Summary- Skywarp continues to differentiate himself from Starscream. Hot Shot speaks his mind. An awkward interaction kickstarts a friendship.

AN- This chapter, and many of the following, contain a heavy misuse of parenthesis. Apologies for that.

They were still there.

Skywarp knew that eventually that status quo would have to break. Maybe more planets would get wiped out, maybe this planet would be a target, maybe the sister division would show up, maybe it all would change somehow or other and then he'd have to adjust to that change.

They were still there on the neutral world, but they'd be leaving eventually and he'd have to know his plans by then.

At least they weren't leaving right away. Skywarp would have time to think about this. He'd have time to figure out whatever answer was the least unappealing.

So far, his choices were...well. Pretty per the typical for him. None of them were comforting, as usual. He didn't really need to feed his inner Starscream's sarcasm and shoved the thoughts away to focus once again on the options themselves (commentary free).

He could stay with the autobots. Rodimus and Kup had offered that after they'd finished being loud about his heritage (loud for their own reasons; something about how Kup had figured, based on the two other clones that had been brought to Trypticon Prison after the end of the war [something he himself had been in low-power flight mode during] and Rodimus, in contrast, seemed pretty shocked over) that if the sister division never showed up, they didn't mind an extra ally.

He could wait for the division here. It'd mean staying on the planet alone (but not completely alone, just without this team of autobots; he'd still have one contact here, though he had no idea if Tailgate would let him stay in any case) waiting and that meant the city and its crowds and the wait and suspense and even loneliness. He figured that last one was a factor in his fear of isolation, at least. The Starscream in him didn't want to admit to the word. The Starscream in him tended to frag him over just as much as the real one had by making him and so he could just shut up.

He could...

That was kinda where his options ended. Stick with the bots he did know as they waited here an orn or so longer, then go with them or remain here on his (almost) own.

Maybe he could figure it out closer to the due date.

Yes, he thought he'd do that.

It would mean stressing over the unknown- or rather, his own indecision- that whole time, but there'd be stressing no matter what. Life was just always stressing. At least this choice, intimidating as it was, wouldn't kill him at face value. The deadly ones tended to be more terrifying than passive choices like this.

Some of them at least liked it here. Skywarp himself didn't think he hated it per se. The crowds and city and noise scared him, but there were still some places he was getting more comfortable with.

The little shop that Rodimus's team often visited to train in was one of those places. The shop owner let them come in whenever they wanted and often even stayed with whatever group was visiting, laughing at their jokes or babbling away when the conversation was given to him.

Skywarp found himself on the bench of the lobby while the mech chatted and the autobots noisy training could be heard from a room down the hall. Tailgate could have been sitting down there to watch. It probably would have been more entertaining. Skywarp didn't tend to be a very entertaining guy. It was part of his life philosophy: stay small and unnoticed, avoid Bad Things. It didn't have a perfect track record, but he still slouched around staying quiet most of the time.

He'd still got roped into explaining the current dilemma to the very much interested autobot. Why Tailgate hadn't just heard it from one of the more talkative ones, Skywarp didn't know. It wasn't something he asked either. Besides, maybe being ignored wasn't perfect. Getting some attention (some non-threatening attention, he was sure to distinguish) was the opposite of floating in space all alone and so it wasn't- it wasn't bad.

"And what do you think you'll do?" Tailgate interrupted that thought process when he asked that at the end of the explanation. The blue and white bot was leaning over his legs from where he sat perched (a perch that, however much effort for height it put in, still had him dwarfed compared to the warframe).

"I- ...don't know yet? I don't know y-yet."

Smooth.

Skywarp grappled against the biting Starscream voice in his head and shoved the comment away.

Despite the admission of confusion, Tailgate hadn't started laughing. He'd expected laughter, the angry unwanted mocking kind of laughter. He'd expected it from Rodimus and Kup too when they'd finally dragged out his heritage from him (instead, he'd gotten their offer to remain with them should the decepticons never show, despite how the fraternization was no doubt breaking the uncomfortable-alliance's protocols).

Tailgate just started pitching more offers and options and overall just adding more choices (a frightening thing to see them all stack up and leave him with the responsibility to choose) to his list and seemingly meant for them all to be reassuring in some way.

The genuine well-meaning (however displaced) took him off guard enough to keep the instinctual fright from really setting in.

At the moment, at least.

Hot Shot liked the city more than any of the others.

Hot Shot liked to take him into the city more than the others too.

Then again, he tended to take anyone available out to whatever market or gaming studio or bar he'd decided to visit that cycle. It just happened that Skywarp had been the only one available some of those times- no matter if Skywarp himself would rather not go out.

This cycle had culminated in the colorful autobot trapping him into another 'outing'. Apparently, Red Alert was busy (Hot Shot sounded very disappointed about that fact), Rodimus was a Prime with a reputation (though Hot Shot claimed that he'd been more fun before some incident with 'Team Chaar'), and Kup was Kup (there was no telling whether the old autobot would get overcharged with them all and laugh about it as bonding or laugh while he wrote them up). Skywarp was a bit of a last resort in that way, but at least Hot Shot didn't act like he was disgusting.

That wasn't even so much a fear thing as a pride issue, he guessed. Probably pride, at least. Starscream had all sorts of information on pride, as the egotist had shown very well.

It wasn't like he had much baseline knowledge on the concept of friends. If he had at that time, it may have been easier to point down the relief to the hope that he was actually liked by someone else. Liked enough, at least, to get dragged to bars.

This moment of ignorance didn't get to last.

They'd gotten to a quieter bar than normal and snagged a booth out of the way from the large and tiny organics and techno-organics around to take their high grade in private. Or Hot Shot's high grade, at the least. Skywarp had ordered something that wouldn't end up making him senseless. The idea of that was rather unsettling for him.

When Hot Shot said he'd rather have the clone's drink, he'd tried to slide it over in all its twisty-sparkling pink plastic container's glory. It had earned laughter and the autobot pushed it back.

"I wasn't being serious," he shook his head through the chuckling. "That's a protoform drink. Come'n, don't you want something more exciting?"

No.

"Well, I do," Hot Shot answered his flat stare. "I'm no kid."

No matter what the others imply, ey? (he wasn't completely blind; he saw the way the others treated this one out of their crew)

Skywarp didn't make that comment either. He slowly picked up his drink again. The insult left him a little stinging. He wasn't a protoform either (even if he had been very recently, in the grand scope of cybertronian lifetimes). The whole thing was drunk fast just to spite the mech who'd dragged him here.

Apparently, spite was something he was capable of too. Pride, spite, what else would show up outside the constant fear?

"Can't take a joke," the colorful autobot was shaking his head in amusement again. "Alright, decepti-creep, you go ahead and relive your sparklinghood."

Only Rodimus and Kup knew how inapplicable that comment was for him. Skywarp made no move to share details on the matter with the mech across from him.

They sat there for a while longer while Hot Shot laughed and talked too loudly and made more jokes that the clone didn't respond to-

"What's wrong with you? Do you have any idea what sarcasm is?"

-and overall seemed to be enjoying himself. He'd even gotten up to buy some fancy rust snack for Skywarp in honor of actually enjoying the night. At least Hot Shot was enjoying it. Skywarp didn't really get the chance to enjoy things.

(He thought of the shop and lifting crates and being chatted at as if his Starscream-frame was completely non-existent and felt that declaration waver)

Still, he wasn't miserable. Not nearly as miserable as he'd been before in these outings. And the place really did have cybertronian acceptable energon and snacks. And that was pretty nice. He hadn't gotten anything like that on Earth or in space.

Hot Shot seemed to catch the almost-enthusiasm when Skywarp tried the gift. The autobot was grinning as if he hadn't just spent his own shannix on the decepticon they were sparkling-sitting.

It seemed most likely that he'd start a chat about the rust snack and talk about his favorite flavors and probably brag a bit (he always managed to find something to brag about in their conversations). That was what familiarity implied would happen.

It didn't.

The autobot was staring past him. His amusement seemed to have dropped. Skywarp felt a little concerned with this sudden deadening of his stare. Should he leave? Maybe he could find a hiding place in time, just in case everyone in this bar was going to zone out like that. Who knew what sort of virus this could be?

Instead, the colorful mech spoke up again.

"What the frag happened?" Hot Shot dropped his grin completely.

There wasn't a clear answer to that. Or an answer to what the question even meant.

"Um." Skywarp tapped two claws together and watched the motion rather than meeting the other's optics. "What?"

That seemed to shake the autobot back into the moment. Hot Shot stopped staring out at nothing and looked at him.

"You." What, was that meant as a greeting? An explanation? A curse? It kinda sounded like a curse. Where'd the whole excitement go? It wasn't even his fault they were at this bar! It wasn't his fault, whatever that 'you' was implying.

"Why am I here with you?" Hot Shot elaborated with a moan. "We're supposed to be at war. I'm not supposed to see any decepticons unless they're breaking the treaties that have them hiding away from the commonwealth. I enlisted, sure, but I was only expecting to see you guys on a battlefield."

Maybe if socializing was as difficult for him as it was for Skywarp, the autobot could consider a bar a battlefield. It was certainly a struggle to be here.

"Alright?" the clone replied intelligently.

Slag he sounded like an idiot. His nighly-non-existent pride was trying to hide from him in shame.

"Not here, not having fun, not-not-"

Was he overcharged? That was probably it. Hot Shot was just overcharged. Just filterless. Just not thinking about what he was saying, even as what he said made Skywarp lose all that sense that he was actually wanted here.

"Sorry," he muttered, though he felt that the apology should be on the part of the guy who'd just dashed the hopes he hadn't even noticed he had. "'s'not like I wanted to be doing this."

And that was fair. Starscream wasn't one for honesty, but Skywarp wasn't Starscream. It was honest: he hadn't asked for that spacebridge mishap, he hadn't asked the egotist and autobot to abandon him in space, he hadn't asked for some alien light show to come burn away half the galaxy. He hadn't asked for anything except a safe box to hide in happily for the rest of his terrified life and it wasn't like that wish had been listened to.

"I know," Hot Shot mumbled, before his voice lifted again. Overcharge was a strange state of neuroticism. Skywarp was glad he hadn't taken high grade. "But I-I'm supposed to hate you! All the vids I got growing up, they all said the same thing about you lot. They never said nothing about getting pit against some alien together and needing to cooperate and going to bars and...Frag. I'm not supposed to like you. When did that happen? When did the world decide it was alright for me to get a soft spot for a decepticon?"

Skywarp didn't have any answers for that. Even when he half-carried a stumbling and unhappy Hot Shot back to the streets in the direction for the hotel, no answers had been offered.

Not for Hot Shot and not for his own confusion.

They didn't even make it back to the hotel.

Trying to lug a tiny autobot along was, for one thing, more work than Skywarp had assumed it would be. For another, he wasn't really comfortable with the proximity. Not after Hot Shot had spilled his confusion out and revealed that he himself wasn't actually comfortable with it, no matter how often he'd taken to dragging Skywarp into his messes.

Red Alert found them in a street with some tracking device in servo. She'd taken in their sorry sight with a serious expression. That was pretty normal for her. He knew, rationally from exposure to her facial expressions, that he didn't need to flinch away from what looked like disapproving anger. Probably. 'Rational' was hardly his base state, after all.

"Here, he-"

He what? Had a breakdown talking about how he shouldn't have gotten attached to someone right to that someone's face? Ingested too much high grade? What?

"Um. High grade," Skywarp finished with a helpless shrug. There wasn't much else to say in explanation. He didn't want to go into any details on their talk. He didn't want their talk to have happened.

Did all the autobots see his presence the way Hot Shot admitted to? Was the fact that he was some big purple blotch in their life making them uncomfortable as history warred with the fact that they all somewhat were alright with each other?

He didn't really want to head back yet.

"I think- I'm going to be out here. A little longer." The seeker tried to shrug again even as the idea of being out in this city all alone set off all kinds of screams internally. Red Alert looked from the barely-conscious lump of flashy neon colors that had been dumped in her arms to the clone. Skywarp hunched a little further under that glare.

"You shouldn't be wandering," she frowned at him. "You take care of yourself about as well as Mr. Hotstuff here does."

Which was to say, not at all. See? He could get sarcasm. Sometimes. Wait, was that sarcasm?

"I guess if you have to be out here...Don't go warping without a full tank of energon."

The medic started on her way again, carrying Hot Shot with an intimacy that he'd never witnessed in his time on Earth (and a very non-Starscream part of him witnessed with more of a pang of desire than a criticism on sappy autobots), while Skywarp stood stuck on the street.

Only after they disappeared did the panic set in.

Warping was still something he was hardly practiced doing. It did give him an ability to escape frightening situations, which was more than a perk, but it cut his fuel significantly and he wasn't very good at controlling it.

What he'd need was practice.

What he had now was time to give that a try.

Skywarp tried to focus on a location he'd like to aim for. He figured he wouldn't think up anything. The hotel was a no tonight. Earth was gone. The other planets he'd visited on his unwanted space flight were hardly comforting. There wouldn't be a single place that he'd want to go to rather than just deal with being at.

He figured that, at least.

Instead, his processor summoned up the thought of a small shop and Skywarp let himself blink that direction even as he balanced the shock of thinking up a location in the first place.

The warping didn't take him directly there and his fuel from the bar was effectively eliminated in the venture, but Skywarp couldn't find it in himself to worry over that as he crossed the rest of the distance to the shop on pede.

It was technically closed. He knocked on the door anyways and that door opened regardless of a closing time. Tailgate craned his neck back to look at him from the floor, visor widening in surprise or recognition.

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the bench of the lobby while its owner bustled around doing whatever business-y things he did after closing jours. He wasn't sure what that'd be. Asking was a little intimidating. Asking questions in general tended to be.

To his surprise, he let out a question anyway.

"D-do you need anymore help?"

Tailgate glanced his way over the desk that seemed too tall for him.

"With carry stuff, or anything..." Skywarp tried. "Just. Can I use one of the extra rooms tonight? I can help out, to pay you, I mean-"

He drifted off again.

That was why he'd come here. It made sense. It didn't have to make sense. As long as he didn't feel on the verge of combusting, he was good and right now, awkward nervousness over the question aside, he wasn't at that verge.

"Did they kick you out?" the little autobot asked right away, sounding concerned.

Not exactly. They hadn't gotten anywhere near talking about that. He just didn't want to be back there just yet, no matter how almost comfortable it was to be in the same spot he'd been in for a few orns now.

"No, that's not...they didn't, that's not it. I." The clone wanted to slump. That was nothing new. Catching himself from doing it was different, though. "Th-thought they'd be happy not having me around. For a night. But I can help here, to pay you back for it."

He could help either way. It wasn't conditional on being allowed a safe room to hide out in.

The metal above the ends of Tailgate's visor creases down. Skywarp thinks it's a smile. It's not like the autobot could deliver a more traditional one without a mouthpiece.

"Sure! I'm sure I have some deliveries in the back that need to be carried in-and there's organizing for tomorrow-Oh, and I have energon! Would you like energon? I've got some imported but I've never used it but it pr-"

The chatter went on, as seemed typical for Tailgate.

Skywarp ended up in the corner of one of the empty storage rooms while Tailgate talked (it was nice to just let it happen, even if Skywarp rather valued less loud individuals as well; Starscream had been loud, after all) and then wheedled the story of the day's events out of him (which was less nice than just hearing the autobot chatter on) and even tried to go in for a reassuring 'hug' (something that the clone had scrambled away from the approach of and then festered in the guilt of Tailgate's depressing disappointment after) after hearing it. The tiny bot stayed there telling random anecdotal stories until Skywarp's processor finally defragged enough to enter recharge.