and Thunderclash’s frame was burning. Too much?

    Thunderclash shook himself. N-nope, just wow, you tore out their afts.

    “Excuse me for butting in.” He said to all three of them. “I know they’ve been acting up.”

    Minimus reset his optics. “N-no you’re fine Thunderclash, we’ll handle it from here.”

    “Mhm.” Megatron nodded eyeing him, then Thunderclash.

    “Well then, pardon me.” He walked past them. Frag that felt good, not gonna lie I think I have a small erection from that.

    Please don’t.

    By the way, your frame is smoking, might want to calm down there. He passed Thunderclash, feeling the heat burn from his frame and tiny clouds started to waft up.

Brainstorm tried to walk slowly, and hold his helm up, and keep his optics forward, and not hum, frag acting like Percy was a death sentence. “What are you? White bread?”

    “What?” Perceptor grumbled walking next to him, kicking out his legs and rolling his back struts. “Like this is any better?”

    Brainstorm stopped, glaring at him. “First you look like you have an interface toy in you right now, second you’re overreacting, and third you’re scowling at everyone, I never scowl.”

    “‘I never scowl’, says the mech who scowls at me all the time.” Perceptor rolled his optics, continuing his over the top stupid walk into their lab.

    “Ugh, why the frag did I ever make that stupid gun?” He cursed himself, following his partner into the lab, locking the door and setting the box on the table. “We’ll look at these samples later, okay?”

    “Good, we need to work on this.” He gestured to Brainstorm, then to himself.

    “Oh, so we’re gonna either fix our relationship, or this mind swap?” He snapped.

    Perceptor groaned. “You know what I mean.”

    “Oh, so we’re gonna fix me?”

    “Brainstorm!” He snapped. “Can we just get back into our bodies and then figure this out? There’s more than just us in this mess.” He slumped into a chair, rubbing his optics and taking off his faceplate. “Frag.”

    Brainstorm sharply turned away, digging through the box and setting aside the samples in a fridge, then cleaning their tools and putting them back into their correct places. He vented, glancing over his shoulder to see Preceptor helm deep into their equations, his optics drifted down to the dented wing. He tsked promptly cutting the space between them and he started to examine the damaged wing. “Does it hurt?”

    “Aches.” Perceptor waved him off.

    Brainstorm rolled his optics, venting before harshly grabbing the wing and bending it back into place.

    Preceptor gasped falling on his knees. “WHAT THE FRAG?!” his optics watered and he dropped the datapad. “Brainstorm?!”

    He knelt down next to Perceptor. “It wasn’t aching, was it? With wings the sooner they’re bent back the better.”

    “Or what?”

    “They’ll swell and in some cases, they need to be clipped and replaced.” Brainstorm gave a small smile. “I guess I have a higher pain tolerance than you.” He shrugged patting Perceptor's helm.

    Perceptor gasped, his frame shaking. “Why the frag are you wings so sensitive?”

    “Well if yo-” He quickly dropped the rest of the snarky reply, no need to make things worse. “All flyers have sensitive wings, generally the bigger the frame the thicker and more sensitive the wings are. So just be glad you’re in my frame and not Jetfire’s.” He patted Perceptor's helm and picked up the datapad, reading over the calculations.

    Perceptor rested his helm on Brainstorm’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

    “It’s fine.” It really wasn’t.

    Perceptor huffed, nudging his face even more into Brainstorm’s neck. “You know you don’t need to lie.”

    “Let’s focus on getting back to our frames and then we’ll figure out...that.” He shoved Perceptor off.

    Perceptor vented, opening his intake, then closing it and opening it again. “Okay, what materials do we need?”

    Brainstorm frowned. “Ones that are hard to come by and hard to mold.”


The Lost Light jerked as the ship took off, launching into orbit then space. He watched as the crew mindlessly walked around, chatting, not even flinching as they took off.

Thunderclash always held onto the wall at least until they left the planet’s atmosphere. Rodimus brushed past him, mom walking down the hall as he bumped into a few mechs. Thunderclash watched as Rodimus flawlessly blended into ‘The Greatest Autobot’, making jokes and even elbowing a mech or two. The mechs crowded around Rodimus, joking about Rodimus falling helm first into the dirt. He watched as they disappeared, making a rather pathetic noise.

“You alright there Roddy? You look like you’re gonna purge.” Drift rested a servo on Thunderclash’s shoulder.

He felt like he should. “I’m fine…” Thunderclash checked his schedule, Ultra Magnus was on shift.

“Are you sure?” Drift frowned.

“I’m good, I’ll...I’ll go check on those lab samples that we got.” He brushed Drift off, speed walking towards Perceptor’s and Brainstorm’s lab. His spark still fluttering. What’s the progress on fixing this? He asked the two lab partners.

We’re double checking the data now and starting the blueprints. Brainstorm replied.

Mind if I help? He turned the corner, spotting the lab doors.


He stepped in, causing Brainstorm to jump. “Oh, that was fast.”

Thunderclash locked the doors behind him, looking at the two scientists. “I hope this is alright.”

“You’re fine,” Perceptor said, not even looking up from his datapad.

Thunderclash stood back, looking at the problems on the board, before asking for a spare datapad. “We’ll need a way to connect our processor to our original frames...medical plugin?”

“I was thinking some funny looking helmets, but that’s way easier.” Brainstorm perked up. “We’ll need silver, ore-13, and copper?”

“Copper and silver might not be compatible, we need a massive power flow between the two...not to mention if this fails both frames might be…” Perceptor.

“Braindead.” Brainstorm finished his frame twitching.

“Wonderful.” Thunderclash vented. “Welp, this is one hell of a problem.” He sketched out a simple blueprint and tossed it to Brainstorm, slumping against the workbench.

Brainstorm caught the datapad and being that he was the only mech who had some form of emotion. “What’s wrong?” He set the datapad down.

Thunderclash vented. “Well besides the fact that I’m in my crush’s frame and I have no lugnuts to finally tell him anything, he’s stuck in my dying frame.”

“Your frame has been dying,” Perceptor still didn’t look up from his datapad.

“Well, now it’s finally happening.”


Chapter Text

    Rodimus jerked in his seat, spilling his cube. “Sorry about that.” He sheepishly smiled at the mech next to him. Visages was packed, far more than Swerves’ on a good night, mechs danced, some played games, and a certain group was drinking. Hardly just drinking, they had a funnel out and a tube, a mech laughed once he finished his funnel and stumbled away. “I gotta go.” He said across the table, earning a few ‘aw’s and frowns.
    “Later Thunders.” A mech swooned as he left.
    On my way. He sent to Velocity, shaking in his peds as he stepped into a lift. Thunderclash must’ve forgotten to tell him about Velocity, his medic, and his friend. If anything he just would act as he did with Drift, but...nicer? Rodimus blew it off, Velocity seemed like a nice medic, nicer then Ratchet but not as nice as First Aid, so okay? He did notice that Thuderclash spent a lot of time with her, as a friend, they would get some drinks, and would often be found walking the ship for whole cycles. Admittedly he did feel a twinge of jealousy whenever he spotted the two, not like he cared, but whenever he did spot them he had this strange feeling that some mech was watching him. The lift jerked to a stop and the doors opened.
    He stepped off, his frame groaning as he moved, Rodimus double checked that he took the morning supplements and took a hot wash. The most frustrating part of Thunderclash’s frame was how slow it was, it took forever to wake up. He just had to keep up with it until they could return to their frames. Then he could figure out why his frame was overheating so much.
    Rodimus stepped in the medbay, glancing around, only spotting First Aid who smiled at him and pointed to the right. “Heads up, she’s not happy.”
    “Fantastic.” He vented, entering the room. “Hi, Lott-”
    “Berth now, plates open.” She snapped, stomping around and shooting half sparked glares at him.
    Rodimus laid on the berth, folding his servos behind his helm and popping open his panels. Shivers ran down his frame, Thunderclash’s weak spark barely produced any light, Rodimus couldn’t even see the light reflecting off Velocity’s face. Not to mention how cold his whole frame became the second he opened his chamber. He wanted to be warm again, thinking back to that cycle he spends with Thunderclash draped over his chest, scratching his chin.
    “Please stop,” Velocity smiled. “You only get that look when you’re thinking about your stupid crush.”
    “Oh?” Rodimus grinned, optics growing wide. “And who might have the rest of my spark?”
    Velocity tsked. “As if you’d ever tell me, won’t even tell you closest friend?”
    “Never.” He stuck his tongue out.
    She rolled her eyes. “Whoever this mech is, you don’t just ‘like’ them.”
    “And how can you tell?”
    “Thunders you have this stupid look whenever you think about them, I’ve only seen you look like that a few times in public (always in a public place and I still have no idea who this mech is). But I did see you drool this one time.” She punched his shoulder, hovering over his spark with a datapad and a measuring tool.
    “So I have this stupid look, what else?” He waved a servo around.
    “What else? Thunders, you stutter your frame groans. You’re not ‘The Greatest Autobot of all Time’ anymore, no you’re sparkling. Like you’re in this mech’s shadow.” She shook her head. “Curse you, knew that I’d feel better once you brought your crush up.”
    Rodimus laughed, picturing Thunderclash’s behavior, oddly it wasn’t too hard. “Okay, so if I were to ask this mystery mech out, any advice.”
    Velocity threw her arms up. “Look at you, your lugnuts dropped! I should run down to Visages and order a round of drinks! Please, Thunders, you might be a hero but you’re such a coward when it comes to yourself.” She vented, tapping his plates close. “11 inches, I’m going to look into other supplements for you. Frag, if you finally ask this mech out and bond? You might stop dying.”
    “Wonderful, I love it when our conversations are so uplifting.” He sat up, patting his knees.
    “Just ask them out, okay? Just go up to them and…” She huffed. “Do your thing, be sweet, don’t be ‘Thunderclash the hero’ but be you.” She waved her servo at him.
    “Okay so, step 1: ask the mech out, step 2: enjoy their company and test the waters, step 3: some steamy ‘facing, step 4: bond and not die.”
    She groaned. “You’re hopeless.”
    Rodimus got to his peds, looking down at his graying frame, maybe a nice polish would work with Thunder’s frame? Oh and a hot wash too! He stared at Velocity. “Hey...Lotty?”
    “Hmm?” She reset her optics.
    “What...what do I look like when I see them?”
    “You,” She frowned. “Give me a second.” She rinsed her face, rubbed her plates and pulled up a chair. Scrunching her face once, twice, and finally, her eyes grew wide, optics dulled, the rest of her frame slumped. And slowly a small smile grew bigger and bigger, and overall she looked dopey.
    “You’re kidding me.” He snorted, frag Thunderclash’s ‘dopey face’, something he’s been seeing more and more of. “I look so stupid!”
    Velocity laughed shaking her helm. “Sure do, and you just go braindead.” She stared at him, propping her helm up on her servo. “Frag you got it bad Thunders, you’ll stutter, I hear your tanks turning inside out, you vent more. This isn’t a crush at this point.”
    “Don’t you say it, I refus-”
    “You’re in love,” She laughed.
    Rodimus sunk down, knowing that his face was darker. It’s been about a week and still, he had no idea who was Thunderclash’s crush. She told him to come back every cycle to monitor his spark, he liked her, Velocity was sweet. Maybe… Hey, Thunders is it Velocity?





No. Thunderclash stepped onto the lift, it was his shift, he rubbed his optics and leaned against the wall. “I swear Primus if you're out there, please put me back in my frame...and help me out with ‘that’.”
    Suddenly a massive gray servo grabbed the doors as they were closing and Megatron stepped in, nodding to him. Instantly Thunderclash wanted to scream, sure Megatron wasn’t that scary and if he did hurt him then Megatron would be killed on the spot. It was just the fact that this mech leads a whole army in a war that killed millions of mechs, that Thunderclash had his spark short by his mech’s army. That he almost died.
    That he lived and some of his closest friends didn’t.
    “I would like a few minutes to talk to you...Rodimus.” Megatron folded his arms behind his back.
    “Is it about Thunderclash’s behavior at the shore leave?” He fought the need to squirm.
“Well, those mechs aren’t lashing out anymore, in fact, they seem… lost.” His optics pinned Thunderclash. “But I would like to discuss his recent behavior and your...friendship with him.”
“O-okay.” He was shaking in his peds, he was too comfortable with Rodimus. Rodimus hated him, hated him with all of Unicron’s rage-filled spark, and here they were joking, hanging out, frag they cuddled. How the frag has Rodimus not found out who his crush is?
The lift stopped and they stepped off, Thunderclash vented pleased that Rodimus wasn’t there yet, but a mech was covering for him.
“Minimus, I would like to discuss something with you, Rodimus.” Megatron nodded to the blue mech, gesturing to their office. Thunderclash stepped forward, each ped felt heavy and his spark felt smaller and smaller, his intake was dry and he kept blocking the messages asking him to purge.
    Megatron sat behind a massive desk, folding his servos, showing no emotion on his face. “I hope this isn’t an inconvenience for you, Rodimus.”
    “N-no, not at all, what are you concerns Megatron?” He forced himself to sit still, slumping in his chair.
    Megatron nodded. “It’s mostly personal matters, but I have noticed some strange trends. Mostly you're sudden...liking towards Thunderclash.”
    He nodded. “I see,” Rodimus hated him, simple. Rodimus hanging out with a mech he hates? Not too simple. “Thunderclash… at first, I was bored and…” He vented, grabbing at invisible straws. “I’ve found him...hard to stand, but not hate, not completely. He frustrates me, and out of boredom I asked him how he would run the ship, being that he’s been a captain before.” He cleared his intake. “And I’ve found his insight rather interesting.”
    “Okay. How do you feel about his… behavior?” Megatron asked, pulling out a datapad and glancing over it.
    “It was...overstepping, and I have discussed this with him in private, but I’m sure that it wasn’t him, then those mechs would’ve done something like that again. Or worse.” They would’ve, Thunderclash knew that mechs didn’t view Rodimus, Megatron or even Ultra Magnus as captains. Some gleefully clung to him like sparklings, even though he made it clear that his leading days were over.
    Megatron nodded, not even looking up from his datapad at this point. “I’ve also noticed your behavior, you’re...more closed up now, not just towards me, but to Drift in ways. You seem to be giving him more time with his bonded, and I can respect that, but why the sudden change?”
    How much time did Rodimus spend with Drift? Hours? Cycles? Whole Earth weeks? “Ah, well I have noticed that there's some tension between the two mechs and I decided to give Drift time. Besides, we all know how temperamental Ratchet can get.”
    “That is true, and that Ratchet’s own behavior has been… more irritable recently and Drift himself has been rather… frisky. What’s going on with them?”
    “Uhhh…” Rodimus, help, what is going on between Ratchet and Drift? Megatron is asking questions!
    “Huh,” Megatron sat up, looking up from his datapad. “Did you just open a comm?”
    “No,” Thunderclash sunk down in his chair.
    Megatron pinned him with his optics. “Alright.” He sat back in his chair. “You’re free to go Thunderclash, could you let Rodimus know that I have some reports for him to read over.”
    Thunderclash vented, getting to his peds. “Oh no problem, I’ll let him kn-” He stopped unable to look up from the desk.
    Megatron tapped on his datapad pad. “‘Rodimus, help, what is going on between Ratchet and Drift? Megatron is asking questions!’” Thunderclash finally met the ex-warlords face, Megatron had a slag eating grin.
    “Well you see that was… uhhh…”
    “Sit down, Thunderclash.”
    “Fuck.” He sat back down, giving up on holding his posture, squirming in his seat. “How?”
    Megatron chuckled, shaking his helm. “Mostly your actions with me, and Thunderclash, who I assume is Rodimus?”
    Thunderclash nodded, letting his helm fall in his servos. “I thought we were acting perfectly”
    “Rodimus never sits still in his chair, he liked to tease me and make dad jokes about me. I knew something was up when I didn’t get a headache during my shift. What happened?”
    “Our processors swapped when Brainstorm’s gun blew up, I’m in Rodimus’ frame, he’s in mine, Brainstorm is in Perceptor’s and Perceptor is in Brainstorm’s frame.” He spilled it all. “And now Brainstorm and Perceptor are trying to fix this and we’re all acting like one another being that Rodimus-”
    “Doesn’t want the crew to know?” Megatron finished.
    “Yep.” He slumped onto the table. “Why?”
    “Somehow he feels that he would be blamed for it and that you would get off scot-free.” He set the datapad down.
    Thunderclash groaned. “This is a nightmare.”
    “Is it your dying spark, or that your crush is in your frame with your dying spark?”
    “What are you?”
    “A Decepticon.” Megatron grinned. “I can tell when someone has a sparkling crush, but this isn’t a crush, you’re hopeles-”
    “Please don’t finish that.”
    “You’re in love with Rodimus Prime and you can’t even ask him out.” Megatron’s slag eating grin appeared again.
    Thunderclash pulled his peds up onto the chair. “It gets worse, he knows I have a crush on a someone and he’s been guessing who it is.”
    Megatron lost it, laughing. “He has no idea that it’s him, does he?”
    “Not a clue.”
    Megatron’s laughter died down, taking a few second for himself to vent. “Rodimus...You had to fall in love with him.”
    “Rodimus has problems, he can be a great leader and even a better Prime than Optimus. But he views himself as someone lesser, he only as a servo full of mechs that he calls friends on the ship. And then there’s the...dislike of you.” Megatron groaned, unable to stop smiling. “He sees you like he sees Optimus, someone he can never be, someone mechs look up to. He envies the attention and respects you get, that you’re his parallel and yet you’re a hero and he’s not.”
    “How screwed am I?” He asked.
    “Pretty screwed, he’ll find out sooner or later, and hopefully your frame won’t give out, and you can return to it and maybe have a quick quiet death.”
    “Gee, thanks...Hot Shot.”
    “Call him in here, I’ll see what I can do to keep this a secret.”
    Hey Rodimus… can you come into the captain's office? They waited for a while, just staring at one another, picking up tiny details that neither one of them had seen before. Megatron’s optics had slight bags under them, the lines of his face seemed deeper and still sharp but worn. His optics didn’t have the same fire they had during the war, instead, they were like coals slowly dying off.
    Thunderclash shifted in his seat. “I’m not sure he got that.”
    “I can always comm him in?”
    Sorry, I’m on my way.
    He vented. “He’s on his way...It was my fear wasn’t it?”
    “How scared I was around you, that’s what gave it away.”
    Megatron nodded. “It’s understandable, I know that the crew isn’t… in favor of me, but it’s my punishment, and I have to admit I’ve been enjoying my time here.”
    Thunderclash reset his optics. “Really?”
    Megatron lazily smiled. “Really, Magnus is a good mech to talk to, I enjoy reading his writing and he seems to like reading some of mine. Ratchet seems to enjoy snarking me on anything, wish he was on my side. Some mechs are scared of me, but not Rodimus, or well he was at first, but he’s one of the few mechs who’ll openly joke with me.”
    “Huh, would you change anything?”
    He shrugged. “If anything my inevitable death whenever we return.”
    There was a soft knock on the door before Rodimus walked in, his face paled when he met Megatron’s. “Oh, is this about the...incident?”
    Thunderclash perked up. “Well-”
    Wait, let’s mess with him. Megatron said over their comms, folding his servos, his face once again showed no emotion. “Sit down Thunderclash.”
    Thunderclash moved his seat over when Rodimus pulled up another seat the two. He sat calmly, easily the most relaxed mech in the room. “Yes, I’m aware I overstepped.”
    Uh, what should be do? Thunderclash asked.
    Let me handle this, sweet revenge. Megatron cleared his intake, looking down at his datapad. “You did, we’ve been discussing how we should punish you.”
    Rodimus frowned. “Punish me? Why? I put them in their places.”
    “Yes, but you’re not a captain.” Megatron corrected, playing the same game he played with Thunderclash, looking down at his datapad and acting as if he barely cared about Rodimus.
    “So? They’re like parasites, just hanging on my coattails, and using my name to get whatever they want.” Rodimus was falling for it, easily getting worked up, his massive servos curled into fists, and he hissed.
    “We’ve decided that you’ll be cleaning up the lower decks’ skid marks, and next shore leave you’ll be cleaning the outside of the Lost Light.”
    Rodimus grumbled. “Fine.” He snapped gritting his teeth.
    Megatron nodded. “And Rodimus try not to scuff the paint job.”
    “Well I don’t care about the ship’s paint job, it’s just a ship, why the frag do I have to do it? I mean Megs yo-” He finally stopped getting to his peds. “You bitch.”
    Thunderclash snorted high fiving Megatron. “Holy slag that was worth it!”
    Megatron grinned as Rodimus groaned.
    “So he knows?” Rodimus pointed at Megatron.
    “Yeah, he did the same thing to be too.” Thunderclash shrugged. “But he knows.”
    Rodimus deflated, rubbing his optics. “Anything else you need to know?”
    “Nope, just keep me updated and I’ll see if I can get whatever materials Brainstorm and Perceptor needs.” Megatron still wore his slag eating grin, frag what a smug look.
    “Hey Rodimus,” Thunderclash got to his peds.
    “What’s going on with Drift and Ratchet? Well besides them fragging a lot?”
    “Oh, I thought you’d know,” Rodimus blinked. “We’ll…”
    “They want another passenger on board the Lost Light.” Megatron finished, rising to his peds.

“I think you’re taking this a little too far.” Rodimus stepped into his hab, surprised to see some sort of order to the mess. Thunderclash organized his polishes and waxes, cleaned his boards and even stacked all of his dataslugs. Currently, one of his boards was torn up and slowly being fixed. “Oh wow, thanks.”
    “NO ONE WAS GOING TO TELL ME?!” Thunderclash stomped in, for once his tiny frame was loud. The whole walk after their shifts was horrible, their whole shift was horrible, Thunderclash was furious that no one told him about Ratchet and Drift. “I MEAN...I’M FRIENDS WITH RATCHET, WHY THE FRAG WOULDN’T HE TELL ME?!” He flopped onto the berth.
    Rodimus grabbed one of the polish tins, surprised that it was pretty heavy. “Is this an unopened one?”
    “No, I put the remaining polishes into one container, I didn’t mix any of them. WAS NO ONE GOING TO TELL ME?!”
    “Thanks. You’ve been yelling about this for a few hours now, so will you give my vocals a rest?”
    Thunderclash groaned. “I’m sorry, just…” He rolled onto his back. “I love sparklings.”
    Rodimus rolled his optics. “That’s no surprise.”
    “I just want to support them…” He sat up. “How long have they been trying?”
    “About an Earth month, not too long.” He eyed the wash rack, Thunderclash’s was so small and hard to work with, the only issue here was that he had to kneel under the spray to get clean. That and maybe Thunderclash’s frame would look nice with a polish? “Mind if I use the wash rack?”
    Thunderclash waved him on. “Just...I FRAGGING LOVE SPARKLINGS!”
    “You’ve said that about 5 times now,” He called turning the rack on.
    “Hey, Rodimus?”
    He ducked under the hot spray, his frame groaning at the warmth. “Yeah?”
    “Would you ever want sparklings?”
    Rodimus stopped, frowning at the spray, strange that Thunderclash would ask this. “Honestly, I would be scared at first,  I wouldn’t know what to do, what to say to them...I don’t think I’d be a great creator.”
    Thunderclash laughed at that. “You’re joking right?” He continued to laugh. “Rodimus you’d be a great creator. You’re not scared of Megatron, you’re easy to talk to, and you’re relatable. If your creation got into some trouble you’d know what to do, not only that but you’d be a terrifying carrier if someone hurt them, I think not even Primus could save that poor mech….n-not that you’d be the carrier or anything!” Thunderclash corrected himself.
    “You’d be a good sire, you’d know how to discipline them but also spoil them...Besides I can’t imagine your frame carrying.” He said splashing his faceplates and letting the spray run down his back.
    “Thanks for saying that, but I would have the same fears as you do. I wouldn’t want to mess up the sparklings life, and if anything I would try to give them confidence. More confidence than what I have.”
    It was his turn to laugh now. “You do realize you’re Thunderclash right? You’re a Prime, how much more confidence can you have?”
    “Rodimus, I haven’t even asked my crush out, he’s got no idea, I have no confidence in that field, but sure disarming a bomb as you plummet to the Earth, no problem.”
    “You're just not used to it, and it’s normal to feel...tiny compared to this mech.”
    Thunderclash laughed again. “‘Tiny’? Please, this mech makes me feel microscopic around him.” He vented. “I love him.”
    A twinge of jealousy shot through his spark, he grits his teeth. “You don’t even know them, they could be a jerk, or worse.”
    Thunderclash laughed even louder now. “Please, he’s far from that, he’s...kind, snarky, and...and he can make me melt.”
    Rodimus fought back his envy, and he had no idea who this mech was. “Got it pretty bad huh?”
    “Oh you have no idea, I was once staring at him and I was drooling.”
    He didn’t bother responding to that, getting a chunk of moss out of his plates. Making sure the oil got between every plate, loosening his frame and overall relaxing him. Once he found himself completely relaxed and even a little tired he turned the wash off and flicked the fans. Opening up the tin of polish.
    Polish at first was tricky with his thick digits, but it wasn’t too bad once he got one of his many clothes it wasn’t so bad. Starting with his peds and making his way up and finally finishing with his servos, he grabbed another tin for his faceplate. The other tin wasn’t as shiny but still would lighten up Thunderclash’s dull mustard yellow face.
    Rodimus smiled at himself in the mirror, frag Thunderclash’s frame was damn good looking. He stepped out to find Thunderclash helm deep into his smashed board, sneezing up a storm when dust got in his vents.
    Thunderclash sat up, helm completely covered in black grease, only his blue optics stuck out. He looked Rodimus up and down, his face set into that stupid grin once again. “Y-you look nice.”
    “Thanks.” He frowned at the state of his own frame, but brushed it off, a clean frame or a working meteor board? Rodimus sat on the floor, propping his helm on his servo watching Thunderclash. “What’s wrong with it?”
    “Well…” Thunderclash ducked into the board again. “Mostly the damage and dust, your motor needs to be cleaned out and recharged. But I would also change out the thrusters.” He sat back, grabbing a cloth and cleaning off his digits. “Can I have my cube please?”
    Rodimus handed him his half-finished cube.
    “Besides that, it’s a good board, what happened?” He grabbed an air canister and started spraying, tiny clouds of dust and cleaner got into Thunderclash’s vents.
    “Tailgate wanted to have some fun, but then Cyclonus butted his helm in and grabbed Tailgate off his board (he was doing so well, might sneak him out again) and this baby smashed into the ship.” Rodimus watched him, half out of boredom and half out of interest, but for once is frame started to feel warm. Maybe a good hot wash and a polish might’ve strengthened Thunderclash’s spark?
    “Tailgate-” He started backfiring as another cloud of dust covered his face. “A meteor shower sur-” Thunderclash started another backfiring hitting his chest.
    “Yeah, he was pretty good,” He felt warm, really warm and kinda itchy, Rodimus just ignored it watching Thunderclash work.
    “Wow, and I’ve noticed how well you-” He started backfiring again. “Goddamnit!” He gasped out as his system tried to clean the dustout.
    “When did you pick up on Earth slang?” Rodimus gave in, scratching his ped.
    “I- ugh- learned- Fu-” Once again his frame backfired, Thunderclash tensed. “I learned out of boredom.” He wheezed out.
    Rodimus sat on his other aft plate, itching the underside of his ped. “From movies, books, shows?”
    “All-” Thunderclash got up, hacking up dust and cleaner, engine backfiring and his frame wobbled. “FUCK!”
    Rodimus got to his peds too, rubbing his back against the wall. “H-hey Thunders?”
    Thunder was on the floor at this point, hacking and coughing, punching the floor in frustration. “Wha-”
    “A...are you allergic to anything?” He started groaning as he itched between his plates.
    “S-sensitive?” He crawled towards the wash rack, turning on the hot oil. Finally, his system cleaned out with a few loud hacks. “Not that I know of, some paints that have Latex in them.”
    “Huh.” Rodimus grabbed one of the tins, reading the materials.
    “Wh-” Suddenly Thunderclash sneezed in the wash rack, bursting into flames, screaming. Scaring Rodimus who ran towards the ball of fire, tripping over the berth.
    “OH FUCK!” Rodimus screamed, optics watering looking over his shoulder, frames don’t bend like that.
    “OH FUCK!” Thunderclash ran out still on fire and staring at Rodimus. He knelt down next to Rodimus. “Oh shit, fuck, tampon,” He sputtered out, digits hovering over Rodimus’ messed up back struts.
    “Do something!” Rodimus snapped, his processor screaming, as his frame burned and a dull cold ache spread around the broken struts, energon ran down his plates.
    “I’m on fire! What the fuck can I do-”
    An alarm went off and the sprinklers turned on, Thunderclash screamed as his plates sizzled. Rodimus groaned enjoying the cold fluid on his back, a few seconds later Ratchet and First Aid opened the door. Finding Rodimus (Thunderclash) screaming in 4 different languages and hiding under the berth and trying to look at Thunderclash’s (Rodimus’) wounds, and Thunderclash (Rodimus) was helm first in the fluid his back struts twisted.
    “What kind of Satanic shit did we just walk into?” Ratchet yelled, scaring Rodimus (Thunderclash) and Thunderclash (Rodimus) offline.

Perceptor hovered over the blueprints and a soldering iron, he wished he had his microscopic vision, would’ve made this part easier. Not to mention Brainstorm’s height and wings were a challenge, he kept bumping into the shelves and scraping his wings. However, whenever Brainstorm touched or even lightly grazed his wings Perceptor fought back what felt like a tidal wave of lust. He missed, again. “Frag it.” He grumbled tossing the iron aside and cupping his helm.
    Brainstorm stopped what he was doing, Perceptor felt his optics burn into him. “You...want to take a break?”
    “No, we can’t.” Perceptor vented. “Limited supplies and we’re literally racing against time, all while we’re in different frames.”
    Brainstorm got to his peds, slightly leaning against Perceptor’s back, his warm frame was more them comforting, his digits lightly tracing his wings. “Just vent, okay?” He rested his helm on Perceptor’s shoulder.
    He did, staring at Brainstorm. “You keep touching my wings.”
    “Well, technically they’re mine.” Brainstorm grinned.
    Perceptor got to his peds, wrapping an arm around Brainstorm’s waist and pinning him against the workbench. “I know what you’re doing.”
    “What I’m doing?” Brainstorm repeated, looking up at him with wide blue optics.
    “Yes.” Perceptor tossed his mask aside and closed the gap between them, kissing Brainstorm.
    Brainstorm was in genuine shock, but melted kissing back and pulling himself onto the workbench. “I honestly wasn't doing anything.”
    Perceptor growled. “You kept touching my wings,” He ground their interface panels together.
    “I was?” He blinked. “Oh, well this is a pleasant surprise.” He shrugged, Perceptor could care less, kissing him again and unplugging the iron as he pushed Brainstorm back. Brainstorm moaned as Perceptor nipped at his intake, then his chin and finally his neck cables. He grinned reaching for Brainstorm’s scope and lightly tracing the outside of the lens. “Oh fuck! When the hell did that become so sensitive?”
    “I never told you, or else you’d be constantly touching it.” He ground his plates into Brainstorm’s.
    “Damn you.” He fell back, letting Perceptor pin him against the workbench.
    Perceptor didn’t care, rubbing Brainstorm’s panel. “Are you going to open or?”
    “Make me.” He grinned.
    “Fine.” Perceptor attacked Brainstorm’s scope, licking the lens and playing with the base. Brainstorm gasped and wrapped his legs around Perceptor’s hips, moaning as his digits tried to reach Perceptor’s wings. Brainstorm did, pulling Perceptor down, digging his digits between the wings. Pleasure ran through his frame, Perceptor moaned optics offlining for a split second. He heard their panels open, glancing down at the light gray, black and a red node, a yellow and teal spike jutted out between the two of them.
    “Percy, please.” Brainstorm moaned kissing him and opening his legs a little more.
    Just as Preceptor was about to plunge his spike in there was a loud knock at the door, instantly killing the mood. “Think they’ll go away?” Perceptor asked, his spike twitching.
    “Brainstorm, Perceptor!” Megatron called.
    “Frag.” Perceptor pulled away, shoving his spike behind his panel. “I’ll get it.” Brainstorm shut his own panels and grumbled, hunching over the workbench. Perceptor opened the door only to have a heavy box shoved into his arms.
    “Thunderclash told me everything, here’ some extra supplies,” Megatron cleared his intake. “Comm me if you need anything else.” He promptly turned around and walked off.


Chapter Text

He woke up in the medbay, hearing Thunderclash blabbering and still on fire, while Ratchet tried to calm him down. Velocity hovered over him, shining a light in his optics, she smiled.
    “He’s coming around,”
    “OOO?” Thunderclash gasped, his optics shining.
    Rodimus frowned. “What?”
    Ratchet grinned. “He wouldn’t shut up and kept biting his tongue, so I gave him a harmless shot that makes your tongue swell.”
    “ATSHET!” Thunderclash yelled at the medic, punching him in the arm. “I as wurried!”
    Velocity laughed. “Get him out of here.”
    “Elocity, m not leving!” He spat out, a steady line of drool down his chin, Thunderclash didn’t even seem to notice, pointing at Rodimus. “Tay!”
    Even Rodimus was finding it hard to not laugh, poor Thunderclash. First Aid walked over with a fire extinguisher and sprayed Thunderclash down.
    “No rough houses, no drinking, no transforming?” He frowned at the list of do’s and don’t that Velocity sent to him, Rodimus turned away from Swerves’s and stomped towards Thunderclash’s hab. “Real pain in my aft.” He grumbled, unlocking the hab and stepping in. Bored, bored, bored...Thunders I’m not sure you know this but I’m bored.
    What do you want me to do about it?
    Tell me who your crush is, then I could hook you two up? He grinned laying down on the berth and crossing his legs. He pictured it now, Thunderclash making out with some unknown mech and Rodimus watching it all. That...that wasn’t as enjoyable as it should’ve been. When Drift told him about his feelings for Ratchet he was giddy, and always tried to get the two alone, this wasn’t the same.
    Why do you keep trying?
    Rodimus shrugged, pulling out Thunderclash’s datapad. Might as well have a little bit of fun, and besides, you sounded pretty...struck by this mech. The teasing wasn’t the same as it was with Drift or Ratchet. If his frame didn’t go into shock from the allergic reaction he’d might’ve said something. “It was pretty funny.”
    You’re killing me, you know that?
    I think it was the sneeze and falling on your back that almost killed you. He scrolled through, finding wonderfully painted landscapes, and mechs, his servos stopping over a locked art file. “‘Hardcore Midget Porn’? Thunders?” He grinned, tapping on the file as it asked for a passcode. “Frag, okay’s only digits soooo…”
    “What are you hiding, what could be the Greatest Autobot of all Time be hiding?”
    “If this is all hardcore midget porn in this folder I’m going to shoot the rest of your damn spark Thunders!” Rodimus set the datapad down, drumming his fingers on his helm. Thunderclash seemed to be the mech who had the same code for everything, for his storage in the back, for his cabinet in the wash rack, and for his hab. Rodimus grinned.
    “Are you shitting me?” Rodimus laughed. “That was his passcode?” Cute. Rodimus settled down in the berth again, cocking a smile as he scrolled through the drawings. Each one well drawn, the lighting was perfect, the colors were vibrant and overall each piece was wonderful. “I was expecting something dirty…” He frowned, looking over each piece until his digits stopped. “Wait.” It was a drawing of him, of Rodimus, then another, and another. His spark almost leaped into his intake, Rodimus sat up. “Oh frag me.” He slapped his helm, everything fell into place.
    Yet that feeling before went away as he got to his peds. “Well...I guess I’ll just go frag myself.” Rodimus put the datapad back in his subspace. Hey Thunders, wanna watch something? My place…? Your place…? Frag the hab I’m in, which is owned by you! Rodimus laughed tiptoeing towards the wash rack. “Gonna check out the equipment.”


Thunderclash watched over the mechs on his shift, bored out of his processor as he tapped his digits on the chair. He only had 30 minutes until his shift was over and Drift would take control. He really didn’t miss being a captain, sure you had control over a whole vessel, but most of the time it was tedious, rarely did you see action and when you did? It was short lived.
     Hey Thunders, wanna watch something? My place…? Your place…? Frag the hab I’m in, which is owned by you!
    Thunderclash smiled, no matter what Rodimus could always make him smile, one of the fiery mechs many talents. Okay, my hab? He leaned back in the chair rubbing his helm frag this was boring. Pulling out Rodimus’ datapad and pulling up some stupid game to just kill time.
    “Bored Roddy?” Drift hovered over him, a cold look in his optics.
    “Uhh, yeah?” Thunderclash sat up, shoving the datapad away.
    “I saw you and Thunders.” He glared at Thunderclash.
    “Oh yeah,”
    “I thought you turned him down… not the opposite.”
    Thunderclash vented. “Okay, I was about to, on the shore leave, and we talked...I guess I just forgot.”
    Drift rolled his optics, looking more and more like a pissy soon to be a creator. “Get your head out of your aft Roddy.” He kicked Thunderclash out of the chair. “Do it now, or it’ll get worse.”
    “Okay.” You have no idea how bad it is Drift, Thunderclash swiftly turned and stepped off the bridge. Rushing towards his old hab, and Rodimus, hopefully, the mech would help him deal with Drift. The tensions melting away from his frame as he pinged for Rodimus.
    “It’s open!” Rodimus yelled.
    Thunderclash stepped in, yawning and resetting his optics. “What’s the movie?” He stretched before body slamming on to the soft berth and groaning in the cushions.
    “Thinking…comedy?” Rodimus called from the wash rack.
    “Comedy? Rodimus if you haven’t noticed our lives are a comedy, if Swerve knew he’d follow us around with a laugh track.” Thunderclash vented into the pillows.
    “I’m still thinking comedy, lighten up the mood.”
    “‘Mood’?” Thunderclash picked himself up glaring at the wash rack, what could Rodimus be doing. “What ‘mood’?”
    Rodimus stuck his helm out. “The mood of the ‘situation’?”
    Thunderclash rolled his optics and flopped back on the berth, closing his optics. “As long as the next few minutes aren’t processor numbing, we’re good.”
    “Hmmm, okay,”
    Thunderclash sat up, scared out of his protoform, jumping up and off the berth and facing Rodimus. “WHAT THE HELL?!” His spark was racing as he looked at Rodimus with wide-awake clarity.
    “How big is your spike?” Rodimus cocked a grin.
    “I don’t know, why?” He tossed his arms up, ready to rant about his interface when he finally looked at Rodimus WHOLE frame, optics falling between his hips. Staring right at his pride and joy, his yellow white and blue spike.
    Rodimus snickered above him. “This is an arm, not a spike.”
    Thunderclash groaned, somewhere, somehow Primus and Unircon were laughing their afts off at him. He cupping his optics and vented for about a few minutes. “I don’t know.”
    “Thunderclash your spike is literally an arm.” Rodimus was enjoying this too much, a little too much.
    “It’s not.”
    “I bet I can sneak in and nab Ratchet’s medical files, this is the biggest spike I’ve ever seen.”
    “It’s really not.” He huffed unable to look at Thunderclash’s/Rodimus’ spike, or in Rodimus’ optics.
    “Greatest Autobot of all time~!”
    “You’re the spawn of Unicron.”
    Rodimus started to laugh. “How much helm do you get?”
    “None!” His tanks turned, this was surreal, a whole new level of the pit for him, his crush in his body talking about his spike (that’s not that big).
    “No, I’m not, I don’t get any helm and I refuse to get any.” He snapped, half of him wanted to turn around and scream in some isolated location until he needed a new vocalizer.
    “What, so poor mech’s intake got stuck, or they purged on you?” He couldn’t stop grinning.
    He nodded. “Yeah, 3 helm incidents that could last a lifetime.”    
    “I WAS JOKING!” Rodimus gasped, resetting his optics. “What happened?”
    “No, nope, no way in hell.” He gave up, turning to the door and stepping out.
    Rodimus stomped over, snaking an arm around his torso and pulled him back in. “Please tell me.” Thunderclash frame shivered feeling Rodimus’ engine purr. The door shut, and Thunderclash squirmed in Rodimus’ arms.
    “No.” He snapped wiggling to face Rodimus.
    “Why?” Rodimus vented, giving Thunderclash puppy optics.
    “I’m not AND I REPEAT NOT, going to explain why I refuse helm to my crush who’s in my frame and who’s got my spike out!” He froze, intake still open, his frame starts to burn and he felt a tidal wave of regret crash into him. “Did I just?”
    Rodimus’ puppy optics turned into a devilish grin, losing every faint sign of innocents as he laughed, his whole frame bellowing. Thunderclash held onto Rodimus’ shoulder as the giant frame tumbled backward and into a wall, Rodimus fell on his aft laughing.
    Thunderclash squirmed in his arm, trying to free himself.
    “Jinkies, I think I solved that mystery!” Rodimus gasped out.
    Thunderclash groaned. “Please just let me go.”
    “Shan’t.” Rodimus tightened his grip his engine rumbled. “I figured it out, let me gloat.”
    “Rodimus please.” He whined, falling limp in Rodimus’ arms.
    “Let me have this,” Rodimus vented sitting up. “Calm down. I figured it out after your...well flattering drawings,”
    Thunderclash fell back, tossing a servo up in defeat.
    Rodimus rubbed his back struts and up to his spoiler. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
    “Gee thanks.”
    “I hope you didn’t mind me...checking out the goods.”
    Thunderclash sat back up, frowning. “Congrats, you saw my spike.”
    “Yeah...Mind if we make out like who horny teens that just found out about making out?”
    Thunderclash wasn’t really listening. “Sure why not-MMph!” He was shut up by another intake pressing against his, it was rough, rushed and gone in a split second.
    Rodimus vented. “I’m sorry,” He sunk down. “I’m just...nervous?”
Thunderclash shook himself. “I’ve only had helm 3 times,” Rodimus perked up. “Each time was utterly horrible. It was before the war or just at the start of it but I was a little drunk, sweet-talked a femme into some helm (yes I was a bit of a ‘hound dog’ back then). She was giving me helm and I pushed her helm down (first time) and she purged on me.”
    Rodimus’ award-winning smile returned to his face. “How was the rest of that night?”
    “Well, I apologized, cleaned her and then myself and bought her another round of drinks.”
    “What about the other 2?”
    “The others? Well, my protoform was finally done growing and this poor mech talked me into his berth. Pretty good helm but that poor mech’s intake broke...That was fun explaining that to the medic on staff.” Rodimus snorted, optics growing twice their normal size to hear the last story. Not like he couldn’t say no to Rodimus. “So this was when I became ‘Greatest Autobot of All Time’, and a rookie came up and offered, I guess he was trying to use me. He was a little bit too eager and,” Thunderclash gestured to the half hard spike under him, pausing to compare it to his ‘new’ body, it really was an arm. “He stopped when he had my whole spike in his intake and he started slapping my thigh. I panicked and called Velocity down, that poor mech, his whole intake,” He pointed to his jaw then down his throat and even his collar. “Expanded too much, and it stretched. He had to be yanked off my spike and into surgery.” He wiggled out of Rodimus’ grasp and sank down, picking up his spike and gesturing to a few scars on the base.
    Rodimus was laughing again, picturing each story. “You poor mech!” He snorted, hitting the floor. “Your spike is too big!”
    “It’s not!” He whined slipping out of Rodimus’ arms crossing his own. “I swear it’s not, just don’t want anyone else to get hurt or worse.” He stood over Rodimus who was still laughing.
    “It really is.”
    Thunderclash huffed, sitting on Rodimus’ leg, debating if he was really going to do what he was thinking. “It’s not that big.”
    Rodimus knocked his helm against the wall, still laughing. “Thunders, it’s huge!”
    “Frag it.” He grabbed Rodimus’/his spike, wiggling his jaw, before doing what he was thinking about doing, sucking some spike. He tried not to think about it, swallowing the head, surprised that his intake was already full.
    “Thunderclash.” Rodimus’ voice was tight.
    He didn’t look up, not that he could, venting before stuffing the rest of his fat spike in, his throat aching as it was stretched.
    “Oh, Primus.”
    He wanted to stop but didn’t, jamming the rest of his spike in and finally stopping when there was simply no more spike to swallow. Thunderclash wanted to smile, instead, he settled for the easier option. It’s not that big. It was, the strangest thing was that it felt like he just drank every glass of energon on the ship.
    “Thunders,” Rodimus squeaked. “You’ve made your point, now before you either bite off your own spike or my jaw breaks, please.” He begged, resting a servo on Thunderclash’s back.
   Okay . He was slow, pulling his whole body off of the massive spike, carefully, and finally pulling it out of his intake with a pop that echoed in the small room and flopping back. “Not...that big.”
    “Sure, there’s unprocessed energon on it.” Rodimus snorted. “And I know that your spike would split me in half.”
    He groaned, shooting Rodimus a glare. “You know, it’s not like I have a valve or anything.”
    “I’m going to guess that valve is the size of a tunnel.”
    Thunderclash growled sitting up and straddling Rodimus’ thighs, tracing his digits over Rodimus’ chest, then to his sides, digging in between the plates. Rodimus wiggled and gasped, his optics locking with Thunderclash’s, challenging him, Thunderclash moaned as his spoiler was pinched and then rubbed. Thunderclash laughed, sitting up and kissing Rodimus, Rodimus pressed him down, deepening the kiss. Thunderclash felt Rodimus’ spike between them, his interface array feeling hot and stuffy, but he could care less. The current task was getting Rodimus into a half melted mech. Thunderclash pulled away from the kiss, Rodimus was at a loss when his digits just scraped between his hips and pelvis plates. The frame under him rumbled, Rodimus’ hips wiggled.
    “What are you doing?” He panted out.
    Thunderclash grinned. “Proving a point.” He pressed his palm against Rodimus’ lower panel. The panel clicked open, Thunderclash didn’t look down, tracing the swollen lips with a single digit and rolling around the outer node. Rodimus sat still, refusing to show any satisfaction, only his frame twitched. “Just,” He slipped a digit into Rodimus’ valve, Rodimus gasped, optics burning. “Proving a point.” He felt the valve cycle down on just his digit, knowing that he couldn’t add another one in without Rodimus overloading.
    “Wha?” He moaned under Thunderclash.
    Thunderclash snickered. “The last time I used my valve was before the war, no one asks for my valve.”
    Rodimus moaned as Thunderclash wiggled his digit around. “Interesting that my gestation chamber is one of the biggest and most secure chambers, not like that mattered.”
    “Why?” He gasped out, legs twitching and his spike growing to its full size (now he wouldn’t be able to give any helm).
    “My spark.” He pulled his digit out, watching Rodimus squirm at the lack of it. “That system shut down ages ago.”
    “S-sterile?” Rodimus lifted his helm.
    “Completely,” He shrugged, ages ago he would’ve loved to have tiny sparklings crawling over him, now he was more concerned if he’d wake up in the morning...if Rodimus would wake up.
    Rodimus huffed, wrapping a servo around Thunderclash’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. “I just wanted a good frag, could we talk about this later?” He kissed Thunderclash again, and again.
    The kisses tickled. “Okay,” He laughed, finally giving Rodimus one last kiss before sinking back down eyeing the tight valve in front of him. “Mind if I?”
    Rodimus smiled. “Hardly.” His spread his thighs. “I would like to use your spike, once you’re done.”
    Thunderclash nodded, letting his spike panel slip back, Rodimus’ spike was handsome (no matter how weird that sounded). Most of his spike was orange, but there were hints of gold and yellow, not to mention there were painted flames on it. “Who painted the flames?”
    “Drift has a better servo.” Rodimus glanced away, his faceplates turning rosy.
    “DRIFT!” Thunderclash snorted. “HE PAINTED YOUR SPIKE!”
    Rodimus rolled his optics, hips wiggling as he blushed. “Just put in my flaming spike, okay?”
    “Okay, but I’ll be coming in hot.”
    “I’m going to shoot the rest of your spark.” Rodimus groaned.
    Thunderclash grinned slipping his spike in, both frames gasped, he hunched over Rodimus while Rodimus fell back. “Tight.”
    “Full.” Rodimus wheezed.
    “I hope you can handle the heat.” Thunderclash snorted while Rodimus cupped his helm, Thunderclash pulled out and then back in, groaning as Rodimus’ tight spike was already cycling down.
    “You’re terrible.” He whimpered out.
    Thunderclash gasped, digging his digits into Rodimus’ chest plates, grinding his teeth and trying his hardest to not ram into Rodimus like a mech in heat. “Frag.” Maybe he should’ve used his valve more, right now it felt like someone was strangling his spike. Thunderclash pulled back out leaving the head in. “I gotta say, it’s getting steamy in here.”
    Rodimus groaned. “I’m going to make even worse puns.”
    He rolled his hips once again slamming his full spike into Rodimus, earning a faint whimper and then a gasp. A shiver ran up Thunderclash’s back struts. “What was that?” He felt something in his spike, something tight, he pulled out, completely. “Oh.” He stared down at his spike, pleasantly surprised.
    “Your fire cock has a fire knot.” He sat up showing Rodimus.
    “You didn’t know?”
    “No, I rarely use my spike.” Rodimus shrugged. “Now can you please, and I can’t stress the word ‘please’ enough, frag me?”
    “Okay, okay, I’m going to ignite your flame.” He winked.
    Rodimus groaned grabbing Thunderclash’s helm and smashing their intakes together. “I thought the Greatest Autobot of All Time would be a bit sexier in berth.”
    “Oh?” Thunderclash once again pushed into Rodimus, shivers running up his struts. “Well, Greatest Autobot of All Time, you’re not really acting like it.”
    Rodimus groaned. “Cheeky bastard.” Wrapping his legs around Thunderclash and trapping him. Rodimus moaned, his helm rolling to the side, intake open and eyes half closed. His tight valve was maddening, the only mental picture that Thunderclash could think of was a spike trying to fit in a tiny straw that had slugs on the inside. So it was good.
    Their hips were moving at a perfect pace, almost locked, Thunderclash dug his digits into a few sensitive seams, heat rising from Rodimus’ frame. “Mmm, mmm, Toasty.” He mumbled.
    Rodimus could only shoot him a small look of anger, that quickly fell apart when his knot rubbed against Rodimus’ node. Thunderclash felt the hot slick valve tighten, even more, he wasn’t going to last too much longer. “Please,” Rodimus whimpered, coolant dripping down his plates.
    Frag if that wasn’t the hottest thing, Thunderclash hissed, thrusting all the way up to his knot, Rodimus wiggled under him, his thighs tightening. And then it slipped in with a slick pop, Thunderclash moaned, losing his posture and falling on top of Rodimus. “Frag.”
    Rodimus grabbed his spoiler, valve squeezing the life out of his spike, Rodimus gasped as he overloaded. He fell back in a slight daze, Thunderclash weakly moved his hips, softly gasping when he overloaded, a second overload rocked through Rodimus’ frame. “I didn’t know my spike was that good.”
    “I didn’t know that my valve felt like a vacuum.” He looked up at Rodimus. “But in a good way, ya know?” His spike twitched again, Thunderclash fell again, gasping, as a second overload turned his processor into static.
    Rodimus whined, cupping Thunderclash’s helm. “What was tha-” He was cut off by another moan, Thunderclash overloaded again. “What is that?”
    Thunderclash shrugged, too weak to do too much more, taking a few moments as another overload shook his frame. He sat back, more like fell back, Rodimus groaned as they fell apart. Thunderclash looked up, Rodimus mimicked him, staring at his half erect spike, Thunders stared at Rodimus’ blue and gold valve, trans fluid dripping slowly out of it.
    Rodimus slid the cover over, slowly sitting up and scooping Thunderclash up. He lumbered over to the berth, laying down and pinning Thunderclash on his chest. “I didn’t know I had a knot.”
    Thunderclash groaned, feeling the exhaustion from his frame. “It’s a handsome spike.”
    Rodimus snorted. “I’ve never heard anyone call a spike ‘handsome’, what was up with that train of overloads?”
    He shook his helm, at a loss. “Tired?”
    Rodimus nodded. “I still want to watch a comedy,” He pulled Thunderclash closer, kissing him. “Think you’ll stay awake?” He planted another kiss on Thunderclash’s cheek.
    He nodded as Rodimus rolled onto his side, Thunderclash slipped off his chest as they faced the holoscreen. Rodimus flicked it on and picked the first Earth movie he could, Thunderclash watched the logos, feeling Rodimus pull him closer and wrap an arm around him before slipping into a deep recharge.
    He woke up about an hour later, mumbling as he looked up as Rodimus, a lazy smile on his face. “Hmm?” Rodimus had a servo on his hips pulling him back, Thunderclash felt it, the heat from Rodimus’ panel. He looked up, nodding and opening his own panel. Rodimus gently lifted his helm, kissing him as Rodimus pushed his massive digits into his valve. He whined, weakly kissing back, hearing a faint click as Rodimus’ spike pressurized between his thighs. Thunderclash shook under Rodimus, his valve being stretched with each digit, Rodimus kissed his cheeks, his chin, and his intake.
    Rodimus pushed in the third digit the stretch driving his processor wild, pressing a kiss to the side of his helm. “Ready to feel the thunder?”
    Thunderclash cracked up, weakly punching Rodimus’ massive chest. “Do I need to wait 5 seconds? Or are you all talk?”
    Rodimus’ engine rumbled, the vibration tickled his frame, he felt the absence of those wonderful digits, instead, there was the head of Rodimus’ spike pressing softly against his outer node and valve. “I need to prove a point.” He rumbled, lifting Thunderclash’s thigh up and finally pressing his spike in.
    “OH FUCK! RODIMUS!” He yelled, hissing and shutting his optics, shivering as Rodimus pushed in. Thunderclash fell apart as his frame overheating as Rodimus’ thick spike pulled out and back in. “YOU’RE RIGHT!” He cried out, the cold berth below him kept him sane.
    Rodimus laughed, his frame shook the berth, pressing another kiss behind his helm. “I told you, your spike is huge, big enough to plug up a black hole.”
    Thunderclash nodded, optics watering, frag he never felt so full before in his whole life. “YOU’RE RIGHT!” He moaned, Rodimus pressing them together, venting down his back. Thunderclash shivered, pressing his hips down against Rodimus’ feeling his spike rub against his nodes.
    Rodimus laughed, pausing his hips to readjust them and starting with a slow rhythm, pulling out and then in. Slowly at first and each thrust in rubbing new nodes and sending pleasure up his frame. Thunderclash could barely think anymore, Rodimus kept kissing his helm mumbling something that tickled him.
    “RODIMUS!” He moaned, pressing his hips back as the pace picked up again, rubbing nodes that were so deep in his valve. “RODIMUS! RODIMUS! RODIMUS!” He chanted digging his digits into the soft berth below. “RODIMUS!” He cried out again, feeling Rodimus’ spike press into his gestation chamber, overloading.
    Rodimus kissed him again, and again, his hips never stopping, Thunderclash whimpered as a certain group of nodes were just lightly rubbed. Then it was hit again, and again, Rodimus was panting above him, grabbing Thunderclash’s helm and pressing their intakes together, overloading. Their frames didn’t stop rocking together until Rodimus was finished, he pulled back leaving a tiny kiss on Thunderclash’s nose.
    “Rodimus.” He gasped, falling, his digits digging into Rodimus’ plates.
    Rodimus laughed. “I know what you want.” He scooped Thunderclash up, curling up around him and slowly pulling his spike out. “How do you feel?”
    Thunderclash nodded. “Wonderful...but you’re right,”
    Rodimus laughed. “Would this be considered self-service?”
    Thunderclash vented. “Just hold me.”
    He grinned, rubbing Thunderclash’s back. “, a thing?”
    Thunderclash groaned, his frame aching as he pulled himself up, kissing Rodimus one last time. “I would love for this, us, to be a thing.”
    Rodimus vented, a pleasant smile and dim optics staring at Thunderclash.


Drift stopped, looking into Ratchet’s optics, pressing a kiss on his bonded’s faceplates. “How are you feeling?”
    Ratchet rarely showed emotions besides mildly agitated in public, yet here he was, smiling with a  small twinkle in his optics. “I’m fine, will you stop asking?”
    “‘Will you stop asking?’” He mimicked Ratchet’s cranky voice. “You know I won’t.
    Ratchet rolled his optics. “Whatever, pain in my aft.”
    “Well, pain in you-”
    They both stopped hearing a muffled shout looking around at the several habs around. “Was that?”
    Ratchet’s pleasant look was once again replaced by his resting bitch face. “Is that Rodimus...shouting his own name?”
    Drift nodded, his tanks turning. “Why is he down here, shouting his own name?”
    Megatron who seemed to materialize out of nowhere lowered his helm between the two of theirs. “I don’t think I want to know.”
    “Agreed.” Ratchet snapped his servo tightening on Drift’s pulling them away. “Think he’d take his self-servicing habits a little quieter.”
    Drift nodded looking back at Megatron, seeing the ex-warlord cupping his intake and shaking, was that laughing?


“AAHAHAHAHAHAH, I DID IT, YOU BITCH!” Brainstorm jumped up, heaving the gun above his helm and doing a jig, something that Perceptor’s frame most likely had never done before. “I DID IT!”
    Perceptor peered into the lab, seeing Brainstorm dancing like a drunk fool before turning back to his own work.
    “SUCK MY AFT PLATES!” He yelled skipping over to Perceptor, setting the gun down on top of whatever Perceptor was working on.
    “You fixed your gun, congrats, now can we work on the mess that your gun made?” He snapped, shoving the gun away as he threaded thin silver wires together.
    Brainstorm couldn’t help himself, cupping Perceptor's helm and kissing him stupid (a shame really for such a well-known genius). He pulled Perceptor close, kissing him again and again.
    “Brainstorm!” Perceptor finally shouted between sloppy kisses.
    He paused. “What?”
    “We have other things to do!” He grunted wiggling out of Brainstorm’s grasp. “Please, can we please just focus on this?”
    Brainstorm vented, picking up his gun, his spark wasn’t burning anymore, deflating. “Okay, I’ll start with the plugins.” He said dryly, leaving Perceptor’s workbench and returning to his own.


    Rodimus groaned, rubbing his helm, venting, slowly waking up, feeling his frame aching, more sore than usual. He looked down seeing Thunderclash curled on up his chest, cute. He rubbed Thunderclash’s helm finials, hearing and feeling Thunderclash’s engine startup, purring softly. He smiled, these past few cycles were honestly fun and rather hilarious. He warmed up to Thunderclash easily. He was sweet, really sweet. Who knew that Thunderclash had a crush on him?
    Rodimus vented, Thunderclash’s frame felt a little heavy, strange that it just felt heavy then? No that wasn’t it, his frame felt stuffy, and a little bit warm could be a reaction from the polish. There wasn’t anything urgent but he would ask Velocity to look into it.
    Thunderclash mumbled, stretching his peds and rolling onto his front, huffing. Rodimus felt the sticky mess between his panels knowing he should clean up, but Thunderclash looked so cute. “I wonder if this would be normal for us?”
    “Mmm,” Thunderclash mumbled.
    “Yeah, you’re right, this is normal.” He said to himself, rubbing Thunderclash’s spoiler. If they never got back to their frames he would be fine with this, huge frame, power, a spike that could be used as a third leg. He could get used to this waking up to Thunderclash asleep on his chest, it warmed his spark (really warmed it) having Thunderclash. “Frager stole my frame and my spark.”
    “Mmm.” Thunderclash slapped his servo up Rodimus’ plates, resting it over his intake. “Shhh… sparkling sleepy.”
    Rodimus laughed, kissing the digits before returning to recharge.

Chapter Text

He felt it in his back struts, it was like the weight of the ship was resting right on his struts. The lab turned into a battlefield in a few seconds, they would rarely get this violent or physical. Brainstorm ducked as a tiny glass tray was thrown at his helm.
    “Will you for once stop messing around!” Perceptor snapped, optics blazing, Brainstorm wished that they were back in their normal frames. Running away from a flight frame was pointless, not to mention he had a few feet over Perceptor.
    “Would you calm down?” He snapped back, poking his helm out from the bench that was flipped on its side. “I know exactly how bad this is but losing recharge as you do is crazy!”
    “You drugged me!” Perceptor yelled, betrayal written all over his face.
    “You can’t just not recharge!”
    “Well maybe if I was in my frame this would’ve been done by now!”
    That one hurt, Brainstorm sucked in a cold vent, rarely would he ever wound some mech like that. Sure he’d snap or give backhanded compliments but that? Ow. His spark burned with anger. “Maybe if you actually helped me with testing my experiments then we wouldn’t be in this fragging mess.”
    Perceptor threw his servos up. “Maybe if you didn’t build useless weapons that wouldn’t ever be used in war, then again we aren’t even in a war!”
    Brainstorm gasped at that, jumping to his peds, screw his height or that he was going to dent his frame. “Maybe if you helped me and showed some form of emotion?”
    “Why would a Point Of View gun be helpful in any way?”
    His servos curled into fists. “I’ve stated again and again it’ll be more than helpful, in the battlefield and off!”
    Perceptor stepped back. “Like what, now?”
    “This would be a perfect time to test it, maybe you’d get your helm out of your aft!” Right now he was really wishing that he didn’t leave it in his hab.
    “Then maybe you’d see that you’re not the center of the universe and a pain to work with!” Perceptor shot back, grabbing another tool and tossing it.
    Brainstorm caught it, tossing it back and hitting one of Preceptor's wings. “I’m not the only pain in the aft in this room, not like you’d ever make my frame sore!”
    Perceptor gasped at that. “Why the frag did I ever think you’d be a decent lab partner?”
    Just then the doors opened and Megatron stepped in, he stopped looking at the state of the lab. Neither Brainstorm or Perceptor cared, only shouting louder and louder, Megatron shook his helm and walked out, setting a data pad on the bench by the door.
    Brainstorm gave up, fixing the bench, and sitting down at it. “There’s no point.” He grumbled.
    “At least we agree on something.” Perceptor snapped turning away from Brainstorm.
    “The only reason I’m still working with you on this is for Thunderclash and Rodimus, I could care less if you ever got your frame back.” He snapped opening up some old notes and reviewing them.
    “Well we’re getting our frames back and then we’re getting separate labs.”
    Brainstorm fought back a painful gasp, his spark ached at those words, he didn’t dare say anything back, instead, he only focused on his work. It was only a matter of time before this would happen, if only he thought ahead and had the POV gun on hand. He looked over his shoulder watching Perceptor work endlessly, almost hunching over it. Focusing more on his work than anything else, never resting, hardly fueling, only working.
    Hopefully, Thunderclash and Rodimus were having a better time.

 Waking up took longer this cycle, not that it mattered Thunderclash pulled some strings and got him a few cycles off, knowing that his frame was sore after their interface. Rodimus never knew how good a hot wash truly felt until he was in Thunderclash’s frame. “Lobsters have the best way to die.” He laughed at his own joke, horrible. “Living like Larry.”
    He stepped out and patted down some plates knowing that they were sore and might rust in some places. Rodimus hummed giving himself a once over. “Got to admit, he’s a handsome bot, and well...that spike.” He laughed at himself, before stepping out of the hab and towards Swerve’s.
    He couldn’t drink but that didn’t mean he couldn’t socialize. Rodimus ordered some mid-grade energon and sat down in the back, watching a few mechs dance and some just retell stories. A servo full of mechs came up one of them asking him for stories or if they could buy him a cube, he declined. He would’ve joined, but the ache in his frame and how huge his frame was deterred him, Rodimus settled for watching his crew enjoy themselves.
    Cyclonus and Tailgate were almost welded together, while Whirl was teasing Swerve and Rung. Chromedome and Rewind had their own booth, talking in hushed voices but their servos were locked.
    Thunderclash stepped in, asking for a cube of energon, he picked up the cube just as another mech handed shanix to Swerve. Rodimus sunk back in his booth, folding his servos over his lap, Thunderclash just smiled and thanked the mech, Getaway. They sat down at the bar, chatting, Rodimus wished that the GAOAT had super hearing, that would be great right now. Thunderclash laughed slapping the bar and raising his energon up, Getaway did the same, drinking down his glass before pointing to the dance floor. Thunderclash sheepishly smiled, shrugging before getting to his peds.
    Rodimus hissed, his frame ached, as the two mechs took to the floor.
    There wasn’t a lot of mechs on the floor, it was a slow day at the bar, meaning that Rodimus saw every movement that the two mechs made. Thunderclash was laughing while Getaway lightly slapped his shoulder, the two moved almost effortlessly in time with the mellow music. A twinge of cold ran down Rodimus’ back plates when Getaway strung Thunderclash in, their hips too close for comfort, a tiny spark bounced off of their plates.
    Rodimus felt like shit, not slag, he had to feel the human equivalent, shit.
    Thunderclash gave them more space, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face, Getaway tried once again to get that close, but Thunderclash didn’t. Once the song changed the two stopped Thunderclash saying something about his frame, wiggling a ped, and thanking Getaway. The masked mech laughed and thanked him, taking Thunderclash’s servo and pulling back his battle mask to faintly kiss the top of Thunderclash’s servo.
    Rodimus ground his teeth, both from the sight and the dull ache in his frame, it was starting to sharpen, his left ped was tingling.
    Thunderclash smiled and walked back to the bar and took his cube, turning around and leaning against the bar. He spotted Rodimus and a true faint smile spread across his face.
Mind if I join you?
    Rodimus rolled his optics. I’m sulking, can’t you tell?
    We’ll it a very...appealing sulk.
    Thanks, it takes a lot of work. He vented taking another sip from his cube. Get over here you dipstick.
    Thunderclash grinned but forced himself to stop slowly making his way across the room, mingling with a few mechs here and there before finally sneaking into Rodimus’ booth. “Hi.”
    Rodimus groaned. “Think anyone can see us?”
    Thunderclash glanced around. “No, I only spotted you by your optics.”
    “Good.” Rodimus wrapped an arm around Thunderclash pulling the mech closer, his frame rumbling. Thunderclash gasped wiggling closer to Rodimus, his frame heating up. “Toasty.”
    “You’re really cold.” Thunderclash nodded, slumping against Rodimus. “Maybe we should get a container and fill it with hot oil for your peds?”
    Rodimus huffed. “No, I don’t think that’ll work.” He planted a small kiss on Thunderclash’s helm.
    Thunderclash’s frame was burning now. “Thank Primus that you kept the light off, I’m pretty sure some mechs would be staring at us.”
    “I’d let them stare, at least Getaway would know his place.” He laughed.
    Thunderclash hissed sticking out his tongue. “He was nice but super creepy like you know… oddly needy?”
    “A fuckboy?”
    “A sly creepy fuckboy.”
    Rodimus laughed. “I hate him, he’s been doing that to me for a while, not every day but every once in a while. I have no idea why?”
    “Hmm...oh...OH. Frag I think I know.” He took Rodimus’ massive servo in both of his. “He’d always do that to you in front of me.”
    “That...that’s true,” Rodimus gasped slapping himself in the helm. “That bastard knew...Think he knows?” He pointed to himself than to Thunderclash and Thunderclash to himself.
    Thunderclash shook his helm. “No way, only Megatron picked up on that, and how often do we see Getaway? I just hope this can get fixed soon.”
    “I’m not sure, I mean having the biggest spike that any Cybertronian has ever had is a plus.”
    “It’s not the biggest.” He hissed.
    “I asked Rewind on that topic, then I measured, you have the biggest spike.”
    Thunderclash groaned, rubbing his helm.
    “Not to mention your valve-”
    “Stop.” He grumbled.
    “What? It’s not the smallest, bu-hrmp.” Rodimus was cut off as Thunderclash pulled him down into a kiss.
    Thunderclash pulled away. “Stop please, my frame(a.k.a. your frame) isn’t ready for round two just yet.”
    Rodimus laughed. “I’m gonna guess my valve is...well catching wind?”
    Thunderclash groaned. “No, it just hurts like frag, I know I have a big spike but afterward I was scared if we had to go see Ratchet for a hip realignment.”
    The two snorted and tried to muffle their laughter lucky no mech turned towards them.
    Thunderclash settled in next to Rodimus, his warm frame drew Rodimus even closer, the two of them pretty much slumped into a pile, he was sure they looked like mash potatoes. Wonderful, buttery mashed potatoes. Rodimus let his engine rumble as he rubbed Thunderclash’s back. “It’s kinda nice to have another Prime.”
    “‘Prime’? Pff-” He shook his helm. “I’d rather have my stupid ridiculous name over ‘Prime’.”
    Rodimus stopped his servo. “Why’s that? The Matrix had to be ripped out of you, it picked you.”
    “No, it really didn’t” Thunderclash admitted slouching over Rodimus.
    “What do you mean?”
    Thunderclash vented. “The Matrix hurt, it burned like a thousand fires, every cycle I would ask Velocity to look at it. It burned itself into my spark chamber, it felt like it was trying to burn into my spark, snuff it out.” He paused. “They had to remove it due to the fact that half of my spark chamber was melted to it….” He turned to Rodimus. “I can’t imagine what the Matrix did to your spark.”
    Rodimus frowned, taken back by the confession, strange that the Matrix hated Thunderclash. “That...that doesn’t make sense.” Thunderclash shifted again, looking up at him. “It never hurt me, instead it… it was light and powerful, it didn’t burn but it felt like I could control the fire.”
    Thunderclash frowned. “The frag? That doesn’t add up, I asked Optimus about the Matrix when I was recovering and he shared a similar experience.”
    “He said that the Matrix acted just...normal, nothing like what you felt.”
    “Hmmm… he lied.” Thunderclash shrugged. “All the history on the Primes we have all state that the Matrix only improves the mech, never harming them.”
    Rodimus grumbled. “Doesn’t matter now, it’s gone.”
    “Can we go on a walk? I’m feeling-”
    “Twitchy? Yeah, you slip out first then I’ll follow you, lower decks?” He smiled pulling Thunderclash into a small kiss before letting the mech go. Who knew that in a few cycles he’d be gushing over Thunderclash of all mechs?
    Rodimus paused looking left then right before backing slowly down the stairwell, stepping into the darker halls. He shivered, the lower levels were dimer and colder, save energy, the basement level was pitch black, lucky Ultra Magnus had them install emergency lighting. Thunderclash?
    He gasped when suddenly Thunderclash jumped up on him, clinging to his frame and crawling up onto his shoulders. Thunderclash was laughing and he wrapped his arm around Rodimus’ neck, planting a kiss on Rodimus. “I had to.”
    Rodimus laughed kissing him back and resting a servo on Thunderclash’s lower back. “So I’m carrying your fine aft around?”
    “I’ll pay you back with kisses.” Thunderclash felt warm, really warm, Rodimus didn’t know how cold he was until now.
    “Deal, just stay on my shoulders,” Rodimus noted that he should take another hot oil wash, maybe that would help? The ‘two’ continued walking, Thunderclash’s arms lazily wrapped around Rodimus’ neck. “Okay, besides dying was else was the scariest moment of your life?”
    “Hmmm...Okay, when I was younger (and older) I used to have these horrible paralysis processor fluctuations. Wake up middle of recharge and I wouldn’t be able to move, and there was always this figure watching me.” He shivered, sticking out his tongue. “Sometimes it would just stare back at me other times it would try to talk, I could never understand it. Always scared the living shit out of me.”
    “WHY THE FRAG DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS?!” Rodimus yelled, imagining waking up and seeing a figure watching him and he couldn’t move. “WHAT IF I GOT ONE OF THEM?!”
    Thunderclash chuckled. “It was more common when I was younger, hardly a new spark, I kinda grew out of it, but every now and then it still happens.”
    “What do you do when that happens?”
    “I try to just go back into recharge, close my optics, sometimes I don’t even open them up. I once stared back at what was the scariest moment of your life?” Thunderclash changed the conversation.
    “I want to say getting a fusion cannon blast the frame from Megatron.” He rubbed his chest, both from the memory and a new ache, hid peds still tingled and his back struts were freezing up. “Okay, your turn.”
    “What’s something you saw humans do that you wish you could do?” Thunderclash asked kissing Rodimus’ helm.
    “Your payment plan is awfully slow.” He snapped. “I wish I could eat what they eat, it looks good, smells funny. I asked a human was it was like, frag I wish my holo-avatar could eat. What about you?”
    “I had the same answer, some food sounds so good, if I were to suddenly turn human I’d turn into a fat aft.”
    “Okay being that weirder slag has happened on this ship and that this could happen at any time, I dare you to eat a whole onion, just eat it like an apple.”
    “Fine, but only if you eat a ghost pepper.” Thunderclash shot back.
    “Are you Unicron? I’m stupid, not crazy.” Rodimus gasped at Thunderclash, even he knew that was a bad idea, he couldn’t imagine asking Ratchet for a fire-hose to wash the pepper down.
    Thunderclash frowned, planting another kiss on his helm. “Okay, how about we both do it?”
    “Wait.” Rodimus stopped. “What if we tricked Drift into it?”
    “YES!” He perked up. “Drift is our first victim!”
    Rodimus laughed. “We’re secretly Decepticons!”
    “We’re the last two members of the D.J.D.”
    Rodimus laughed louder, only stopped when he couldn’t vent and put up a servo, holding himself up.
“You okay?” Thunderclash’s asked hovering over him.
    “Yeah, I’m fine why?” His voice rattled in his throat.
    “Your frame it sounds… horrible, and you’re really cold.” Thunderclash sat upon his shoulder, looking down at Rodimus’ frame. “Frag your colors are fading.”
    “It’s just the light.” He brushed it off.
    Thunderclash frowned jumping off of Rodimus’ shoulder. “Let's take you to Lotty.”
    “I’m fine Thunderclash, really.” He forced himself to stand up, wincing as his back struts squealed.
    Thunderclash took his servo, holding it up. “Rodimus, please.”
    His spark melted as Thunderclash stared up at him with wide blue optics, his tiny digits rubbing his servo. “Okay.” He rattled out, the numbing tingle ran up his peds to his legs and halfway up his back. Thunderclash led him gently holding his servo and rubbing it in soothing circles, planting soft kisses on it. He led them towards the biggest lift, Rodimus couldn’t help but let his engines rumbled as he stumbled after the smaller frame. “Thank you.” He rattled out.
    “Save your energy, we’re almost to the lift, I’ll comm-”
    The world spun as Rodimus felt everything come crashing down, face planting on to the ground. THUNK!
    “RODIMUS!” Thunderclash yelled letting go of his servo and rushing to Rodimus’ side, cupping his helm. “I just called Lotty and Ratchet they’re on their way.”
    “Mmm.” Rodimus rumbled, his frame ached, he pulled Thunderclash closer, his whole arm shot up with sharp pains, error messages flooded his processor but he cleared them away to look up at Thunderclash.
    “Just stay awake, okay?” Thunderclash ran a servo up and down between his shoulder back plates. “Please?” He whined.
    Thunderclash smiled as his optics started to water. “This was a bad idea, we should’ve taken you to Lotty right after the bar.” He leaned down and kissed Rodimus’ cheek.
    I had fun.
    “I’d rather have you alive, and in your own frame!” He hissed running his servo over Rodimus’ frame.
    “I DON’T WANT TO WATCH YOU DIE!” He sobbed out, hugging Rodimus’ helm, washer fluid dropped down on Rodimus’ face.
    I take that back, I think this is the scariest.
    He was cut off and flung aside when Velocity’s face came into view. “Frager!” She snapped.


Thunderclash was shoved aside as Lotty plugged into Rodimus’ frame, he sat on his aft as Ratchet and First Aid laid down a stretcher. His spark breaking as Rodimus was rolled onto the stretcher. “How bad?” He asked Velocity.
    Ratchet and First Aid changed to alt-mode and hooked up to the stretcher, the whole group ran, Thunderclash kept pace with Velocity. “It’s bad, we’re going to hook him up, Vista Vitals is under a cycle away.” They all crammed into the lift, Thunderclash squeezed himself into a corner, keeping a concerned optic over Rodimus.
    The lift jerked to a stop and the medics rushed out and towards the medbay, Thunderclash tried to keep up only to lose them at a corner. He jogged to a stop, waiting outside the medbay. A few mechs had stopped and stared at the closed doors, he only stood outside them, his tanks turning.
    He didn’t even notice the other mech to his right. “Let’s get out of the way.” Megatron rumbled, the two of them moved to the side, Megatron folded his arms. How bad is it?
    Bad, he collapsed. Thunderclash fought back more tears instead he focused on the corner the wall and the roof.
    Vitals isn’t far now, I’ve asked Ultra Magnus to push the engines a little. Megatron was stone-faced.
    Thank you...He vented.
    I’ll check in on Brainstorm and Perceptor, last time they were in a fight. Megatron huffed.
    At least one of them isn’t dying...Frag it all, the person I’m in love with is dying. He was sure any moment he would either purge or faint.
    They’re working on a way to fix this.
    Ratchet stepped out. “Rodimus.” He huffed, he was reduced to only part-time, due to a few reasons. “Megatron?”
    The ex-warlord modded to him. “I just needed to have a word with Rodimus,” He turned and left.
    Thunderclash stepped in the medbay, glad that he was away from prying eyes, instead he only faced Ratchet. He sat down on a seat, his whole leg jumping up and down.
    “So what-”
    Thunderclash grabbed a disposal container and purged in it. “I was driving, let off some-” He purged again. “Steam, saw him fall and.” He purged again rolling his servo.
    “Anything to note?”
    “He was cold and his colors are losing their saturation.” He tried to purge again, yet he already emptied his tanks, setting the container aside.
    “Hmm… Ratchet took a few notes. “This is a surprise to see you so upset Rodimus.”
    “He collapsed and looked like he was about to join the well right there.” Thunderclash’s spark ached, he wished he could be in the room, holding Rodimus’ servo.
    “You’ve seen mechs pass before.”
    “Yeah but not like that, he was so scared, and I guess I got used to mechs not dying.” He shrugged. “Anything else doc?”
    Ratchet shook his helm. “No, unless you think of anything.”
    “May I say a while, I’d like to know if he’s okay.”
    Ratchet shrugged. “I can’t kick you out unless you’re being a pain in the aft, want me to com Drift?”
    Thunderclash shook his helm. “No, he’s on duty, besides I have some reports to work on.” He slumped back in the chair, pulling out a datapad, distracting himself for a whopping 5 minutes before setting it aside and staring at the door. His spark really hurt.


They finally calmed down, if by calm you mean sending snappy remarks and glares, Brainstorm picked up the bench. He groaned when one of the legs fell off. “Frager.” He mumbled.
    “That’s something we can agree on.” Perceptor snapped.
    Brainstorm bit his lip plate, trying his hardest to not have another fight break out, instead he flipped the bench on it’s top and went to fixing the leg. Pinning the leg with his ped and pulling out a screwdriver, easily fixing the leg and flipping the bench over. It still wobbled, that he could handle but he knew Preceptor wouldn’t.
    Almost on cue. “Fix it right.” He snapped looking over Brainstorm’s shoulder.
    “It stands, it’s fixed.” He hissed back, tossing his servos up.
    “It's wobbly.”
    “Well so should out berth but sadly it’s as sturdy as a natural rock formation.” Brainstorm shrugged.
    Perceptor hissed, his wings twitching. “What do you want Brainstorm?”
    “What can I want?” He huffed, throwing in some theatrics and sitting on the wobbly bench. Instantly it broke and he fell on his aft the bench breaking in two, Brainstorm groaned looking up at the ceiling. “Is to find out why you’re such a fat aft?”
    “Get up.”
    Brainstorm pulled himself up into a sitting position rubbing the part of his helm that smacked the floor. “Right now I’d love to get back in my own frame and fly at a high velocity that you won’t be able to follow.” He rose to his peds, folding his arms frowning. “Let’s clean this fucking place up, get back to our frames.”


Thunderclash felt a slight kick against his ped, jumping up. “What?” He gasped out, looking around, he was in the medbay, late into the cycle and First Aid.
    “S-sorry captain, you should get some rest.” First Aid set a servo on his shoulder.
    Thunderclash shook his helm. “Is he out yet?”
    “No, but he’s stable for now, we put him under for now until we make contact with Vitals.” He vented, his optics dull, he looked exhausted.
    Thunderclash felt his back struts ache, his frame begged him to lay down on his berth and yet. “Can I see him?”
    First Aid reset his optics, looking around. “Rodimus I have no idea what’s going on with you, you’ve never shown this much care for Thunderclash.”
    Thunderclash pulled First Aid close. “I want you to know that I’ve recently changed my processor on him.”
    “You’re joking?”
    He shook his helm. “I wouldn’t be here this late into the cycle with an aching back strut unless I deeply cared.”
    First Aid shrugged. “He's not supposed to have visitors but a quick 5 minutes won’t hurt him.” He looked around. “Thank frag that Drift keeps Ratchet out of the medbay, that mech only gets worse daily due to the new spark.” He took Thunderclash’s servo and pulled him along.
    They stepped into a private room, cluttered ceiling to floor with machines each one humming and beeping. Thunderclash’s frame had a dozen tubes and wires plugged in, old memories resurfaced of when he’s wake up and find himself in a similar situation. And now his curse was Rodimus’, his frame was going to be Rodimus’ tomb.
    His spark ached at the sight.
    “Five minutes,” First Aid padded him on his back stepping out.
    Thunderclash didn’t wait rushing to Rodimus’ side and taking hold of one of Rodimus’ digits. Hovering over the almost lifeless frame. “Hi, Roddy.” He choked out a tiny laugh, optics watering. “I’m such a coward.” He lightly leaned against the massive dull frame, resting his helm against the massive chest. “I should’ve told you, forced you to get on Vista Vitals.” He ran a servo over the decal. “I’m dying and you’re in my frame.” He mumbled, listening to the tiny spark inside the massive frame.
    Rodimus’ spark ached, frag the thing hurt like a second shot in the spark chamber. It burned like the fires of the pit.
    Thunderclash swore that if he screamed fire would shoot out of his intake, instead he sat there clutching Rodimus’ servo as his whole frame boiled. He hissed, washer fluid dripping down his faceplates. “Please.” He gasped out falling against Rodimus. “Don’t die.”
    As soon as the fire came it almost blew out now it was something else, not entirely an ache but a pulling pain, he isn't burning anymore. Thunderclash vented pulling his helm up and looking up at Rodimus, a faint drip of coolant rolled down the yellow faceplate.
    “Rodimus?” First Aid called him.
    “Okay.” He huffed watching the bead of coolant before flicking it off. He smiled sadly at Rodimus before getting to his peds and numbly leaving the mech. Rubbing his spark chamber.
    His peds fell with a dull thud, he couldn’t hear much but the faint ringing in his helm, he just walked down to his hab. Greeted with a few boards laying about but he could care less, setting aside the work in progress repair board before flopping onto berth and rolling onto his back.
 Thunderclash stared up at the ceiling his spark aching as he rubbed his plates over it, huffing. Megatron?
You do know what time it is, right?
He laughed. I apologize, but how long until we rea-
Three hours.
Thank you. He played with his digits unsure of what to do with them.
You could go with him if you wanted to, the crew might not like it but I can handle it.
No...I’d be useless there, besides I’m sure that I’d only be helpful as a nurse, not sure I would leave the medbay. He lazily dragged a digit over his yellow chest plate.
Suit yourself, I’ll take care of everything.
Thunderclash smiled at that, who knew an ex-warlord would be so kind. It hurts.
I know, but Rodimus would rather fight death than just fade away, your spark is in good servos.
Thank you. He didn’t recharge after that, only watching the light above him flicker and feeling the pang in his spark chamber. “This is a fragging mess.”



He hovered over the delicate systems holding a soldering iron, rubbing his optics from exhaustion. How did Perceptor do this regularly? Brainstorm grumbled molding a wire into place, the smell of burning metal rose up into his vents, he always hated that smell. “It’s not my fault.” He talked to himself. “I mean sure the test backfired but this.” He gestured to the half cleaned lab. “Isn’t my fault.”
He hissed flicking his digits away from the wires. “Damn it.”
There was a ping at the door, Brainstorm rolled his optics, opening the door. Surprised to see Megatron step in with a small container. “I had a feeling you’d be up.”
“Was it the fight you walked in on?”
Megatron nodded setting the box down. “Why did you make the P.O.V. gun?”
He vented. “Percy hardly pays attention to me when he does,” He gestured to the lab. “This happens.”
Megatron looked around picking up a tool. “Perceptor is known for his hard work, almost…’ married’ to it. However, he did pick you to be his lab partner.” He set the tool down. “He’s a mech that doesn’t show his emotions, his actions are louder than anything (Soundwave has the same problem).”
“Well, we can see his actions all over the lab.” He set the iron down.
“What do you want to do?”
“Get back in my frame and fly away from him.”
Megatron sat down on a chair. “Understandable, you’re tired of putting out and not getting anything back.”
Brainstorm nodded, that was part of it.

Chapter Text

The stars glimmered outside, the servo full of night cycle crew chatted softly, this cycle was always slow. He asked Ultra Magnus and Megatron is he could switch to nights for a while. He watched as two mechs played a game, he could care less tapping his digits on the armrest. Thunderclash didn’t recharge much not since Rodimus was taken away, it’s been 2 Earth weeks.
    His spark ached.
    Thunderclash vented.
    “Sir are you alright?” A mech asked peeking up at him.
    “I’m fine, just...tired.” He shrugged off the looks pulling out another report to read, he was flying through the reports, even Ultra Magnus couldn’t keep up. Numbly he tapped his hand on the armrest. Every mech on the ship picked up on his recent change of mood, even Drift gave him space, space but not quiet.
    Hey Roddy, old pal, chum, amigo, the night star of my spark?
    What? He snapped venting as he signed off another report and subspaces it.
    Wanna get some drinks? Go drifting on the lower decks? Frag, edit our holo-avatars?
    He could almost hear the concern, gritting his teeth. I appreciate it Drift, I really do, but-
    Stop it with this aft kissing act! I can feel your spark over our bond and my spark knows that your spark is broken.
    He really didn’t want to get in a fight with Rodimus’ best friend while in Rodimus’ frame. What do you want me to say?
    He groaned, rubbing his optics. Not now.
    He hung up and muted Drift’s comm link for the night, almost relishing in the pain that burned in his chest. Thunderclash really wished that Rodimus was here, he could use the feeling of being scooped up and hold like a sparkling right now. He did like that Rodimus was tender in berth, and oddly enough kinda a cuddly mech. Thunderclash wiggled in the captain's chair, his struts shivering, spark aching.
    Thunderclash opened the comm for Brainstorm. Hey, how’s-
    Almost done, just need to test it. I heard about Rodimus collapsing, I’m sorry to hear that.
    He fought back another vent, that was the 5th time Brainstorm said ‘I heard about Rodimus, so sorry, etc.etc.’. For a brilliant scientist, his processor was pretty scattered, it must’ve been the ‘move’ (the move was a better word than kicked out) out of the lab. Yeah, it’s okay, how are you?
    Bad, really bad.
    Okay, so what if...if we just vented over a few cubes? Thunderclash asked.
    And a trashy movie?
    Trashy movie night it is. He smiled, that felt good. My shift is almost over.
    Great! See you in a bit.
    He looked down at the crew, all of them watching him with a wide puppy like optics. “So who’s the mech?”
    “What?” Thunderclash frowned.
    “You’ve been venting all shift, and upset? So who’s the mech?”
    “That’s enough of that.” Megatron rumbled, placing a hard strong grasp on Thunderclash’s shoulder, scaring him. I came early, had a feeling.
    Thank you. He got to his peds waved to the crew and left. Thunderclash stopped by Rodimus’ hab and grabbed the smashed solar board and some data slugs. He passed Drift who seemed more upset than Thunderclash, so much that he only shot Thunderclash a glare and stomped past him. He pinged at Brainstorm’s new/old lab.
    “IT’S OPEN!” Brainstorm shouted from inside.
    The doors slid open and Thunderclash stepped into the lab, utterly surprised to see a lab so disgraceful. Cobwebs hung almost everywhere, the lights were flickering, the floor was piled up with dirt and the benches were dusty. Brainstorm himself looked dreadful, unwashed, grimy joints, dull blue optics, and a few stains. “Oh, frag.”
    “Don’t.” He snapped pointing a finger at Thunderclash. “I can’t handle ‘that’ topic right now.”
    “Okay.” Thunderclash held his servos up. “I was going to suggest cleaning the place?”
    “No, not tonight.” He waved Thunderclash off. “I asked Swerve to sent Ten our way with some bottles and glasses, paid extra using Perceptor's money.” He didn’t like how Brainstorm’s voice wavered over his ex-lab partner’s name.
    “Understandable, I got some slugs and a solar board to fix.”
    Brainstorm slapped a tool down. “Good, I’m tired of working on this damn thing.” He snapped flipping off the half welded plug.
    Thunderclash shivered when Brainstorm almost yanked the board out and slapped it down on a bench. “Okay, hostel.”
    “I’m this close,” His digits were almost touching. “To pay Ratchet under the table to remove Perceptor's spike.”
    “Okay, what movie are we into tonight?”
    “Comedy, need something to laugh at that’s not my life or career, something that’s actually funny.”
    “Alright really hostel, how about… Austin Powers?”
    “No.” He grabbed a few tools and tossed them at Thunderclash.
    “A classic but nope.” He took a can of air and sprayed down the holo-tv.
    “Okay…What’s Up Doc?”
    “Alright.” He shrugged, and Thunderclash tossed the slug at him, then plugged it in. Grabbing a stool and sitting down at the bench. “Sorry I’ve been pretty...snappy?”
    Thunderclash patted his shoulder. “I heard about it, and I know that you don’t want to talk about it bu-”
    “Okay so Percy had to piss me off, and things escalated to where we were throwing supplies around and he kicked me out of the lab.” He hissed pulling out a few tools.
    He knew that it was only a matter of time until Brainstorm needed to vent, and his primary mech to vent to was Chromedome. So being stuck in the frame of his ex-lover wasn’t easy for Brainstorm. “Just threw you out?”
    He nodded prying off a sheet of metal and grabbing a mallet. “Fragger is so uptight and married to his work.” He groaned. “At least Quark never got upset.”
    Thunderclash nodded. “Quark never noticed you.”
    Brainstorm grumbled. “Yeah.”
    The door pinged and Thunderclash got up, seeing Ten’s hulking figure holding a box. “Thank you.” He took the box and smiled at the strange mech tipping him a few credits. He joined Brainstorm once again, unpacking the box. “Why did you build the P.O.V. gun?”
    “It was meant to...for Perceptor to feel how I feel.” He grabbed a torch not looking up from the sheet of metal. “He’s trapped in his own world, working non-stop on theories and hypotheses. At first, I thought it was nice, having a mech to bounce ideas off of, but when we started getting involved. He seemed to think of work first, and not me.” Brainstorm huffed, heating the board and hammering it back into place.
“Oh,” Thunderclash poured two cubes handing one to Brainstorm.
“I mean is it so much to put down a chart and talk to me like a mech and not a drone?” Brainstorm took the cube and chugged it down.
He nodded, not exactly sure what he should say.
“Fragger knows that I’m upset but doesn’t care.” He shook his helm. “Okay, I’m sorry, your problem is much worse them mine.”
“That doesn’t make it any less of a problem.”
Brainstorm smiled at that. “I wish that he’d at least act like he cares.”
Thunderclash patted his back.
“ are you?” Brainstorm paused for a moment the movie playing in the background.
Thunderclash took a few moments to himself, watching the movie and taking a sip from his cube. “It hurts, my spark that is.”
He nodded. “It aches, and all I can think about is Rodimus.”
Brainstorm frowned. “What are you? Lovesick?”
He laughed shaking his helm. “If only Lotty was here to diagnose me.”
“So it physically hurts?”
“Well yeah, at first it was a sharp pull but now it’s just a numbing ache.” He shrugged. “I miss him.”
Brainstorm opened his intake then shut it, turning towards the movie, Thunderclash did the same. They rewired the board, replaced the motor and welded the panels back into shape, now it just needed a good wash and dry before a paint.
At this point Thunderclash felt himself start to doze and slip into recharge, that is until he got a comm.
Thunderclash you're needed on the bridge, Velocity sounds pissed.
He jumped up, knocking his cube off the table. “Comm, Megatron.” What?
Your medic is on a call and she’s pissed.
“I’ll comm you if things get worse.”

“Another day another do-credit.” She huffed falling in her chair and spinning around to face Thunderclash. She had to put him in a coma, that way there was no more strain on his spark, now it was constantly monitoring his spark and pumping him pull of needed minerals. Lucky Vista Vitals was doing its’ job, in the first 24 hours, Thunderclash’s spark stopped shrinking. “Just a steady progression of making your spark stronger.”
She grabbed Thunderclash’s personal data slug and plugged into his medical port, humming. “Thunders, Thunders, Thunders, you’re a mech held together with duct tape and that glue that is purple but turns clear when it’s dry.” Velocity shook her helm staring at Thunderclash’s unmoving frame. “Okay, the processor is in the clear, wiring is healthy, pump is good, and your spark is stable and slowly growing…” She tilted her helm at the strange reading.
Velocity sent a code through the medical port to open Thunderclash’s spark chamber, grabbing a measuring tool and climbing over Thunderclash’s shoulder. She paused looking at the sad sight, admittedly she would spend hours trying to find a way to keep Thunderclash alive, or repair his spark.
There was a few data slug in her hab filled with half baked ideas and theories.
Velocity shook his helm again, measuring Thunderclash’s spark, a small smile crept up her face. “Not bad, back to a strong...10.5 and rising.” She patted Thunderclash’s helm. “That’s my Thunders.”
She was about to close Thunderclash’s panels but stopped when his spark chamber flickered. Velocity inched closer, peering over to look into the massive empty chamber, so so she thought. “Holy slag.” Velocity gasped.
Deep in the vast spark chamber burned Thunderclash’s small spark, dull but still glowing. Next to that tiny spark was something so much smaller yet it burned like a microscopic star.
Velocity shut his panels, exiting out of Thunderlcash’s personnel file and onto her own medical files. Searching for a few accounts and symptoms while looking deeper into Thunderclash’s processor. “Not it’s not a spark fluctuation (it’s still there), not a strange growth (too bright)...” She stopped reading an article setting the datapad down and sending a password to Thunderclash over the medical line.
Thunderclash groaned, opening his optics and resetting them a few times. “Uhh…” He stuck out his tongue, then frowned as he couldn’t move any of his limbs.
“Hi Thunders, don’t worry, I just activated your processor, the rest of your frame is still in a deep recharge.” She smiled shining a light in his optics, pleased to see his inner workings flinch back. “Just going to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay.” He yawned. “How long have I been out?”
“2 Earth weeks.”
“Well frag me.”
Velocity laughed. “No, but I would like to know your last partner or partners.”
“What?” He gasped.
“Who did you frag?”
“WHO DID YOU FRAG?!” She snapped.
Thunderclash’s face turned an awful blue color, optics darting away from Velocity’s. “Well...I’d rather not say, he’d like to keep it...quiet.”
Velocity backed up grinning. “Rodimus, you fragged Rodimus?”
The darker shade of blue confirmed it.
“Good.” She growled out. “I’m going to have a nice chat with him.”
“Why?” He squeaked out.
Velocity laughed patting his helm. “Don’t you worry that handsome helm or yours, momma’s gonna take care of something.”
Thunderclash looked like he was about to faint from fear. “Velocity what is go-”
“Sleep sweet angel!” She sent the recharge code to Thunderclash’s helm, watching his optics shut and go limp. Patting his helm before sharply turning around. “I’m going to destroy that soon to be sire’s aft so hard that even Ratchet won’t fix it.” She grumbled, activating her comm to Firestar. Hey, I need a favor.
Yeah, I’m going to yell at someone on the Lost Light. She swiftly left her medbay and stomped towards the bridge.
Can I watch?
Yes. Velocity pushed herself into a lift, tapping her ped so fast that she saw sparks, the mechs in the lift backed away from her, some even climbed on top of one another to get away. The air crackled with tension and unknown rage as the doors slid open and she stomped out.
Somehow, by Primus’ holy light Thunderclash isn't sterile, and generally, with that news, she’d be in the bar paying for drinks. However, the fact that Thunderclash’s spark was weak and that he was supporting a whole new spark alone was terrifying.
Velocity stomped onto the bridge nodding to Firestar who’s optics grew twice their size at Velocity’s rage.
Firestar then scrambled around the crew. “I need a video call to the Lost Light.”
“Thank you.” Velocity smiled and vented.
Firestar inched closer to her and placed a servo on her shoulder. “What is it?”
Velocity turned away, looking at the crew. He’s carrying.
She heard Firestar gasp. How?
I don’t know, he was sterile, even Ratchet confirmed it.
Holy shit. Firestar patted her shoulder. Who’s the sire?
“Excuse me, Firestar, there’s something approaching us.”
Firestar turned towards the mech. “Thank you, we should-”
Rodimus, it’s Rodimus. Velocity finally said, folding her arms and tapping her ped, shooting a glare at the screen that was nothing but static.
    “Oh frag me,” Firestar mumbled. Rodimus? HIM?...Okay good for Thunders, he’s been after that mech for ages.
    Velocity nodded. That explains why his spark was crumbling, the sparkling finally broke off.
    I didn’t think Thunders was the kind of mech to carry?
    “Ma’am, we have Megatron.” One of the crew said.
    The two turned towards the gun grey mech on screen, Firestar nodded and Velocity glared.
    Megatron nodded back to Firestar. “This is an unexpected call from Vitals.”
    “Yes wel-” Firestar was cut off as Velocity pushed her aside and stomped closer to the screen.
    “Give. Me. Rodimus.” She growled out.
    For a split second, Megatron looked like he was scared, before clearing his intake. “He’s recharging, I can take a message for him if you-”
    “No, no, no, no, I don’t care if Rodimus is in the middle of open spark surgery, wake his dumb aft up or else.” Velocity saw a few mechs on the bridge hide away from her.
    Megatron blinked. “I assure you that I can handle whatever this matter is.”
    Velocity took a moment venting and clenching her servos. “It’s not that you can’t handle it, or that I don’t trust you, Megatron, it’s more of the fact that this is a very personal matter for Rodimus. And the longer I wait this personal matter is going to become public.
    “I just commed him, he’ll be up in a few minutes.” Megatron became tense, his optics full of worry.
    Velocity finally felt like she could vent, doing so and rubbing her helm. “Fragger better get here soon.” She snapped.


Megatron tapped his ped and wrapped his servos around the railing. Thunderclash was on his way, lucky the mech wasn’t really recharging much. Admittedly Velocity looked like a femme Ratchet when she was pissed, he didn’t fear medics but he respected them. But he did fear a pissed medic.
    He found himself looking over the morning bridge crew, lost on how to fill the silence. Sometimes he missed sitting in a throne and brooding and barely talking, only glaring at everything that moved, that way the silence was expected.
    Almost there.
    Good, I can feel her optics trying to melt me Right now. Megatron glanced at the screen, his protoform shivered at the sight of a pissed Velocity. “He’s-”
    “I’m here.” Thunderclash huffed running up to Megatron and patting his shoulder before venting and waving to Velocity. “I ran the whole way, I couldn’t drive or else Ultra Magnus would’ve written me up.”
    Velocity only huffed stepping closer to the screen. “Good, I wanted to the only mech yelling at you today.”
    She is pissed. Thunderclash sent to Megatron. “Okay?” He squeaked out.
    Megatron reached over and lowered the volume, his spark in his intake.
    “GGED THUNDERS?” She shouted, finally blowing up, the crews on both ships laughing.
    Thunderclash’s frame instantly warmed, his face turning a very dark shade. “Uh...what?” His voice cracked.
    “Why the frag do you think made him collapse?” She seethed.
    “What?... How can fragging someone weakens their spark?”
    “I’m going to let you think this one out.”
    Thunderclash shot Megatron a look of utter confusion. What? Interfacing doesn’t’ weaken my spark so?
    Megatron who stood a little away shrugged. How is fragging related to your spark health?
    Unless Rodimus overworked my frame when we...interfaced, it should be just fine? He frowned. And the interface wasn’t too lo-
    Please spare me from hearing about this. Megatron vented.
    “Yeah, I’m lost.” Thunderclash turned back to the screen.
    Velocity had flames in her optics. “Wonderful.”
    Offscreen there was an alarm and the medic jumped.
    “Get your aft here right now Rodimus, Thunder is-”
    She was cut off as the screen turned to static, Thunderclash huffed and backed away. “What was that?” He asked Megatron.
    “Captain we just for an S.O.S. from Vista Vitals.” Blaster jumped up. “They’re being attacked by...Furries?”
    Megatron groaned. “They aren’t furries, they’re a race of lizard people who harvest metal, they’re called Liosuarins.”
    Thunderclash turned towards Megatron, faceplates pale and optics glassy. “We’re going to help them right?”
    He nodded. “And drop you off to face Velocity’s wrath.” Are you okay? You’re looking a bit...ill?
    I’m fine, just my spark hurts. Thunderclash turned away grabbing the intercom for the whole ship.
    OH SHIT! OKAY, WE NEED TO DROP YOU TO RODIMUS RIGHT AWAY! Megatron gaped at Thunderclash, his tanks twisting with pure tension.
    What? Rodimus is fine, what is the worst that can be happening? Thunderclash huffed for once looking mildly annoyed. He flicked on the intercom. “This is Captain Rodimus speaking, Vista Vistals is currently under attack and-”
    Rodimus who is in your frame is carrying.
    “WhAT?” Thunderclash shouted, his voice cracking into the microphone, turning to Megatron, his face was a mix of utter terror and complete worry.
    He nodded, covering his intake and muffling a laugh.
    Thunderclash reset his optics, clearing his intake. “We’re gonna go and fight some furries.”
    “They’re called Liosuarins!” Megatron corrected, hearing his voice echo in the ship.
    “Furries, whatever, we’re gonna fight them.” Thunderclash switched the microphone off, turning to Megatron. “HE’S WHAT?!”


Brainstorm heard the announcement, already pulling out his trunk of weapons as he heard a particularly loud mech come running down the halls. Whirl slammed into his door, then ran in as the door slid open. Brainstorm pointed to the trunk as heard a loud squeal from the helicopter, Whirl dove into the trunk helm first.
    “Thanks, Percy, hey why aren’t you in your regular lab? Why ya got Brainstorm’s goodies?” Whirl asked aft wiggling in the air.
    “We got into a fight so he won the lab I won his trunk of goodies.” Brainstorm shrug.
    “Ohhh I’m taking you!” Whirl said yanking out a sword.
    There was a ping at the door. “Come in.” Brainstorm yelled, not even looking over his shoulder to check who it was.
    Perceptor stepped in, optics emotionless, he nodded to Brainstorm.
    “Alright,” Whirl said grabbing one more gun and leaving. “Nope, nope, nope.”
    That left the microscope and jet in the dusty lab. Brainstorm vented spinning towards the desk where the processor transfer device was sitting. “It’s done you know?”
    Perceptor stepped forward and looked over his shoulder. “I’d like to adjust the frequencies before he uses it.”
    “I don’t think we have time.” Brainstorm picked it up.
    Brainstorm, Perceptor, we need you two on Vitals, is it ready? Thunderclash commed them.
    It’s ready, just needs to be adjusted and tested. Perceptor sent back, turning back towards Brainstorm. “You’re right, we won’t have time.”
    Brainstorm shook his helm. “What else do you want?”
    “A rife, a good one.”
    “There,” He pointed towards the rifle rack.
    I’d like both of you on this mission. Thunderclash sent.
    Brainstorm groaned. “Thrilling.” He went over to the trunk and grabbed a few weapons, shoving them in his subspace, there was always a mech that needed a weapon. He watched as Perceptor studied each rifle, picking one up resting it on his shoulder, then set it down. “Just pick one already!” Brainstorm snapped.
    Perceptor stopped, rolling his optics. “Fine.” He grabbed one and put it in his subspace.
    “I’ll carry the transfer device.” Brainstorm snapped, picking it up and putting it in his subspace.
    We’re ready. Perceptor sent in the group comm.
    Good, I need you two with me when we storm the ship.
    Alright. Brainstorm sent back, his servo hovering over the P.O.V. gun.
    “Brainstorm, let’s go,” Perceptor called stepping out of the lab.
    He grabbed it and shoved the gun under his arm, maybe this weapon could be useful in battle?

    Perceptor stopped watching Brainstorm pass him, his spark sinking. He opened his intake only to shut it as Chromedome ran up to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “C.D.!” Perceptor gasped genuinely surprised at the action, who besides Brainstorm would jump him like that?
    “Oh wow, big baby Brainstorm is going into battle?” He gasped.
    Perceptor rolled his optics, he saw Brainstorm staring at the two of them, only to let his shoulders fall and melt away into the crowd. “Yeah, so what?”
    “Mmm, I get it, Stormy, trying to impress Perceptor again?” He cocked an optic ridge.
    “No, unfortunately.” He crossed his arms as they started to pile into the docking bay.
    Rewind weaseled his way out from two mech’s legs and ran up to Chromedome. “Domey!” He yelled literally jumping twice his height and Chromedome caught him. Rewind laughed at Preceptor's face, his red light was on, somewhere there was a recording of Brainstorm with his face twisted up. “Hi.” Rewind waved at Preceptor.
    “Hi.” He said back letting the couple chat amongst themselves, instead, he tried to hunt down Brainstorm without moving from his spot. Easily spotting the black helm and red shoulders, wow his frame was boxy, really box. “Think if Perceptor didn’t have a scope he’d turn into a box?”
    Rewind lost it, laughing at what Perceptor said. “You’re in a foul mood today, what’s crawled up your tailpipe and died?”
    “Well, what do you think?” Chromedome answered for Perceptor. “Let me guess, Perceptor didn’t approve of an experiment, or he yelled at you again for using your upside down harness and acting like a disco ball?”
    “Chromedome.” Rewind gasped covering his mouth, acting as if he was flabbergasted.
    Something told Perceptor that this was a normal routine for Brainstorm to go through. “No, simple, we got into a fight.” He rolled his optics.
    “Everyone heard that fight, and that you totally threw Perceptor out.” Chromedome patted his back. “I would’ve talked to you sooner but you were so closed up into your work (maybe you’re picking up some habits?).”
    Perceptor frowned, he didn’t like throwing Brainstorm out, but the mech wasn’t helping, he was too quiet. And then things blew up and he said and did some things he shouldn’t have, saying he lost a little bit of recharge was sugar coating. He hadn’t slept for two Earth weeks, how was he awake now? “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Fine, then listen.” Rewind snapped sitting behind Chromedome’s helm and folding his arms. “Brainstorm I’m proud that you stood up to him, it was harsh (even by my standards, don’t give me that look Domey). Perceptor is so dense, processor wise, how long were you flirting with him and you almost gave up and went back into time for Quirk. Honestly, if you didn’t tell Domey that he kissed you (and yes, he told me how giddy you were) I would’ve told you to give up, that mech just…” He huffed.
    Perceptor’s tanks twisted, he forgot he kissed Brainstorm first, how that all lead up to kissing the blabbering mech. That cycle Brainstorm was explaining how to interrupt the time stream and this was when Perceptor was madly trying to catch up with what Brainstorm was saying. When the jet finally finished he smiled, then cleared his intake and frag it all if Perceptor wasn’t going to kiss him then and there. Perceptor shook his helm. “Yeah, he’s...hard.”
    “Gross.” Rewind mumbled.
    “Sweetspark, please.” Chromedome patted Rewind’s knee.
    Perceptor ignored them as he pushed through the crowd and stopped next to Brainstorm, resting a servo on the jet’s shoulder. “I think I understand why you built the P.O.V. gun.”
    Brainstorm frowned at him, his blue optics glaring at him. “Really?”
    “Once this calms down and mechs are where they should be, can we talk?”
    The whole Lost Light jerked then, as it connected to the Vista Vitals, Thunderclash somehow appeared out of nowhere, standing in front of the group of mechs. “Hi, I nee-”
    Thunderclash was cut off as Whirl opened the doors. “And away WE GO!” He screamed scaring the scaly creatures on Vitals.


Chapter Text

Thunderclash watched Whirl swan dive off of a balcony and slam into a Liosuarin, the poor lizard was knocked out instantly. “Okay,” Thunderclash mumbled as the squad flooded the Vitals. “Avoid Whirl.”
    Brainstorm slapped his back. “Where’s the medbay?”
    He pointed to the left. “It’s down a level, middle of the ship.”
    Drift ran forward slamming his sheathed sword down on a Liosuarin, he hissed and dashed away. “Could use some help, Roddy.” He snapped sending a glare at Thunderclash.
    “Right,” He looked back seeing Perceptor holding a rifle and Brainstorm between the two holding a blaster. Get to the medbay. He sent to the scientists, his spark was aching and burning. Thunderclash ran forward, grabbing one of the Liosuarins by their mouth shutting it and throwing them off the level to one of the lower. Liosuarin’s back hit the railing and broke. “Oh, ow.” Thunderclash hissed, pushing through the crowd, Perceptor pushed through the first wave, expertly knocking out four of the Liosuarins with his blasters.
    He heard the loud gasps as ‘Brainstorm’ ducked behind a wall, the crew probably was in shock. Brainstorm was a great weapons builder, however using his products in the heat of battle wasn’t his forte. So seeing ‘Brainstorm’ expertly navigate a battlefield was a sight straight from the Twilight Zone.
    Thunderclash threw another Liosuarin over the railing, admitting that his back struts were aching now. He ducked behind the other wall, pulling out Rodimus’ blaster and waiting with Perceptor. Brainstorm stayed back using an old energon container as cover.
    Thunderclash, you’ve got to stop fighting as Thunderclash and fight as Rodimus.
    He jumped at the comm, looking down the hall and spotting Megatron sporting his own ‘canon’ (he wore it for two reasons, most of the universe knew that cannon, and that it wasn’t even a cannon but a medical kit). Thunderclash watched as Megatron and Ultra Magnus took control of the rest of the crew. Okay, and how do I do that?
    He’s an outlier, it may wear you out, but most species are scared of a giant metal man running towards them on fire.
    Oh, alright. He grinned, if he planned this out just right they would be at the medbay in a spark beat. ‘If’ was the keyword in that sentence. He popped his helm out and shot the biggest Liosuarin in the chest, hiding once again behind the wall as he heard a loud thud.
    “This is going to take a while.”

    “What are you doing?” Brainstorm caught Whirl who flew up and landed onto the bridge and started doing the can-can.
    Whirl’s yellow optic shrunk. “Distracting you.”
    Whirl’s claw struck out like a snake and grabbed the P.O.V. gun from his servos. “Thanks, Bucko!” He yelled backflipping off the bridge and flying towards another bridge.
    “Well, there goes my P.O.V. gun.” Brainstorm frowned.


Whirl landed and punted one of the scales into a wall. “HOWDY!” He yelled using the same leg to knock another one off balance.
    “WHIRL!” Rung yelled running down another hallway with a ton of Liosuarins on his aft. Rung ducked when Whirl fired his turrets, the tiny orange mech jumped up and hung onto Whirl’s neck.
    Whirl mowed them down. “Scales.”
    “Thank you.” Rung dropped off his back, knocking the strange gun off of him. “What’s this?” He held it up. “P.O.V.?”
    “It’s a gun Brainstorm asked me to test for him.”
    “I highly doubt that.” Rung frowned, fixing his glasses. “What does P.O.V. mean?”
    “Uh,” Whirl glanced around. “Um, Pensioner of Viagra.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “I have no idea,” He had an idea. “LET’S GO!”


Perceptor swung his rifle around propping it onto his shoulder, taking in a deep vent and holding it, squeezing the trigger. He watched as the Liosuarin’s body slumped, he steeled his wires and stopped his tanks from turning, reloading the rifle and taking aim again. Another body hit the floor, then another. They weren’t dead but the Weakers steeled his nerves, he never wanted to pick up a rifle again, but fate had other ideas.
    “To your left.” Brainstorm yelled.
    He dropped his rifle holding it up as the Liosuarin jumped down with a sword in hand, his rifle caught it, Perceptor spun it, hitting the Liosuarin in the face with the butt of the gun. Taking his other servo and slammed his skull into the wall behind him. He watched as the Liosuarin’s limp body fell. “Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it.” Brainstorm huddled under a shelf.
    “Thunderclash.” Perceptor turned and glared at the bright orange mech. “Are you or are you not going to help?”
    Thunderclash jogged up. “I have no idea how to...activate it.”
    “Shout flame on?” Brainstorm shrugged.
    “Well…” Perceptor frowned hearing a blaster clatter behind him, he spun around shooting the Liosuarin’s hand then his head, stunning him. “You better figure it out!” He snapped, shooting a glare at Thunderclash.
    “I...I guess I can only do it when I’m stressed, how does Rodimus do it?”
    “Stressed?” Brainstorm grabbed Thunderclash’s servo. “How are you not stressed? The mech you love is currently dying in your frame and there’s an alien invasion, how else can you be stressed?”
    “Well...Rodimus is a carrying?”
    “WHAT?!” Both Perceptor and Brainstorm screamed facing him. “HOW ARE YOU NOT STRESSED?”
    “Well uh.” Thunderclash rubbed his chest platting. “I’ve gotten used to this?”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Perceptor rubbed his optics.

Velocity sat at the medbay doors, she was the only medic on hand, besides Vitals wasn’t as… accident prone as Lost Light. But it wasn’t the first time she did something like this, Velocity grinned watching a Liosuarin set off one of her many traps, and a ratchet swung down and slammed into his head. “Sucker.”
    “How is it out there?” Thunderclash sat up, rubbing his spark plates and hissing.
    “I thought I put you under?” Velocity spun around in her chair.
    “Well, when you pulled away you didn’t inject it in.” He shrugged.
    “Great.” She groaned.
    “So...what made you run out like that?” Thunderclash leaned against the wall.
    “I figured out why you collapsed, and then I contacted the Lost Light and yelled at your interface partner.” She grinned, Rodimus’ confusion over the call was golden.
    “But what was it?”
    “Well… after having Rodimus in berth, we uh...found out that you’re not exactly sterile.”
    “Excused me, what?” His optics were going cross-eyed, his face melting into nothing but concern.
    “You’re carrying.” Velocity smiled, she always wanted to tell mechs that they were with spark and see the pure endless joy on their faces. Thunderclash was pale. “Congrats?”
    “Is the Lost Light here?”
    The whole medbay shook, she held onto her desk. “That’s a yes.” Explosions echoed down the halls shaking the whole ship. Velocity cursed grabbing her blaster Brainstorm custom made her, she heard footsteps down the hall, spark spinning.


Hey, Thunders?
    He stopped slamming a Liosuarin down and aiming for another one who stumbled down the stairwell. A small smile spreading across his intake. Rodimus? You’re okay? He blinked away the washer fluid and for once his spark didn’t ache or sting, instead, it did the exact opposite. It burned. He spun and faced Brainstorm who was crawling towards him. “Rodimus just commed me!” He squeaked jumping up and down.
    Brainstorm slapped his ped, cowering behind a container. “Good to hear pal.”
    Perceptor aimed over his helm and shot a hanging sign, the bullet bounced off the metal than the wall and slammed into the Liosuarin shocking him. “Great, how much farther to the medbay?”
    “Another section that way.” He pointed past them.
    I’m fine, perfectly fine.
    His spark sizzled at that unable to hide his smile. I’m so glad!
    So uh quick question...HOW DID YOUR FRAME GET WITH SPARK?!
    Now his spark was ablaze. I don’t know. How many Liosuarins are there?
    30 scales, at least.
    Thunderclash jumped out of cover, his whole frame steaming as he ran down the stairs and slammed into a Liosuarin watching at his plating burnt his scales. He snarled spinning around and throwing the burning Liosuarin at his teammates. Glaring at the sea of blue orange and green faces.
    His servos rolled up into fists and he girt his denta his spark melting in its’ case, his plates burst into flames as he ran forward slamming a servo into a Liosuarin’s stomach. I’m on my way!


“Drift duck!” Ratchet yelled slamming his bonded’s helm down shooting a Liosuarin before ducking down himself. “Here’s a joke; a deadly mech gives up his gun and uses his swords in battle MEANING THAT HE’S VIRTUALLY USELESS IN A FIREFIGHT!”
    Drift shot in a look at minor annoyance. “Here’s a joke: you in berth!”
    “Can you two quit fighting?” First Aid glared at them.
    Ratchet huffed crossing his arms. “Well, I’m not having any fun.”
    “You’re not supposed to have fun, you’re supposed to be on the Lost Light away from the stress for the new spark.” First Aid glared at his mentor.
    “I’m feeling so attacked.” His optics watered his spark wavering until Drift took his servo and kissed him. Slowly the feeling of being a burden ebbed with only Drift’s tender love.
    “Why don’t you two go recover the medbay?” First Aid suggested.
    Ratchet blinked the washer fluid from his optics nodding and looking towards his bonded. “Okay, let’s see if we can find Rodimus and recover the medbay?”
    Drift smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. “Let me know if you need to rest.”
    “I’m not as old as I look!” He snapped
    Drift laughed but his smile quickly faded, Ratchet’s past few weeks have been hard, the issue between his bonded and Rodimus placed a lot of stress on his bond. Not to mention the stress that regularly came with carrying and his age.
    “Next time you’re carrying.” He hissed kicking Drift in the aft as his bonded got up.


Whirl ran forward kicking a ‘scaley’ in the stomach.
    Rung was right behind him. “I wish Cyclonus was with us, he keeps you in line.” The therapist said ducking down. So far he watched Whirl tramble at least five Liosuarins, set a whole hall on fire and make a mech leak. Somehow Whirl still didn’t use Brainstorm’s new gun, instead, he ran around swinging it around in one claw-like he was in a stage number.
    “He’ll never leave Tailgate’s side, that poor mech is a sucker.” He laughed slamming his helm into a Liosuarin’s head. Before performing the can-can with his bird-like legs at another group of Liosuarins.
    Rung ran after him uncertain he would ever want to stray from the safety of Whirl’s insanity.
    The blue mech laughed backhanding a Liosuarin with the gun, the gun slipped out of his claw. Hitting the floor, a beam of light shot out and slammed into his helm. Rung was thrown back and collapsed on the floor.


    Megatron paused looking over to Minmus who simply...groaned. “How’s the battle?”
    “Our captain’s gone, Perceptor and Brainstorm ran after OUR CAPTAIN, the chief medic and our TIC just vanished, so it’s going great.” Minmus’ almost always emotionless face looked tired and a mixture of ‘I swear if anything else goes wrong right now I’m going to blow up this ship and drink my sorrows away with wine’.
    Megatron nodded patting the back of the blue and red plates. “They’ll be fine, besides we’re making great progress.” He offered a small smile.
    Minmus only groaned louder.
    “Well, it’s a lot worse than you think?”
    “Whatever it is, I don’t want to know.”
    Megatron laughed. “Brainstorm and Perceptor swapped frames by mistake, Rodimus and Thunderclash also swapped frames. Rodimus is in Thunderclash’s frame and he’s carrying.”
    “Oh.” Minmus nodded smiling only to have that smile melt and the nod slow. “Wait for what?”
    Just then a flaming Liosuarin fell down the stairs.
    “And Thunderclash is figuring out Rodimus’ outlier ability.” Not bad, at least you’re scaring them away.
    “What?” Minmus blinked his optics going cross-eyed.
    Across the hall, Whirl was running full speed towards them. “I HAVE MADE A MISTAKE!” He screamed running past them. “RUN YOU FOOLS!”
    Megatron watched the blue helicopter, feeling fear as his tanks turned, looking back at the hall Whirl just came from. His intake dropping as Rung, the sweetest, kindest mech on the Lost Light run at them with what looked to be a chainsaw.
    He ran like a rabid dog, swinging the chainsaw around as if it were a sword. Scaring plenty of Liosuarins away with the display. He was grinning and laughing almost like Whirl.
    “Primus save us.”


Drift slammed into another Liosuarin, knocking them out before throwing the limp body at his friend and pinning the lizards under a crate. He waited for a click making sure there were no more Liosuarins around them. “Clea-”
    “Yeah, yeah.” Ratchet slapped his back, hardly caring for his own safety or even the new spark’s.
    “Ratty!” Drift gasped. “I didn’t tell you it was clear.” He hissed pulling Ratchet to the side.
    Ratchet slapped him away. “I know it’s your sire and bond programming that’s making you act like this but this isn’t my first fight.” He huffed.
    Drift frowned.
    “Come on, let’s go find Rodimus and the medbay and you can shut up.” Ratchet stepped forward as a Liosuarin jumped up, the medic threw a piece of scrap at him, hitting him in the head.
    Drift growled, pulling Ratchet close and kissing him. “Please don’t hurt yourself.” He mumbled before letting go of his bonded. He then changed into vehicle mode and speed off, running over any Liosuarins he came across, alive or dead.


“Burn baby burn! Burn baby burn!” He sang running through the halls scaring every living thing. He grabbed a Liosuarin by his collar and tossed him at his group. “Burn baby burn!” He swung his leg out hitting a Liosuarin in the head knocking him out.
    “STOP SINGING! RODIMUS HAS A TERRIBLE VOICE!” Perceptor said lifting his rifle and hitting another Liosuarin with a taser shot. He reloaded the rifle with a smoke pellet, the halls filled with thick smog.
    Thunderclash stopped spinning. “I haven’t sung in cycles! And Rodimus has a good voice!” He snapped, he hasn’t danced in cycles either, then again he had two left peds and his spark was too weak for something as dancing. He only danced and sang when he cooked, frag when was the last time he cooked? “Okay, okay, okay, focus, you’re on fire, the mech that you love is fine but in a den of lizards.” His spark burned.
    “Thunderclash!” Brainstorm yelled. “How much farther is the medbay?”
    “This way~!” Thunderclash skipped down the hall still one fire, screams followed him.
    “I never want to see that again in my whole life.”
    Thunderclash ran down the hall, screaming, watching the Liosuarins scatter like Earth rabbits. “I’m gonna EAT YOU!” He yelled, hearing Perceptor and Brainstorm laughing behind him. He backflipped and slammed his peds into the largest Liosuarin, the lizard stumbled back and fell on top of five of his teammates. Thunderclash jumped right back up, grinning. He looked left then right, taking the right hallway as he saw the big medical sign hanging above.
    “You’re having too much fun with this,” Perceptor said running up to him.
    Brainstorm struggled behind. “Curse you and your tiny inferior legs Percy!” He slapped Perceptor on the back.
    Thunderclash laughed, glad to see the couple finally getting along. “Alright it’s that way, Rodimus said there were at least 30 Liosuarins outside.”
    “Hmm,” Perceptor frowned. “We need to plan this attack, we can’t just go rushing in.”
    “Agreed.” Thunderclash huffed, who knew being on fire wore you out so quickly? “There’s another hallway, I’ll take it and scare them off and towards you two.”
    “I have some flash and sticky grenades.” Brainstorm pipped up.
    “Good.” Thunderclash transformed into his alt-mode and drove off. He took the next right and changed back into root mode, venting. “Frag, Rodimus how do you keep this up?” Almost there, love.
    Uh, Thunderclash this is Megatron, please don’t call me ‘love’.
    Sorry! Thunderclash switched his comms, his frame aching. Almost there, love!
    That’s gay.
    Thanks. He snorted shaking his helm and regaining his balance. Thunderclash eyed the hallway, taking in a deep vent before turning up the heat. He stomped into the corner, grinning like Whirl would if the mech had an intake. “Some scary as fuck shit man”
    The Liosuarins jumped up, one of them screamed and slammed his head into the ceiling. They all faced him, at first their faces were scrunched up in anger but now were frozen in fear.
    Thunderclash let out a loud laugh running towards them.
    “OH SWEET CHRIST!” One of them screamed running over another.
    Thunderclash stopped turning around to see Rung of all mechs covered in Primus knows what carrying a chainsaw. His glasses had this maddening glow to them. Instantly his fire went out and he pressed himself against the wall. Rung ran past him, his laugh was far deeper and louder than what Thunderclash accomplished.
    The Liosuarins darted towards Perceptor and Brainstorm who threw the grenades, instantly blinding them and trapping them. Rung stopped before the wad of pink sticky lizards holding his chainsaw over his helm. He screamed just as his digits leg go of his chainsaw, dropping it on his helm and knocking him out.
    “What was his problem?” Brainstorm asked peering over the wad of alien lizards.
    Thunderclash shrugged and typed in his code for the medbay, he leaned against the door frame, his body felt heavy and worn out. The door swished open and he was met with the barrel of a gun and Velocity’s best war cry. “Hi, Lotty.” He smiled, the medic instantly relaxed, he patted her helm before stumbling in. “Where’s Roddy?”
    “He’s, uh, Rodimus are you feeling okay?”
    “Fantastic.” He smiled looking around until he spotted the tip of a blue ped. “There he is!” He pointed and tried to walk towards Rodimus. “Roddy!” Frag he was exhausted.


Velocity watched as Rodimus (the same mech who hated Thunderclash with an unknown passion) drag his peds in a shameful display of skipping towards Thunderclash. “The frag?”
    She felt a servo slap her shoulder. “It’s fine, we’ll explain,” Perceptor said, weakly smiling, she never saw him smile before.
    “Where do we put him?” Brainstorm asked carrying in Rung, his motions stiff and emotionless, nothing like Brainstorm.
    “Uh, there.” She pointed to an empty berth. “What’s his problem.”
    “I’m scared to ask,” Perceptor said, following Rodimus, his walk wasn’t the normal stiff-legged movement but it was jerky and almost like his frame was made with string, not wires.
    “The frag?” She mumbled as Brainstorm followed Perceptor, carrying his rifle like a professional. She stepped into the bay in minor shock as Thunderclash pulled Rodimus on top of him and the two were… ‘passionately’ making out, it more or less looked like someone hot glued two fish together by their mouths. And it sounded a little too ‘passionate’. “THE FRAG?!”
    “Alright,” Perceptor pulled out a bunch of fancy looking cords connected to a small box from his subspace. “We ready to do this?”
    Rodimus pulled away from Thunderclash. “Uh, what happens if there’s a problem?”
    “Ya die.” Perceptor snapped.
    “Yeah pretty much.” Brainstorm nodded.
    “Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?” Velocity glared at the group of mechs.
    Rodimus sat up on Thunderclash’s chest. “Okay so, Brainstorm was testing out a gun and it backfired, all four of us were caught in it and we swapped processors. I’m Thunderclash,” He patted Thunderclash’s massive chest. “This is Rodimus,” Then he pointed to Perceptor. “That’s Brainstorm, and that’s Perceptor.” He smiled and gestured to Brainstorm.
    “I fucking hate every one of you so much.” Velocity hissed slapping her helm.
    “Alright let’s play musical chairs with our processors!” Brainstorm who was in Perceptor’s frame yelled.
    “I DON’T LIKE THAT TONE!” Ratchet yelled running in with Drift who was trying to keep up.


Rodimus groaned, rubbing his forehelm. “Alright let’s do this one last time.” Thunderclash’s gentle warm touches soothed his helmache, the tiny orange digits curling around his plating. “We! Swapped! Processors!”
    “OKAY!” Ratchet yelled back, Drift was trying to hold onto his bonded, who knew how strong a carrying mech could be?
    “And now Thunderclash’s frame is carrying.” Rodimus pulled Thunderclash closer, planting a small kiss on his helm.
    “WHAT?!” Drift yelled, Ratchet grabbed hold of his bonded and kept him back. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ANYTHING!?”
    “Can you sedate him or something?” He turned towards Velocity who held up her servos.
    “Here.” Ratchet scooped up Drift who was frothing at the intake, with one servo he pulled out a small needle and pushed it into Drift’s neck wiring. A few sparkbeats later the swords-mech was in a heavy recharge. “There.” He dropped Drift on a berth. “Why didn’t you tell him anything?” He seemed to calm down quickly, but he still had his resting Hatchet face.
    “Well better not have the crew freaking out over it and try to fix it as soon as possible. Besides no one noticed besides Megatron who was a dick about it.”
    Ratchet groaned facing Brainstorm. “Okay so Per-Brainstorm! How long should this take?”
    “Uh, if they don’t fry their processors… about a klick?” He looked towards Preceptor who nodded in agreement.
    “What if our processors fry?” Thunderclash frowned.
    “Well it depends on how much damage there is, you can regain full functionality but it’ll be a while and therapy.” Velocity said flopping down into a seat.
    “What about the sparkling?” Rodimus asked pulling Thunderclash closer.
    “They’ll be fine, your frame will run fine and depending on how healthy your frame is the bitlet should be healthy.” Ratchet put in, rubbing his forehelm.
    Rodimus vented looking at Thunderclash. “Well…”
    Thunderclash handed him a small smile. “Might as well.” He leaned down and kissed Rodimus. “This is dumb.”
    “So dumb.” He kissed Thunderclash back. “Hook us up, boys!”


    Perceptor kept an optic on the readings, watching the data bounce up and down, chewing on his intake plating. If this went bad there was no way of going back. Brainstorm monitored the wires watching for any sparks or smoke. Thunderclash didn’t both to move his frame, instead, he laid on top of Rodimus, the orange frame twitched and heat radiated off of it. While Thunderclash’s frame was like stone, his vulcanizer would glitch and his optic covers would flutter.
    “Vent Percy.” Brainstorm muttered glancing away from the wires for a split second.
    He did, frag it felt like his spark was in his throat, the tension was wearing down his struts and any second he was bound to force recharge. “What if?”
    “The crew will keep an eye on the little one.” Brainstorm vented shaking his helm.
    “Will they?”
    Brainstorm snorted. “We have Ultra Magnus, Chromedome and Rewind, Tailgate and Cyclonus, Swerve, Ten, Ratchet and Drift. Frag even Whirl, this sparkling is going to be fine. I’m more worried about the creators than anything.”
    Perceptor laughed. “Do you think we’d be good creators?”
    “Oh frag no,” He smiled. “We’d be great.”
    “I know this is a terrible time to discuss this, but would you want?”
    “I’ve thought about it.” Brainstorm admitted. “In all honesty, I’d be scared.”
    “Well, you’d be a great carrier.” Perceptor hid his burning plates.
    Perceptor laughed his optics watering as he tried to stay standing up. “Stormy!”
    Brainstorm shot him a glare of pure resentment. “Fragger.”
    He cleared his intake looking back down at the data, a faint smile tickled his lips. “You’d make a good sire too.”
    “Would you carry?”
    “I wouldn’t mind, but I wonder how the programing would affect me.”
    Brainstorm ‘tsked. “That’s a whole new nightmare I don’t want to think about.” He yawned. “How are they doing?”
    “Almost complete.” He looked down at the two bars, glad to see them almost full. “I think keeping them in the medbay for a few extra cycles won’t hurt.”
    Brainstorm nodded. “I think that’d be great.”
    “Are they going to explain this to the crew?”
    “Probably not.”
    Brainstorm slumped in a chair. “If this works, when are we going to?” His servo waved around in a circle.
    “Once they’re settled in their frames.” Perceptor sat down next to him, his back struts aching. He took Brainstorm’s servo in his, kissing it but not taking his optics off the data. “I’m thinking we’ll take a long recharge after this?”
    Brainstorm yawned again leaning against Perceptor, resting his helm on Perceptor’s shoulder. “Agreed, upside about this is that you’re tall enough for me to do this.”
    The medbay started to fill up with mechs as Velocity and Ratchet worked in unison, most of the mechs had dents or cuts nothing bad. Strangely enough, Rung woke up without any idea of what happened to him, in fact, he didn’t even know where he got the chainsaw. Drift was rudely kicked out of the berth by Ratchet, he woke up on the floor confused and lost.
    Soon the data stopped and everything looks perfect, as far as Perceptor knew they were back in their frames. He just had to wait till they woke up and hopefully everything was okay.
Brainstorm fell asleep next to him, using him as a pillow. He didn’t mind he picked up the red and black frame and carried him out of the medbay. Once he was back on the Lost Light he was stopped by Megatron, he explained the whole situation and mentioned that the two Primes would be okay.
He didn’t remember much after that, only that he unlocked Brainstorm’s hab and laid his lover down on the berth before joining him. Perceptor pulled Brainstorm close, kissing him as he slept.
“I think ‘Perceptor’ would be a good name for a sparkling.” Brainstorm mumbled half awake.
“No, it’s terrible.”
“My name is spelled wrong and it’s pissed me off for my whole life, besides ‘Stormy’ is a cuter name.”
Brainstorm smiled before cuddling him.
“Goodnight Stormy.”
“Night Percy.”