DRABBLE: in which the bots go on vacation (part two) WARNINGS: ableist language, alcohol mention. also this is fucking long
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Jetfire turned the map in his hands and frowned. “I think we're going the wrong way.”
They'd made it past the front gates just fine, but sometime between then and getting off the hovtrain they'd stalled. Runabout was pretty sure they'd gotten off at the right stop; it was just getting from here to the museums Jetfire wanted to see that was the problem.
Jetfire held the map lower so that Runabout and Red Alert, on Jet's other side, could take a look.
“No, we're in the right place.” Red Alert pointed to a spot on the map. “We're right here, and the museums are just up this road.” He traced the route with his finger.
“Red Alert's right; see, that building right there? That's right here on the map, too.”
Jetfire peered at it for another moment, then finally gave up and sighed.
“I'll take your word for it. I guess I'm not very good at reading maps,” he admitted sheepishly.
“That's fine,” Runabout began, “I can--”
“I've got it.” Red Alert took the map from Jetfire, giving Runabout a sharp glance. “I'll navigate.”
Runabout frowned. He'd had a few civil conversations with Red Alert in the past few weeks, and he'd thought they were starting to get along, but the Autobot still didn't seem to like him much. It was better than it had been – when Runabout first started befriending Jetfire, Red Alert had either avoided him completely or hovered nearby, glowering (which always made him anxious enough that he had to leave). He'd eventually relaxed, at Jetfire's behest, enough to start talking to Runabout, and not just when he would proclaim (quite loudly) that Runabout was at the top of his list, right beside Megatron. Runabout couldn't imagine what he'd done that came close to the 'Con leader and deserved such ire.
At first he'd thought it was alarming, until Jetfire explained how Red Alert's processor worked. Now he was trying to be patient – he really did want to be friends with the security chief – but that didn't keep him from getting nervous every time he was around Red Alert.
He could feel his anxiety peaking now, the nervous fluttering in his chest that would make his spark pulse erratically. He was sure it was doing that in his real body back on the ship, and the way that feeling was manifesting in this false holographic body was no much better. He was also, knowing what he did of Ambulon, surprised that the medic hadn't started chastising him through their comms.
Red Alert led them down the road toward the museum area, and Jetfire went back to talking about his current project. Runabout had no idea what any of it meant, but seeing Jetfire so animated made him smile. Even if he didn't understand, not completely, he liked listening.
“And that's how I plan to change the face of science,” Jetfire finished. “Brainstorm may have had the last big breakthrough, but this time I'm going to best him.” He looked down at Runabout and smiled. “Sorry. I've been working on this for weeks and I'm very excited.”
“I can tell,” Runabout teased, though his zoning out meant he really didn't know what Jetfire was so excited for. “It sounds pretty cool, though.” Whatever it was.
“Thanks.” He looked up at Red Alert, who was slightly ahead of them, and did a little full-body shimmy. “I can't wait to see this museum!” His eyes flicked back to Runabout, face breaking in a grin. “The brochure said it was full of all sorts of exhibits, from hard sciences to anthropology to historical.”
“I can't wait to see the exhibit on space-faring ship designs in this sector.”
Jetfire nodded as Red Alert fell back into step beside him, the museums coming into view around the corner.
“I just want to see everything!” Jetfire continued. “I haven't been to a museum in millenia, not since--” He stopped, expression suddenly turning sad, and it took Runabout almost a klik to figure out why.
“Not since Starscream?” he asked quietly. Jetfire looked at him and sighed.
“Yes. Not since Starscream.”
“What?” They both turned to Red Alert at his sudden, sharp entrance into the conversation. “”You knew Starscream? Why didn't you tell me?” He sounded angry, and there was hurt, too.
“I--” Jetfire's expression froze in horrified disbelief, his jaw working but no words coming out. Red Alert's trust in him was tenuous at best, and he hadn't thought about telling Red anything about this. “It – it was a long time ago.”
“But you told him.” Primus, Red Alert even had tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Jetfire stuttered, clearly unable to save himself from this situation, so Runabout gave it a shot.
“He didn't want to tell me,” Runabout said in a rush. “I was...I came to his quarters for something and saw this old picture he had and, he didn't want to tell me but I pressed him until he did.” It was mostly true, except Jetfire had been crying when Runabout stopped by, and it had only taken gentle probing from him to find out the cause. Red Alert looked at him, in a way that had Runabout wondering if the Autobot knew he was fudging the truth to take the blame on himself, before slowly nodding. Runabout flinched when that gaze turned from accepting to how-fragging-dare-you.
“Okay,” he said finally. Jetfire relaxed, like a sudden weight had slid from his shoulders, and said,
“I'm sorry, Red Alert. I can tell you when we get back, if you'd like.”
“Yes, please.” They started walking again, having stopped during that little episode. “I knew you were a Decepticon,” Red Alert continued hesitantly, “But Starscream wasn't mentioned in your file.”
“Yes, that was....purposeful.” Jetfire cleared his throat. “I didn't mention my connection to Starscream when I joined the Autobots. I thought that might make it more difficult for them to accept me.”
Red Alert still had the look of someone who'd been betrayed, but he nodded again, looking away with a sniff. “Sorry for freaking out,” he mumbled. The words sounded forced, as if he didn't truly believe he hadn't had a good reason for doing so. Runabout's spark went out to him anyway.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Jetfire said gently. “I should have told you.” They shared a glance and Runabout shifted a bit uncomfortably. He felt, as he sometimes did when he was around the both of them, like a third wheel intruding on a much better friendship than he had with either. It hurt, a little bit – he'd been working hard to gain Jetfire's trust and confidence – but he kept it to himself as they lapsed into silence.
The rest of the walk to the museums didn't take very long, thankfully, and Red Alert led them to the one they'd been most interested in seeing, the Science and History museum that stood at the forefront of the circular courtyard the others were centered around. It was pretty efficient that the planners for this planet had grouped each attraction like this, Runabout thought; the museums were all together in the same area, as were the rides and casinos and several other attractions he'd noticed while reading the brochure. Though there were some other things he'd wanted to do here, he knew Jetfire would probably want to hit as many of these museums as they could before it was time to leave. Which was fine; he was more interested in the company, honestly, than where they went.
They had to pay an entrance fee to get in, but were told that the tickets were good for all of the museums until the end of the day. Which was nice, Runabout thought, because he wasn't sure they'd have enough to pay for each individual one.
They stopped just past the ticket counters so Jetfire could open the museum map they'd received with their tickets.
“Where should we go first?”
“I was hoping we could check out this exhibit.” Runabout moved around Jetfire to point out the 'History of Galactic Vehicles' area. “If...you'd like, anyway.”
“That seems as good a place to start as any.” Jetfire folded up the map. “Is that alright with you, Red Alert?”
The security bot shrugged, never looking away from Runabout. He'd been staring since their little clash earlier. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”
“Great. I do believe it is on the second level; the stairs are this way.” Jetfire took the lead. Runabout tried to bring up the rear and escape Red Alert's gaze, but the Autobot wouldn't let him. Every time he tried to drop back, Red Alert would slow down so that Runabout was forced to pick up his pace again or risk the both of them being left behind. By the time they ascended the stairs and reached the hall housing the exhibit they sought, Runabout was getting very antsy. Red Alert stared at him a lot on the Alpha Bravo, especially now that he and Jetfire talked, but at least on the ship he could go somewhere else. Here, unless he wandered off alone, he couldn't escape.
He was soon distracted, though, when they entered the room for the History of Galactic Vehicles. His optics – no, they were called eyes when he looked like this, he'd been so good before – widened as he took in the exhibit. It was a huge, spacious hall, with models of all kinds of crafts hanging from the high ceiling, viewer screens displaying short documentaries and enormous moving images on the walls accompanied by large swaths of text in multiple languages. When he glanced over he saw a reflection of what was probably his own expression on Jetfire's face. And this was only one exhibit; if the rest of the museum looked like this, today was going to be amazing.
At the same time, it made him stop and realize; he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been able to do something like this, something just for fun. It made him kind of sad to think about how much the war had taken from him.
He was brought back to the present by Jetfire, who'd moved off to the left, near a series of images entitled 'Beginnings'.” Jetfire was standing next to an ancient (and admittedly primitive) star craft that had a plaque attached to it. In his true body, Jetfire would have towered over the craft; as a 'human' he was about two helms shorter.
“Is that what I think that is?” Runabout asked as he walked up beside Jetfire, mouth agape.
“What is it?” For the first time since they'd arrived Red Alert looked away, glancing at Jetfire. He almost looked sad, and in that moment Runabout felt bad for him; he was at a museum with a scientist and an engineer mooning over things he'd never studied.
Jetfire, however, seemed oblivious to this as he turned to Red Alert, face split by a broad grin. “How do you not recognize it? It's a Xenoch-257, one of the first spacefaring ships in the galaxy! Built by the Klxaclyn almost a billion years ago. I can't believe they found a complete craft, or even the plans to build a model!” He went on, citing specs and research pertaining to the craft, reveling over the new information he was learning from this exhibit, and normally Runabout would be just as enraptured. Except he'd noticed that Red Alert still looked lost.
Leaning over, he said quietly, “This ship was one of the first in the entire galaxy to be space worthy. It became a model for many other cultures, including primitive Cybertronian crafts.” He hadn't expected Red Alert to be supremely grateful for the insight, but the venomous look he received had him shrinking back.
His enthusiasm wavered and though he was still excited to learn and see as much as he could, every now and then he'd glance back at Red Alert, and the cold glare that greeted him had his spirits falling lower and lower. Jetfire, continuing to be oblivious, led them through the Galactic Vehicles exhibit, the hall of architecture and famous landmarks, and a room dedicated to a huge war that had ravaged this sector 200 years ago, talking all the while. Every now and then Runabout would add something or respond to a question, but otherwise stayed quiet. Finally, when they reached the exhibit on nanotechnology in that sector (a topic in which Jetfire was interested to the point of obsession) Runabout dropped back to stand beside Red Alert.
“Are you...are you angry with me?” he asked hesitantly. Red Alert stared at him without speaking long enough that Runabout began to fidget, then said,
“No.”
“Well, it's just...” Primus, he hated confrontations. “After what happened earlier, and just now..” He wrung his fleshy servos. “I thought we'd started getting along, I guess, but now I'm worried I was wrong.”
“You were.” Red Alert's voice was cold; it made Runabout tense. He shifted away as Red Alert leaned in, glancing at Jetfire (who had no idea what was going on) before continuing, “I don't know what your game is, Decepticon, but I'm not about to let you drag Jetfire down. I'm onto your plot, hear me? And if you even think of pulling a fast one on us, I'll put a laser burst through your spark faster than you can say 'Autobot scum'. Got it?”
Runabout swallowed, then slowly nodded. “Got it.”
“Good.” Red Alert walked ahead, leaving a stunned Runabout behind as he went to join Jetfire. Runabout followed, eventually, walking stiffly. Keeping his head down, his enjoyment of the exhibit around him had soured. He'd known Red Alert still didn't really trust him (he didn't think Red Alert trusted anyone, not even Jetfire, not really) but he'd thought they'd at least made some progress. The realization that he hadn't gotten anywhere with the security bot, and the absolutely cold way in which Red Alert had shut him down, hurt more than he'd expected. He guessed he'd sort of started liking Red Alert.
“--this level of microtechnology is astounding! How I would love to pick the brains of these scientists, I haven't been able to achieve nanomites of this quality without the entire structure breaking down, and this data has been lost for centuries--” Jetfire kept going as Runabout came up beside them, keeping his distance from Red Alert. They had wandered into the historical section of the nanotech exhibit and Jetfire finally remembered Runabout was there, turning to the duobot with an enormous grin on his face.
“Can you believe this? Technology more advanced than ours, created and lost so long ago, and yet we haven't been able to recreate it! Incredible!” He stopped then, looking at Runabout like he was seeing him for the first time in a week. “Hey, are you alright?”
“What?” Runabout blinked, then forced a smile. “Oh, yeah, I'm fine! I just don't know a lot about nanotech, you know?”
“Yes, of course.” Jetfire's smile was apologetic. “Shall we move on, then?”
“No, no, it's fine! Really--”
“I wanted to see more,” Red Alert interjected, glaring at Runabout. He shrank beneath that gaze.
Jetfire looked worried at this. “No, it's alright. There is a fascinating exhibit on prehistoric creatures from this system in the next room, let's check that out.”
As they moved on Runabout tried to focus on enjoying the museum instead of thinking about Red Alert's clear hatred of him. He knew it was the job of a security bot to worry about potential threats, and being a Decepticon automatically made him one, but..he'd thought they'd all gotten past that a while ago. It was difficult not to spend his time dwelling, though this was supposed to be a fun day out for the crew.
It didn't help that, once they moved into the room with the prehistoric creatures exhibit, they found it full of what organics called 'children'. Small copies of the beings that had reproduced them, either sexually or asexually, filled the room, screaming and running from this end to the next. Runabout tried not to be as blindly biased against organics as most of the Decepticons – including his brother – were, but children definitely made him uncomfortable.
Jetfire also didn't look exactly pleased with the circumstances. He offered the two of them a sheepish smile, eyes flicking from one to the other and back.
“Well this looks interesting, right?” He gestured at the huge skeleton of some long extinct organic predator that stood in the middle of the room. There were railings around the bottom to keep people off but several children were playing at the base anyway.
“Oh, yes, extremely!” Runabout said even as Red Alert huffed, “It looks boring.” Jetfire gave them both pained expressions.
“At any rate, we don't have to be here long.”
Jetfire pulled out the map as he led the way across the room, trying to decide where they should head next. Runabout followed, dropping behind Red Alert as they walked, averting his gaze when Red Alert would glance back at him every klik or so. The room was fairly large, with life-size dioramas set up behind thick glass on all sides, so it took them several kliks to reach the center where the skeleton stood. Runabout looked up at it as they approached, thinking that he actually would like to check it out; the creature had been enormous, almost twice as large as Jetfire's bot mode. It dwarfed the alien children playing on it. Runabout made a face. This place needed better security, or at least security that cared.
It was a good thing, though, that Runabout was looking at the skeleton, or he would have missed what happened next. As he watched, one of the children – a squishy-looking thing with tentacles – swung up on what Runabout suspected was the thigh bone of the skeleton. Its weight must have been too much, though, because there was a loud snap and the cable holding the bone broke loose. The alien swung to a safe position on the rib cage in time while the bone, along with the rest of the creature's enormous leg, came free and tumbled down. Runabout saw Red Alert, who was passing just beneath the skeleton, look up in alarm as the bones fell toward him.
Runabout acted on instinct. He bolted forward, slamming into Red Alert from behind, the two of them sprawling onto the floor just out of the way as the bones came crashing down. Runabout glanced back to see children climbing down and running to their sires, then turned to see the wide-eyed astonishment on Red Alert's face.
He recovered quickly, though. “Why'd you do that? We're just holoforms, it wouldn't have hurt me.”
“Actually, it's a little more complicated than that.” They both looked up to see Jetfire standing above them, face tight with barely concealed worry. “It would have destroyed your holoform, for one, and when you awoke on the Alpha Bravo you would have been in quite a bit of pain. And then you'd have to deal with Ambulon.”
“Oh.” Red Alert looked at Runabout again, who hurriedly stood up. “Um. Thanks, then.”
“Uh. You're welcome.” He smiled sheepishly, then held out a hand to help Red Alert to his feet. Red Alert stared at it for a klik, then cautiously took it, pulling himself up.
“Everyone alright?” Jetfire asked, moving closer to the two of them, brushing dirt off of Red Alert after a quick, “May I?” and looking them both over. “We should probably move on. No doubt the museum staff will arrive soon to clean up this mess.” And he was right; about as soon as he said something, security and other museum employees began filing in, ushering out everyone who was inside the room. Jetfire carefully took them both by the arms and led them out onto the balcony that overlooked the lower levels of the museum and led to each of the main exhibits on that floor.
“So,” he began as they stood near the railing that circled the balcony, “Was there anything else you'd like to see here, or shall we move on to one of the other museums?”
Jetfire probably wanted to leave as soon as possible, Runabout realized. Though Red Alert was fine, if his holoform had been destroyed it would have been obvious that the three of them were not what they seemed. He opened his mouth to suggest they move on when Red Alert beat him to it.
“There's a technical museum across the street,” the security bot said, then, to Runabout's surprise, looked over at him. “That's the kind of stuff you like, right? Since you're an engineer?”
“Oh, well, um, yes.” Runabout smiled genuinely. “It is. Does that sound okay to you, Jetfire?”
Jetfire nodded, glad that the two had apparently settled their differences. “Yes, it does. Let's go there next.”
As they left the museum, Runabout felt his spirits rising. He hadn't thought about anything when he'd saved Red Alert, acting purely on instinct, but maybe his spontaneous action had begun to heal the rift between them. Or he so he thought before Red Alert came up beside him on the path and said quietly,
“Don't think you fooled me with that stunt. I know what game you're playing, remember?”
“Game?” Runabout's spark (or whatever the human equivalent was – a heart, was that the word?) sunk in his chest. “I don't – I'm not playing any game.” Red Alert stared at him, eyes seeming to pierce right through to his processor (brain?) and he winced.
“I'm sorry,” he said, anxiety taking over. “I – I wasn't trying to trick you or anything. And I know....you won't believe me.” He took a deep breath. “I just. I had to do something.”
Red Alert didn't look away for another klik, and Runabout worried he might do something more embarrassing and pathetic than trembling the way he was right now. Finally, however, Red Alert murmured, “Okay,” and walked ahead, catching up with Jetfire. Runabout hugged himself, wondering if his actions had actually made the situation worse.
He lagged behind as they entered the next museum, one based more around technical sciences, the one Red Alert had suggested for their next stop. At the time Runabout had thought it was a good sign. Now he wasn't so sure, and when they used their passes to get in he kept back. They reached the main lobby and stopped so Jetfire could consult the map he'd picked up at the main desk. Runabout was content to wait until Jetfire chose the first exhibit, but his anxiety skyrocketed when Red Alert came to stand beside him.
Runabout did his best not to look over, though he could see the Autobot fidgeting in the corner of his vision. After a klik of this (accompanied by Jetfire mumbling to himself over the map), Red Alert finally coughed and said gruffly,
“Thanks. For earlier.”
“Um.” Runabout was slightly caught off guard. “I thought...we'd already....ah. You're welcome?”
“I'm still going to be watching you, and you're still on my list,” Red Alert continued, as if Runabout hadn't spoken. “But, it's....possible that I've misjudged you.”
Runabout had to take a moment to collect himself. He must've been hearing things. After how Red Alert has treated him ever since he stepped onto the Alpha Bravo... “Really?”
“Don't think this lets you off the hook.” For once, Red Alert wouldn't look at him. “But...I've been running it through my processor, what you did for me, and it. Doesn't make sense. Even if you planned to trick us, it would be so obvious. But Jetfire seems to trust you. So I'm giving you a chance. A slim chance. If you screw it up that's it, I'll throw your aft in the brig. Or worse.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Runabout had to work very hard to keep the relieved smile off his face as he added, “Sir.”
“Good.” Red Alert gave a small salute before hurrying up to Jetfire's side. Runabout felt some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He was still in hot energon, but he'd also partially been right; his automatic response to Red Alert's peril had helped his relationship with the Autobot. It may have been a small step, he thought as they finally began to check out the museum, but he hoped it was an important one. As they walked between museums throughout the day, enjoying exhibit after exhibit from all types of history and culture and science, he decided it had been. Especially since, throughout the rest of their exploration, Red Alert didn't glare at him once, and he swore when they'd reached a particularly awe-inspiring attraction in the planet's aquarium that he even saw Red Alert smile.
Maybe, he thought, they could be friends after all.
-x-
Runamuck didn't want to be here. He'd wanted to stay on the ship, maybe do some 'exploring' (hint: sabotaging) while only he and the traitor doctor were left, but Runabout wouldn't hear of it. You need a break, his twin had said, giving him that look he hated, the one full of pity and a touch of fear that he didn't seem to realize he used. We've been cooped up here for too long. We need to get out for a while. No, he really didn't, especially since he knew his brother just wanted an excuse to hang out with his new Autoscum friend, who, if Runamuck had his facts straight, was also a traitor. It was hard to believe, sometimes, how rife with corruption the Alpha Bravo was.
Plus, secretly, quietly, he was really fraggin' pissed that Runabout hadn't wanted him to come down here so they could go together.
He'd started this mission looking up to his captain, to Thundercracker, one of the legendary Seekers, trine mate to Starscream himself. But now, after everything that had happened, after seeing how Thundercracker seemed to soften toward that ugly Autobot captain every day...it made Runamuck so disgusted he could spit.
So once he'd landed, sort of, on this planet on his forced vacation, he'd gone off on his own. He didn't even wait to see if Runabout would ask to do something with him, because he'd seen that, as soon as that Autoscum flier let them go, his brother had glued himself to Jet-whatever's side, and there wasn't anyone else Runamuck would give the time of day to, let alone hang out with. But as he walked through the front gates, trying not to let any slimy organics get too close to him, he decided being alone was better. He could do whatever the hell he wanted without having another bot telling him they'd rather do something else. And, he had to admit, it was good to have the alone time away from that ship and its shit crew. Now he had the space to think about what his next move would be, without some task to be done or his brother's nagging about how he refused to 'give the Autobots a chance'.
Once through the gates he walked alone for a while, no real destination in mind. He hadn't bothered to check the guide he'd been given; he'd find what he wanted on his own. And after a while of dodging disgusting organics and their slimy families, he did – a bar near the edge of what looked like a mini town inside the park. He didn't know if he could drink in this ugly holoavatar but he was damn sure gonna try.
The bar was busier than he expected it to be for this time of day. There were organics of all kinds, as diverse in species as the other crowds he'd seen on the walk here, but there were also several mechanical aliens. That made him feel a bit better and he took a seat at the bar beside a mech that was a little bit shorter than his human disguise.
He ordered a drink from the bartender (who looked at him funny when he asked for engex) before saying, conversationally, “Thought bots weren't allowed on this planet.”
The mech looked around, startled, then realized who had spoken to him. “Oh. No, only Cybertronians aren't allowed.”
“Really? Why's that?”
“You mean you don't know?” The mech giggled nervously, as if talking about Cybertronians might summon one. If only he knew. “Cybertronians...they kinda scrap things up wherever they go.”
Runamuck's amusement gave way to anger, but he held his tongue. If an organic had said that to him, he would've slugged 'em, but hearing it from another mech...
“Guess I'm behind on the times. What do these Cybertronians do that's so bad?”
“Well....” His new acquaintance glanced around before answering. “I don't think they've done that much wrong. A lot of worlds here have gotten caught up in their war, but that's not rare. I think organics are scared of them, scared they might make mechs the majority in this galaxy.”
“What was that about organics, rustbucket?” Both of them looked up to see the tall organic alien who'd taken up the seat on the other side of Runamuck's new acquaintance. It was red-skinned, with four arms, and did not look friendly.
“Nothin' you need to worry about,” Runamuck said smoothly. The alien glared at them both, which was pretty intimidating since it was a few helms taller. Or at least, Runamuck would've been intimidated if his real self wasn't still taller than that.
“Didn't sound like nothing.” The organic poked the smaller mech in the chassis. “You got a problem with organics?”
“N-No, of course not--”
“We do when some fleshy brute is harassing us,” Runamuck interrupted, stepping between them. The alien looked down at him and had the audacity to laugh.
“'Us'? You don't look like a metalhead to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Runamuck gritted out, not caring where he was, or what the consequences would be for revealing himself. He wasn't about to let some cocky meatbag insult mechs while he still had two servos to beat him with.
The organic made said beating a certainty when he laughed again. “You sayin' you're a match for me?” he asked, incredulous.
“That's 'xactly what I'm sayin',” Runamuck replied, just before he stepped forward and drove his fist into the guy's stomach.
The bar exploded. Runamuck was pleased to discover that he kept his normal strength even as a holoform when the organic went flying, smashing onto one of the tables and sending drinks everywhere. Runamuck laughed as chaos erupted, the organic's drinking buddies already making a beeline for him. The little mech he'd started this fight defending gave a scared little squeal and Runamuck felt a sting of disgust – at least until the mech threw a punch that knocked out the pink humanoid going for him. That was better.
The fight went on for a while until the planet's authorities showed up to kick Runamuck and the organic out. Runamuck was a little beat up – ass and his buddies were rougher than anticipated – but the meatbag looked absolute scrap, and that made him feel better. He gave the organic a cheeky wave as he went off on his own, but stopped walking when the little mech from the bar caught up to him. He hadn't realized the guy was following him.
“Thanks.” The mech stopped when he did, a few feet away. “I'm...Strip.”
Runamuck raised an eyebrow. “Just Strip?”
“That's what they call me. So, what are you, then?” Strip fidgeted. “I know it's kind of rude to ask, but...you're clearly not organic, despite your looks.”
“You're right, I'm not organic.” What's the point, he decided, in lying now? “Name's Runamuck. I'm Cybertronian.”
Strip tensed instinctively; it clearly took effort for him to relax. “Your people are banned from this planet.”
“Good job, Captain Obvious. Maybe that's why I have to come lookin' like a fleabag.”
Strip flinched, but didn't back down. Runamuck almost respected him.
“Is it true?” Strip went on, quietly. “What you've done for your war? The genocide, the destruction of entire planets?”
Runamuck flashed his teeth in a grin that bordered on feral. “'S true. All of it.”
He's shocked that the little mech hasn't run, screaming, down the street the way he came. He's even more surprised when instead Strip moved closer and, under his breath as he looked around, said, “I believe in your cause.” Then he was off, back to the bar, maybe, and Runamuck was left very confused. Especially since he was a sparkbeat away from calling Strip back and asking him to join the Alpha Bravo, so maybe he'd have an ally on that blasted ship. A friend even. He snorted at his own sentimental scrap before he, too, walked away.
-x-
The park was busier than the car show had been, but not claustrophobicly so. It was a wide grassy area dotted with huge, thick trees, the gray bark of their trunks spearing the sky, enormous branches bare until their very tops, where purple leaves shifted in the breeze. There were picnics spread out over the grass, and the tree branches were large enough for most species to walk on, so there were winding staircases built into the trunks.
Raoul glanced over at Tracks as they walked. Tracks kept insisting he was fine, that he wasn't in pain, but he kept wincing when he thought Raoul wasn't looking, and Raoul didn't miss how much more carefully he was walking. Raoul wanted to sit down somewhere so Tracks could rest, but Tracks was already heading toward one of the trees.
“You really wanna climb that thing?” he asked, somewhat incredulous. Tracks shrugged as they reached the stairs.
“I can fly, heights are nothing to me.”
They climbed together, Raoul behind the Autobot in case he stumbled. The pain Tracks was trying to hide got worse as they ascended – it was obvious in the way he struggled to maintain his own pace – so Raoul dragged him to one of the first branches they reached. It was empty, probably because most wanted to go to the top.
“I wanted to be higher,” Tracks complained, but when Raoul said he liked this spot, he dropped the subject.
It was still a pretty good elevation, though. Most of the park was flat, so they could see for miles in every direction. Raoul grinned as he carefully stood near the edge, arms spread at the sight.
“Dios mio, this is gorgeous!” He turned his grin over his shoulder at Tracks, who was smiling back in amusement.
“Try not to fall off.”
“'Sokay man, if I do you'll catch me.” He definitely was only imagining that Tracks' cheeks flushed at that. “Come here, check it out!”
Tracks sighed. “Fine, fine.” He moved to stand beside Raoul, who dropped his arms. Tracks was within arm's reach, but not too close, and Raoul found himself wishing Tracks would stand closer. And thinking that this spot was kind of romantic.
This time Raoul was the one blushing.
“Wonder why there's no safety rails,” Raoul said, coughing a little. “Seems dangerous. Couldn't they get, like, space sued?”
“Unlikely.” Tracks had his arms crossed. Everyone would understand that it was the newly deceased's own fau—Raoul, careful!”
Raoul had been leaning over, testing how far he could go without balking or falling, when he overbalanced a bit and stumbled. It wasn't much, and he would've been fine, but he overcompensated and this time he almost careened head-first off the branch. Almost, because strong hands caught his arm and pulled him back. The momentum had him slamming against Tracks' chest as they staggered back a few feet to safety. Tracks' arms wrapped around him automatically, like iron bars.
“When you said I would catch you I didn't expect you to test that,” Tracks hissed through clenched teeth, though his voice wavered with fear. Raoul didn't respond, couldn't. They were very close, faces mere inches apart, and Raoul's eyes had immediately locked on to Tracks' mouth. His lips were parted, trembling slightly in the aftermath of rescuing Raoul from certain death. Eyes wide, Raoul watched himself as if from far away as he reached up to touch them with his fingertips.
Tracks' breath hitched, and he said, very softly, “Raoul.” His voice quivered again, but it was in a different way. Still in a trance, Raoul curled his hand around the nape of Tracks' neck and when he leaned in Tracks met him halfway.
It was soft, at first. Nervous. Tracks' arms relaxed but stayed in place, and when they parted for a second the Autobot tilted his head the other way before they were kissing again. Raoul pressed closer, making a small sound in his throat and that was when Tracks' mouth on his became hungry, a warm tongue parting his lips and sliding across his own.
Tracks pulled away a second time and Raoul moaned in frustration, but before he could even open his eyes he felt Tracks turning him and pushing him into backpedaling while still kissing him. It was probably unwise, considering, but when Raoul felt his back hitting the trunk he gasped and Track growled against his lips, he'd never heard Tracks make such an undignified sound. It turned him on like nothing else.
As did Tracks leaning down and biting his jaw, pressing him harder against the trunk. Raoul moaned at that, putting his hands in Tracks' hair and moving his thigh between Tracks' legs. His moan was a lot dirtier when he felt Tracks instinctively grind a little against it.
And then suddenly he jerked back, and Raoul praised God that he could see Tracks' face like this, cheeks flushed, mouth red and swollen, eyes on Raoul like he was the most delicious thing Tracks had ever seen and he was going to devour him. Then the look turned annoyed and Tracks groaned.
“Yes, Ambulon, I'm fine.” Tracks didn't extricate himself from Raoul, who was glad for it. He was also glad that Tracks was saying this aloud – he didn't have to, to comm someone, and was clearly doing it for Raoul's benefit. “I was just a bit....excited.” His eyes flicked to Raoul's and his blush deepened. He sighed and continued, “I'm fine, really. Yes. Yes. Fine. Goodbye.”
“What'd he say?”
“My vitals were spiking again, what did I think I was doing, etc.” Tracks looked at Raoul again, more serious. He raised a hand to gently stroke Raoul's cheek. Raoul's eyes fluttered and he shivered a little.
“Best near-death experience ever,” Raoul said. Tracks snorted.
“I'd rather you hadn't almost died for this to happen, but....” He was close again, close enough that Raoul could feel Tracks' lips move over his own. “I can't argue with the results.”
Raoul grinned and nipped at Tracks' lower lip, earning a liquid groan. God, he could live for years on that sound alone. And then the next interruption came to them both.
“Alright everyone, time to go!” Silverbolt sounded cheerful over the comm. “Make your way back to the entrance and we'll leave when everyone gets there. Hope you had fun!”
When the transmission ended, Raoul sighed, resting his forehead against Tracks'.
“I don't want to go back yet,” he said quietly.
Tracks was chewing his lip. “Neither do I. But, perhaps, with this holoform....?” He left the suggestion unspoken, hovering in the air between them. But Raoul grinned and kissed him quickly on the mouth.
“That'd be sweet.”
They tried to lag a bit on the walk back – it wasn't hard, since Tracks was still injured – and up until they were in sight of the others, Raoul kept his fingers twined tightly with Tracks'. This was something they should probably talk about, but it was already so natural to fall into. Especially since Raoul had wanted it for so long.
When they reached the entrance area where they'd arrived, almost everyone was already there, milling around and waiting to leave. Octane and Sandstorm wore identical shit-eating grins and stood near a mound of boxes. He wondered what was inside; knowing these two, nothing good.
“Everybody ready?” Silverbolt called when Jetfire, Red Alert and Runabout finally showed. “So we'll have Ambulon cut the connections of our holoformers, and then we'll bridge Raoul back up.” He clapped his hands together, then commed Ambulon. “We're ready!” Raoul stood by and watched as the bots all started fading.
And then Tracks screamed.
“Aaghhh!” Raoul whipped around to see him clutching his head, bent double, whole body shuddering in agony. Raoul was at his side in an instant.
“Tracks! Tracks, what's wrong?!”
“Make it stop,” Tracks sobbed out, even as Raoul heard Silverbolt yelling, “Don't cut Tracks' connection! Ambulon, do you hear me?!” He must have, because a moment later Tracks stopped screaming. He took deep, ragged breaths, cheeks wet and slicked with tears. Raoul had a hand on his back, another on Tracks' wrist. His eyes were wide in terror as he helped Tracks straighten slowly.
“What happened?” Silverbolt asked, coming up to the two of them. Tracks had his eyes closed, face still tight with pain.
“I don't..know.” Tracks' voice was also tight. Raoul rubbed his hand up and down his friend's back.
“I think we might have to attempt bridging him as well,” Jetfire said slowly as he, too, came over. Raoul realized they were the only four left, beyond the pile of boxes.
Silverbolt frowned. “Can we even do that with a holoform?”
“I don't know, but it seems we don't have a choice here. We must try.”
“Just get me off of this planet,” Tracks snapped. He was full on leaning against Raoul now, unable to stand on his own.
Silverbolt and Jetfire exchanged glances, and then Bolt said into his comm, “Ambulon, bridge Tracks, Raoul, and the engex onto the ship.”
Raoul's grip on Tracks instinctively tightened. He didn't care if the other two saw, not right now. Tracks was in pain and in danger and honestly it was hard to think about anything else, let alone what Silverbolt and Jetfire might think of this situation. Raoul knew there were already rumors on the ship anyway so whatever.
The bridge caught him, then, a feeling of ripping that didn't really hurt but was definitely not fun. He clung to Tracks the entire time and even though he was pretty sure, from Jetfire's lectures, that he couldn't feel if Tracks was still beside him, whichever of his atoms that were still thinking definitely thought he could. It was a relief so strong he was dizzy when he materialized on the ship.
And Tracks was there, beside him, dazed but not screaming in pain. He was leaning heavily against Raoul's side and, somewhat stunned, looked up at Raoul with an, “I don't understand.” before he passed out.
