Takes place about one Orbital-cycle (year) after they brought their home planet back to life. This was mainly for fun and for a bit of practice, so I apologize for the mistakes, incorrect grammar, and wrong uses of any punctuation, especially the use of the hyphens.
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I have no excuse as to why it has taken me so long to update my other two stories. I've just been drained of inspiration for a little bit, but I promise I will update as soon as I can.
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AU where the Autobots were able to revive Cybertron with the four Omega keys and destroy the Decepticons' threat. Optimus, who rules with mercy and grace, has arisen to become the appointed (not self) leader of Cybertron. The other Autobots of Team Prime have taken on jobs to aid with the revival of their planet. None of them have had the chance to visit Earth since the last time they had to 'goodbye', due to the demand for, and low supply of energon.
~...~
Bulkhead had to take a moment to re-collect himself. "Watch it, Jackie!"
"Sorry Bulk. I didn't see you there." He turned and smiled smugly at his friend, who held his helm gingerly.
"I'm sure you didn't." He rolled his optics and lifted another piece of lifeless rubble, but couldn't help but smile at his wrecker of a friend. "I bet you won't see this!"
He seized the opportunity to catch his buddy off guard. Wheeljack turned back around to see the giant, round-ish piece of rubble flying in his direction. He dropped the giant metal pole he had accidentally clocked Bulkhead with a moment ago and hugged the piece of concrete to his chest. "Is that how you want to play, big boy?"
"Let's go, tough guy!" The green wrecker challenged and smashed his fist into his open servo. Wheeljack backed up like a quarterback retreating from an advancing defensive lineman and lobbed the piece of scrap as hard as he could. Bulkhead caught it in the similar fashion that Wheeljack had, and slid back a few strides, a grin smothering his face.
They tossed it back and forth a few times, each having the same result of an easy catch. After a few flawless throws, Bulkhead threw it a little to the left, causing a spectacular leaping-catch.
Wheeljack secured it all the way to the ground, dragging his ped digits through the small amounts of rubble, as if it was the turf of an end zone. A nonexistent audience's cheers echoed within his audio-receptors, in the same way they would if he was a wide receiver making a game winning catch.
"Still got it!" Jackie smiled and got back up, using the giant piece of concrete as a brace. As he surveyed the space they were assigned to-which had already been mostly cleared out by them in their solar-cycles' work-the white and blue wrecker got an idea. "Bulk! Go long!"
With shorter, heavy steps, the army-green mech made his way to the opposite side of the imaginary American football field they had created for themselves. He turned his helm over his shoulder armor to see the giant piece of rubble reach its peak of flight and then begin it's decent.
"I got it! I got it!" He stared up into the dark sky of Cybertron's closing solar-cycle, and moved around from side to side in hopes of figuring out exact trajectory.
It looked as if he could easily catch it if he sped up just a little bit. He chased farther and farther from Wheeljack's position and stretched out his servos for a basket catch. The rubble was right in his hands when something, or more specifically someone, snatched it right out from under his nose.
Bulkhead's weight pulled him forward a little too far and he lost his footing. He face-armor-planted right on the ground, painted with shock.
"Who-?" He managed to turn right-side-up, and upon realizing who the theif was, rolled his optics all the way to Earth and back.
…
He tossed the heavy ball back to Arcee and proceeded to block Wheeljack as best he could. The difference in their size was noticeable and Smokescreen didn't do too well against the Wrecker that probably had him by a few hundred pounds.
"Curse my short arms and tiny body!" Smokescreen voiced angrily right as Wheeljack shoved around him and stomped menacingly towards Arcee. She gasped and formulated a plan in the split second she was allowed.
She was going to hurdle him just like she had seen on the television screen.
The blue femme sprinted towards him, lengthening her stride. Five strides away. Four. Three. Two. One! Jump!
She leapt like she had never leapt before and barely cleared his helm. Wheeljack gaped and did all he could do, which was to blindly grope back in a desperate attempt to snatch her ped. His servo found her strut and latched on, her momentum surprisingly strong. She took both of them down.
The 'ball' was jarred loose out of her grip, rolling far from her reach. "Smokescreen! Fumble!"
He'd already read her mind and snatched it up like a wide receiver should. Upon remembering how the running backs always did, he then tucked it as best he could and began the victorious charge towards their imaginary, painted end zone.
"Smokescreen! Look out!" Arcee bellowed.
Too late was an understatement. Smokescreen was blindsided by his Green comrad and put right on his tailpipe. Arcee and Wheeljack both cringed at the impact.
"My gears hurt just watching that." Arcee commented honestly. Wheeljack nodded in agreement, but before he got his processor back into the game, Arcee had pushed him out of the way as hard as she could and began her hurry to attempt to stop Bulkhead, who was on a rampaging bolt towards his and Wheeljack's appointed end zone. "Oh no you don't!"
Arcee noticed movement on their sideline. That movement was black, yellow and filled with hope for her and Smokescreen's team. She smirked and proceeded to run, but only beside Bulkhead, to keep him on that same side of the field, near the touchline. Bulkhead laughed maniacally at her 'desperate' attempt to keep up.
Bee waited for the precise moment and then struck.
Bumblebee dove out of the rubble, just before Bulkhead broke the plane of the end zone, and snatched the ball right out of his hold. He forward rolled-hugging the ball carefully to his chest, as if it was Raf-and then landed securely back to his peds.
"Go 'Bee! Get to the other side without losing the ball!" Smokescreen yelled across their pitch.
"What?!" Bee-who had just gotten his voice box finally replaced-evaded Bulkhead's attempted dive and continued to stay at pretty much a standstill. He obviously did not understand where he needed to go and quite frankly, didn't quite know why he stole the 'ball' from Bulkhead in the first place.
I just wanted to know why they were fighting over this so much! The scout decided, I didn't mean to get drug into all of this!
Smokescreen huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Run towards me and don't get tackled!"
"I can work with that!" He yelled and began to make his way towards Smokey, who was working towards Wheeljack.
Screen began to deviate a scheme that he hoped would guarantee their victory. He planned to make a block that was probably, well, actually, it was completely illegal.
"Get to the clearing over there and don't drop the ball!" Arcee chimed in, noticing that Bee had veered a bit off course due to Smokescreen's poor former explanation of where their new teammate needed to go.
"Got it 'Cee." He altered his course to the correct general direction, keeping a side optic on Wheeljack, who refused to be hindered by the two-wheeler's efforts.
"Arcee, move!" Smokescreen came out of nowhere, leading with his shoulder armor, and hit Wheeljack with the force of a freight train. Arcee dove out of the way just in time.
Bumblebee easily outran Bulkhead's exertion, breaking the plane. He spiked their fake football down victoriously, crumbling it to pieces.
"You cheaters!" Bulkhead cried, completely out of breath. To take it even farther to his dismay, the femme Autobot assassin merely shrugged him off without even a vocal acknowledgement.
Making her way over to his position, Arcee offered her servo. Bumblebee clapped it in response and proceeded to dance around with no shame.
…
"Ah, kid. I think you knocked a few of my gears loose. I felt that rattle my processor." He held his helm gingerly and sat up to observe the mini end zone party on the other end, and pouted a bit in defeat.
"It shook me to the core too-"
"Nice hit, though, tough guy. That took some guts."
The rookie beamed and tapped the wrecker's outstretched, closed servo with is own closed fist. "Thanks, old-timer."
"I may not be as young as I used to and you better not doubt that I'll light you up next time we play fair and square."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." He pointed his digit-guns at his "old" friend and then proceeded to help him up. "Until next time."
Smokescreen sprinted off to join his teammates while Wheeljack made his way over to Bulkhead. The two stood next to each other in the dying light, chuckling at the three as they goofed around.
"I hope they never grow up." Wheeljack commented and crossed his arms.
"They probably never will." Bulkhead answered.
"You never will either."
"I think I already have, I suppose."
"What do you mean?"
"Battle hardened, I guess. The war against the Decepticons here as well as on Earth has aged me. It aged all of us. Especially Arcee."
A voice answered Bulkhead wisely, the mech clearly had been eavesdropping for some time. "You are right, Bulkhead. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were certainly more lucky pertaining to the preservation of their innocence and youthfulness."
Wheeljack and Bulkhead were startled but not enough to react in any other way accept to turn around with much curiosity. Optimus approached them, a small smile smothering his dermas as he gazed at the three youngest members of Team Prime.
"Oh, hey Optimus." Bulkhead spewed, feeling a bit embarrassed. Wheeljack nodded to acknowledge the leaders' presence.
The Prime lifted a servo and placed it on the green wreckers' shoulder armor. "I hope that you have not been completely rid of your adolescence. I understand the former pressure of the war chiseled away pieces of your past self and personality, but I hope that not all of you was destroyed in the process."
He stared off into the distance, still a sliver amused at the three members of their former battle group: Team Prime. The Prime was very aware of Bulkhead's despair and did not want to seem-pushy. He just wanted to be there for him, just like a leader should be.
"It hasn't. I just couldn't let the war do that to me." His look of distant level-headedness then mutated into a saddened, regretful frown. "Miko was really the reason I didn't lose myself."
"That is why I am so thankful for our human allies who became friends and then-"
"Family." Wheeljack cut in, avoiding optic-contact. He seemed to miss her as well.
Optimus nodded in apparent agreement and offered Jackie a slight smile as well.
…
Once the three were done living it up in their fake endzone, they made their way over to the other three at a leisurely pace, recollecting their little game. They laughed loudly every few klicks or so.
"How long were you watching that?" Smokescreen motioned to Optimus.
"Oh, and all do respect, I promise we all got our work done." Bulkhead cut in.
"I was not here to condemn you all for not doing your work. Nor was I here to stop you from enjoying yourselves. I apologize for, as the humans call it, eavesdropping on your game and conversation. I just wanted to check in on you all. I would like to also apologize for being so occupied."
"We get it, Optimus. You have taken on a huge role in being Cybertron's appointed leader. We've come to terms that you don't have as much time as you used to." Arcee responded, although her voice harbored traces of despair and a whole lot of fresh loneliness.
She evaded everyone's direct line of sight and grit her dentas, as if he inadvertently had just reopened a gradually healing wound. She clutched her bitarleu with her opposite hand. Prime offered a sympathetic glance and longed to know the underlying hurt that he could sense, but again, didn't want to press.
"It is true that I have not been able to obtain much of any extra time due to my responsibilities, but I never plan to stop remaining active in your lives as long as you desire me to. Please forgive me for my constant absence." His optics dropped for a split second to display his grief.
A team of seekers roared high above their helms, interrupting their thoughts for a split micro-click.
Optimus had to admit, the actual material of his job wasn't the hardest part of his job. Being away from Team Prime and all of the other friends that he had formerly was truly most burdening. The Prime often felt like he was hanging all of them out to dry, and that was not his desire in any way.
"Is there anything that I can do to make it right?"
The question lingered in the air for several klicks. They all wanted the same thing, for they had had many conversations about their longing to go back to their second home. They knew they were forbidden to do so, but they still couldn't fight the urge to fantasize about it.
Of course they maintained close contact with their human friends-or more specifically…
Family.
Every solar cycle, or very close to, they called each other using their holo pads and sent coded messages (that Raf easily was able to decode) with the aid of Ratchet.
But, unfortunately, it could never replace true face-to-face contact.
The five all stared uncomfortably around at each other, fearful to speak first. It was as if they were afraid the first one to speak would get snapped in half by the gentle leader of their home planet.
The poser lingered for a few more klicks, and each of them, minus Optimus, were getting antsy. They shifted their weight from one ped to the other, patiently-or more like impatiently-waiting for any other to pipe up.
Smokescreen finally got impatient enough.
"We want to go back to Earth."
…
"You know you can't go back to that planet! I've told you all this multiple times!" Ratchet bellowed, apparently in a worse mood than usual. He turned back to his console, "now, please leave me to my work."
The five slumped over in defeat, knowing that nothing they could say would make him allow them to go. They'd been asking him for ages with the same result every single time. What would make him say yes then?
"Ratchet, they have my permission to go." Optimus appeared through the doorway behind the five earnest bots, holding his usual level-headed, respectful tone.
"Optimus!" He turned towards the six bots with no attempt to hinder the underlying surprise. "It's been awhile since we have spoken."
"It has, old friend." Optimus nodded slightly with a thin smile.
Ratchet nodded in agreement, although did not seem angry about Optimus' recent absence. "Now, I understand where you all are coming from, but we don't have the means of transporting you all back to Earth. We just don't have enough energon."
"Ratchet, I will see to it myself that we find the amount of energon to sufficiently replace the amount that is used to transport the five to Earth for one solar-cycle."
The doc looked like he wanted to protest, but couldn't think of another reason why they couldn't.
"Okay. You all leave at the beginning of the solar-cycle. Be here before the first sun peeks over the horizon. Do not make me come find you-"
Optimus held up a servo to interrupt the loud cheering that had just erupted for two reasons: to allow the rest of the medics working in Ratchet's lab to be able to return to focus on their work, and to say something.
When he achieved his goal, he reassured, "I will ensure that they will not be late. Many thanks, old friend."
Ratchet turned to the five earnest Autobots that he had the privilege of serving beside in the battle for Earth, and without a smile or much emotion, said: "don't be late."
~…~
Dedicated to Esparanza Hyde the Vamp Queen for her sweet words of encouragement and constructive criticism!
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Please comment if you guys would like me to do a continuation!