High
The Wreckers had their usual high grade and lobbing night. However, tonight Wheeljack had a bit too much to drink. He was about to dose off like a sparkling.
"Arcee...!" Bulkhead cried out, disoriented.
He had Wheeljack on his shoulder, optics about to close off and a wry smile on his face from drinking. Fortunately, Bulkhead was the more responsible drinker.
Arcee's optics widen. "What happened to you guys?"
"Jackie may have had a bit too much to drink... Could you come on over, I think he's gonna collapse."
Her brow knitted as she hustled over to catch the other Wrecker. She'd help Bulkhead with anything, from the battlefield to setting things up at base. When it came to Wheeljack, she always felt uneasy.
The more help the Autobots got, the better. They were scattered to the winds and the more the merrier, but he was a total ruffian. He'd always go against protocol and even had the guts to talk back to Optimus. Even though he was a Wrecker, they were also a part of the Autobots, and Optimus would probably want her to help him. If it wasn't for herself, it was for the team. Whenever Arcee liked it or not, Wheeljack was a part of the team.
He was hot from lobbing and jogging around. The stench of high grade made it even smell more repulsive. She'd smell worse on the battlefield, but with Wheeljack's unpredictability, who knew what he'd do.
"I'm gonna hit the sack, myself, 'Cee," Bulkhead began, yawning. "Can you manage?"
Great. What she really needed tonight. It wasn't the trouble of Wheeljack's weight, but out of everyone at base, she had to do it?
"Sure." His room was right in front of them. He was tired. She couldn't do that to him. "Rest easy, Bulk."
Now all she had to do was make it till they reached Wheeljack's room. Never had a few meters felt like solar cycles. The stench of sweat and liquor suddenly felt thicker. She turned. He was actually looking at her.
"'ey, little lady..."
Great Primus. As luck would have it, his face turned away from her. At least she could breathe again.
'This is only a favour for Bulkhead... This is only a favour for Bulkhead. This is only a favour for Bulkhead...!'
Wheeljack was a strange one. With him drunk, he seemed more... friendly. When he was ready to take orders, he was composed. He focus on the mission at hand. If he wasn't such a hot head, he'd make a decent solider. Even though he and Bulk were tight, he was a loner.
Once they walked through the door, she spot the berth. This was it. The mission was finally over.
She gently placed him as he began to lie down. Apart from Bulk, all Wreckers were rowdy and impossible. If they learned a thing or two from Bulkhead, they'd be more pleasant.
Before she walked out of the room, she heard him groan. Was he hurt?
"Seaspray..." she heard him mutter. "Roadbuster. Rotorstorm..."
Her frown then went away, whatever tension in her pooling away. She forgot. Wreckers lost too. All this time, she was being harsh on him.
She closed her eyes.
'Tailgate...'
They both lost the same things. Perhaps he lost even more than her.
"You are beautiful..."
She turned down towards the berth. He gave off a tired smile. She breathed. That was the first time a mech told her that in many cycles. He was drunk. He probably didn't know what he was saying.
She began to walk to the door.
"Hey...!" she heard. "I just gave you a compliment."
She turned. Beneath all the gruff and silence, he was lonely. She hoped one day for him, what was left of the Wreckers would come back to him.
"Goodnight, Wheeljack..."