#thank queue

When word of a temporary truce reached the front lines further out in the galaxy, it was followed by a trepidatious quiet on both sides as weapons were lowered and war machines powered down. When word of serious peace talks between Megatron and Optimus Prime--the two big bots themselves--happening on a back-water, mudball organic world, there was hushed whispers of disbelief and celebrating on both sides which most would say was premature. When word that the little organic natives of that planet--humans, they were called--had, for all intents and purposes, set up a match-making service that paired bots, both Autobots and Decepticons alike, with a prospective little human conjunx, there was loud disbelief and more than a little disgust, but also no small amount of intrigue and curiosity. Granted, most of that intrigue was raw excitement coming from one bot in particular: Swerve.

When Swerve first heard the rumors of little humans just giving themselves away as conjunxes to bots on both sides, he'd stopped mid-sentence in the conversation he'd been having to listen in. Everything after that had become a bit of a blur, but he vaguely recalled the bot he'd been talking at saying something to him when he fell silent. It could have been a "You okay there buddy?" or a "Fragging finally," but he didn't really care. The next sequence of events was a bit of a jumble in his processor, and when everything came back into focus, he found he was on a shuttle with a handful of other bots--mostly other Autobots but a couple of Cons who were keeping a cautious distance from their maybe former enemies--heading for Earth. It was more than a little embarrassing to realize that all it took was hearing the words human conjunx and like a sleeper code it made him fall into a haze of blind action to get him on the way to meet the cute little fleshies.

But could one really blame him? He'd been enraptured ever since he'd first come across a stray signal floating through the abyss that contained some of their visual media. For an organic species, there was just so much to them, you know? And Swerve was able to hide some of that embarrassment he felt by doing what he did best, talking up a storm to anyone who'd listen. It was a surprise just how long everyone let him talk, only getting him to hush when they all sat to refuel, but then he was talking the whole time about what he knew of humans, and that was presumably what everyone onboard was heading to Earth for.

Once the shuttle passed through the nearest spacebridge to the one closest to Earth--just on the edge of the solar system--it was only about ten solar-cycles until they reached Earth. Making contact with Optimus once they were within range, they were assured that there would be accommodations for them when they arrived, and Swerve had to politely decline when another bot offered him a sedative to help with how jittery he was but those ten solar-cycles could not pass fast enough.

When they finally arrived at the coordinates Optimus had specified, Swerve had been at the front of the line to depart. Too bad his shorter legs and getting distracted by the sights of the area around them made him one of the last to reach the Prime, who'd come out to meet them along with Megatron. The place was clearly a military base of sorts, but Swerve was awed by all the humans around. Most all of them were wearing what was clearly military uniform--not the least bit like the sort of uniforms he'd seen in those human movies--except the ones sitting on the shoulders of Megatron and Optimus. And taking notice of them for the first time, Swerve immediately zeroed in on the bits of metal around each of their necks. Fine red and blue filigree on the one Optimus carried and silver on Megatron's, tight around their neck like a collar. Expectedly crass for the warlord, but both were clearly conjunx gifts made from each leader's own plating.

Oh, Primus, it was really true, Swerve thought as his spark thrummed faster in his chassis. Hadn't meant to tune out the two leaders greeting and briefing them, but was drawn back to the present when another bot cautiously piped up with the question: "Is it true that some humans are offering themselves up as conjunxes?"

Both leaders shuffled their pedes at the question, Optimus clearing his vents a little too loudly and they probably should have expected that question.

"While such match-making was not the original intention of the services being offered," Optimus began and Swerve felt an unease settle in his tanks, "the original miscommunication has been cleared up. All humans currently volunteering in the program understand the connotations of the services they are offering to us, and the likelihood of forming long-term bonds." And with that, hope rekindled in Swerve's spark.

Pits, if Megatron could get a human conjunx, there was no reason Swerve couldn't. And it was strange to think that a mech like Megatron would want a tiny, organic conjunx when a distaste for organics was so closely intertwined with Decepticon beliefs. Who knows, maybe the human had really charmed the warlord that much. Maybe humans were just that easy to love. He hoped so.

Once the briefing was complete, the newcomers were escorted to their new barracks to get situated, but they all had so few personal possessions that it was really just them familiarizing themselves with the space. Afterwards they were each called into a room with a bunch of humans who took pictures of their faces and asked them questions about themselves, and when Swerve mentioned he liked Earth's movies the human femme talking to him smiled and asked what kind of movies and Swerve almost asked if she wanted to be his conjunx, but he saw the light glint off the gold band on her hand and remembered that that was the human equivalent of a conjunx gift and stayed his glossa at the last moment. That would have been a bit embarrassing to be that desperate, now that he thought better on it.

Heading to the Cybertronians' washracks with the papers detailing the bot you'd be tending to in one hand and pushing the cart with its barrel of energon and bucket of cleaning supplies with the other, you smiled to yourself when you got to the part where his interests included movies. Maybe you guys would have something to talk about, after all. The guy had arrived with a group of others about a week ago and had been settling in well by all accounts.

Reaching and entering the washracks, it doesn't take but a moment to find the stall with your new charge, and getting a good look at him he's not nearly so intimidating as some of the other bots you've seen in the halls before. He still towers over you, but he's only two-and-a-half, maybe three times your height instead of five or six times.

"Hey, Swerve, right? Nice to meet you," you set the cart aside, stepping forward and offering a hand to him as he knelt and extended a single digit of his large servo for you to grasp and shake. You were technically supposed to call him 'sir,' but that rule hasn't been nearly as enforced since it was back when you'd first started here.

Oh Primus they're perfect, he thought while the sensors in his servos fed him data on you from that little warm spot of contact where your tiny hand was wrapped around the end of one of his digits, and this close he could feel your weak biofield--and he hadn't known humans had biofields, you're the first to be this close to him. Why hadn't anyone told him about that?--freely brushing against his. So taken aback by the blunt force of your emotions, your delight--delight?!--at meeting him seeping into him that he almost forgets to respond.

"Ah-yep, yes, I'm Swerve, that's me, glad to meet you." FRAG how am I already fumbling this? He shouldn't be surprised, though. He's spent the last deca-cycle since arriving worrying over how this could go wrong, and when he'd finally gotten the notification that he'd be meeting his match today he'd been shaking in his plating waiting for you here. But then he'd laid optics on you and felt a simultaneous sense of peace and awe settle in him.

"Well, with introductions out of the way, would you like your meal or your bath first?" Gosh, he's cute.

"A-ah. My... my meal? I guess?" Swerve hated the way he hesitated. He'd doubted while being so very hopeful when he heard from Jazz that the humans would bring them their own barrels of energon each day and clean them by hand--the way the other mech had described a human's soft hands getting in between seams to brush the mesh underneath had sounded terribly intimate and Swerve's fans had kicked on thinking about it.

"Excellent choice," you chimed, bringing the cart closer so he could take the barrel of glowing pink goop and you could reach into your bag hanging off the handle bar, reaching inside for your water bottle and a granola bar you'd grabbed before booking it out the house this morning. "Hope you don't mind me joining you, I missed breakfast this morning."

"They didn't feed you this morning?!" Swerve sounded aghast, like you were a housecat that the rest of the household had forgotten to feed and that earned him a laugh.

"If by 'they' you mean my superiors, they're not responsible for feeding and housing me," you explained. "I live off-base, I just woke up late this morning and didn't have time to eat before heading over here." Had forgotten to set your alarm entirely, and the only reason you hadn't rolled over and went right back to sleep was because you normally had to be up at or before dawn, and the sun was already out and shining when you'd finally remembered that you were meeting your bot for the first time today. You're pretty sure you broke not only the speed limit but several traffic laws rushing here.

"Ah," was all he could manage before having to fill the void by sipping at his energon. Way to imply that they're owned, Swerve, he berated himself. Taking another draw from his barrel of fuel, it felt good to have his fuel tanks always topped off. "You know," he commented, feeling sullen thinking about it and not wanting to say it but not wanting to keep it in, either as he sat on the low bench that was set at a height for minibots, "I don't think I can remember a time when I was able to fuel up this well, or this consistently, even before the war..." Part of him wondered how long the energon reserves here would last, if they would dry up or if supply would be strangled to drive up demand. He remembered things like that happening in some places on Cybertron.

You'd heard some of the other caretakers mention their own bots tended to talk about Cybertron and the war, and how just being there to lean against their bots or let the big guys hold them would calm them and help them talk about their troubles. So you set your water down, tucked your half-eaten granola bar into your coveralls and stepped over to lean against one of his legs where your cheek could rest against his knee and you could look up into his visored optics, thinking you could almost see the shape of one looking back at you through the blue glass.

"You wanna talk about it?" you ask, trying to radiate a sense of comfort when you remembered someone else saying the bots could read a human's emotions through some electrical field when up close and personal like this. And you're not too surprised when he shakes his helm with a frown, after all why open up about war trauma with someone you've known maybe ten minutes? But one of his big servos was reaching for you and he stopped just shy of touching you.

"Is... Can I... Can I hold you for a bit?... Sorry, that's weird, I--" He began to babble but stammered to a stop when he saw the gentle smile spreading on your lips and the soft look in your eyes and he felt like he was starting to fall in love.