CLOSED-Decepticon Architect

The Art Of Bothering Pipes

Now it was no mystery anymore to Misfire how Pipes could have possibly fallen sick. It’s no wonder that you catch something (potentially deadly) when you let just about everything bite you once or twice. Even the name of that place…Death Zone. Actually, that name rang a bell, but Misfire wasn’t sure anymore where he had even heard about it first.

Doesn’t matter. He tried to distract himself from the returning queasiness by tuning out Pipes and listening very closely to Scrapper instead. Right! Their next stop came to his mind and he hastily nodded.

"Yes, we will! In a couple of days, anyway. If I calculated the distance right." He made the last sentence sound like a humble understatement of his own skill, when in fact it was the opposite.

Misfire being allowed to do important calculations for something as crucial as their course should be highly alarming in itself, but since he had realized that he was basically the second in command here, he had taken it upon himself to become the pilot; which he thought wasn’t half as hard as he had expected it to be. It was also the cause why their odyssey across space and to the next planned destination had taken a lot longer than it could have had under normal circumstances.

Pipes is content to remain silent at this point. He’s accomplished his portion of the plan, which had been to make himself convincingly sick, and it hadn’t even taken too much acting on his part. Moving and talking weren’t high on his list of Comfortable Things to Do at the moment, so he simply lay there, focusing on breathing slowly and steadily (no matter how badly he wanted to make some sort of remark on how amusing Misfire’s apparent confidence in his own navigation skills was).

At least the nausea faded when he sat still, and Misfire had stopped prodding at him. The dimness flickers out of his optic band entirely as he closes his eyes and lets his breath out in a soft sigh. He’s very close to drifting off again out of sheer fatigue, and unless Scrapper or Misfire approach him or involve him further in their discussions, that’s precisely what the minibot will do.

#justmisfire #excursionistonwheels #((okidoke #poor pipes bb))

If Scrapper had noticed Pipes weary sigh as his optic band dulled, he might have worried that Pipes had simply expired at that very moment. Instead he was preoccupied by rolling his own optics at Misfire's comment about his navigational skills. He hoped that Misfire's estimation was accurate at least, although he held strong reservations. There wasn't much to be said of taking the scenic route through deep space. 'Decepticon or neutral territory?' He waved at Misfire to move over towards him. It seemed Pipes had fallen asleep, and he didn't want to disturb him-he looked like he badly needed the rest. At least in recharge he'd be less plagued by nausea. Although Scrapper wanted to move Pipes to a more comfortable position, he also didn't want to risk being puked on. The still steaming hole in the floor reinforced the notion that moving Pipes was a bad idea, at least for now. He could return soon with a gurney, because the idea of leaving Pipes unattended for long was just as unappealing. 'Let's go to the medbay-I'll come back for the Autobot later.' He turned towards the door. 'It seems your illness hasn't progressed far, if we arrive at a starport soon I should be able to get the supplies to eradicate it completely.'

The Art Of Bothering Pipes

Hearing Pipes mention the following thing probably shouldn’t have felt as awkward as it did, because when he did it, Misfire had felt obliged to do it. Right now, when hearing it out of someone else’s mouth, it seemed a little…creepy. Which in turn made the flier feel a little betrayed, since there really was no need to phrase it like that.

But before he could even try to right the impression of him that Pipes must have had created, Scrapper caught his full attention again. Even if those words hadn’t been meant to freak him out more, they achieved exactly the opposite, although the flier at least managed to not let it show enough to keep the volume of his voice down. No need to make the situation worse for everyone.

"I-….I did not! He just showed up, I think. I just picked him up from Sixshot’s room!" That was probably not even information he would normally be allowed to share with a guest, but if you looked close (or maybe not even that close) it was obvious that despite his almost calm appearance Misfire was still screaming on the inside at the moment. It was more of the resignation a mech who knew his end was inevitable would display. "Maybe the others decom- decont— did it, I don’t know."

Pipes shudders a little, both because his frame is uncomfortably cool, and also from Misfire’s statement bringing to mind the unpleasant circumstances surrounding his arrival onto Sixshot’s ship. “Hopped ship,” he interjects. Misfire would probably recall they had a brief encounter with another terrifying six-changer: Overlord. Pipes isn’t up to explaining it fully.

At Scrapper’s question, Pipes stirs slightly, half-raising himself again. “I got bit by a lot of things,” he answers, quite honestly. “Could be something like that got me. I dunno.” He gestured to the various scratches and gouges on his frame (the most distinct of which are tooth-punctures across his hood). He pauses to vent, and his speech becomes choppy as a fresh wave of nausea slowly rises. “All this. Chewed up. Death zone. Lots of monsters. Tend to run together… after a while.”

Apparently satisfied by this information, he lies back down again, his visor going dim as he shuts his optics and tries to stop his head from swimming.

#excursionistonwheels #justmisfire #((3am blogging I hope this is coherent pfff))

Eyeing Pipes warily, Scrapper kept a short leash on his emotions. The poor minibot was obviously genuinely miserable and not feigning his sickness at all. He tried to push his nagging guilt and worry to the back of his mind. Although seeing Pipes in pain tugged at his spark, for now he had to focus on Misfire.

'Are we landing at a port anytime soon? I am a medic, but I'm not sure how much I can do for the both of you with the supplies on the ship...'

Misfire seemed creepily attached to Pipes, which he worried could pose a problem for their escape. Fortunately Misfire also seemed rather invested in remaining alive and not dying of a horrific wasting illness, so he would have to try and play that to his advantage.

Any other mech would have been more alarmed about what they could infer from the conversation about Misfire's actions, but after spending so much time in the Decepticon base, Scrapper's standards of what could be construed as sane and rational behavior had become even more lax than usual.

Pipes worsening condition notwithstanding, presently he was more concerned about putting a reasonable amount of physical distance between himself and the pink mech than why Misfire had been so oddly overbearing towards Pipes. He had met mechs like Misfire in the past; they never lived long past being sparked and had an unfortunate habit of dragging others back into the well with them. Sometimes entire buildings, too. A vortex of calamity and a six-changer where not his ideal shipmates.

manticorefruit

Scrapper by MakotoOno

#selfies

The Art Of Bothering Pipes

Still standing by his message of doom, Misfire however was confident that he was going to last for about an hour or so longer at least and he also didn’t feel the immediate urge to throw up, so he shook his head at Pipes. “I’ll try not to” he said in an unnecessarily quiet voice, as if the statement was intended for the minibot only, then turned to Scrapper to negate the other mech’s question as well.

There was no doubt for the flier that Pipes was indeed poisonous, as was obvious to him by what he had done to the floor. But he didn’t believe that this mysterious illness even required being bitten. He wouldn’t even be surprised if he was told that it was transmitted by mean looks. The dark humor went over his head completely.

"He didn’t, b-but he touched me at least once. Or I him. Or both- I-…" Realizing that he was starting to make no sense again, he fell silent for a moment, then started a more collected attempt. The sixchanger being mentioned made him realize that he hadn’t even considered yet that not only he himself might have fallen sick. And while he wouldn’t have minded being tripped over (since Sixshot most likely wouldn’t get hurt by that) it had still contributed to making his momentary disorientation worse.

It was probably a good idea to pull himself together now and at least try to explain the actual state of affairs instead of just verbally flailing about. ”I tried to get him to move earlier. And we kind of spent some time together but not a lot and he wasn’t even sick yet then.” With a frown he added, “…or…at least he didn’t look sick.”

Pipes gives up his attempts to scoot away from Misfire and simply curls up on the floor again. He’s past the point of caring how ridiculous he looks, and is only concerned with his own comfort for the time being. It would have been difficult for him not to laugh at Scrapper’s offhand comment had he been feeling one hundred percent, but suppressing his mirth is not, under the circumstances, hard to do.

"Misfire follows me around a lot," he mumbles, "in general."

As the other goes on he prepares another message. I don’t know what’s up with him. Power of suggestion or something. There’s a pause. Not going to lie, it’s kind of funny. I wonder if that makes me a bad person. Pipes doesn’t feel too guilty, considering the things Misfire has put him through: most of them petty, all of them unpleasant, and only one of them actually serious.

He draws a long, slow sigh through his vents and goes quite still. It’s honestly just him relaxing and settling so that the spinning in his head will go away, but to Misfire, who’s currently suffering the fear of his own life, the gesture probably looks somewhat ominous.

#excursionistonwheels #justmisfire #((sorry for the lateness OTL))

Scrapper scowled at the mention of touching, feeling a faint pang of protectiveness. He continued to stare balefully at Misfire as he rambled on, trying to make sense of the sputtering torrent of words.

Receiving Pipes transmission, he gave a slight nod in response. He was taken aback by Pipes offhand comment about finding Misfire amusing. Wondering if he was a bad person? Especially at a time like this? Although he appreciated Pipes almost ever-present sense of levity, it was a strangely...Autobot thing to say. But right now he had to make it seem like they should both be ejected from the ship at the nearest port.

Misfire's mystery illness wasn't something he'd been mentally prepared for-he was worried if he verbally misstepped they'd be ejected into space instead. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, a plan forming.

'It looks like you dragged this minibot out of a scrap heap. Did you decontaminate him before bringing him aboard? He probably has all kinds of diseases. Contagious ones, maybe even fatal.'

After a suitably dramatic pause he continued on before anyone could interrupt 'There are a number of pathogens that can destroy a mech from the inside out. Some of them have a significant incubation period, making them highly contagious, showing no symptoms until...' He trailed off. He wanted Misfire scared, not hysterical.

He turned to Pipes 'where you attacked by anything purple, with a forked tail? Sharp teeth?'

The Art Of Bothering Pipes

Pipes’ advice isn’t as helpful as Misfire hoped it would be. It normally would have been, but he’s convinced that he was too vague to get more specific help for his very specific problem. Maybe he should ask Sixshot about it later, the sixchanger knows much more about the incident after all. That is, if Misfire survives this.

As Scrapper enters and more or less interrupte confession time, his sight once again reminds Misfire of his terrible sickness…well, actually Pipes’ sickness, but he’s managed to convince himself that he feels *at least* as equally miserable as the Autobot. Despite trying to calm himself down only a few moments ago, he finds himself panicking again.

He lifts his head to look at Scrapper with a tremble running through his frame and the weltschmerz in his eyes as he announces gravely, “We’re dying. I’m so sorry.”

Pipes gives a soft huff through his vents, but doesn’t immediately speak. First, he comms Scrapper on a private frequency, a quick burst of hastily-assembled data. I’m not seriously ill, but I feel awful. Those radium-inhibitor things didn’t sit too well with me, I think. I honestly can’t get up right now, but I’ll be okay, I’m sure. Pipes, of course, is unable to give Scrapper anything like a proper diagnosis, but when the Constructicon examines him closely, he’ll see that Pipes is right. The little mech’s system is violently rejecting the substance, but all he needs to recover is a bit of time. Though highly unpleasant, it’s a very mild upset.

Out loud, he croaks, “Purged. Don’t touch the floor.” After a moment, he clarifies, with an unsteady wave of his hand towards the corroded hole in the floor, in which the table is leaning somewhat unsteadily, “There.” Pipes, of course, has failed to mention that any energon he regurgitates shares the same corrosive quality as his gas, but that’s not something he felt would be prudent to bring up while trying very awkwardly to woo an enemy soldier from another dimension.

He begins to unfold his limbs and scoots a little ways away from Misfire, but he’s too dizzy to try anything more dramatic than that. “If you purge,” he mumbles, “don’t do it on me.” He knows Misfire can’t possibly be sick, since Pipes isn’t currently contagious, but it’s best to act as if he doesn’t.

#standard decepticon bedside manner #justmisfire #excursionistonwheels

Scrapper glanced at the table, then back at Pipes, opening his mouth then closing it again without saying anything.

He lowered his hand and took another step into the room.

Pipes certainly looked like he was dying. He thought the minibot was prone to understatement, so he became very concerned that Pipes wasn't going to be alright at all. But what in the name of Unicron was wrong with Misfire? Well, a lot of things were wrong with Misfire, but some were more urgent than others.

Under different circumstances he would have rushed to Pipes side. He took a few more halting steps forward, but stayed at a safe distance, stopping just out of vomiting range.

'I'd prefer it if you didn't. I don't know where the airlock is and I'd rather not leave your bodies just lying around for Sixshot to trip over.'

He took a long and hard look at Misfire, who was watching him with wide cyberpuppy optics.

'Did Pipes bite you? I think he might be venomous.'

The Art Of Bothering Pipes

Misfire makes sure to send the message to the Constructicon quickly, before he can possibly start worrying about it all too much and have second thoughts. He slumps down a little more, partly from relief. Maybe it’s really nothing dramatic or lethal and it might all end well and they’ll laugh about it soon? Misfire really hopes so.

He gives Pipes another worried look, a little discouraged in his hopes at the sight of the curled up frame. “Better don’t thank me yet” he mumbles.

Falling silent for a moment afterwards, he suddenly remembers the reason why he wanted to see Pipes in the first place, and he starts wondering if now is really the right time for confessions. But who knows, it might actually be the best time. Maybe Pipes won’t even catch a lot of it in this state, which might not be a bad thing.

Or maybe he’ll appreciate the distraction until Scrapper arrives? Either way, Misfire has already started talking anyway.

"By the way…I wanted to ask if, uhm." An awesome conversation starter. "Did you ever do something that you really regretted later? Like…pissing off a bunch of mechs, and stuff." He doesn’t even really expect much of an answer, but it sure feels good to get this off his chest. "I mean, like, you thought you had to do it but then later it turned out that it was a really stupid thing? B-Because I think that’s what I did…and now I don’t want…people to find out but I’m really worried that they will…”

Pipes’s brow furrows under his visor as Misfire continues speaking to him. He makes a low, noncommittal noise, obviously not wanting to chat, but Misfire prattles on. He should know better than to expect his clueless warden to know when to take a hint. With a soft sigh, he wriggles about on the floor until he’s more or less facing Misfire, but makes no effort to get up.

"Yeah," he responds, speaking slowly and carefully, "I regret a lot of things. I don’t think I’ve purposefully ticked off anyone seriously, at least not recently. Heh, I’ve been trying,” he snorts, “to be more impulsive lately. I think it’s not meant to be.”

Misfire’s being too vague and Pipes is feeling to miserable to give him any sort of detailed and helpful advice. Still, he tries to be helpful, even if each word is obviously dragged out of his vocalizer with great effort on is part. “I guess you just gotta roll with the punches. If you did something stupid, focus on dealing with the consequences instead of worrying about the fact that you did something stupid.”

He breathes deeply, exhaling in a shaky sigh. The minibot shifts and curls up tighter. “‘S all I can tell you,” he mumbles.

#justmisfire #excursionistonwheels #((man enters room with pizza and everything is on fire.gif))

Scrapper had been occupying himself by pretending to examine the Sixshot's vessel's small medbay. He didn't want to actually touch anything though, and in practice he was mostly just hiding from the ship's terrifying owner.

He responded to Misfire's vague comm, and after entering a few storage rooms by mistake, found his way back to where he'd left Pipes. He stepped into the room and stopped dead in the doorway, lifting up one hand slowly to smack it against the top of his helm.

For some reason he could not fathom, there was a smoldering crater underneath a table between himself and the port window. Misfire and Pipes were sitting on the ground in front of the couch rather than seated on it, looking jittery and wretched, respectively.

His optics darted between the two mechs, confused about why Misfire was sitting there hugging his knees with his wings hiked up nervously, next to a miserable-looking Pipes, who had folded in on himself like he was trying to transform into a lump of coal.

'......what happened?' He wasn't a very good actor, but for now, his confusion and surprise didn't need to be feigned.

thunderedskies-deactivated20161

'Greetings Thundercracker. It's about time you returned-your trinemates have almost burnt the base down, which is quite an accomplishment considering we're underwater. With you here perhaps they'll only flood it.'

Thundercracker grunts and shakes his helm, “I’m not terribly surprised. They ruin and wreck a lot of things.” Who else was supposed to help keep them in some sort of order? A snort escapes him though, “I don’t think they’ll be flooding anything, unless Skywarp tinkers as usual, like an idiot.”

'Good. I...I'm not in the base right now, so see to it that he doesn't.'

Scrapper ran through a mental checklist of who was in the base right now, wincing at every name. He'd been keeping himself busy with general maintenance work, but he was suddenly struck by the concern that there wouldn't be anything habitable to return to if he ever made it home. He took a deep vent and scratched under his chin pensively. There wasn't much to return to anyway.

'Hmm...Thundercracker, you'll have to be in charge of...domestic duties. If the base fills up with Sharkticons again you're on your own.'

#thunderedskies

carlboygenius

10 Engineering FAILS

#reblog #((bbbbback #will reply to things in the morning))

'...................................humans.'

'I don't know what's going on here, but whatever it is, it's deeply unsettling.'

#must be from one of the alternate universes

Idleness and Intrigue

Pipes is normally quite comfortable with words in general and not prone to making embarrassing verbal slip-ups, but in this instance he doesn’t even think about what he’s just said. He’s just thinking about that hypothetical berth and how nice it would be to sleep on it. Perhaps someday soon… “I wouldn’t mind seeing Earth sometime. I hear good things,” he says, giving Knucklehead a firm pat. He looks up with the intention of thanking Scrapper for his final sentiment—it means a great deal to him to hear that, to hear that he’s earned his rest, because he quite agrees—but the sight of Scrapper’s masked face, rather startlingly close to his own, quickly drives away any other thoughts that would have otherwise occupied his processor.

Oh.

He blinks, taken momentarily aback, mentally scrambling for the words he was going to say, but all he can think about is that, from this angle, he’s looking directly into the Constructicon’s visor, and he can just faintly make out the bright curve of his eyes… “Yeah,” he manages, somewhat quietly.

Pipes blinks and cracks a half-grin, “Yeah, I… thanks,” he manages to finish quietly, letting his gaze drop. “And speaking of rest, I should probably go ahead and get some. I’m pretty sure I’ll be needing it soon.” He adds, his tone dryly humorous.

Then he hops up off his seat, standing. Knucklehead mills about his feet, while Pipes notes, with some amusement, that he’s nearly as tall as his Constructicon companion when he’s standing up and the other mech is sitting. He reaches over to lightly touch the top of one of Scrapper’s hands; Pipes still moves with a sense of uncertainty, a gingerness that is probably not going to go away until it’s clear that Scrapper is comfortable with the contact. Part of this is out of concern for the Decepticon, and part of it is simply because Pipes has been alone for so long that he just plain doesn’t know what to do with himself. “I won’t be far, if you need me.”

#excursionistonwheels #((feel free to poke me on skype whenever you've got a moment :3))

Watching Pipes odd pause, for a moment Scrapper worried he'd said something untoward, but then Pipes smiled and his concern dissipated. Pipes wasn't the type to mask offense. Scrapper guessed that he was probably terrible at lying, too.

He leaned back again, sitting up straight to watch as Pipes stood, also noting that they were almost at eye level with Pipes standing.

He glanced down at his hand when Pipes touched it, then back up to look into Pipes eyes.

He wasn't sure how to respond, the ship wasn't that big afterall; before the pause could get awkward he replied with the simple 'As will I.'

'Rest well.' He added in a more tender tone. He wondered what Pipes would be like when they weren't in very immediate physical danger. Due to the nature of the war, neither of them would ever truly be safe, but there were much more comfortable places for them to be than on the ship of an infamous six-changer (and his peculiar...pets).

Watching him leave, Scrapper noted that although his shoulders sagged with weariness, Pipes managed to carry himself with an irrepressible kind of life. He was tired, and battered, certainly, but he didn't seem defeated. He hoped that soon he'd be able to see the Autobot walk with his more typically spirited sure-footed lightness.

Idleness and Intrigue

Pipes most certainly does notice Scrapper’s new and unique reaction to the Autobot’s unconscious touches. His response is much less unsure, and something about the tilt of his head sends a rush of giddy glee through the back of Pipes’s mind. Aside from being a very encouraging reaction, it’s damn cute. “Heh. Yeah… well. I hope.”

Tomorrow is when the plan itself goes into effect, and Pipes is still a little nervous about purposefully making himself sick. His last experience with illness had not been pleasant, to say the least. The side effects seem like they’d be manageable, but even so… well, there’s no helping it. It’s honestly his best shot of getting out of here without ending up somewhere he likely doesn’t want to be. He will simply do what has to be done.

"You know, I’ve never been to a beach," he says, somewhat wistfully. "The only two planets aside from Cybertron I visited were that one with the forest—you’ve seen it." That planet had been extensively featured in the video files that Pipes had compiled for Scrapper. "Lots of trees, but no beach that I ever found. And before that was… was Delphi." Pipes pauses nervously, his features momentarily drawing themselves tight, and then he immediately feels stupid for the sudden spike of anxiety that lances through his spark. Come on, mech, it’s been over a year. Just don’t think about it. He gives his head a little shake, glancing to the side.

As he does so, a movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he glances to the side. Knucklehead is watching him again, but makes no move to come any closer. The minibot waves him over and the machine slowly rises, taking its time and stretching, catlike, before it trots over. He takes this as an opportunity to cover up his little stutter, a bit embarrassed about it. As Kuncklehead draws near again, he strokes the creature’s arched back.

"High grade and not getting chewed on sounds marvelous." Pipes grins crookedly at Scrapper, looking back up to him, all traces of his earlier nervousness gone. "But frankly, I’ll be happy just to sleep in a berth again. Primus, I’d fight a mech for a berth. So, I say we go for the bed adventure first, and then the beach adventure, if we can swing it. Sound like a plan?”

He noticed Pipes little emotional hiccup, but didn't say anything. Pipes seemed to be grateful for the distraction Knucklehead provided, so he assumed he didn't want to dwell.

Scrapper blinked slowly when Pipes mentioned sleeping arrangements.

Pipes must have been very tired because that was an appallingly phrased statement.

'....yes. There are lots of beaches on Earth-the planet is mostly water. Even our base is on the bottom of the ocean. But who knows where we'll end up? Hopefully somewhere more amenable to hitchhikers. And with a more comfortable place to rest than a closet.'

'I think you've done enough fighting, you deserve some rest.' he added after a moment, leaning forward so he was optic-level with Pipes.

It was probably for the best that they cut their conversation short now; he'd started to grow anxious again while they talked that Misfire was going to blunder in on them and draw...conclusions.

#excursionistonwheels

autobotmoonracer-blog

scrapper and pipes!

Who cooks: Hmm…tough decision there but my vote is for Scrapper. I think he makes elaborate meals.

Who does the laundry and other chores: Probably Pipes. He’ll make sure their figurative sandbox is nice and neat.

How many children do they have: I think three! I bet one would want to be a musician.

Who’s more dominate: Oh that Scrapper. He’ll be pushy on his wants. Hehehehehe…

Favorite nonsexual activity: I want to say that they build mansions for homeless animals.

Their favorite place to be together: The “backside” of a construction lot. No one goes there.

Any traditions: Playing dominoes using buildings~

Their “song”: “Dead Man’s Party” by Oingo Boingo

What they do for each other on holidays: Hand-make all their decorations and bake cakes!

Where did they go for their honeymoon: They toured the Incan ruins and looked at the structures left behind. Pipes tried to adopt a tapir but Scrapper wouldn’t allow it.

Where did they first meet: On a very slow freeway. Bumper to bumper traffic. They had time to chat it up.

Any pets: A gecko!

What do they fight over: The correct placement of doors and their heights.

Do they go on vacations, if so where: The mountains. There are very few people and lots of wide open spaces.

#autobotmoonracer #excursionistonwheels

'....

....

I'm a terrible cook, actually.'

'Pipes' and Scrapper's Bed Adventure' eh? ᶘ ᵒᴥᵒᶅ

A beat.

"Whoah wait—anonymous I didn’t—that’s not what I meant!” He blurts out without thinking.

showslow-deactivated20180412

Just makes a brief strangled choking sound that could have been either horror or laughter...or both.

#excursionistonwheels

Arman “Long Term Parking”, 1982, Dimensions: 1950 cm, Description : Accumulation of 60 automobiles in concrete. 19,5 m. Parc de sculpture Le Montcel, Jouy-en-Josas, France (x)

#reblog #sculpture

Idleness and Intrigue

The minibot’s optics flicker back to light when he feels Scrapper tentatively withdrawing his hand. “Oh—I—aha, sorry,” he grins a bit sheepishly, allowing Scrapper to draw away. The gentle brush of the other mech’s field against his own softens his expression somewhat. Scrapper’s thanks come as something as a surprise: it’s not exactly what he expected to hear, but he doesn’t mind. He watches him for a moment, his expression neutrally thoughtful. He knows how he feels about everything that’s happened between them. Putting those feelings into words is a different matter, but eventually he finds them. “Anything I’ve done for you was my pleasure,” he finally says, reaching forward and lightly touching his fingertips to Scrapper’s chest. “And thank you.”

He grins again, tapping at his collar with a free hand. “After all, you’re the one who showed up and decided to embark on a very daring rescue.” It only seems to register then with Pipes that he’s touching the other mech again, and he draws his hand away. “Ah, sorry!” Perhaps it’s provoked the significance of the circumstances, or perhaps it’s just a desire to be close to someone safe after his various misadventures over the past few months. Pipes is much more used to physical contact than Scrapper is, and that’s something that he’s going to need to constantly remind himself so that he doesn’t get carried away and make his… his… well, the word “friend” doesn’t quite cut it anymore, does it? Oh Primus he thinks it’s starting to sink in.

The future is full of uncertain and vaguely frightening things, but he isn’t going to have to face it alone.

Pipes brings his hands together, fingers worrying one another nervously. He gives a little laugh. “I’m grabby tonight, I guess. But yeah, I—ah. But you…” Pipes is inwardly mortified at his ability to make himself sound even more ridiculous than he thought possible. “I’m sorry, I just—I don’t know what to say. Except that I’m…” He looks back down at his hands, and says softly “I’m… I’m really happy about this.”

The sentiment is sincere, and it’s no small task on Scrapper’s part to provoke such a statement from someone as battered and all-around pathetic-looking as Pipes currently is.