#sluggishlywritten

You'd been in the basement when it happened.

On your hands and knees, half-way under the haggard ol' pool table that'd come with the house, blindly pawing around for a dryer ball that'd escaped your grip and rolled between loose cardboard boxes. Absently acknowledging the warbled fritz buzzing through the busted radio somewhere across the room, an actual word or two blurted above the static every now and then: 'something, something, "Decepticons-!" something, something, "-Iant robot lizar-!"

You recoiled your hand when it caught on a cobweb, swatting it away and venturing further beneath the table.

"-sor thrown into the-" This'd be a lot easier with a flashlight. "-soaring eastbound-!"

Your fingertips brushed along something round and fuzzy, "Ah-ha!"

The earth trembles, a cacophony of crash-smashing obliterating wood and glass alike; you were momentarily airborne, your back colliding with the bottom of the table, the underside brace bruising your spine before gravity slammed you face-flat onto cold pavement; foundations crumpling, wreckage crashing down to pulverize your basement furnishings. An excruciating pain blazing up the length of your left leg. The tumbling of something titanic tapering into the distance.

You lay motionless, but not unconscious.

You wish you'd been knocked unconscious.

The quakes return shortly after, though with a pattern unlike the tumbling; you can only sob hoarsely through a mouth full of blood as the tremors disturb the wooden beam crushing down on your calf. "Civilians: Respond!" A booming voice calls, its echo undertoned with a layer of synth. Rubble is hastily thrown about, "Respond!" the voice sounding just as frightened and desperate as you feel.

You gurgle around a tongue that feels too big between your teeth, sucking in wet, ragged breaths between cries, chest heaving. The sifting ceases for a moment, your muffled weeping heard, then picking up again just as fast. A chill rushing along your arms as the table is lifted from above, exposed to open air. It hurts, but you slide your head to the side until your cheek rests on the floor, looking through unfocused eyes up at the blurry shape of the gigantic mechanoid hovering above you. "Civilian: Remain calm, you are safe," its volume lowered for the sake of your sensitive ears "Defensor: Objective: Rescue. Forewarning, obstruction removal, pain imminent."

Pressure is eased off from your leg, yet a scream burbles up and out of your throat, nerves re-flamed with heightened pain.

Defensor flinches, his professionalism as an emergency responder shaken by the fact that he'd been the (unintentional) cause of your battered state.

He sends out a ping and sets the beam aside to assess your injuries, reaching out and gently maneuvering you onto your side to prevent you from choking on your own blood, careful not to jostle you more than necessary until he's aware of all your wounds. "Civilian: Emergency services have been contacted, though it will be some time before any will be dispatched to these coordinates as, Location: Central City, is actively under siege. Alternatively, I would like to provide you with aid and transportation to the nearest hospital, this service is free of charge, Inquiry: Do you consent?"   You're still rattled, and your skull throbs, so it takes a moment to digest everything he'd just said, but you nod in confirmation.

He quickly sets to work making you comfortable. Pulling an assortment of supplies (that look far too tiny between his fingers) from some compartment in his left arm and setting them on the ground. First, coaxing you to lift your head and sliding a thick blue quilt beneath it, then offering you an icepack with a gauze pad and instructing you to hold both to your busted nose. He warns you before touching your leg, talking you through the process and keeping you mentally engaged as he dresses and braces the broken limb with more precision than someone a hundredth your size should be able to.

"Inquiry: Are you experiencing pain anywhere other than the locations already addressed?"

He waits patiently while you steady a breath, having calmed a considerable amount in the past few minutes or so thanks to his kind demeanor, "M-my back, I hit it on the table." you gesture lamely towards the area.

He nods, "Request: Lift your auxiliary armor."

"...what?"

You both pause a moment, staring at each other. When he speaks next, it's at a slightly lessened pace, "Correction: Request: Lift your auxiliary armor, please-?"

It clicks.

"Oh- my shirt!" still very much in pain, you find it within yourself to be flustered as you peer up this- admittedly, handsome and polite giant who'd just asked you to lift your shirt; aware he'd just meant so he could document and alleviate your pain, but still. You bent an arm to hike the shirt up until the origin of the ache in your back was fully exposed.

He slights his head, noting the discoloration spreading from your lower to mid back, "You are able to manipulate your limbs without trouble?" he asks, affirming actions he'd already witnessed such as the movement of your arms and independent adjustment of leg position.

"Yes."

You're handed another icepack, "Acknowledgment: I lack the ability to handle and distribute sensor dampening medications at this current moment, my apologies, I understand you are in pain."

Awkwardly holding icepacks to both your face and spine, you try to smile, "It's uh..? It's okay-?" you aren't 100% sure what he means by 'sensor dampening' but you get the gist, "It's nice to uh, be all in one piece and not, all squished- at least.." even if your face felt like someone'd grabbed the back of your head and smashed it into the curb; at least you'd lived to tell the tale by the end of the day.

He nods in agreement, a solemn look etching his features as he spares a glance to the remnants of your home, "I am sorry the same cannot be said for your residence."

"Yeah.." you take in the rubble surrounding you, having had to peer up at him from what's left of your kitchen floor: which hung at the ceiling edges of what use to be your basement. "I don't know if my insurance covers.. um," your gaze flits back to him, "whatever just happened, but you seem- nice, and I'm sure you didn't mean to uh,, destroy my house, right-?"

"Negative," he states with gentle firmness, "Defensor: Occupation: Rescue and protect humankind."

It wasn't as hard to smile this time around, though it probably came off more as a grimace than anything adjacent "Tell ya' what, Defensor, you help me with the claim and get me some hospital grade painkillers, and we can call it water under the bridge." finding a place to stay in the aftermath of all this was either going to be hell on your wallet or hell on your already bruised back, but you'd have to handle that crisis when it came for you. For now, you could relish in the look of confusion that crosses Defensor's face as he parses your idiom.

He ultimately assents to your proposal, leaning down as he had when he'd treated your leg, "Intent: I will be moving you now, please remain still."

You put on a brave face as he carefully cups your body between his palms and slowly lifts, adjusting to elevate both your leg and head.

"Are you comfortable?"

You shuffle the quilt to serve as a barrier between his unyielding metal and your neck and spine, icepacks moved about, not exactly comfortable but not unbearably uncomfortable either. "Comfortable enough," you assure, "and ready to go." He nods and sets a calculated stride, wanting to get you administered into a medical facility as soon as possible so long as it wasn't at the cost of further avoidable injury.

... "..So.. what happened?"

He briefly tilts his head to acknowledge you from the bottom of his visor, looking back up to watch his steps shortly after, "I was directing civilians towards safety when, Designation: Trypticon, engaged me in combat. I was lifted and thrown approximately 72.42048 kilometers, colliding with your residence."  

"Woah.. that must've hurt."

Once more, he only nods. His face stoic, though now that you're paying attention, you can gauge the uneven, one-step-two-step, limp in his walk, and how he subtly shifts his right shoulder every odd couple of moments. Bits of dirt and- house- sticking from between grooves and seams. You reach out and pat at his palm, trying to soothe as much comfort as you possibly could into the meager touch.

He doesn't look down, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

The rest of the trip is spent in amiable silence, and by the end of it, just before you're wheeled away by hospital staff, you're beyond delighted to exchange contact details.

For insurance purposes, of course.

...

You can feel the optics on your hull. Hazarding a glance out over your fellow patrons, yet again unable to pinpoint just who'd been ogling you. It was going one of those days, then. A hearty ex-vent evacuates your slats as you deflate against the bar top. 

You're easy on the eyes, you get it, other's often make it their mission to ensure you remain aware. It's just, exhausting. You'd signed up for this quest with burgeoning wanderlust and an ache for companionship yet all you got were stares and surface-level compliments. Sure, people are nice to you, but they don't tend to stick around once they realize you're not just some cute mini who'll put up with being demeaned and pawed at. 

There are exceptions, of course, you get along well enough with the other mini-bots you've met so far: Swerve can get a bit invasive, but you don't mind being talked at all that much, and Tailgate seems kind, if not a touch naive. You'd been meaning to introduce yourself to Rewind, but he and 'Chromey-?' always appear pre-occupied, so you haven't come upon the opportunity yet.

You've also met Skids, and he's proven to be the most tolerable mid-to-large sized mech aboard thus far. 

Too bad he's not here right now, people tend to stare less when you're accompanied.

Lost to thought, you don't notice when someone climbs up onto the stool next to yours. 

"Hey there, dreamboat," 

Oh, no...

"Come here often?" 

You turn towards the voice, frown hidden beneath your mask, only to be surprised when greeted with the sight of yet another fellow mini. 

"Uh,, yeah.." off your guard, you neglect to immediately shoot down whatever intentions to woo you he has.  

"The name's Pipes," casual as can be, he leans on the bar, gesturing towards you "and yours? Gorgeous?" 

Gorgeous?

That snaps you from your stupefied state, "Look- Pipes, it's nice to meet you and all, but I'm not interested." it's not that he's unattractive, you're just genuinely not interested in hook-ups right now. 

He tenses at your succinct rebuff, and you half expect him to curse you out (it wouldn't be the first time you'd been confronted with such a reaction), "Oh, uh.." his shoulders drop, and he rubs at the back of his neck, "Alright... Sorry, then." A brief, awkward, silence befalls the two of you, and just as it seems he's about to get up and leave, you extend a servo towards him. You know it's the bare minimum not to lash out at someone for rejecting your advances, but you do it anyways because hey, you're still on a friend-quest, and you'd be damned if you didn't at least attempt to salvage this interaction. 

"Let's start over," he stares down at your hand as you offer your designation, taking it after a moment; you give him a firm shake, "It's nice to meet you, Pipes, what brings you to Swerve's this cycle?" 

He untenses, grateful for the second chance "Oh you know, just came to mingle between shifts, you?"

"Something similar," you withdraw your hand, "haven't had the courage to get up and actually talk to anyone yet, though, hard to insert yourself when everyone's already all chummed up." you gesture loosely to the occupied booths at each side of the room.

"I get that, lucky me though, I already know most of these guys." he laughs, toying with the drink he'd brought with him. 

"Really?" you can't help but sound a little impressed as you spare the room another sweep, optics flickering from the likes of Hound, to Drift, to Highbrow, and those that keep them company "This is the first time I've seen you around, to be honest." 

He slumps some at your latter comment, his ego taking a hit, having defiantly seen you around more than once, "Hah, yeah, well.." before abruptly perking up, "how bout' I introduce you to some of the pals?"

It's your turn to get excited, "Are you sure?" if not a tad nervous, "Right now? I uhm, wow, that'd be real' sweet of you." 

"Ah, don't mention it." he feigns nonchalance with a wave of the hand, though the fizzle of static underlining his vocals is unmistakable; you giggle. He resets his vocalizer and bobs his head in no particular direction, "C'mon." hoping off his seat. You follow with a skip to your step, bumping shoulders with and flustering him further when you catch up. 

...

The rest of your break is spent expanding your social circle and filling it with good people. You laugh and trade stories; it's not hard to find common ground. A decent amount of wing-meching taking place on Pipes behalf, you notice, but his friends aren't obnoxious about it- it's endearing if anything, and you ease into light-heartedly teasing him about some of the more blatantly exaggerated tales told. Though, your interest does get snagged when someone mentions something about his time on earth (you'd wanted to visit the planet since the first time you'd heard of its 'uncannily similar to cybertronian looking but squishy' inhabitants), and prob him for first-hand details, which, somewhere along the way, leads to him inviting you back to his hab. 

You both have to go about your next shifts first, but you agree to meet up with him there afterwards to 'peruse his collection of earth trinkets'. 

...

You'd been surprised when he'd shown up to your station unannounced, spooking both you and a small group of vehicons who hadn't heard him come in. He'd stalked up to you, soft clicks calling for your attention, extending one of two long servos when you'd turned around.

Quickly recovering from your mild spook, you'd given him a curious look, stepping up and taking the hand he offered. Without giving any sort of explanation, he'd turned and started walking with you in his grasp, giving you very little time to bark out clipped orders to the vehicons in your post as he strode forward out of the room.

Your question, 'Where are we going?' had went unanswered. He'd only squeezed your hand when you’d asked, head tilting towards you in acknowledgement for only a fleeting moment as he continued to rush you down countless corridors, leading you ever deeper into the ship and past any of your original guesses (Bridge, Habsuite, That closest you'd cuddled in that one time).

By the end of your journey, you found yourself in the very belly of the Nemesis- the loading bay. Your curiosity didn't abate as you glanced around, head on a swivel as you took in your wide-open surroundings. Stacks upon unorganized stacks of energon cubes lined the walls, soft rays of dayglo-blue washing the room in a mix of shades as the glow of energon mingled with the deep purple cast from the dim overhead lighting. He led you further into the bay, guiding you towards the center of the room. Turning towards you then, taking both your hands in his and stepping closer.

You cocked your head to the side, a confused smile gracing your lips, still puzzled but enjoying where this was going so far. A crackle of static came over the PA before a slow, smooth tune came over the speakers. You spared a glance towards the source of the noise, smile widening as you turned back to meet Soundwave's visor. Oh, heck yeah. Some quality time with your beloved was overdue, just what the medibot ordered.

You stepped into his space, closing the distance and meeting his chest. Servos slipped from yours as he opted to seize your waist, leaving you to wrap yours around his broad shoulders. He took the first step, leading you in slow dance. The music hummed and keened, electric tones crafting a weeping techno-orchestra, cybertronian buzz drowning out the vibrating thrum of the ship's engines. Together you toured the room, step by coordinated step, you circled and pulled each other in sway. Your face an inch away from his visor, staring lovingly into where you knew for a fact his eyes were under that dark mask. You couldn't see his face, but you sure could feel the affection in his field; making a point to push up against yours in tidal waves of pure electromagnetic love.

Full of a fuzzy-feely sort of fervor, you were quick to lose focus, and your footing. Tripping up on your own legs, you stumbled, losing grip on his shoulders and falling out of his gentle hold. Before you could come clattering to the ground in a heap of metal ruckus, lengthy cables shot from his abdomen, wrapping around your waist and leaving you to hang in dramatic arch. He leaned down into your space, cables unwrapping as he wound his arms around to retake their original position. He lightly bonked the space between your optics with one of the extended cables before retracing them into his torso, your already wide smile pulling taut as you looked up at him, barely restrained mirth seeping freely into your field.

A spill of giggles escaped you as he dramatically twirled you onto your feet, throwing your weight as he held you by the wrist. You struck a pose, poorly mirroring the stance of some dancer you'd observed in one of your previous pokes at human-media. He tugged you back in and twirled you around.

It was chaos from there on, the same classical tones becoming mere background noise to movements that now contrasted it rather than flowed with it. Sappy romantics forgotten, you danced loose with Soundwave; jaunty moves pulled from the cards at random. You still pulled at and patted each other (ever the touch-starved pair), circling and stepping around the other in mock competition, your wild giggles accompanying the buzzing shake of his shoulders as he indulged you. You both looked ridiculous. You both felt great. The mutual delight absolutely dripping from your fields in sync and the close proximity brought about a strong feedback loop of joyous emotions that had you feeling utterly dizzy.

He swung you into him, nuzzling his helm into your neck with no shy show of affection. Privacy brought out the cuddle-bugs in both of you. Laughing breathlessly into his audial, you tried to settle yourself, wrapping your servos around the back of his head and crackling flustered static from your vocalizer.

Your optics shuttered closed, and you rested your helm on his, pointedly avoiding being jabbed by his pointy bits. Reveling in each other's presence, standing in rest spark to spark with your conjux. His spark thrumming and calling to yours as yours did his, separated only by layers of plating and protoform. A calm settled over you both, pure blissful peace reverberating from metal to metal. The soft orchestra almost seemed fitting once more, sappy as it was. After some soft cuddle-worn moments, you felt Soundwave move under you, his visor cresting back up into view. He tapped the top of his mask to your forehelm, looking into your eyes. You smiled a lazy little smile at him, lidded optics staring into him with clear love and affection.

His hands found yours again, digits weaving between digits.

Abruptly, the music kicked up into something brash and upbeat. You had less than seconds to register this change before he just as abruptly took a jumping step backwards and pulled you with him back towards the center of the expansive room-- summoning a surprised swell of laughter to spill from you as you were thrown into wild dance once more.

…

You entered Swerve's, an ache in your servos and a desire for liquor on your tongue; careful to dodge the swaying drunks stumbling and gyrating about the surprisingly packed joint like sex cravin' zomboids. You're caught unaware of the occasion, as per usual. Being holed-up away from contact throughout the grand majority of your daily duties has gotten you use to being the last to receive news.

Faint voices call to you over the crowd-speak. A small collection of your co-workers cheerily attempting to beckon you over from across the venue. You throw them a polite wave but shake your head, not here to fraternize. It'd been too long of a day; you'd come with the simple intent to have a drink and rest without having to confront the wholly depressing thoughts that plague you each time you've chosen to do so within the isolation of your hab.

Forced to muscle passed some of your crewmates on your journey. Cramming yourself between two occupied stools by the end of your march, near toppling the bots who'd been sat shoulder-to-shoulder prior. Pointedly ignoring the remarks thrown your way as you lent against the bar, lightly tapping at it as you patiently awaited service. Watching on as Swerve practically performed a ballet to fulfill piling orders behind the countertop. Granting the mimi-bot mercy when he finally spun in your direction, spitting out a quick and simple request. Your drink slid to you in a matter of seconds before Swerve sped off towards his next newest customer, his feet almost as fast as his mouth.

Pushing off the bar, you shuffled deeper into the establishment, hunting for someplace to park your weary aft.

Miraculously, you spotted an empty booth.

In the farthest corner of the room and clearly trashed but, an empty booth, nonetheless.

Dusting away at broken glass before you slid in, avoiding smears of energex, and reclining.

Time to people-watch.

You categorized your fellow bargoers into groups, ranking them on how well or... not-well, they seemed to be reacting to the alcohol in their tanks. A 'list' that ranged from lightly buzzed tenants wandering the area to absolute wackos who were blatantly absent of self-restraint.

Taking sips from your glass once in a while, swaying it gently out of boredom. Time passing yet the party raging on.

It was when you raised your cup for one last sip, only to find it dry, that you decided to call it a night. Setting your glass on the booth's table and prepping to leave when, as your optics lazily sailed across a sea of writhing bodies, a fiery glint snapped you from your malaise. Making eye-contact with a very, very intoxicated looking Rodimus.

It appeared he'd noticed you first and had already been making headway in your direction or... trying to, at least. You settled back into your seat and watched on with amusement as he staggered through groups of equally as flat-footed patrons, trying to maintain a steady look of boyish confidence as he fumbles and swayed onward. Finding his constant flip from glaring at the ground he walked upon to the sluggishly charming 'bedroom eyes' he sent your way each time he looked back up to be... cute.

Probably not what he was going for.

Folding your arms and waiting for your favorite drunken fool to arrive with a lopsided grin on your face.

"Rodimus." you greeted with a nod when he finally managed to clear the crowd.

"Hey~" he returned your grin with a crooked tilt, leaning unsteadily against the booth to peer at you from an angle. His mouth falling open like he wanted to say more before abruptly closing shut, his blank stare venturing with wavering contemplation. Mind elsewhere.

Yup.

He's wasted, you expertly conclude.

"Take a seat Rodimus, before you fall." you chuckle.

His gaze, heavy and blurred at the edges, rolls back to you, a pout scrawling across his features in response to your suggestion. His designs on playing it cool tarnished. Far too lost to the drink to walk straight, much less focus. The sway in his posture even as stood still tell-tale. He splayed a hand across his chassis in defiance "Im- going to sit down." he slurred with indignation, as if it were his idea in the first place.

You didn't care to correct this childish behavior.

He did as he'd said, plopping down onto the seat's ledge- then proceeding to ungracefully scooch the rest of the way over to you until he was smooshed to your side.

You'd long since learned that drunk Rodimus, if given the chance, was quick to become clingy Rodimus.

"Hey~" turned towards you, his head fell onto your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your metal with drunken affection.

You laughed, the movement barely jostling the speedster on your arm.

"You already said that~" you teased.

He grumbled into your plating, incapable of verbal retort for the moment.

For a talker, he sure wasn't saying much.

You extended the servo he was leaning on in an invitation to allow him to cuddle you more comfortably, wrapping the same servo around him when he eagerly accepted. Your unoccupied arm rising to brush at the side of his resting helm, smoothing over and caressing the back of his hard cranium with steady care. Humming quietly, a calming and light tune compared to the grating disco-tech blasting from the bar's speakers. Looking past him to observe the crowd: no one around of present enough mind to take note of your PDA with the captain.

You weren't keen on sparking rumors.

Rodimus and you, weren't an item. Not an exclusively, at least. He'd flirt with you, seek you out and try to bring some levity into your otherwise bland days; lean on you- both emotionally and psychically, but he was not yours. Sometimes you felt like his, but those were traitorous thoughts and feelings.

He shifted in your hold; you looked down at him. His helm tilted to the side in rest as he stared up at you, expression tense. As much concentration on his face as he could muster in such an inebriated stupor. You gave him a look, confused smile ebbing at the corner of your mouth.

"Rodimus?'

He didn't respond, hyper-fixating on your mouth once it'd moved.

Growing weary of his strange behavior, your smile faltered.

"Is... something wrong?"

Faster than you could think to stop him, he jolted upwards into your space, lips colliding with yours. You winced; optics blown wide as he pressed into you with foreign desperation. Transparently too caught up in the act to take your stiffened posture and overall lack of reciprocation into account. Sloppy, passionate.

You didn't push him away.

You couldn’t push him away.

A lie.

You could.

You just didn't.

You let him press your boundaries. A tug to your bottom lip, then his glossa on yours. He whined, the organ proving to be just as rigid as the rest of you. Wiggling into your lap, he caged your limbs between his and ground his panel down onto yours. Shivering, a rush of heat triggered the activation of your fans as you tentatively returned his advances. Though your caution was quick to give way to an insatiable hunger as your tongues danced.

A hunger for something you had only ever hoped to stop dreaming of.

A hand ventured up your front, digits threading into your neck cabling.

Your servos hovered over his waist, tempted.

Tempted to... to...

You could….

You could..

No.

This was wrong.

Taking him by the shoulders, you shoved him; he remained on your lap but held at a distance.

"Rodimus, I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have-- not even for a second-- Your drunk."

He looked dizzy, parted lips wet as upset slowly creased his features.

"Your drunk too, though, I could- could taste it."

You shook your head, releasing him to run near guilty palms along your distressed expression.

Defensive frustration, misplaced, stirred in Rodimus.

"I'm a grown mech. I can make my own choices- I chose to...! To.." he struggled for words, his ramblings tapered, yet his belligerence persisting. Loosing focus, he only became more confused by the moment; flustered and becoming angry with himself for it.

"Let's just forget this ever happened, alright...?"

"I don't want to forget."

Something within you withered.

"Please, Rodimus." you begged.

He swayed and leant into you, smothered into the crux of your neck.

"Rodimus.."

….

..

"Rodimus?"

Taking him by the arms, you lightly shook the mech. He remained limp. If his darkened optics were anything to go by, it seemed he'd powered down. With a labored ex-vent, your helm fell back as you looked to the ceiling.

"Please, forget tonight. I don't want to ruin what we had. Please."

Standing, you hoisted the prime into your grasp, an arm tucked under his knees and another at his back. Having to squeeze through the yet to clear cluster of party bots. Most not bothering to send so much as a glance in your direction. Good. Stopping to mull over your destination only for a second once you finally breached the threshold between Swerve's and the rest of the ship. Deciding on heading to your room since you didn't have open access to his; ultimately resolving to let him rest on your berth and find yourself someplace in the hall to recharge. Anything to have this night over and done with. Sleeping in an upright position was nothing new to you anyways.

On the upside, the drink you'd consumed had managed to numb some of the pain in your servos- which, was very much needed as they currently stressed under Rodimus's heft.

Plodding into your hab, you laid him onto your empty bed as gently as you were able. Rubbing at your arms afterwards in a futile attempt to soothe the aching and turning away, facing the door to leave.

Before you could take a step, Digits grasped for your bicep. They'd hardly grazed your plating and yet you whipped around so fast the room spun for a moment.

Rodimus had reached for you, slumping and falling back onto the berth when your attention was captured. The servo he'd extended now hanging off the edge lamely. The slightest hint of clarity in his eyes as he peered up at you, though they still stirred with toxin.

The withering feeling returning, like your internals were about to twist and crumple in on themselves.

"Rodimus-"

"Just, lay with me?"

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn't.

You found yourself joining him anyways. Limbs tangled together and held close in one another's embrace. Innocently curled into the other, cradling your uncertainties and creating new ones in your bittersweet acceptance of the fact that when you woke up tomorrow morning your relationship with Rodimus would alter in course and never be the same.

For better or for worse.

He was yours tonight.

…