Alone. Just as he liked it. No one to pester him, no one to try to chat with him and best of all, no one glued right to his side. Letting out a slow, deep sigh, Cyclonus took in the silence. He enjoyed being alone.
A sneer formed on his lips as he ran through his memories. It wasn't like he asked to be on this voyage. It wasn't like it was his choice because it wasn't. He was here only because he had been dragged here against his will.
He been through a lot; seen many things; been in a lot of fights. Not one time was he ever scared. However, being on this ship was another story. It frightened him to the core.
Was it because an Autobot was captain of this ship? Not really, Rodimus wasn't threatning. Was it because there was a bunch of Decepticons on the ship? Hell no. What unnerved the purple jet was something far worse.
He much preferred how things were at the beginning of this pointless journey. He liked that other mechs were afraid of him. He actually liked the quick, unsure glances he received as he wondered down the long corridors of this ship. He actually found it rather amazing when he was interrogated by an ex-con. Spending the evening alone in the bar in his own corner was the ideal way to spend his time. Alone.
Why could no one understand this?
Yes, he expected the banter from Whirl. In fact, if the other mech didn't taunt him there would defiantly be something wrong. On bad days, an exchange of harsh words would occur. On good days, it would be fists. Naturally, if he weren't in the mood, Cyclonus would just blankly stare ahead not saying a word. Deep down, he knew this bothered Whirl greatly. And so it brought him joy.
Rubbing his servos over the bridge of his nose, the purple mech frowned as he thought over the events over the past couple of months. The horror unfolded in his mind as he recalled the red and white minibot who owned the ruddy make-shift bar had walked over to his corner of the bar. True, he carried a drink in his servo. True, the mini-bot actually gave it to him for free. Wait- not free. Swerve didn't charge him credits. But what he wanted in return was much more costly than credits. The other bot wanted his time.
On what planet was this annoying bot created on? Cybertron had spit out some questionable mechs, but never one as bad as Swerve, who was being exceptionally annoying that night. The smaller mech babbled on, and Cyclonus hadn't even bothered to listen. That is, until he sat down across from him, and then, once again, it hadn't been his choice.
… … … …
"You know, I don't just give out free drinks, ya know?" Swerve spoke.
Cyclonus answered with a glare. Perhaps if he said nothing, the red and white bot would just leave. This mech was a bore; always rattling on, but nothing had nothing of real use to say.
"So, I have something planned for tomorrow night Cyc- I can call you Cyc, can't I?" Sweve said with a horribly wide grin on his face.
"No." Cyclonus shortly spoke.
"Good. Cyc, I was thinking…." The minibot rambled on without much notice of his company's anger brewing.
Cyclonus wasn't listening. He was too agitated by the way Swerve was talking to him, giving him horrible little nicknames and what pissed him off the most was how the mech talked. The sound of his voice and the way his mouth moved were annoying. And so was how he flailed his hands around. Ok, flailing may be a bit overboard, but the mini-bot had way too much excitement for Cyclonus's taste. The way the other mech spoke to him just made his plating crawl. Cyclonus felt as if his personal space was being invaded with the way Swerve had leaned over the bar table as he spoke. No matter how far Cyclonus scooted back, he couldn't escape that invasive presence. Nor did the other bot take the hint. The mini-bot just rambled on until Cyclonus abruptly stood up.
"Hey, you didn't even touch your drink!" Swerve whined and gestered with his hands to the mug filled with mid-grade. "It's free!"
Cyclonus stopped but didn't turn around. "The drink is not free."
"Yeah, it is, I would know since I'm the b-"
"Just because I do not have to give you credits for the drink, does not mean it is free," Cyclonus said, attempting to not sound too agitated- not to spare the pathetic mech's feelings, but rather because he did not want to cause a scene.
"Whaddaya mean?" Swerve asked. "
"It costs me my time," Cyclonus growled. "And my solitude. Both of which, cost too much, so I will pass."
"Thought maybe you'd like to have a friend Cyc?" Swerve whined.
This time, Cyclonus snapped his head around to look into the mini-bot's optics. "Don't you EVER call me that again!"
… … …
He hated Swerve. That mech was trying too hard. For what? Cyclonus didn't know and didn't want to know. And why in the pits would Swerve want to be his friend? It must be a joke or some harsh prank. Swerve's idea of a fun night involves being obnoxiously loud, in your face, and right smack-damn next to you, clinging on your arm like a helpless sparkling. Just the thought made the purple mech shudder.
But that wasn't the end of it. Not by a long shot. Primus, if only it were one bot buggin him, life would be so much easier. Instead, the very next night after the Swerve incident, another mech by the name of Pipes made an absolute fool of himself.
… … … …
Being traumatized by the night before, Cyclonus steered clear of Swerve's bar. Whatever he had planned was happening that night, which meant a lot of mechs would probably show up. And wherever there were crowds of mechs, Cyclonus was sure to not be there. Instead, the purple flier snuck on the observation deck and after checking that the coast was clear, sat down in front of the window and enjoyed gazing at the stars. Alone.
He felt relaxed as he slouched on a chair to get more comfortable. It was nice sitting in silence while not having the feeling of another mech in the room. When there was someone else, Cyclonus couldn't help but to at the very least note their presence and keep track of it. Not because he cared, but rather because he didn't feel safe unless he kept tabs of his surroundings. But with the event going on at the bar, Cyclonus was able to let his guard down, and he even started to drift off into a light recharge until he heard the door swoosh open.
He still pretended to be asleep in hopes that any intruding mech would have the decency to not disturb a recharging mech. He hoped whoever was intruding in his solitude would simply go away. Luck, Cyclonus had discovered long prior, was once again not on his side. The door swooshed shut, but he could not only hear the pedesteps, but felt the presence of the other as well. Perhaps this mech just wanted some time alone as well, and Cyclonus told himself that if the other mech didn't speak-or get too close- his presence could be tolerated. Maybe.
"Hey Cyclonus," The mech spoke.
Cyclonus internally grimaced and mentally shouted 'Leave me alone!'
"Cyclonus," the voice said louder. "You awake?"
Just why the hell did mech's say that? If a mech has his optics closed, slowed breathing and doesn't answer, obviously they are asleep! But the mech called out again, even louder, and Cyclonus gave up the act. "I am now. What do you want?" He opened his optics and looked at his tormenter. "Pipes. You better have a good reason for waking me."
"Um.. w-well, I, ah-"
"Spit it out, will you?" Cyclonus grumbled as he sat up straight in the chair and stared aimlessly at the stars.
"Well, I just though… you know," Pipes stammered as he fidgeted with his servos. "Maybe you'd like to go to Swerves and join the fun."
"Fun?" Cyclonus spat.
"Yeah, you should see-"
"No. I do not want to see whatever that windbag has in his bar." Cyclonus spat. "His presence alone irritates me. And why would I want to be jammed into an overcrowded bar?"
"Thought you'd like to make some friends," Pipes said and shrugged his shoulder.
"Well, you thought wrong," Cyclonus said and stood up. "I enjoy spending my time alone."
"…K," Pipes muttered as he watched the purple jet briskly walk out of the room.
… … …
Pipes saving grace was he didn't push things too far like Swerve did. But still, the surge of other mechs approaching him recently was awkward. Think of it, what did he have in common with anyone on this ship? For primus' sake, the majority of them swore he was a 'Con and grilled him horribly for it. He was thankful for the space that gave him in the beginning, and wished it would return. Now, he felt as if mech's were wanting his attention.
He took little faith in what other's called friendship. Perhaps those Autobots never been betrayed, let down, or stabbed in the back before. Many of so called friends have let him down in his time of need. Not that this upset him now, mind you. Cyclonus long ago stopped putting his trust in other mechs and only trusted- and relied- on himself. Over the vast years, this worked out fine and just because he was stuck on a ship full of mechs wasn't going to change the way he did things.
This led Cyclonus' thoughts to the final frustration moment of the night. His roommate: Tailgate. How they arranged bunk arrangements on this ship was beyond him. At first, the purple jet was thrilled that at least it wasn't Whirl, but there were times where he might have preferred it: it least he'd have a mech to hit.
At first, Tailgate wasn't so bad. Cyclonus kept to himself, and Tailgate kept to himself. No idle chit-chat, no constant need to be doing something, and no loudness. Sure, occasional words would be exchanged, but the teal mini-bot got the hint if Cyclonus did not wish to speak or give long drawn out answers. But in the beginning, he would be able to star gaze, or read, in silence. Tailgate would be in the room but gave Cyclonus his space and kept quite.
He let out another sigh and crossed his arms across his chest. It started that same night Pipes found him in the observation deck, Cyclonus had excited the room in a hurry to just return to his room. Tailgate would most likely be at Swerves, and he would have the room to himself for a while. At least, that is what he hoped.
… … …
Cyclonus pushed the code and the door to his quarters swooshed open. The lights were on, but the mech just walked in, deep in his thoughts. By the time he realized he was not alone, it had been too late to hide his frustration.
"Hey Cyclonus," Tailgate greeting him from his little perch by the window. "What's the matter?"
Cyclonus didn't answer, just plopped himself down on the berth and crossed his arms. Out of the corner of his optics, he could see the mini-bot hop off his seat and walk around to his own berth. "Don't wanna talk about it?"
Giving his roommate a stern look, Cyclonus answered. "No."
"Okay," Tailgate chirped. "I brought you back some stuff from Swerves since you weren't there." No answer. "Is that why you were mad? Did you think you weren't invited or something?"
Giving his best-annoyed look, Cyclonus looked at Tailgate. "Trust me, Swerve took it as his personal goal to invite me."
"Why didn't you go then?" the teal bot asked, and repeated when the other mech gave no answer.
"Because I can't stand Swerve. Okay?" Cyclonus grumbled.
"He's not so bad," Tailgate spoke. "Once you learn to tune him out some."
"Some?" Cyclonus questioned.
Tailgate giggled and offered him a drink from a cube of energon. "Here, this'll make you feel better."
"I don't want anything from Swerve."
"It's not from Swerve. It's from me." Tailgate poured some of the energon into a glass.
"Green." The purple mech rolled his optics. "Must be one of his concoctions he is so proud of, but doesn't realize it tastes like watered down scrap," Cyclonus grumbled.
"He does water it down a bit too much," Tailgate agreed. "But this'll make it better." He jumped off his berth and rummaged around in a crate beneath and pulled out a smaller cube. He peeled off the top and poured some in the drink.
"How did you manage to get high grade on this ship?" Cyclonus questioned.
"I have my ways," Tailgate replied and handed the drink to his roommate.
… … …
That night wasn't so horrible. Tailgate probably had a little too much to drink and therefore was a bit bolder with asking questions and talking. But over the next few weeks, Tailgate went from being a quiet mech that he saw in their shared quarters to making an effort to spend time with him.
At first, it wasn't so bad. Tailgate would join him when he was at Swerves. Sitting across from the table, the teal bot would sneak a flask of high grade and pour it in their drinks to make it a bit stronger. Cyclonus almost laughed when Swerve thought he made a better drink when he had caught the two drinking it with more enjoyment. Unfortunately, Swerve hung around to chat until Cyclonus told him to bug off.
When the two mechs passed in the hall, Tailgate would cheerfully greet him or wave his servo. Or whenever they were in the same room, the smaller bot would walk up to his side. Sometimes he would mutter a hello, sometimes he just stood there. At first, this bothered Cyclonus. Why the sudden interest? However, the mini-bot didn't pester, and Cyclonus just let it be.
Nights after the bar, Cyclonus would always retreat to the observation deck for some alone time. You know, time to unwind from being in the busy atmosphere of the bar or from Swerve himself. Tailgate had asked to join him one night. Cyclonus didn't see the harm in it, the two would sit in relative silence. They would go to the observation deck and sit by the windows and look at the stars. Most nights, they would remain in complete silence or just minimal amount of words. As the time progressed, Tailgate would chat more, however, Cyclonus grew used to it, even though he did not do much talking himself.
This night was different even though it started out the same. Both went to Swerves, both drank drinks spiked with high grade. Tailgate didn't seem quite himself that night, he was still as talkative as ever, but just fumbled around more. Upon leaving the bar, Cyclonus mentioned that Tailgate should go back to the quarters, but the mini-bot insisted on going to look at the stars.
… … … …
"Are you feeling ill?" Cyclonus asked.
"No… Why?" Tailgate replied.
Cyclonus shrugged. "You just don't seem yourself tonight." He palmed the door panel and the door swished open. Taking a peek inside and discovering the room empty, Cyclonus walked inside. Tailgate followed and pulled up a chair to sit next to the other mech.
"So..Ah…" Tailgate said as he fiddled with his servos.
Cyclonus glanced at the smaller bot for a second, and then returned his focus on the stars.
"Um…hey…"
"What?" Cyclonus asked, looking at the mini-bot with a hint of annoyance. It wasn't like the mini-bot to be hung up on words, nor to be always calling out to him.
"I … Dunno," Tailgate muttered and dropped his gaze.
Cyclonus huffed, and once again returned his focus to the stars.
"Cyclonus…I was wondering….er… thinking…wait…erm" Tailgate started up again.
"Thinking doesn't involve talking," the purple mech grumbled.
"But, if I… ah , can't talk then how-"
"Find a way to deal with whatever it is without talking if you cannot find the words to say it," Cyclonus replied, turned his head to look out the window, and closed his optics.
"Ok… well, here goes nothing then," Tailgate muttered.
Cyclonus, with his optics closed, had no clue what was going on. He heard Tailgate shuffle around and a clicking sound, but paid it no attention. That is until he felt the other's lips upon his. His optics shot open and saw the minibot kissing him and falt the other's smaller fingers shakely press against his shoulders. Quickly, he shoved the teal mech off with such force it knocked the smaller mech off his pedes.
"What the HELL was that?" Cyclonus shouted as he stood up. Tailgate cowered on the floor, staring up at him. "Answer me."
"W-well, you didn't want me to talk… so…." Tailgate muttered.
"So… you kissed me?" Cyclonus asked.
"You told me to deal with it without speaking!" Tailgate nearly sobbed.
Cyclonus just glared and left the room.
… … …
And that left him where he was at right now, standing alone in a boiler room on the far end of the ship. He could still feel the other's touch ghosting on him. It had been a long time since anyone took an interest in him like that. And quite honestly, he was fine with it. Not many mech's caught his interest for none really understood that he liked to be left alone.
And yet, he couldn't help remembering Tailgate's face. He had retracted his faceplate, and the look in his optics was pure fear. He didn't know why this bothered him. Perhaps he grew used to the other's presence since he wasn't so damn annoying, except that the other mech had kissed him.
… …
A/N: My computer is in the shop- again. Sigh. I don't like working on a series on the other computer- plus I just couldn't continue on with any of them. I finished my school, got a week off, then go on my extern. So anyways, was in a weird mood when I wrote this. I don't mean to start something new without finishing up something else, but anyways- been a while since I wrote.