#thunderbrawl

“So that’s it? It’s over?” Brawl asked in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Onslaught replied, despondent as he watched the broadcast. Put down your weapons. It is over. We have lost.

They were fucked. War was all they knew, was what they’d been built for. It was what they were used to. Peace wasn’t an option for them, the weight of a gun far too comfortable in their hands. It would eat away at them to see the ones who had forced them into that place in the first place getting away with it all – getting away with everything that they’d orchestrated and the atrocities committed for something as flimsy and fragile as peace. Their high command would be paraded as heroes who had agreed to end the war, how gracious they were, which was to say nothing of the pieces that would be left behind to be swept up and brushed under the carpet.

They wanted no part in it.

Swindle had been hitting up all of his off-world contacts the moment they first heard whisperings of a peace deal that actually had a chance of being signed, searching for somewhere they could run to, something they could do. War had been very lucrative for them – Swindle had made an absolute killing as an arms dealer, and the rest of them had particular skill sets that were in high demand in circles where people wanted others dead. They very much doubted that the Autobots had room for mechs like them when they were already inundated with their own who were sanitised by their insignia.

Decepticons weren’t clean, they weren’t marketable, they weren’t easily swallowed. They were beasts to be purged. Something to be locked away and forgotten about. Especially them – especially them. Megatron didn’t care what happened to them. Starscream was meant to, but only so long as they were useful to him. And now? Under the terms of a surrender? They were completely useless.

We’ll get you to the top so long as you bring us there with you.

Yeah, right. What a lot of good that had ended up doing them.

“There’s someone a couple galaxies over who might have something.” Swindle dropped himself onto the sofa next to Brawl a few cycles later, optics dim and face drawn. He must have been working overtime to find them something. “It’s probably not going to be amazing, but it’ll get us off world.”

“Good. Keep looking.” Onslaught suddenly pushed himself up. He gestured to Blast Off for him to get up and follow him before turning to the other two – Brawl was watching them and Vortex was fiddling with something he probably shouldn’t have been. “You two – don’t do anything until we’re back.”

“What’re you doing?” Brawl asked.

“Checking the job out. We’ll be back in three cycles.”

“So no killing? No instigating a riot?” Vortex asked, apparently bored with what he was picking apart and dropping it onto the table.

“No.”

“What if someone else starts a riot? Can we join in?”

“No.”

Vortex pouted, arms crossed over his chest. “Spoil sport.”

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Onslaught had said that they weren’t allowed to do anything, but he didn’t say anything about having to stay inside.

So, naturally, Brawl gravitated to the bar. With a complete and utter lack of anything else to fill his time with, he decided that he would get into the very noble pastime of people watching.

And drinking. Naturally. Drinking too.

When in Rome and all that.

What he didn’t expect was for Thundercracker to be there. They both locked optics with each other and he mentally sighed. It would be weird if he didn’t at least say hi – they used to see each other every damn cycle when Starscream still paid attention to them. Brawl didn’t want him to think that he had a vendetta against him because he didn’t – his beef was squarely with Starscream – and it would have been a sore spot if they wound up leaving on bad terms. Out of the entire air force of the Decepticons, Thundercracker was the one mech he didn’t want to fire out of a cannon and watch splat on the side of a building, and out of the entire Decepticon forces he was the one mech he thought was worth spending time with.

He ordered at the bar – two drinks, just in case – and slipped into the seat opposite Thundercracker. He placed them both down and slid one towards him, the jet’s wings twitching in curiosity.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Brawl said.

“It’s funny, I was just thinking that I hadn’t seen any of you guys yet.” Thundercracker replied. “What took you?”

“Finding the right bar.”

“Eesh. Yeah.” Thundercracker pulled a face. “The Autobots sure didn’t waste any time, did they? You’d think they’d have hesitated at least a little bit before they covered half the city in their shitty little bars. It’s a nightmare trying to find anywhere that they aren’t.”

Brawl had the sudden impression that Thundercracker was already overcharged – his cheeks were flushed and he was much more expressive than usual.

“Tell me about it.”

Thundercracker sipped his drink and looked at Brawl over the rim. “What’s your plan?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“You guys. What’re you gonna do?”

“Not a fucking clue.” “You’re lucky, you don’t have to stay.” Thundercracker said. “Didn’t you do mercenary work before?”

“Yeah, we did.” Brawl downed his drink in one, the high grade burning his intake as it went down. Thundercracker silently slid the other drink back towards him. “Bloody sucks trying to find work again though – we made a lot of enemies. Cybertronians, I mean. Nobody trusts us.”

“Understandable.” Thundercrackers wings dipped down. “Do you ever wish that we didn’t do it? That we just kept it contained to ourselves?”

Brawl thought of all the planets that they’d turned to dust, that had their surfaces become little more than glass. So many species lost, so much destruction. Whole ecosystems that had only just left their infancy wiped from the slate. “A bit late for that, isn’t it?” Didn’t mean he liked it either.

“I suppose.”

Thundercracker downed the rest of his drink and loudly put the container down on the table. Brawl felt his spark sink slightly as he stood, but Thundercracker planted his hands on the table as he earnestly looked at him.

“Wanna get drunk with me?”

Boy did he.

It suddenly hit for both of them, the two of them slumped against each other in a booth in the back corner. They watched other mechs in the bar and not-so-quietly discussed them. How they knew them, something they’d done. It was all benign gossip that Brawl knew Vortex would openly love and Blast Off would pretend to be above but would secretly be inscribing into his database. It was benign gossip that he didn’t think Thundercracker had in him.

“Oh, him.” Thundercracker gestured at a mech across the bar with the hand that held his half-empty glass. “I didn’t know he’d survived – he had a thing for Starscream. Probably still does. We gave him a nickname on one of those other planets we squabbled over – Earth I think? It’s awful. I don’t remember his actual name. We called him Steve.”

“Steve?” Brawl snorted. “What did he do to get that name?”

“Acted like a Steve.” Thundercracker shrugged. “Whatever that means. Skywarp started it and it stuck.”

“Poor git.”

Thundercracker sagely nodded.

Something beeped at the jets waist and he sighed heavily, wearily going down to collect a comm unit. He flicked it open and read the message – written in Vosian, Brawl couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but it seemed to make Thundercracker depressed to read it.

“Starscream.” He looked up at Brawl. “Think I’ll get away with ignoring him?”

The device beeped again and Thundercracker sagged down against him and groaned.

“Oh, this is awful. I’m too overcharged for diplomacy.” He spat the word like it was a blight upon him. “I’m not even meant to be working, damn it.”

“I can break it if you want me to.” He really would, too. He had the idea of loading it up into his turret and firing it out and seeing how far it would go. The thing didn’t look particularly aerodynamic, but that just added to the fun.

Thundercracker sighed. “It’s fine, he can deal with the consequences.” He walked his fingers across his chest and sighed again, but much more wistfully this time. “I can’t believe you’re not staying, it’s sad to think this will be the last time I see you.”

“You’re the only one I found tolerable.” It was about as mushy as he was going to be getting. Starscream of all mechs interrupting his fun had put such a downer on his mood he was half of mind to start a bar fight to cheer himself up, but Onslaught had been quite clear in them behaving themselves in his absence, so he would have to settle for seeing if Vortex fancied being swung around like a bat from his rotor blades when he got back instead. Getting drunk on your own was sad, but being drunk on your own was just depressing.

Thundercracker hummed. “Hey, lean down, I want to test something.”

“I thought you were going?” He leaned down anyway, not really thinking much of it. Thundercracker had always been a little strange and it was often interesting to humour him and see where it was going.

Where it was going happened to be a kiss. A drunk one, so it wasn’t particularly glamorous, but it still had Brawls engine backfiring and his hand coming up to cup around the back of his helm. Thundercracker held tightly onto his collar, his other hand on his hip, and his face was bright red when he pulled away with a heavy vent.

“I’d been wondering what that was like for a long time.” He breathlessly said. “Well then – see you around?”

Brawls hand shot out to catch him and tug him back as he went to leave, the jet falling back almost into his lap.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he rumbled into his audial, and he bloody meant it.

It might have been the last time he’d ever see him, and Brawl thinks that it might not have been such a bad thing to have left on such a bittersweet note.

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“What are you going to do?” First Aid asked in between kisses, Vortex pressing desperately up against him. “I saw the broadcast.”

“Whatever we damn want.” Vortex replied, digging the tips of his claws in between the gaps of his plating. He grabbed his thighs and hoisted him up, putting him down on the countertop of the habsuites kitchenette. “What’s your plan?”

“Ratchet needs help.” He gasped. “There are a lot of injured mechs who need treating, so I’m opening up a clinic.”

“Oh, wow. Don’t go forgetting about me when I’m gone, will you? I know what you’re like when their guts are out.”

First Aid pushed him away, his systems stalling and the heat that was slowly building in his frame rapidly dissipating. “You’re leaving?” He quietly said.

Vortex nodded. “Probably.”

“Where to? Where are you going?”

“I don’t know – wherever Ons goes, I guess.” His hands itched to tweak the wires in his hips but he had a sneaking suspicion that First Aid wasn’t going to take too kindly to it right now. “It’s not like we can stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Not the type for peace, if you catch my drift.”

“We still need a military. We’ve made a lot of enemies.”

“The military’s gone, it’s all about peacekeeping.” Vortex felt his lips curl back over his teeth, baring them at the medic. “No place for mechs like us there.”

“I guess there’s nothing I can do that will make you change your mind?” His hand tightened on the edge of the counter. It was presumptuous at best that just the fact he was on Cybertron would ever bring him back. Vortex didn’t tend to get attached to things. He was possessive and obsessive, but once its use had run out he discarded it as if it were nothing, and that extended to mechs too. His spark ached in his chest. He knew – he knew that it would happen eventually, that Vortex would get bored and drop him back into the toy box for someone else to play with, but he didn’t expect it to happen quite like this. He didn’t expect it to happen at the peace deal. A stupidly optimistic part of him hoped that they’d have at least a little time where it wasn’t going to get them court marshalled to be near each other like they were, but the stupidly optimistic part of him should have specified more than a few cycles.

“Sorry, Red.”

Resignation proliferated his frame. “Come see me if you get hurt at least. I’ll give you a discount.”

“You’d charge me? Cold.”

First Aid just tightly smiled at him. He’d use the lower-grade equipment too. Maybe he’d even use the expired stock.

Ugh. As if he’d even bring himself to be so petty.

“Guess I’d better get going then.” Vortex stepped back, the cold prickling at First Aid’s frame where he had just been touching. The medic tightened his grip on the edge of the counter and watched as the helicopter began to walk away.

“Were you going to say anything if I hadn’t asked?” First Aid asked when Vortex was on the other side of the room, almost to the doorway. “Would you have left me waiting for you?”

Vortex didn’t turn at first, his rotors swishing agitatedly, but eventually he did look over his shoulder at him. “I probably wouldn’t have, no.”

“Why?”

“I think knowing someone was waiting for me would have felt good. Given me a reason to try and come back eventually.”

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

“You still would? Even if you didn’t know if you’d ever see me again?”

“I think it’d be sad if nobody did it. Besides, I’m so used to it by now – we spent most of the war waiting for each other, didn’t we? What difference does a lifetime of it make?”