Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own Transformers. I just like hounding their giant robots.
A/N + Warnings: Uhh, mentions of background shenanigans and binge drinking? IDK, it's a quiet chap.
Sorry, it's been busy lately. Full-time, family stuff, attempting to socialize again (despite a love/hate relationship with crowds), and prepping to finally get my wisdom teeth yanked got in the way. It turns out seasonal tooth pain for years aint normal.
Also, there's a huge crossroads chapter coming.
Buzz Before The Migraine
Cypress took it back. Cybertronians could be quiet–it only took a hangover from the pit. Talking was enough to rattle a processor. Oh, Prowl was fine, and Bee was sluggish. Aside from mild vertigo, she was fine. Everyone else got fragged.
Needless to say, they were grounded temporarily. Prowl assigned them busy work. Check on your crewmates, and keep the pets out of trouble.
It gave her time to reflect. She spread her rifle and datapad on one rec room table and waited for the room to stop vibrating.
Drinking wasn't her thing.
Cypress questioned if she even could get fully drunk. A few of her spines had turned purple after the engex. She plucked a few from her tail and added them to a rescued goodie tin.
The older spines stayed vibrant and full of venom. These newer ones were almost grape colored. It was anyone's guess what effects it would have on a target.
She was halfway through cleaning the rifle when Sunstreaker wandered in, "Med-bays empty."
Cypress hummed. Ratchet had sent strict instructions not to bother him unless someone was dying. Because now the medic could remember his name and that a hangover hurt.
"What are you smiling at, runt?"
Cypress swept her audios back and up like Voltage did with her wings. "I thought of something funny. What else? Something you need, frontliner?"
The golden menace took the chair directly in front of her. "Something for my helm."
"This is a trap."
"It's not."
"I'm not giving you painkillers; I just learned stardates."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
This mech was as thick as his aft sometimes. "You wanna have a headache or be dead? I'm not chancing an overdose."
"Thought you had onboard painkillers?" He fixed her with an unwavering glare, and Cypress held it.
"Some of us have other things to do. If you're not serious, leave."
Sunstreaker offered his forearm, with fuel lines exposed. "If I start blacking out, I break your jaw."
Cypress could feel her vocalizer straining to shut off. Instead, it lowered. "Go ahead. I'll eat your audios. Ask Cieve."
"Primacron, you're weird."
Cypress shrugged, "Okay. One spine knocked out your brother. So." She raked claw-tip against a mainline.
Fifteen kliks passed, and the stiffness in his shoulders lessened. "Better. Oh, Sides stole this."
A palm-sized hunk of turquoise crystal bounced along the table, coming to rest at her knuckles.
"Brought you a friend. Don't have too much fun."
Maybe she should have poisoned him anyway.
A souvenir was still a souvenir, and Cypress snatched it. "Uh-huh. Did you both finally stop limping, or will you need a hip adjustment, Captain Kirk?"
Sunstreaker laughed. The sound had none of the warmth the overcharged or happy version of him had. This laugh had a sharp, cackling quality that reminded her too much of the last coyote she'd seen up close. Unlike wolves in Sawback, they were everywhere and always watching. Coyotes never bothered her. It seemed things had changed again.
Sunstreaker at least spat out a "Thanks, runt" before leaving.
Cypress quickly decided loading spines into her rifle would be a good idea. She'd been blursed with toxins; she might as well use them.
The next stop was to bother Prowl. Something nagged at the back of her processor to check on him.
The once police cruiser was just fine. Prowl was even smiling in his 'little slagger' mode, currently in Jazz's room reorganizing his CDs. There was something surreal about a living computer collecting human music. The Spec Ops head was Prowl's exact opposite in decorating. Posters littered Jazz's walls, various memorabilia lined shelves, and their owner lay comatose beneath something resembling a giant moss blanket.
Cypress sent out curiosity in her field.
Servos busy, the Praxian commed back. :: Jazz found it last night. It feels weird. Moving them is revenge for making me carry that horrendous thing. :: He finally made what passed for optic contact through his visor:: Looking for your boyfriend? ::
:: Yeah. :: She lied. In theory, they could track each other down instantly in the confines of the ship. It was less invasive just to comm. like a normal person. In Cypress' post-engex haze, wandering around was doing wonders for her even noticed a misshapen plate of jagged black armor in the center of Prowl's back. It looked out of place and saurian opposed to his sleek vehi mode.
A type of script bled across her HUD, reminding her more of runes than anything the Bots or Cons used.
Maintenance Needed
When Prowl turned, she caught the afterimage of mechanic workings compressed to their breaking point. "Try the med bay." He smiled, and her processor refused to acknowledge whatever was there. Instinct took over.
It was okay.
The same rules applied for messed up stuff in the woods.
Don't give it attention.
Cypress ignored the changing mech before her and mirrored his pleasant expression.
"Thanks."
He nodded. The after images faded. The HUD runes stayed until Prowl was out of range.
"Why am I the only one seeing slag…" Voltage was still out of her gourd after her drinking bout with Rager. Maybe her first roomie was up.
:: RoadRage? ::
:: WHAT ::
:: Are you seeing things? ::
:: Yes. Your bird is making a nest on my back. :: She could hear the older femme shifting,then an angry squawk from Terri. :: What kind of visions? ::
:: Somethings wrong with Prowl. He's mutating. At-at least he looks like it. ::
:: I can't get up. Is he acting like he's in pain from it? ::
:: No. He's fine. ::
:: Head to med-bay, just to be safe. ::
Cypress expected the usual 'It's all in your head; you're fine.' Surprisingly, Rager went along with her. :: Anyone else see this? ::
:: No. Jazz was there, but he's out cold. Prowl doesn't look like himself. It seems like he's wearing a disguise, and it's breaking.::
:: And you're sure about that? ::
The Preda stifled the memory of her skin cracking with more and more neon geometric patterns and her splitting migraine turning everything black.
:: Rager, that happened to me once. You don't feel it unless it's going wrong. Look at my HUD. :: Cypress forwarded the whole experience with Prowl to her increasingly alarmed roommate. :: I don't know; I've never seen HUD alerts like this one. He looked fine when I left. ::
Rager let out a tense hiss, :: What is that? Either I need to take your Earth movies away, Prowl's got a sketchy hologram program, or that was some excellent engex. Something might still be wrong. I'll get Sunny to check him. Remind me to tell you about Pretenders sometime. Sound good? ::
:: Yeah, thanks. ::
::Take it easy. ::
That was easier said than done. A ball of muted panic sat in her chest like a rock.
In medbay, Bee was folded in on himself on a berth. Cypress invited herself onto it. "You're ok?"
The Praxian signed into her thigh, ~ No. You?~
"About the same as always."
"Oh. That sucks."
"You really aren't good with booze…"
~ I don't like it. ~ Bee shifted his helm into her lap. ~ It's been vorns. You think Jackie still remembers me? ~
That's what was bugging him. ~ Barring any serious injuries, of course. ~
~ We used to go on long drives in the Rust Sea. It doesn't look like Utah or the last planet; it's smooth and flat like an ocean. The sands are all little bits of metal. It's almost silky, and that's what the inside of the bond looks like to me. ~
Cypress tugged at one horn. ~ Suppose that didn't make anything better for you. ~
~ You want to go drinking together next time? Alone? ~
The answer was no, though Cypress struggled to say it.
Bee propped up on his elbows. "You hate it too."
"More like it makes me think I'm becoming my m— Marci." Sometimes it felt right to call her her mother. Other times it felt wrong. Like she was disrespecting her biological mom, Rey. Cypress didn't believe either would care, just that she knew someone loved her. The same went for her dad.
"Did Wheeljack drink?"
"Not with me. Jackie was too busy with his prototype for it."
"Sometimes Marci drank like a fish." She could feel herself starting to pick at her spines again, "Old friends, people from her department, I don't know who they were. Eric watched me for party nights. Yeah…it's not my scene. From what I can remember, the nightclub was fun."
"Plenty of guys to get bit by," Bee teased.
"That was overkill on a goodbye. Don't be jealous."
"M' not. I mean…do you bite everyone you meet in the woods?"
Yeah, he was jealous, alright.
"It's called a hickey, and no. There are not as many cute boys in the woods as you'd think. The media has lied to you. It's mostly angry old men with shotguns. Why?"
He refused to make optic contact.
"You want me to bite you?"
"Please?"
"God, you're a freak."
"I knew asking was a bad idea!"
Cypress sank her claws into his collar enough to restrain, "Did I say I wouldn't, though? That's not the worst request I've gotten."
Bumblebee frowned, "What was the w-"
She shuddered, "How about we stop talking…I've seen your medical history, and you looted my search history. We're on the same page."
"Oh, good." Bee narrowed his optics, "Hey!"
"I won't tell anyone else, scout's honor. If I'm biting you, you fragged up. I'm not comfortable with it." She took his face in her servos and squeezed his cheeks. "Besides, bites can fade, and they look painful. That's not for you."
Cypress removed a detailer she'd liberated, "Is it okay if I draw on you instead?"
His got optics brighter, if it was possible, "Yeah."
"Anything specific?"
"Something that has a lot of meaning."
"Okay. I'll give you the highest mark of honor in a Sawback middle school."
"What?"
"We call it the 'cool S'. It's like the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and loving fried food. You just gain it by osmosis. And that's the first thing I learned to draw." She flattened his left shoulder plating, just at the base of a wing before starting. Smart-metal wasn't unlike standard machinery; it grew and changed like a living thing. It was living, after all, and so warm.
"This isn't hurting you, is it?"
Bumblebee sent out a negative over comms. He'd melted entirely into the berth. "Dunno, sometimes the right kind of pain feels good."
"I know where we should go next time! A chiropractor."
"M'kay."
"Hey, where were you guys before the club?"
Bumblebee got interrupted by Ratchet entering medbay as if someone had laid concrete in his frame.
Ratchet also had a towel over his helm, "Don't ask me anything until this is empty." He shook a dark-colored cube in their direction.
"Do you have anything for a popped strut?" A fourth voice asked.
Cypress couldn't muster a flinch. There was Drift, hunched in the corner beneath his sandstorm wrappings like a lump of trash, and his EM deadened to nothing.
He'd been there the whole time. Scrap.
Meanwhile, Ratchet repeated, "Like I said, give me a klik."
Cypress kept one optic on the 'Cool S' and the other on the hooded knife drawer slinking past their berth. Drift chose to give them their privacy and moved further away.
Cypress watched him settle into a meditative stance and send an approving smile their way.
"Would you like some free advice? Never drink your weight in nightmare fuel like your medic, younglings."
Ratchet didn't bother to yell back. He had dings and scratches and a few suspect marks peppering his plating.
"Ratch, you look like hell."
"Feel like it too."
Bumblebee rolled over, "Did you lose a fight?"
"Only against gravity."
Drift's mouth quirked, "And the last five mechs you mouthed off to."
Ratchet checked each of them over, ending with her.
"That burn is healing well. The trick with Monolith is to touch as little as possible. EMs work well on them."
"Ratchet, ew," Cypress hissed.
"If you knew this, you wouldn't be like your crystal friend. No wonder you two are small."
Meaning Vlad.
"Don't try to contact him again. It'll make things worse for the both of you."
"'M not."
"I'll tell you right now: it's not worth it."
"Is there a species we haven't ticked off?"
"I don't believe there is." Ratchet offered a still-buzzed grin and a cracked right optic.
"Ratchet!"
"And you haven't done worse?"
She wound up holding tools while the medic replaced his lens. In a nano, Ratchet cleared the broken glass, and the bare orb of his optic was exposed.
"Enjoy yourself last cycle? Got it out of your system?"
Cypress nodded, "Parts of it were fun. I'd rather be backstage next time."
"Nothing wrong with that. Take Bee with you when you do. Sideswipe tried to get him used to drinking. He's not wired for it."
Bumblebee was still in a miserable sulking heap.
:: He used to be a lot worse when that happened. Usually, he's a grouch this time of vorn too. ::
:: He just misses Jack. ::
:: Maybe so, but he's getting better, and you're not hiding in cabinets anymore. You're good for each other. ::
:: Good, I love Marci.. but I don't want to be like her. ::
:: Nothing wrong with that. ::
Drift was still watching over Bumblebee. It looked more like looming to Cypress, but he wasn't doing any harm.
"Stop whining. You barely touched your engex, youngling. You'd make a terrible Decepticon."
Bee puffed.
"Though…I suppose not drinking yourself sideways would make your guardian proud."
Cypress glanced up at Ratchet for an answer. :: Drift is being too Drift. ::
:: You didn't hear it from me, but there's a history there, but Bee doesn't know it. Shh. ::
Cypress nodded, "You guys don't drink this often all the time, right?"
"No."
"Good. They didn't on Earth, but it bugged me."
"Scares you, you mean." Ratchet tapped his helm, "Scanners, you can't fool me, kiddo."
"I only walked in on one of their parties once. I hate they drove her to that. We never had a lot of spare cash, but I thought that was normal. USCIV tried to force her back to them all this time, and she knew it. She held out all this time." Cypress went limp. "You think we would have been better off on our own?"
"You want honesty? Maybe, maybe not. You both could be dead. The 'what-ifs' will drive you mad." Ratchet mirrored her limpness. "That's what my guardian told me."
"Where's he now?"
"Retired. He moved off the planet pre-war and never calls. The jerk wasn't much older than me when he started looking after me. MTOs work differently; you're born in an adult state without any life experience. Most wind up raising themselves in the medical caste. You learn a few coping mechanisms."
Cypress made a face, "I think I know why Sides is the way he is."
"At least I don't start singing when I'm wasted. 'Hide couldn't get you to shut up."
"Really?" Cypress winced.
"It's sad, awful stuff."
The Preda had a good idea what it was she'd been singing. Marci had a thing for classic rock, and Cypress hated it. It wasn't bad music. The classics always preceded a party or Marci having to leave for an unclear amount of time. So she'd taken up playing the loudest, most miserable emo and emo-adjacent bands she could find to drown it out. It always ended in Eric complaining from his home across the woods that separated them.
Fortunately, the scene kids frequented the public park's woods and were always willing to lend a CD. She liked Jem and the Holograms better, but the borrowed music got her point across: 'Please don't leave again.'
Ratchet was watching her face too closely.
"Ah well, it can't be helped."
"No, it can't," a surprise smile split his face. "I knew a Tarnish femme that sang dirges like that."
"I don't wanna hear your weird stories!"
"Why are you so shy? It's normal."
"It's tradition! And if my singing bothers 'Hide that much, why doesn't he just go with y'all?"
Ratchet rolled his optics, "Because we have drunk toddlers, and there are some places a bonded mech should not go."
"Hide's bonded?"
Drift snorted. "To Chromia of Caminus. She is the worst."
"No, she's not." Bee shot back.
"Of course, you think that. She hates me."
Bumblebee propped up, "I mean, does anybody actually like you?" He cut himself off, "That came out wrong."
Drift did not care. He curled his derma back as if he smelled something rank. His helm fins even folded back a fraction. "I have more friends than you, I'd bet."
"Ouch, mech."
The swordsmech wandered to the other side of the bay, still glaring at Bee.
Bumblebee finally stopped sulking to keep a better eye on Drift, "They've been apart so long, you think they remember each other?"
"I remember her shooting me in the aft as a joke." Drift grouched, "'Hide and 'Mia deserve each other."
"You don't get to be volatile for vorns and expect people to like you in a new coat of paint. Let it go. " Ratchet continued over Drift's grumbling, "Bee, those two have known each other longer than they've been apart. Of course, they do."
Cypress cocked her helm, "So they are not like rabbits. If you take one away for too long, they get unbonded and fight."
"What the—" Ratchet muttered.
"My only point of behavior reference is animals and teen dramas. Leave me alone."
"No, they are not going to fight. It's different, but did you want to fight Voltage when you saw her?"
"No. I wanted to run."
Drift cut in, "They are like rabbits. No one likes being away from their team. It'd be like missing a limb or chunks of your spark. You get back together, it will be weird, and then it gets better, or someone leaves or dies. Sometimes they frag like rabbits. Get it?"
"Yup."
The medic shook his helm, "Not how I'd explain it, but effective. You remind me of the twins."
Drift shrugged. "To be expected."
"Say what you mean, mech."
"You're too scientifically minded. It blinds you to what's around you."
Ratchet looked the cloth-covered mech over with skepticism."I'm just fine. You can take off that stuff. We're not in danger of sandstorms."
"I'm comfortable."
Ratchet forced him back to a berth, "When was the last time you saw a physician?" A klik later, the whole ship was awake because Ratchet discovered what part of the team had been up to. It turns out everywhere had jobs for mercenaries.
