Changeling – Part 4


Minus 8 vorns

"That seat taken?"

Crank looked up. A storm colored Seeker was smiling at him, energon cube in hand.

"Nah," he said and kicked at the legs of the chair opposite of his to push it out from under the table. "Feel free."

"Thanks." The Seeker – Tempest, Crank remembered, and he had something to do with special ops – sat and smiled some more. "I've never seen you here before." He indicated the rec room.

"Comes with the job and somewhat denser than usual trainees." He'd arrived at Tarn East two decacycles ago, and had the feeling his stay would be rather prolonged. It wasn't much of a wonder they regularly had to ferry injured mechs out to other bases from here. "Why aren't you with your trine?"

Tempest turned in his seat to stare at the backs of two rather brightly colored Seekers sitting with some others who were closer to their age group. "Well. I'm boring, a killjoy and an antiquated model, according to them. They make me feel old."

Crank hummed an assent. They weren't even twenty vorns old yet. "These kids have a way of doing that. I'm not even of age myself, and still they tire me out."

"Yeah." Tempest took a sip of his energon. "I'm not the oldest here by far, but I still feel like I have to parent the lot of them."

"You and me both."

xxx

"Hey."

Crank looked up from his inventory list. Tempest was hovering in the doorway.

"Hey. I hope you're not here for repairs." Crank craned his head to inspect his friend.

"Nah. It's only my pride that's hurt. I thought I'd see if you needed some help."

"I'm taking inventory of spare parts. It's boring."

Tempest laughed. "I need to do something boring and adult right now. What do I do?"

Together, they finished the task rather quickly, so Crank saw nothing wrong to leave early. They'd hit a bit of a lull after the last battle, the Autobots were still regrouping. Crank's two underlings would do alright for a few joors without him hovering nearby.

"You're really off now?" Tempest seemed rather disbelieving.

"Yes."

"Wanna go flying?"

Well. Crank hadn't really had the chance to stretch his wings since he'd arrived here. "Sure."


Minus 6 vorns

"I yell and I reprimand and I remind and no matter what I do, they're not listening." Tempest took a swig of his high grade.

He'd uncovered it somewhere and asked to share it with Crank, because after a little scare with Tempest's trinemates, they both needed it. So Crank had invited Tempest into his rather cramped office, locked his door and let the mech rant.

"I wish I had some useful advice for you," Crank said.

"Hah." Tempest downed the rest of his cube. "It'd be wasted on those two, I swear." He sighed. "They're just babies, Crank. They shouldn't even be curious about things like that."

"Flighty's curious about everything," Crank pointed out. "And you know the influence he's got on Windsong."

"I know. I still feel like it's my fault."

"It's not. Even actual parents can't prevent things like this."

"With actual parents, they wouldn't be in this situation in the first place."

"Not now. But maybe later, and it would still be too early. Not even the fact that there would have been an exam in the end of the sex ed course would have kept them from experimenting."

Tempest leaned forward to bury his face in his hands.

"Look. Nothing happened. They're both alright if you don't count the scare and the embarrassment. Don't beat yourself up over it. If anything, I should have made them pay better attention at my lectures."

"Slag it all. We shouldn't even be in this situation."

"No," Crank said. "But it can't be helped now. We'll just have to win the war and see to it that the kids get a chance to be kids."

"Yeah. We can do that." Tempest smiled.

Something in Crank's fuel tanks wobbled at the sight, but surely it was the high grade.


Minus 5 vorns

The white and black mech paced, sensor panels fluttering. They'd never been introduced, but from briefings and the news Crank knew this was the Autobot second in command. Prowl. They'd brought the big guns for a lowly medic, and that couldn't be good.

Crank straightened in his chair. He wasn't going to let the mech weird him out.

"So." Prowl stopped abruptly and placed a datapad on the table. "We tried to verify your identification."

"And it's off," Crank concluded. "It would be."

"Is that so."

"I received a new frame eleven vorns ago. I also officially changed my name at the same time. It wouldn't be in your records."

"Indeed. And how were you turned from a hovercar design into this?"

"The normal way, I'd imagine. I wasn't awake for it."

A frown told Crank smart-aftery wasn't appreciated.

"My creators are Seekers. I asked for the new frame."

"You asked for this," Prowl repeated, as if the addition of wings were a mutilation beyond comprehension.

"Yes. Sir."

"Very well. We'll try to verify this. We'll also need to notify your legal guardians if you are truthful."

Crank snorted.

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "I fail to see the humor."

"Half the Seekers in my cell are underage. I wonder, do you ever bother with notifying their legal guardians?"

"Most of those mechs are dead."

"Yeah. Ever wonder why?"

"I have rather good evidence as to the reasoning, but that doesn't necessarily make it right."

"Apparently it was the only way to make someone listen."

The Autobot sighed, turned and left the interrogation room.

xxx

"Crank!"

Just as soon as the guards were out of immediate optic range, Crank had his arms full of worried Windsong.

"They didn't hurt you? You didn't tell them anything, did you?" Questions were followed by overly inquisitive hands that were ostensibly making sure he was in one piece.

"Whoa." He caught the hands before it turned into actual groping. "I'm a medic. It's not like I have any secrets to spill in the first place." Except to Tempest's actual occupation, but everyone had kept mum, and so nobody knew to even ask about it. "It was just about my shell upgrade."

"Oh. Right." Windsong beamed and nuzzled Crank's shoulder vents.

Uh-oh. "Look. Kid." Crank let the hands go and pushed Windsong half a step back. "You don't want to do this."

The kid, twenty vorns old now, frowned.

"I'd be using you, you understand? I don't like you in that way, and so I wouldn't be aiming for permanent."

Windsong twitched his nose. "That rarely stops anyone."

"It stops some people. You're like a sparkling to me, I couldn't do that to you."

Windsong moved in for another hug, but this time it was harmless. It was what Crank had dreamed about, bonding to Tempest (once he had the bearings to actually confess his crush), and maybe adopting Windsong and Flighty. But now Flighty was dead, and everything was off kilter.

"Go look after your trinemate for me, huh? I still have a round to complete."

Windsong nodded and trudged off, and Crank went to look after the other mechs in his cell. Nearly everyone had taken damage, and while the Autobots had seen to it that they weren't in any danger of bleeding out, that didn't mean people weren't in pain.

The kid was in recharge, leaning against Tempest, when Crank had finished his round.

"How are you?" Crank asked and sat down on Tempest's other side.

"Leg's still AWOL, but otherwise fine." Tempest wriggled his left knee for emphasis. Everything below it was missing.

Crank nodded at the humor.

"So. Thanks," Tempest said and pointed a thumb at Windsong.

"He would have hated me and himself later."

"Hm. He's rarely letting on how rattled he is. Flighty wasn't really good for him, but they were sparked at the same orn, and trine is trine. He is hoping you'll join us."

"Way to go about it. Besides, I'm not the only untrined flyer in here. So why me?"

Tempest chuckled. "He's got a case of hero worship. Like half the base."

Crank huffed. "Yeah. Right." He was a simple medic, for frag's sake, not a warrior, and was about to tell Tempest so when some odd emotion in Tempest's optics made him stop.

"Look. You aren't quite as pretty as Starscream, but you are striking enough. You have a commanding presence, but you're not abusing it. You're kind and thoughtful and you chose to fight with us. Knowing someone with your privileges gave them up over a ragtag bunch like us is somewhat humbling, you know. You saved each of our afts at least once. You're not afraid to take charge and to make difficult decisions. So, what's not to worship?"

Well. "I'm only trying to do what's right." And wait a klick. "You actually thought this over?"

"Oh. Yes." Tempest grinned. "One has to stay ahead of the competition."

Oh. Oh Primus. And here he'd thought Tempest was waiting for Flighty and Windsong to grow up.

A hand squeezed his. "I'm sorry. Just forget I wasn't joking."

Crank shook his head. "I just… I didn't think you'd consider me in that way."

"Look at me?"

Crank did and Tempest took the opportunity to lean in and touch their foreheads together. Making himself meet Tempest's optics, Crank found he'd never seen them so… intense before.

"You're reserved when it comes to romance. I had trouble puzzling out those signals of yours for a vorn or two."

Crank shuttered his optics. He wasn't even good at signaling when he wanted someone to notice.

"Crank." Tempest sounded pleading, so Crank onlined his optics again.

"Will you allow me to court you?" Tempest asked. "As lover and trinemate."

Seekers were odd that way. Not only did they announce that they'd start flirting in earnest, they also announced their objectives. In turn, they expected you to turn them down right away if either wasn't fitting.

"I'm not even a Seeker," Crank protested, even though he desperately wanted to say yes.

"I know. You're a medic first. I like that about you, how you live your oath. I wouldn't want you to be Seeker. But you're still of Vos and have as much right and need to trine as any of us."

Yeah. The trine subroutines had been dormant, but now that there was an offer, something made Crank's spark soar.

"So?" Tempest asked.

"Yes."

Tempest's optics shone more brightly than Crank had thought they could, and Crank stared back, amazed he could cause that much happiness in anyone. Answering joy made him nearly bubble over, and suddenly, in this overcrowded cell deep behind enemy lines, awaiting a future in a work camp, he felt at home.

Fighting the sudden urge to kiss Tempest senseless and to hug Windsong until the kid had dents, he decided on a chaste peck on the cheek for Tempest.

Tempest nuzzled back. "Get some recharge, love."


So, to the one reader who is actually admitting to their guilty pleasure: Garboil, you are quite welcome. I'm sure I don't derserve most of the praise. Also, there's other fic out there that mentions birth control. Mirage Shinkiro comes to mind, as does Oni Gil. (You're also welcome to disagree about my OTP. You do make some good points, though I'm happily ignoring them.)