Notes: Hi. Bet you guys thought I forgot about this piece of randomness. But here I am, with an update.
Jolt is…a hard character to write. He had almost no characterization in the movie, yet in other media, he's portrayed similar to the twins - brash, impulsive, kind of a jerk. I don't like that for him, so I tried to do an in between.
Again, the girls in the art class are both based on people I know.
Choices
"This week, we are going to begin working on family portraits. We've spent a lot of time going over techniques and methods for creating art, and now I'd like you to put them to use. You may use any technique and medium you'd like -and please, be creative!- so long as your picture contains all the members of your family."
It was a simple enough assignment and a simple enough statement.
No one ever knew it would cause so much trouble.
Mudflap had set to work right away, gathering a set of oil pastels -his preferred medium- to color with. He liked the soft crayons because they were easy to work with, as well as messy, and he liked anything that was messy.
His enthusiasm was easily noticeable; he was practically bouncing in his seat as he began working on the project. The pastels were rolling all over the surface of the table and Beverly had to keep pushing them back towards him, good naturedly grumbling about how he should keep his things to himself.
"Who are you drawing?" She asked absently at one point, busily working on somewhat sketchy, cartoony-looking versions of her own family. "You used to be a robot, right? Do robots have moms and dads and stuff?"
"We got creatorth." He explained, scrawling some color across the paper. He had decided he wanted to draw them all as both humans and Cybertronians, just because he could. "Mine offlined long time ago. But me an' my brutha, we got taked in by a medic, Hoitht. He kinda like a mom fer uth. Like, he feedth uth and taketh care a uth and thuff. And he got a partner, tho we kinda got a dad, too, 'thepth I don't think Grapple liketh uth motht a the time."
"You have a brother?" Beverly peeked at his paper, looking at the doodles he was working on. They were barely more than stick figures, but all seemed to have personality. The two smaller people had dark, stick upy hair and looked almost identical, save for their different color clothing. The biggest one was broad-shouldered, and holding what Beverly guessed was a ruler. The final person in the picture appeared to be the man who brought Mudflap to class most weeks; his likeness had a brilliant smile stretched across his face.
"Yeah." Mudflap nodded, scribbling some very yellow hair on the top of the broad-shouldered man's head, "I gotta twin." He paused, "…He'th a jerk. He'th mean ta me all th' time and he don't got time fo' me no more."
"Oh." Beverly glanced down at her own picture, quiet for a moment as she added some color to her pen-and-ink sketch. "My brother's not so bad. Mostly, he's annoying when he's in a bad mood, because he gets all grouchy. And…he's usually in a bad mood, because I usually try telling him what to do."
"Yeah, Thkidth ith kinda like that thometimeth too, 'thept he try tellin' me what ta do motht a the time."
The two were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't notice the Queen Bee's approach. Tristan had -for whatever reason- decided on the first day he attended class that it was her life's goal to make Mudflap miserable. She picked on him over anything - His speech, his untidy appearance, his poor reading skills, his hideous handwriting, his lack of drawing ability. Anything to make herself look witty and him look like a loser.
It didn't help that she was jealous of Beverly's talent and that Beverly and Mudflap hung around together.
"Which one's your mom?" Beverly was asking as Tristan approached the table. The older girl paused, taking time to survey the scene, then spared a glance at Mudflap's picture, just as he was pointing at the smiling man.
"Thith ith Hoitht. He'th-"
He didn't get any further.
"You have two dads." Tristan's voice -flat, with a hint of disgust- sounded from behind them.
Mudflap and Beverly both turned, leveling her with matching looks of distrust. She gazed coolly back at them, casually flicking her long, glossy hair over her shoulder.
"No…" Mudflap said slowly, deliberately, "I gotta dad and a mom." Well, that wasn't entirely true, but…He liked to pretend. Hoist and Grapple had been taking care of them so long, it felt like they were his parents.
A nasty sneer crossed Tristan's face as she studied the picture. "Guys can't be moms, stupid."
"But…Mine ith." The robot-turned-human blinked blue eyes, glancing down at the picture again. Naturally, being himself, gender differences were completely lost on him and he didn't understand why she would say otherwise.
"No." Tristan shook her head impatiently, "You've got two dads."
"So what?" Beverly scowled at the other girl, clearly understanding exactly where this conversation was headed. Really, Tristan was more of a bitch than Beverly already believed, if she was going to pick on Mudflap for having two male parents. It's not like he had any say in it, and it didn't matter, anyway, as long as they loved their kids. Beverly's parents had raised her and Quinn to be open-minded and that, coupled with her natural sensibilities left her uncertain why people had problems with homosexuality.
"So it's nasty." Tristan crowed, turning back to her cluster of friends at another table, "Hey guys, the dork's got two dads! His parents are gay!"
Her friends started tittering right away as if she'd said something hilarious. Mudflap glanced between his picture, his friend -Beverly was positively livid- and Tristan, trying to make heads or tales of the conversation.
In the end, he just wound up staring at the older girl blankly.
Gay.
Mudflap didn't really know that word.
He'd heard it before, sure. And he kind of knew what it meant; it had something to do with two male humans interfacing.
But what he didn't understand…Was why Tristan had made it sound like something bad.
He knew, of course, that Hoist and Grapple were both male in their human bodies. They'd used male-gendered pronouns before as well, despite the fact that their species was not sexually dimorphic. Gender, to them, was more of a state of mind than a physical thing and both of them identified as male, as did the vast majority of the Cybertronian population. Given this, two male-pronouned individuals in a romantic relationship was a norm.
But Tristan had made it sound like something positively vile and Mudflap wasn't sure why and this bothered him…
Until Skids came along, chattering about a new X-Box game he and Leo had procured, all but dragging him off to the rec room to try it out. Then all thoughts about the complexities of human relations were the last thing on his mind.
Until the next week, when Tristan brought it up again, peering over his shoulder and making a snide comment about how his parents were fags.
That brought it all back to the front of his mind again and he swiveled in his chair, scowling up at her. "Whatta you got againtht my family? You don't even know 'em and you thayin' all thith thuff 'bout 'em!"
"I don't need to know them," Her phony-baloney smile stretched across her face, dark eyes dancing with wicked glee, "to know they're nasty. Don't you know people like that got problems? It's not normal. It's disgusting and they're going to Hell."
Mudflap got sent home early from class that night.
"Why did you push that girl?"
The only one available to pick him up that night had been -of all people- Jolt. He had appeared in the doorway not long after Andrew called the base, apologizing for Hoist and Grapple's absence. They had gone out for the evening after dropping Mudflap off and Leo and Skids had been recruited to fetch Mudflap after the class ended. However, they had left for the movies earlier in the evening and Jolt had therefore been the one to answer the phone when it rang.
Andrew had given the him a curious look when he appeared in the doorway. In all the time that Mudflap had been attending class, people had come and gone: Hoist, Grapple, Leo, Skids. But never this young man with an easy smile and electric blue hair. Jolt looked like the stereotypical punk, from his combat boots to his blue coif, and Andrew suspected he wouldn't have been any one's first choice to pick up the wayward youngster.
But Mudflap had snatched his coat and scurried right to his side, eager to leave since he'd been reprimanded and Tristan was still moaning and groaning all over a little shove that had done her absolutely no damage.
"Hoist'll call you about it tomorrow." Jolt had said pleasantly, giving Mudflap a little nudge towards the door.
And Andrew had had no choice but to watch them go.
"The wath thayin' thuff 'bout Grapple-n-Hoitht!" Mudflap explained, leaning his cheek against the cool glass of the city bus' window. "The detherved a lot worthe!" He was pissed; this much was obvious. The entire walk to the bus stop he'd been jittery and now he was having a hard time sitting still. His scrawny frame was fraught with tension and barely controlled anger.
"…What kind of stuff?" Jolt frowned a little, reaching up to pull the stop signal. He was a little surprised; if this girl was insulting the medic and his companion, of course Mudflap wouldn't let her get away with it. But for him to stop at just a push…That was impressive.
"The kinda thuff that don't thound too nice." For a moment, it appeared that Mudflap would elaborate, then seemed to realize the stop where they were departing was not theirs. "…Why we gettin' off here?"
"Just come on." This was probably going to turn in to a long conversation and Jolt didn't particularly want to have it at home. He could make guesses at what they were going to be discussing and knew he would likely need some good coffee before the evening was over, "I'll get you a soda or something."
"Mountain Dew?"
"Sure, whatever. Just c'mon."
One white chocolate mocha latte and a Mountain Dew later, the two were sitting on a bench in the little park that comprised the town square. Mudflap slurped at his drink happily, fishing ice cubes out of the cup to crunch on them.
Jolt waited, taking the brief moment of silence to enjoy his coffee.
"…What'th a fag?" Mudflap finally asked, gaze riveted on his cup as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He was chewing on his straw and twisting it around his finger, one of those weird little things he did when he was uncomfortable.
The older Autobot was quiet for a moment longer, contemplating over how he would answer. He knew, of course; he was much more knowledgeable about such aspects of human life. But how to present the information? "Well…I guess some humans would say I am, because of Sideswipe."
"Cauthe you guyth innerfathe."
Jolt nodded.
"But…there'th nothin' wrong wit' dat." Mudflap looked confused, his bushy brows knit together, mouth drawn into a thin line. He didn't understand this; Iwhy had Tristan made it sound so awful?
"Well, yeah. You and me know that, but…Humans don't. Not all a them are like that, but some think it's bad for two males to be together that way." Jolt shrugged, sipping his mocha, "It's got a lot to do with how short-lived they are as a species and how human reproduction involves an exchange of genetic material between a male and a female. The goal of the human race is propagation of the species."
"…Huh?"
"It's all about making new humans, Mudflap. Two male humans can't create a small human. There has to be a male and a female. And if there are no new humans, the race'll die out, so they need to make new small humans. And most of them…just don't understand." Jolt set the paper cup down on the bench, gaze drifting upwards. Through the haze of the city pollution, he could see a few stars twinkling here or there. Somewhere out there was Cybertron, where things made sense. But they were here on Earth instead, where things got confusing sometimes. "Humans are a young, dumb race. They fear what they don't understand."
Mudflap was quiet for a moment, thinking about it. "But it ain't nobody'th buthineth what people do!" He finally huffed out, "It ain't like they doin' it out on the threet where any one can thee them innerfathing."
"Some people make it their business."
"That ain't fair!"
"Never said it was." Another shrug, "Look…If it doesn't bother you, what they're doing, you shouldn't care that other people are bothered by it. Grapple and Hoist have been together for centuries. I'm sure they don't get so worked up by stupid things humans have to say about their relationship." Jolt himself was impulsive and brash, but not so much so as the twins. His reckless side tended to show itself only in battle; the rest of the time he was fairly unassuming and thoughtful. "So next time that girl says something, just ignore her."
"But!" Mudflap sprang up from his seat, unmindful of his paper cup spilling to the ground, and started pacing in the grassy space in front of the bench, hands flailing a little. "It'th Grapple-n-Hoitht! No one thould thay mean thuff about them!" He paused, dragging a hand through his hair, "It ain't right!"
Jolt smiled a little; trying to smother a laugh. Mudflap's sense of logic was a little skewed at times; of course no one should make fun of his caregivers, just because they were themselves. That, naturally, was not the way the world worked, but to Mudflap…It was how the world should work, because no one messed with Grapple and Hoist, even if they didn't know they were being messed with. And if Jolt laughed at that, well, he'd be the one getting shoved around.
"People make wrong choices all the time." Jolt deposited the coffee cup in a nearby trash can, then stooped to retrieve Mudflap's cup as well. "But you know? It's our duty to make sure we make the right choices. So if this girl is making a stupid choice because she's ignorant, don't stoop to her level. Don't call her names or beat her up. Those choices aren't right either." As the night progressed, it was growing steadily cooler. He pulled the zipper on his hoodie up the rest of the way and started walking back towards the bus stop.
Mudflap hurried along after him, cramming his hands in his pockets and kicking a rock. "What ith th' right thing then, Jolt?" He muttered, wishing the older man would just shut up. Jolt was okay, but sometimes, he was more of a know-it-all than Skids.
"Educate her."
After their brief interlude in the park, the rest bus ride home was silent.
Well, not silent, exactly. The bus was full of city sounds, of course; the engine rumbling, college students chatting over inane things, a smelly derelict muttering to himself. It was more that the two of them didn't speak. Mudflap curled up in his seat, pulling out his DS and busying himself with a game, trying again to forget about the whole thing.
Jolt was glad for the silence; the evening's topic of discussion was an incredibly personal one.
He had learned, early on, words like "fag" and "homo." The Change had left their usual methods of intimacy impossible and he'd begun researching human interfacing. He had been at first horrified by the number of anti-gay sites he'd found on the internet, then saddened - who cared if people loved a little differently? All of the fear mongering and hate just made people more scared and fueled the ignorance.
It wasn't like Sideswipe would have done anything to outwardly suggest they were in a relationship. No, not at all. The other soldier wasn't partial to public displays of affection, like holding hands or kissing. Not that Jolt would have wanted those things anyway! They weren't really his style; he was too cool for mushy, sentimental displays.
No, it was more the fact that people often became violent over who others loved. Fighting didn't normally bother him, but he knew his limitations in this body and didn't particularly want to find himself in a situation where he could wind up damaged, simply because he was in an intimate relationship with another male being.
It was a lot to think about.
A lot he didn't have to think about, before.
Slag; he needed another coffee. Badly.
The following week, Mudflap marched purposefully into the art room, pulled out his half-finished project, collected the pastel set and sat down to work.
He hadn't apologized to Tristan. Not a real apology, anyway, just the one Andrew had asked him to give immediately after he'd pushed her the week before. And he hadn't meant that, it was just something he'd said.
He didn't think she deserved an apology.
Besides, ignoring her just pissed her off. She liked every one to pay attention to her.
"How are your homo parents?" Of course, she had to make her way over to the table as soon as Andrew was distracted with another student, hissing the words directly into Mudflap's ear, "Are-"
"Thut up!" He stood up so fast his chair went clattering to the ground and slammed a hand against the table, commanding silence from the entire room. "I ain't gonna lithen to it no more! There'th nothin' wrong with either a them and I ain't gonna thit here while you thay there ith! I don't care what you think, 'cauthe I know that Hoitht-n-Grapple love me and mutht take better care a me than your parenth, 'cauthe they teach me to mind my own buthineth and be open minded. Tho thay whatevah you want, I know it ain't true and it ain't gonna make me feel bad. All it'th makin' me feel ith thorry fo' you 'cauthe you a mitherable perthon!"
Tristan just stood there, for once with nothing to say.
No one else spoke, either. They just stared as Mudflap calmly righted his chair, sat down and got back to work.
"Did that girl bother you again tonight?"
Mudflap glanced up from the comic book he was thumbing through, somewhat surprised to find Jolt standing over him. Over the past week, since that night in the little park, they hadn't spoken much, besides the usual hellos or whatnot. They weren't friends, not really. They never had been.
The conversation in the park had only seemed to make things more awkward.
"You mean Thupid Bitch?" Mudflap turned back to the comic, turning a page, "The tried."
"And what happened?" Jolt had learned, the following Monday, that maybe -just maybe- Mudflap wasn't as dumb and annoying as he usually seemed. The spastic little brat had almost always driven him crazy, whether they were robots or not. Usually, he was jabbering about things that had nothing to do with anything, or shooting foamy projectiles at people, or bouncing off the walls and creating messes. Most of the others had doubted he was capable of deep thought, but something about the way he'd assessed his world and every one in it…Perhaps there was more to Mudflap than every one gave him credit for.
Jolt felt the need to see this through.
Mudflap lowered the comic, silent for a long while. Then he looked up at the older boy, expression uncharacteristically solemn and serious. "I think…" His blue gaze never left the other's face, "I think I made the right choithe."