Wheeljack looked up from his pile of datpads when the unfamiliar sound of footsteps echoed through the massive, empty library. The campus library never closed, but still a couple joors before the bars closed he was usually the only one in the building. Even the janitor was gone. From his fourth floor vantage point he craned his neck to see the entryway better. Heavy steps started climbing the spiral staircase opposite him.
A tall mech with a medical student insignia on his beige colored armor slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor where the medical textbooks were kept. Wheeljack watched his slow progress, curiosity always getting the best of him. The datpad on black hole physics suddenly not as engaging now that he had a new mystery. The mech didn't look particularly spry. The way his head hung he'd probably be in recharge before he found the datpad he needed. Wheeljack had always considered his insomnia a gift and a curse. By the time class rolled around his head was always pounding but there were so many datpads! But he was moving to his new school in the morning, he wanted to read as much as he could in this library before delving into his new school's stash.
The mech reached the second floor but instead of branching off to the medical section he continued climbing. Wheeljack couldn't imagine what a medic student would want on the third floor, it was all environmental sciences and literature. The mech continued climbing to the fourth floor, the science floor and Wheeljack's personal haven. The mech left the stairs and disappeared into the shelves of datpads.
Wheeljack contained himself for an impressive thirty seconds before he was up and creeping around the shelves to see if he could find which section the mech had gone to. He found the mech in the chemistry section and his curiosity would not be settled until he knew exactly what the mech was doing. "Um," Wheeljack said softly hoping he wouldn't startle the other student. Tired indigo optics met his. "What…I mean, can I help you find something? I've read almost all of these." He tried to keep his optics on the other mech's, as was polite, but his optics flicked over him as a whole a couple times. Ahnkmorian. Not often they made it into Iacon's medical school. The lean lines of his face spoke to true Ahnkmorian heritage and not a city dweller. Clamping down on the questions building up inside of him he tried to look helpful.
The other mech looked him over with more thoroughness than Wheeljack had employed. Was that an Ahnkmorian thing or was it just how he met people? Wheeljack had heard Ahnkmorian greetings could be quite intimidating. Even with the mech half in recharge his sharp gaze cut like a scalpel. Wheeljack remained fascinated. "I need to know more about stable bonds in a cold environment," the mech finally said after visually dissecting Wheeljack.
Wheeljack grinned and went around to another shelf. "What kind of cold environment?" he asked. "And which scale are you using for cold?" He drummed his fingers on the shelf for a moment before he found the section he was looking for.
The mech stood next to him scanning the titles with his head tilted to the side to read them better. He had a very long neck. A lot of mechs said Wheeljack had a long neck, well, a long everything. Long arms, long legs, long torso. But he'd always thought himself perfectly proportioned. It wasn't that this mech was ill-proportioned, just that…his neck seemed slender and…graceful in a way. Wheeljack gave him another look over since the mech had been so thorough with him. At first glance he looked a lot like the Iaconians; broad shoulders and chest, long legs and narrow waist. But now that Wheeljack took the—perhaps rude—time to look at him he noted that where Iaconians felt a bit blocky and sharp with their angles this mech was smooth, like the desert wind had smoothed the edges.
"I'm using Escape's Scale in a low nitrous environment with unknown particulate variables," the mech answered snapping Wheeljack back to the reason he was standing next to the mech gawking at him.
The words caught up to him and Wheeljack blinked in surprise. "Escape's Scale?" That didn't start until forty units below Taurus' Scale. The medical student was on the fringe of scientific theory with those parameters. "That's uh, that won't be over here then," Wheeljack said spinning around and weaving through the shelves to where he'd been. The shelves on the theoretical side of the library were a bit dusty, some of the datpads probably needed to be charged before they could be turned on. "Escape!" Wheeljack said to himself. His mind started spiraling out theories for what the apprentice could be working on. "Low nitrous environment," he muttered, optics skipping over the titles as he searched for the few datpads the library had on Escape's work. "You're a medical student, right?" Wheeljack blurted out turning to the student.
"Yes," the mech said, not at all satisfying Wheeljack's curiosity.
Wheeljack pulled out the datpad and tested the power. It flickered to life but a warning message about power popped up. "What are you doing looking at Escape's work, I'm surprised they don't have this downstairs with the science fiction," Wheeljack said handing him the datpad. Personally, he loved Escape. His theory on gravitational and temperature behavior within super massive black holes was one of his favorite reads. But as far as the rest of science went there was a sharp divide between those who gave Escape's theories credence and those who thought he was a raving lunatic.
The medical student stared at him for a long moment. "Infection and bacterial disease is one of the leading causes of death in warm tropical environments like the southern city-states," he said at last. "Medicine is expensive and most of the city-states can't afford medicine or even research to find or make cheaper medicine." Wheeljack nodded. Kalis was one of those city-states, the poorest in Cybertron. He was quite familiar with the deaths the medical student spoke of. The mech looked at the datpad when it beeped at him about the low charge. "Bacteria can survive in a lot of different environments, but it still needs something to survive, it still needs conditions to initiate reproduction." Wheeljack started to pick up on his train of thought and his mind raced ahead.
"You'd kill the host if you got down to even the high part of Escape's scale," he said thinking out loud. "Low nitrous environment alone would be enough to cause distress."
"Not if it's fast enough," the medical student said walking toward the table and charge station where Wheeljack's datpads were spread out.
Wheeljack slid into his chair, black holes forgotten. "A flash freeze would be easier on the host and it would also make it more difficult for the bacteria to adapt," he said, his words spilling out in a blur.
The beige mech nodded once. "My concern is, as you said, the host would be greatly affected. I need to know more about how atoms would react to the temperatures being discussed." Wheeljack nodded. That cold and the bonds at a subatomic level could literally shatter killing the host in seconds. That's what Escape had been studying before he'd gone sailing off into a black hole. Suicide in the most inventive way. Wheeljack wanted almost desperately to know what he discovered in those last moments.
His work forgotten, he asked the mech more questions about his studies. Despite his curt answers initially, he warmed up to his topic as the datpad charged. They volleyed theories back and forth, the medical student surprising well read in some more advanced sciences. As they spoke the unfamiliar feeling of exhaustion crept through Wheeljack and he found it harder and harder to keep his optics open and string words together. They both ended up with their heads on their folded arms staring across the table at each other trying to remember where one's thought ended and where they needed to begin theirs.
Wheeljack woke up with a start like he always did when some novel idea grabbed him in dreams. He could never remember what it was of course. Rubbing his optics he sat up feeling his back crack and pop back into place. The medical student continued recharging, the lean lines of his face relaxed of their worry. There were prettier mechs on campus, but Wheeljack couldn't have said who they were. The quiet reserve and steel will that he'd glimpsed during their conversation was a siren song to his curiosity. How had the mech gotten from the deserts of Ahnkmor—he was certain now that was where the mech originated—to the posh city of Iacon? And though it was awful to think and worse to say, why the frag did he care at all about the mechs and femmes dying in the south? Polyhex, Gygax, and especially Kalis weren't places anyone thought about.
Putting his head down again he churned through the joors of conversation they'd had trying to find even a sliver of answer to his questions. His mind consumed with the mystery of the Ahnkmorian he forgot he was staring until the Ahnkmorian moved.
The Ahnkmorian lifted his head with a low sound, slowly tilting his head back to work out the kinks. Wheeljack's optics slid down his throat to his broad chest. Energon heated his face and he looked away when the other mech rolled his head forward again. Dark, dark optics watched him still shadowed by tiredness but becoming more alive. He picked up one of the datpads and asked, "Do you have class in the morning?" with a casualness that made another flush of energon burn his face.
"Um, no," he said busying himself with neatly stacking his own datpads. His bus to the train station was leaving in a few joors but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. This moment felt fragile, like one wrong word or move from either of them would shatter it. He didn't want to lose this Ahnkmorian so soon. His lean face had too many sharp angles to be called beautiful but the watchful intensity in his optics made him handsome in a rugged way. Like the jagged peaks and hard stones and sand of his homeland.
Wheeljack flicked his optics up again, shyness and anxiety making it suddenly hard to think. They'd been talking since the moon was high but now he couldn't put two words together. The Ahnkmorian leaned across the table and hesitated just a second. Wheeljack closed the distance and pressed their lips together. He was so warm. A shudder of pleasure ran down his spine. Self-consciousness pulled him back before the kiss was more than chaste.
"I'm in Red dorm," the Ahnkmorian said softly. That was practically across the street. Wheeljack nodded, spark still pounding from just that short kiss. He'd never been so forward anyone before. Although, really, the Ahnkmorian had started it, so he wasn't really being forward. He licked his lips, a nervous habit he was slowly easing away from, and tasted the Ahnkmorian. Pleasure electric and hot pulsing through him he stood up and didn't bother to put the datpads back. He hated it when other mechs did that but right now not even that bit of hypocrisy couldn't fully get through.
Darkness that smelled of mist and green things pulled him a bit out of his single-minded focus. He loved the feeling and smell of the earliest part of the morning. And then the streetlight caught the cream armor of the other mech and the small happiness of smelling fresh air was swept aside by the roiling mess of anxiety and knife sharp desire. Close in height, their long legs crossed the campus in breems. Wheeljack kept just a step behind the Ahnkmorian watching his easy stride. This mech wasn't a city-tamed Ahnkmorian. His palms itched to stroke over those broad shoulders and down his back.
Closing the dorm room door behind him Wheeljack found himself pinned against, a warm mouth on his. His sound of surprise and pleasure was muffled. Warm hands slid over his hips and his own pressed against the other mech's chest feeling warmth seep into his palms.
Armor dropped to the floor and Wheeljack pulled the Ahnkmorian closer until their exoforms were flush together, a thrill going through him at his own boldness. Deepening the kiss the Ahnkmorian pulled him away from the door while Wheeljack tried to remember how to walk. Warm hands stroked over his body, rough from work, and he fleetingly wondered if the Ahnkmorian was trained to use a blade.
The Ahnkmorian pressed him against the wall a hand stroking his hip and the other cupping his face. Wheeljack met his fierce kiss and the rest of their armor clattered to the floor A thigh slid between his legs and rubbed with just enough pressure Wheeljack almost tackled the Ahnkmorian to the berth.
He was on top for only a breathless kiss and then the Ahnkmorian's warm body covered his and the thigh slipped between his legs again to tease him. Groaning, he nipped the Ahnkmorian's lip and then kissed his neck. Inhaling he smelled the earthy scent of the polish he used and the faint lingering scent of the antiseptic soap the medical ward was always swimming in. Arching into his touch, for the first time in his life, Wheeljack stopped thinking and let his body figure out what felt good.
A quiet alarm woke him from a dreamless recharge. Opening one optic he saw an unfamiliar room. Medical datpads lay on the table next to the berth, anatomy diagrams covered the walls with handwritten notations scribbled all over. Behind him he felt a warm body. Strut deep pleasure washed through him. The Ahnkmorian had been…incredible. He started to drift off again wondering if he had the energy to wake his lover when the alarm beeped at him again.
Waking up more he checked the time and stifled a curse. He had a joor to get to the bus stop. Feeling warm arms around his waist he considered staying where he was, missing the bus, missing the train. But what would he do? Iacon University didn't have the classes he needed, didn't have the challenge. Warm breath touched his shoulder when the Ahnkmorian shifted, arms tightening around him. He could find something to do, he was smart enough. Maybe he could be a medical student, too. Shutting his optics he willed his mind to stay focused on one topic. He couldn't stay at Iacon University. He had to get up. He couldn't change his life plans because he met a mech at the library. What if the Ahnkmorian was one of those players that just bedded whoever they could? He flinched at that. He knew just from the few joors they spent talking and…not talking the Ahnkmorian wasn't like those mechs.
Taking a slow breath Wheeljack slid his hands across the Ahnkmorian's strong arms and coaxed them apart. Slipping out of his embrace he was hit by the chill of the room. The Ahnkmorian didn't stir and Wheeljack turned away before he talked himself into staying. Quietly sliding his armor on he looked back once more at the Ahnkmorian's sleeping face. Sharp angles and lean lines, like it had been sculpted by the harsh wind and sand of a land so far away Wheeljack sometimes forgot it existed.
Closing the door softly behind him he hurried from the Red dorm across the campus to his dormitory to grab his bag. His few other belongings he'd moved into his new dorm the septorn before. Campus stayed quiet as he waited for the bus, mist beading on his armor and chilling the exposed parts of his exoform and face. He looked at the blurred outline of Red dorm's roof until the bus came to a stop in front of him. Licking his lips and tasting his Ahnkmorian he got on the bus.
oOo
A/N: A sweet little two-shot I thought of a few months ago. We don't get a lot of "How Wheeljack and Ratchet Met" stories. Thank you for R/R/F/F
