There weren't that many spaces available for miscellaneous use given Cybertron's state of disrepair. Safe, roomy, or comfortable, pick one was typical. Thundercracker got a booking for a rec in three cycles time, enough for a meet up to discuss where to gather next time and vote on a first reading. Mirage prepared a shortlist of modern works, favouring those now complete due to the unification of the factional libraries. He would be happy to read any of them though it would probably be better to start with something light. No biographies, no tragedies, nothing with 'confronting' in the blurb.
The spy posted the list and was unsurprised by the flurry of debate. The novelty of leisure had not worn off. Downtime without prospect of emergencies or all-hands engagements; the joy of making and keeping plans. Filling the void left by the gutting loss of the war. Which gave everyone ample time to quibble.
Mirage posted freely, excelling as a social coordinator. Several Autobots he didn't know joined the thread and he explained, repeatedly, the concept of a book club to mecha from castes who should have known. Before the war, they would have participated in culture circles with approved material and any with intellectual-class frames would have been expected to publish.
He didn't know what to say when a light hauler asked what language the books were in. At first, the noble thought he was being facetious until Turnpike remarked that everything the Velocitronians published was in their own dialect and unless you were worryingly into self-insert racing RL fanfic it wasn't worth translating. Mirage revised his response into something more tactful and clarified all works in contention were in Neocybex though of course there would be galactic literature appreciation opportunities given sufficient interest.
Thundercracker had a far easier time wrangling. He posted the date, location, and topic of discussion, then Soundwave later edited an odd glyph 'vug' into the body of the post. Mirage had to look it up, eventually finding it in a scientific lexicon. It was a geological term meaning a crystal-lined cavity, similar to a geode.
"Why?" The race car asked, having scribed the new glyph several times to get the calligraphic feel of it. He was standing beside Thundercracker to look at the datapad the Seeker was reading. Mirage had carefully positioned himself within his conjunx's visual field to avoid looming or approaching from behind. He couldn't lean over the jet's shoulder because of his intakes even if that posture wasn't too intimate due to spark proximity.
"It's originally old mining slang." Thundercracker flicked to another thread to show the same glyph this time posted by a junior security officer. "It meant a good thing or a welcomed find. From there it morphed into 'in favour' then 'endorsed' in the sense of a permitted activity." He hadn't realised the Autobots didn't use the glyph at all in its non-technical sense. "So if you see it as part of an off-duty post, you know that whatever is okay."
"And if it's not there?" Mirage was relieved to have Soundwave's stamp of approval but wasn't entirely comfortable with the blatant oversight. He would have to get used to it. He wasn't at liberty.
"Then whatever's happening is either so minor it's irrelevant or no one's checked or someone is going to get cited for a conduct violation." The jet shrugged. He noted the spy's curiosity and strove to explain. "A lot of stuff happens that needs to be okayed but isn't urgent or secure. You need to tell mecha so they know to come or avoid, and if it's got vug then everyone knows it's not suspect. Like a spa shift in the 'racks versus Come Wash Me."
"I am sure I will regret asking, but what is the significance of 'Come Wash Me'?" The noble had seen some things during scouting missions on the Nemesis. Things he could not unsee. And he was circumspect. Jazz practically took notes.
"Right." Thundercracker shifted, turning off the datapad so he could have a Serious Discussion. No awkward flirty misunderstandings. "So trines and gestalts groom each other and that's fine. Hook could scrub Scrapper's seams in public and no one would ogle. Amica do that too. Or if you're comrades. It's just getting clean."
"Platonic. Understood." Mirage confirmed comprehension formally as it was obvious the Decepticon was trying to pretend he wasn't embarrassed.
"So when you want to blow off some steam and you don't have a specific target or there's been some offers or you want to start something new, you can't just invite someone to scrub your wings." Being trined to Starscream had its benefits. No one propositioned him without jealous reprisals from the 2IC, and/or Skywarp if he was bored. Thundercracker thankfully hadn't had to deal with hookups in megavorn. "To avoid confusion and brawls, there's the Come Wash Me protocol."
"Decepticons have codified interfacing in the washracks." It wasn't even a question. Mirage was too astounded to ask.
"There's not a checklist, if that's what you mean." This was why he avoided conversations like this. He persisted because he had a responsibility to his conjunx. "Clear communication and consent is essential. I know 'Bots get up to all sorts of unregulated kinky drama but 'Cons need to know who's in charge. And part of that is knowing who wants what."
"Unregulated kinky drama?" Now that was a question, with an accompanying demand for an answer. "Granted the cassetticons were in and out of the Ark like a trick servo but I can assure you there was a minimum of freelance interfacing."
"I have personally with my own optics, regrettably, seen vid of Blaster intimately plugged into a speaker array." Thundercracker countered grimly. "I know the footage to be authentic because Rumble showed it to me and asked if I could do the same to augment my sigma ability, before he reported to Soundwave. Who scrubbed the vid and ordered me never to discuss it with any of his symbionts."
Mirage strove to marshal a refutation to defend his faction. He could counter the Seeker's example with several of his own, including what the Stunticons did to parked cars, however... However, he did not wish to descend into the mire of other mecha's personal affairs. He dropped several queued responses, taking a moment to compose himself.
"So the vug glyph is common parlance for a minor task that has been signed off by an officer." The noble backtracked to a more sanitary juncture in their conversation.
"Affirmative." The jet was delighted to dump text. "A lot of 'Con slang comes from mining or heavy industry."
They both took a moment to purge data. Thundercracker turned his pad back on. He showed Mirage the thread on the Decepticon section of the Hub. There were quite a few responses, including one with a designation the Autobot recognised.
"Rewind is socialising with Jazerant. I wonder if he recommended the club." He wasn't going to ambush the all-terrain vehicle. It wasn't time for a smelter talk yet but Mirage intended to introduce himself pointedly.
"I said naval officers read a lot. It's a low power activity. Some of those ships were deep, deep-range running on fumes." The Seeker resettled his wings, wanting to find conversational equilibrium. He liked chatting with the 'Bot. On safe topics. "If you want the grounder beat on for eyeing Rewind, don't worry. Soundwave'll have given a very clear message. Precision guided wrath." He vented. "Wish 'Screamer picked up that tactic. He's always scorched earth over every leer."
"We have time before the club meeting. I can stay here out of sight if you would like to visit with your trine." Mirage offered gently. Thundercracker had tried to feign nonchalance but he couldn't hide his longing. The noble understood intellectually the pull of a spark bond although he had never experienced a mutual mature one. The link between creators and sparkling was the same type of bond but rarely the same intensity.
"If I go to them, I'm admitting what I did was wrong." His tone was careful. He wasn't angry at the Autobot. "I won't be the supplicant." Thundercracker said intensely. "I won't." He eased his grip on the datapad as it creaked. "I can deal with a strained bond." His gaze traversed to Tempest's cot. "I've felt like slag before. My only worry is if there's backwash to him. Or you."
"I haven't felt anything." With a surge of unexpected candour, the spy added. "I'm not happy. But I haven't been happy in a very long time."
"Same." Thundercracker offered his hand palm up to Mirage in a companionable gesture. Conjunxes touched. It didn't have to be a proposition.
"We don't need to be friends to raise Tempest together." He said, taking the Seeker's hand to told lightly. Strategy suggested he use this moment to attach the 'Con. Mirage cavilled and tripped over more honesty. "It would be useful to me if we were."
"I'm tired of fighting." Staring at the digits entwined with his, almost the same hue of hard-wearing combat grade paint, the Seeker didn't know what to feel. "I would like to be friends."
