#tfemslashfebruary

Clobber catches Hot Rod in a headlock and Bumblebee jumps, laughing, onto her back. Alphastrike barks instructions at them, never mind that they’re making their game up as they go.

Smiling, Windblade stands back and watches. A breeze passes, so gentle that it could be another presence; she lets herself believe for a moment that it is. That there is more in her peripheral than shadow. That they’re standing together, as they should be.

The silence at her side breaks her illusion like glass and she swallows every shard.

"You keep grabbing at my controls," Windblade said mildly.

Dani yanked her hands back and, not sure what else to do with them, clasped them in her lap. Smiling sheepishly, she said, "Sorry-- Blades usually lets me take the lead and I don't usually fly with, uh, anyone else."

"I see…" said Windblade. Then, "Would you like a turn…?"

"Yes!" Dani squealed, reaching eagerly for the controls. She hesitated long enough to check, "You're sure?"

"Sure," said Windblade. "You've trusted me this long-- why not?" Teasing, challenging, she added, "Show me what you've got."

"We could work together," Pynch suggested five minutes in. Though she seemed to have regained her composure, the intensity Quickshadow had observed was crackling with desperation. "You don't know who I am."

"Oh, but I do," said Quickshadow. "I've watched you a long time, Ms. Pynch. You're an impressive woman, I admit."

Pynch sat back with a razor smile and smoothed her hair. "So, then-- would you say you've liked what you've seen?"

Chromia isn't alone on the observation deck but she doesn't realize she has company until she feels Windblade's hand on her shoulder. Optics locked on Cybertron, she reaches to clasp that hand in hers. Windblade doesn't speak and doesn't prompt Chromia to either.

None of them have said it yet, though. Someone should.

So, Chromia says, "They were so close," anger and grief swelling with each syllable. "They should be here."

Windblade steps closer and wraps her other arm around Chromia's middle. "We'll get them back," she murmurs, a promise and a prayer.

Arcee froze in her hab doorway, staring. Greenlight, datapad in hand, stared back from the couch with equal surprise. Then her face lit up with realization, a reflection of Arcee's own.

"We…" Arcee trailed off, afraid to break reality.

Greenlight, smiling, said, "We actually have the same off-shift."

Arcee finally stepped the rest of the way inside. The door at her back bolstered her confidence and she strode over to drop down beside Greenlight. "I have the rest of the day," she said, smiling herself.

Pyra Magna eases herself into a doze, engine purring as her team settles effortlessly and without fanfare into place around her.

Well. Most of them.

The huff of Rust Dust's vents is loud even over the storm. She climbs none too carefully past the twins, ignoring Skyburst's good-natured grumbling and the swipe of Stormclash's claws, and drops heavily-- as heavily as she can-- onto Pyra's chest. She tucks her face into Pyra's neck and wraps her arms and legs around her, jostling the others.

Anode wasn't often grumpy after a job. The worse they went, actually, the more positive she acted, like she had something to prove.

She didn't seem interested in proving anything to anyone just then, though, hunched over a wash basin and grumbling under the sporadic rev of her engine. Her hands clicked and whirred through another dozen rapid microtransformations and she grumbled louder.

What she didn't do was ask for help. Lug huffed, finally resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to.

Sunstreaker shrieks to put the enemy's blasterfire to shame and Red Alert screeches to a halt beside her a moment later, tumbling into root mode. She's got her hand on Sunstreaker before she's even finished transforming, pressing her down by a shoulder, and keeps it there as she runs a frantic scan.

Relief washes over her when the scan comes back clean-- Sunstreaker must just have panicked. She squeezes reassurance into Sunstreaker's plating and tells her, "Don't worry. The damage is entirely cosmetic."