[TF] Past Impending 03
Jun. 21st, 2018 06:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Past Impending
Universe: All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Rodimus, Starscream, Drift/Deadlock, Sunstreaker, Turmoil, Original Character(s)
Pairings: past Rodimus/Drift, Starscream/Sunstreaker, past Rodimus/Turmoil
Rated: T
Warnings: implied bad things including physical and sexual abuse
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.
Part Three
The number was a countdown, an ever declining balance toward his escape. Rodimus checked his account every week, especially after a particularly generous client, just to feel like he was accomplishing some kind of forward motion. A faster forward motion now that Starscream had helped hone his abilities.
Starscream was never going to let him live that down.
He kept a running balance at the back of his processor, but it never hurt to double-check his own accounting. Math had never been his strong suit. He hadn’t been programmed with it.
He woke up after a late night with a demanding, but generous client, and rolled over and out of the berth. His roommates were already gone for the day, leaving Rodimus free to use their shared console without them peering over his shoulder. He sipped on coolant as he logged into his account, still shaking off the last vestiges of a deep, for once dreamless, recharge.
The page loaded. Rodimus cycled his optics. He rebooted them.
He swallowed a gulp of coolant.
That wasn’t right.
There was a significant decrease in his balance, one he couldn’t account for. It didn’t have a client name attached to it. It was labeled as an anonymous donor.
Dread pooled in Rodimus’ tanks. What if… What if this was Turmoil’s way of making Rodimus owe him further? What if he was playing some kind of mind game? What if it was all a trick or a trap or…?
Rodimus leapt from his stool, hurriedly logging out of his account. He didn’t have to be on the sales floor until later. Which was good, because he needed to solve this mystery now.
Streamline didn’t manage his own accounts. He paid someone else to do it for him. Compute’s office was down the hall from Streamline’s. It was small and cramped, but then, so was Compute.
He was just a shade too tall to be considered a minibot, and without an altmode, had no kibble to get in the way either. He crouched behind a desk that was much too tall, his feet dangling over the edge of his stool, and he hunched over his computer, peering at it like his optics weren’t up to the challenge.
He had all the personality of a wet meshcloth, but his door was always open. Literally.
Rodimus shifted from foot to foot, waiting to be noticed. Compute’s door was open, but his attention was bestowed upon you when he chose and no other moment. Interrupting him, especially in the middle of a complicated calculation was not a good idea.
“Yes?” Compute asked without looking away from his monitor.
“I think there’s an error. In my account,” Rodimus said.
“Impossible. I don’t make errors.” Compute’s fingers continued to move, but he turned to look at Rodimus ever so slowly, staring up the bridge of his nose. “To which transaction are you referring?”
“The most recent one. The anonymous donation. I don’t think--”
“It is yours?” Compute interrupted without a change in his tone. His gaze shifted back to his monitor, keystrokes pausing, possibly as he pulled up Rodimus’ account. “Hm. Yes, this deposit is meant for you.”
The knot in Rodimus’ intake tightened. “Um, I know it’s anonymous but--”
“It was made by one of our new hires,” Compute said as the low drone of his typing resumed. “He has requested that the majority of his wages be deposited into your account rather than his. We have no rule against this, so long as he understands donations are not the same as purchases of time. He signed a waiver.”
Rodimus’ spark squeezed. “Who?”
“Drift.”
Rodimus’ mouth dropped. He went still, thoughts racing, his spark stuttering. “I… what? I don’t understand. Why?”
“That is not a question I can answer. You will have to ask him.” Compute sounded annoyed, or as much as Compute could sound annoyed. “Are there any further queries I can clarify?”
“No. Um, thanks. That was it.”
Rodimus backed out and left. He doubted Compute noticed. Numbers were really all the accountant cared about. Not that Rodimus’ world-view had just taken a severe beating. What the frag was Drift thinking? What was he doing? Was he trying to buy Rodimus’ forgiveness? Trying to force Rodimus to talk to him?
Anger and confusion broiled like an overheated smelter pit. Rodimus staggered from Compute’s office, unsure what to do with this information. He wanted Starscream’s advice, but Starscream was offline. Probably cuddling with Sunstreaker. Rodimus couldn’t interrupt that.
No, he didn’t need advice. He needed answers. He needed to check the posted schedule.
Drift was offline. Drift wasn’t on shift. Drift was, more than likely, in his quarters in the basement, where all the other guards and bouncers bunked if they didn’t have off-site housing. Which most of them didn’t. Too expensive to live off-site. Streamline paid well, but not that well.
Rodimus went downstairs and hoped most of the guards were on shift and not in a mood to leer at him. Or ask him if he came to offer a freebie. Some of the other escorts did. They liked courting favor from the guards in hopes of earning extra protection and the like. Or maybe they just liked fragging someone they didn’t have to impress if they didn’t want to.
Luck was on his side. Only one guard was in the common room, and it was Spinner, one of Rodimus’ favorites. He was younger, and a halfway decent mech. Probably got this job because he figured it was the only thing he was good at. He didn’t ogle, and he didn’t try to sneak a grope.
“Hey, Rodders, what you doing down here?” Spinner asked, looking up from the cleaning and reassembling of one of his blasters.
“Looking for Drift. He around?”
Spinner clicked a piece into place. “He’s in his room. Meditating or something.” He lifted a shoulder and tilted his head in the direction of one of the closed doors. “That one there. Don’t tell me you’re here to offer him a freebs.”
Rodimus wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not. You know I don’t do that.”
“I know. That’s why I asked.” Spinner bent back over his blaster. “Go ahead and bother him. It’s all right. But you know, shout if you need me.”
“Will do. Thanks, Spin.”
Rodimus gathered his courage, his anger, his agitation, and he let all three carry him to Drift’s door. He knocked and waited for the door to open.
He’d thought he was prepared for when it did, but his insides still squeezed into a tight knot when Drift opened the door and gave him a startled look. “Roddy? What are you doing here?”
Anger spiked. “Don’t call me that.”
Drift gnawed on his bottom lip. “Right. Sorry. I forgot.” He peered over Rodimus’ shoulder. “No guardians?”
“They’re not my guardians.” Rodimus set his jaw. “I need to ask you a question. It’s up to you whether or not you answer it with an audience.”
Something flickered across Drift’s face before he stepped back and gestured Rodimus inside. “Hopefully, I got an answer.” The door shut behind them. “Listen, Roddy. I’m glad you came. I’ve been wanting to--”
Rodimus shook his head. “Don’t care. I didn’t come here to listen to your apology. I just want to know what the frag you think you’re doing giving me your creds.”
Drift moved away from the door, as though making it clear Rodimus could leave anytime he wanted. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”
“Well, I did,” Rodimus snapped. He hovered near the door, unwilling to step any further into a room that looked warm and cozy and private, even if it was small. How unfair. “And I don’t fragging need your creds so stop it!”
“Yes, you do.” Drift’s gaze was steady.
Rodimus scowled and folded his arms over his chest. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Drift cycled a ventilation and swept a hand over his head. “You won’t let me apologize, and I can’t change the past. I can’t even make up for what you’ve been through. It’s impossible.” He dropped his hands, shoulders sagging. “So the least I can do is help you get a better future. It’s my debt, too.”
“It’s not going to make me forgive you,” Rodimus spat. He backed toward the door, suddenly feeling trapped by the small space, and the earnestness of Drift’s expression.
Drift shook his head. “I’m not asking for that. I don’t even care. If I did, I wouldn’t have made the transfer anonymous. I just want you to be happy.”
“Happy!?” Rodimus demanded, and hated himself for how it came out too high-pitched to be irate. He wished he had something to throw. “Frag you! I never asked for your pity, and I definitely don’t want it!”
He was done here. Maybe he couldn’t stop Drift from giving away his creds, but he didn’t have to be fragging grateful for it.
“Roddy, please. Wait,” Drift said. His engine revved. His field flared, snatching at Rodimus’, thick and heavy with urgency.
“I don’t need you,” Rodimus hissed over his shoulder, without so much as looking at Drift, who he couldn’t look at without feeling that squeeze in his spark, that longing of what could’ve been.
“It’s not that.” Drift’s hand closed around his wrist, gentle enough Rodimus could pull free, but it was the desperation in his tone that made Rodimus hesitate before he could storm out the door. “Listen, something is going to happen soon, and I’m going to do my best to keep you out of it, but it’s not all in my hands, all right?”
Rodimus pulled himself free, but not to leave. Instead, he faced Drift. “What are you talking about?”
Drift shook his head. “I can’t tell you the details. Just… keep your head down and I swear, I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t get you, too.”
It sounded like another trick. Then again, that’s what all Drift’s words sounded like anymore.
Rodimus rolled his optics. Lies and half-truths, Drift was full of them. He’d say anything to come out less the villain. Aft.
“Just leave me alone,” he hissed, and yanked the door open, letting himself out.
He braced himself for Drift to give chase, but he didn’t. All the better. Rodimus wasn’t interested in talking anymore.
~
Five minutes past the time Rodimus was supposed to meet him for their pre-sales floor polish, Starscream shrugged and gathered his supplies.
Ten minutes beyond that, and Starscream got annoyed. It wouldn’t be the first time Rodimus was late, and he usually showed up full of grins, vents ragged, still rubbing recharge from his optics or rust stick dust from the corner of his mouth. He was such a child sometimes.
Perhaps it was time for another lesson in punctuality.
With fifteen minutes until they were supposed to be on the floor, annoyance turned to worry. By now, Rodimus would have at least pinged him to let him know he couldn’t make it and why, or for Starscream to go ahead without him, or to explain why he hadn’t shown up.
Starscream’s armor was already perfection. Sunstreaker had seen to that before he’d left for his prepurchased session. His third with Sideswipe, the greedy little merchant. Two weeks and on his third session? Someone was spending a heck of a lot of creds to be ground into the dirt.
Starscream would be offended, if he wasn’t already aware of how amazing Sunstreaker was as a Dom.
Rodimus didn’t answer Starscream’s ping. He was listed as offline.
Worry prompted Starscream to ping Spinner, one of the guards most of the escorts universally liked, because he was just a nice kid.
Rodimus wasn’t already on the sales floor. He had, however, been down to the guard barracks earlier today, and he’d had some kind of verbal altercation with Drift. Spinner didn’t know why. He wasn’t the sort to pry, but Rodimus had been pale and his armor clamped when he rushed out.
Starscream sighed. He should have known.
He gathered up a travel kit – one Sunstreaker had stocked for him – and stuffed it into his thigh compartment. He headed straight for Rodimus’ dorm. If Rodimus wasn’t hiding in Starscream’s room, he was probably there.
When he arrived, Rodimus’ roommates were leaving.
“He’s inside,” Lockstock said with a thumb pointed over his spiky shoulder. Lockstock looked like someone who should be armed and standing out front, not servicing clients, but it took all kinds to satisfy.
Starscream’s association with Rodimus had not gone unnoticed by the Blue Sun employees. Even Streamline had commented on it last week, but only with approval. Rodimus earned more creds now, and he was attracting new clientele. More creds made Streamline happier.
He’d mentioned starting a mentoring program, since teaching Rodimus had proven to be so effective, but Starscream refused. Rodimus had been a one-time deal.
Carbonate held the door open, long enough for Starscream to slip inside, where it was dim and smelled faintly of exhaust. He wrinkled his nose. Thank Primus he shared a room with someone as conscientious as Sunstreaker.
It was quite obvious that the roommates had each chosen a wall to make their own, with hastily erected barriers of metalmesh drawn over thin metal rods. Only one was closed and words had been hastily scribbled over the mesh.
‘Hot Rod’
Starscream swept the curtain inside and invited himself into the closet-sized space meant for Rodimus alone. It was just as dim here, but there was a lump on the berth with visible bright red and orange biolights.
“Rodimus.” Irritation and relief both swept through Starscream. “You have to be on the floor in ten minutes. What are you doing?”
“Is it that late already?” Rodimus replied, his voice oddly hollow. He lifted his face, however, and the blue of his optics were oddly subdued. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I must have missed meeting you. Sorry.” He scrubbed his hand down his face.
Starscream hacked into the lights and brought them up to thirty percent. Rodimus looked like the Pit. His expression was drawn, his armor dull, and there were tracks on his face as though he’d been weeping, as much as it was possible for them to weep.
Anger vanished in the wake of concern. Starscream sat next to Rodimus, though he kept a careful eye on his chronometer, and his optics rounded as Rodimus threw himself over Starscream’s lap.
“What happened?” Starscream stroked the back of Rodimus’ spoiler, long and heavy strokes, not meant to arouse but comfort. “Or since I know you spoke with Drift, I should better ask, what did he say?”
Rodimus buried his face against Starscream’s thigh. “I found creds in my account this morning. When I asked Compute about them, he said they were from Drift. He’d donated them.”
Starscream set his jaw. “Did he now?”
“Yes.” Rodimus’ field flashed with a mixture of emotions, too fast to catch. “I told him I didn’t want his creds, but he says he owes them to me. I told him he couldn’t buy my forgiveness either, and he said it didn’t matter.”
The anger returned, though now it was directed elsewhere. “Do you believe him?”
Rodimus was silent. His armor shivered.
Starscream stroked down his backstrut and gentled his tone. “I know you want to believe him. But I can’t think of this as anything but another manipulation.”
“I’m sure it is,” Rodimus muttered, and he sounded disappointed. He gusted a ventilation and pushed himself back up. “Might as well take his creds though, if it means I can get out of here faster.”
“And if he tries to force you to speak with him because of them, I will make him learn the error of his ways,” Starscream said as he tweaked Rodimus’ chin. “Now. Get up. We have less than ten minutes before you are to be on the floor, and you are nothing I would buy right now.”
Rodimus scowled but then he looked down at himself. “Yeah, I guess you have in point.” He brushed faintly at a streak of old grease on his chestplate. “Good thing you’re here to make me pretty again.” He managed a smile.
“Indeed. Your appearance reflects on me now,” Starscream said.
He urged Rodimus up from the berth and set to making him shine in all the right places. Rodimus was not a hard sell. He was flashy and adorable, and he had an aft any rich customer would like to slap. Starscream wouldn’t mind laying palm to it himself, truth be told. Perhaps some day, if Rodimus was not so determined to set himself on the path to dom.
“You can’t keep letting him get under your plating,” Starscream advised as he swept the polishing cloth over Rodimus’ spoiler, letting Rodimus attend to his own arms. They were running out of time. “You need to learn how to be stone, unshakable and unmovable. That’s the only way to survive.”
Rodimus sighed. “I know.” His spoiler twitched under Starscream’s hands. “It’s just… when I see him, he reminds me of everything, why I’m here, what Turmoil did to me, the stuff I try my best to forget.”
Starscream embraced Rodimus from behind. They had enough time for it. “I know,” he said gently, and gave the younger mech a squeeze. “But you were strong enough to make it this far, and you’re even stronger than that.”
“At least someone believes it,” Rodimus said with a sigh. But he patted Starscream’s hand. “Thanks, Star. Guess we better get to the floor now. Before Streamline fries a circuit.”
“Indeed.”
They hit the floor precisely on time, though Starscream felt Streamline’s optics on them immediately. He shooed Rodimus onto the main floor, and Starscream himself kept to the periphery. Nightshade would probably be here tonight, and if he didn’t snag Rodimus, he might grab Starscream instead.
Hopefully.
Lore was here as well, and Starscream did not like that particular customer at all. He paid well, but there was something in the way Lore looked at you. It was as if he wanted to peel apart Starscream’s head plating and poke at his processor. Rumor had it he was one of Turmoil’s cronies, too.
It was early yet. There were more escorts than patrons, though that would change soon enough. Sunstreaker, of course, was not here. Sideswipe had booked him for the majority of the afternoon and evening. Probably would have bought more of his time if Sunstreaker had not put his foot down.
Starscream was not jealous.
Much.
Starscream made a few broad circles. Lore continued to eye him, though Atomizer was doing his best to capture Lore’s attention, plying him with his favorite engex and making himself enticing.
There were a couple new faces here, patrons Starscream didn’t recognize. One in particular didn’t look like he had the creds to afford even their newest arrival, who went for cheap until he got more practiced. The new patron’s armor didn’t qualify as polished, it was dented, and he slouched where he sat in one of the chairs.
He was massive, empty sheaths to indicate where he usually went armed, and he leered at the escorts like they were all cheap buymechs off the street. Normally, mechs of his kind wouldn’t even be allowed in the front door.
Starscream sneered. He was probably one of Turmoil’s minions. Streamline let them in regardless of their appearance.
On impulse, Starscream checked on Rodimus. At the moment, he was tagteaming one of their repeat customers with Fraction. Sweet of him, but even Starscream new the patron would be walking out with Fraction.
Sometimes, customers just had their favorites.
Drift was here as well. Starscream had noticed him immediately, and while he watched Rodimus, he didn’t try to approach. Wise. Starscream did not resist the urge to bare his denta at Drift as he passed in his circuits.
Drift tilted his head in acknowledgment. Well, he wasn’t stupid at least.
Two cycles later, and Starscream hadn’t caught anyone’s optic yet. Not that he was trying. He felt on edge for some reason, as if there was something in the air, and he knew it.
Starscream had learned to trust his instincts. They’d served him very well so far.
Tension shattered when he heard a ruckus from the other side of the room. Starscream’s attention whipped toward it, anger pooling in his tanks when he found Rodimus’ wrist caught in the grip of the new customer Starscream had pegged for being one of Turmoil’s.
Rodimus was trying to yank himself free, every inch of his frame trembling with refusal, as he had every right to do, especially now that he commanded a higher price. No more could Turmoil’s cronies demand him for a freebie, Streamline had said as much.
The new customer snarled and yanked Rodimus closer to him, the sound of crumpled metal horrifyingly loud over the commotion.
Starscream was across the room before he knew what he was doing, aware that other guards were closing in, Drift included.
Starscream headed Drift off with a snarl. “He doesn’t want your help,” Starscream hissed, and arrived at Rodimus’ side just as Spinner and Outrigger leapt into the fray as well.
The two guards knocked the customer back, as Starscream snapped a blow against the mech’s wrist, forcing him to release his grip. Rodimus stumbled, and Starscream swept Rodimus up into his arms, away from the brute.
Spinner and Outrigger wrestled the patron down, and Drift joined them, appearing with a pair of restraints. Starscream ushered Rodimus away as Rodimus trembled against him, cradling his hand. The customer shouted, his voice audible above the bedlam, none of it complimentary.
All of it directed at Rodimus.
“You owe me, whore!” he spat, oral lubricant spattering from his lips, his field a furious thing, lashing around in denied entitlement. “You owe all of us!”
Rodimus’ shaking increased in earnest. He tucked his face against Starscream’s throat, as though trying to bury himself in Starscream’s arms.
“Get him out of here!” Streamline roared, appearing through the main doors, more guards in his wake, his expression one of thunderous outrage.
Four guards – Drift included – hauled the customer out, still spitting obscenities and threats, before the slam of the emergency exit door cut the sitting room into silence. A shocked, appalled silence.
“I apologize,” Streamline said as the remaining patrons stared, wide-opticked and uneasy, and other escorts flittered around as though not quite sure what to do. “We take your safety very seriously here at Blue Sun. Please, enjoy some refreshments and when you decide upon your companion for the evening, be assured you will be compensated appropriately.”
It was, of course, the right thing to say. Free treats and a discount for their chosen companion? Even if anyone was truly unsettled – which Starscream doubted – that was enough to soothe their concerns.
It wouldn’t be the first time an unruly customer had been dragged out of Blue Sun. It wouldn’t be the last, no matter how hard Streamline screened their clientele.
Custodial staff rushed in to clean up the overturned table, smashed dishes, and spilled energon. Conversation in the background returned to a low murmur. Someone started the music again.
Starscream stroked a hand down Rodimus’ back as Streamline stomped toward them, all but spitting fire through his nostrils.
“Want to tell me what the frag happened here?” he hissed. His biolights flashed in unappealing flickers of red and green. Honestly, Streamline had no taste.
“Rowdy customer,” Starscream said in a flat tone. He thought it was rather obvious. “One who might have broken Rodimus’ wrist.”
Streamline’s gaze fell to Rodimus, but nothing in it softened. “You’d better have a good explanation, Rodimus.”
“Rowdy customer,” Rodimus echoed, his voice muffled as his face still sat half-pressed to Starscream’s chassis. “Wanted a freebie, got mad when I refused. You said I didn’t have to do those anymore.”
“Indeed I did.” Streamline vented, his lips twisted with visible annoyance. He ran a hand over his head. “Fine. I’ll deal with it.” His gaze slanted to Starscream. “Are you booked?”
“Not yet.” Starscream gripped Rodimus’ shoulders and turned him away from Streamline, pointing him at the exit doors. “I’m going to take him to the infirmary.”
Streamline sighed and scrubbed harder at his forehead. “You do that.” He pointed at Starscream with a firm finger. “But I want you back on the floor afterward. I need you out here making sure I get sales. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Starscream’s tone was icy.
Sometimes, he hated Streamline.
He hurried Rodimus off the sales floor and to the infirmary. Wrench was more than capable of taking care of Rodimus. Starscream didn’t need a close examination to know Rodimus probably had a fractured ulnar strut or, at the very least, a sprain. Pain leaked into his field, and it was the only thing keeping the shame at bay.
“He was one of Turmoil’s. Wasn’t he?” Starscream asked.
Rodimus’ gaze stayed planted on the floor. “Yeah. Name’s Hexic. Didn’t like him before I got sent here, certainly don’t like him now.”
Starscream worked his jaw. “Blue Sun doesn’t do freebies,” he said, careful to keep his tone not so much a question but a statement. Rodimus could answer if he wanted.
A ripple ran over Rodimus’ armor. “Streamline owns my debt.” His shoulders hunched and he cradled his aching wrist. “But Turmoil had conditions. If I wasn’t bringing in creds, then I should at least be friendly to his crew.”
Friendly.
Starscream’s mouth curved with disgust.
“I’ve got regulars now though,” Rodimus said with a small smile. He nudged Starscream with his uninjured arm. “Thanks to you. I’m climbing up the ranks in my earnings. So I don’t have to do freebies anymore. Hexic didn’t like that.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Starscream murmured. He controlled himself so as not to squeeze Rodimus too tightly, as anger burned bright and fierce inside of him.
He hoped he never met Turmoil in person.
Starscream ushered Rodimus into the infirmary and straight to the tender mercies of their medic on staff. He was an old mech, so old he hadn’t bothered refreshing his nanites anymore, and he carried a rusty look about him.
He called himself Wrench. Starscream suspected that wasn’t his original designation.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Wrench emerged from the back, wiping his hands clean with a cloth, his amber optics assessing the situation in a glance. “Broken wrist. Fractured ulnar it looks like. Starscream, you want to tell me something?”
“It wasn’t Sunstreaker,” Starscream said with a sigh. That had been a one-time mistake for Primus’ sake. “This was a customer. Hexic.”
Wrench frowned. “I know the name. He’s sent others to me before, usually a bit more dented. I thought he was banned.” He pulled out a stool and patted the seat of it. “Come here, kid. Let me take a look at that.” He snagged a wheeled chair for himself and sat down with a squeak of hydraulics.
“Someone didn’t get the memo,” Starscream muttered. He urged Rodimus toward the stool. “Go on. He’s not going to bite.”
“Much.” Wrench winked and bared his denta, for all that they were blunted with age and not the least bit threatening. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle a delicate thing like you.”
“I’m not delicate,” Rodimus huffed. He dropped down in the stool, thrusting his crumpled wrist in Wrench’s direction.
Wrench, true to form, took his hand gently, a scope lens dropping down in front of his optic. “You are to me. You speedsters, all speed and flash, but not much in the ways of sturdiness.” Wrench carefully turned Rodimus’ hand this way and that. “Still pretty though.”
“Thanks,” Rodimus said.
Wrench had a way of giving a compliment that made it seem like he meant it, and not just as a means to burrow his way beneath your plating.
Wrench vented softly. “Yeah. It’s definitely fractured. I’m going to have to weld this.” He looked up at Starscream. “You can leave him here with me, you know. He’s safe enough.”
Starscream found a nearby wall and leaned against it. He could handle Streamline’s complaints and a dock in his pay. “I’m staying.”
“Suit yourself.” Wrench tucked Rodimus’ wrist back into his lap and gave him a gentle pat. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll get you fixed up in no time. Won’t even hurt a bit.”
Rodimus scowled. “I’m not a kid,” he said. “And I’ve felt worse pain.”
Something flickered across Wrench’s face, an expression that Starscream had seen in the mirror all too often – outrage and anger and resignation. “Yeah. I know.” He stood up and started rifling through his cabinets, looking for whatever he’d need to fix Rodimus’ wrist.
Starscream settled against the wall, arms folded over his cockpit. He would wait until Rodimus was repaired, then he’d return to the sales floor, and not a moment sooner. He trusted Wrench, but he didn’t want to leave Rodimus alone, not with the wild flare to his field, and the way his armor kept fluttering. Rodimus needed to know someone cared.
Starscream intended to make sure he was certain of it.
~
Sunstreaker received the notification ping as he was drying himself off after his session with Sideswipe. The merchant was currently conked out on the berth, face down and sprawled across it as though he owned it and didn’t merely rent it. Sideswipe’s guard stood outside the door, and would watch his master once Sunstreaker left. Sideswipe could afford to recharge here as long as he wished, with or without escort company.
It must be nice.
Sunstreaker scowled into the mirror, the reflection of his crimson client visible next to his right shoulder. He supposed he was being unfair. Sideswipe was a good customer. He tipped well. He did not push boundaries. He respected Sunstreaker’s space and time. He obeyed enthusiastically, and he submitted beautifully.
Sunstreaker could not fault him for being rich. Sideswipe had been sparked into it, true, but continued prosperity had been his to earn.
Ruminations on Sideswipe, however, would have to wait. The notification ping sent alarm ringing through Sunstreaker’s systems. He dried off as hastily as possible, spark pounding in his chassis.
Starscream was in the infirmary. There was no explanation. Truthfully, Spinner was under no obligation to provide details. It had been a kindness for him to inform Sunstreaker there’d been an incident. It wasn’t as if he and Starscream were actually beholden to one another.
Though Sunstreaker had made a point to change his sparked will. When he died – not if, but when, given the instability of his spark – Starscream was to have all of his earnings. Sunstreaker might be forever trapped, but some day, Starscream would find his freedom, even if Sunstreaker had to die to ensure it.
Starscream was unaware of this. Sunstreaker intended to keep it that way.
Sunstreaker paused before he opened the door. An odd hesitation curled through his lines, as if he couldn’t bear to leave. It was like his spark didn’t want to, giving an odd lurch when he looked back at Sideswipe.
It wasn’t love or affection, it couldn’t be. Sunstreaker knew what that felt like every time he looked at Starscream. It was something else. Something he didn’t understand.
Sunstreaker ignored it. He made himself open the door as his spark shivered.
Starscream needed him. That was reason enough.
Sunstreaker firmly closed the door behind him and nodding a greeting at Skids, Sideswipe’s usual guard. Sunstreaker had met no other, though he had little doubt Sideswipe employed more than a few for personal protection.
“Boss sleeping?” Skids asked. He leaned against the opposite wall, positioned directly in front of the door.
To the layman, his pose was lazy, nonchalant even. Sunstreaker was not fooled by it. Menace coiled beneath the layers of Skids’ bright blue armor and behind the easygoing grin.
Sunstreaker nodded. “He set an alarm, I assume.”
Skids grinned. “I’m sure he did.” He crossed his arms behind his head. “Just like I’m sure you worked him over good. Think the boss is smitten.”
“They usually are.” Sunstreaker tipped his head.
He left Skids to guard his master’s rest.
Usually, Sunstreaker took this opportunity to return to his room for an in-depth polish, or he hit the sales floor to observe the others. Right now, the notification summoned him to the clinic. He tried not to run, so no one could read the slight panic in his field. Starscream was too willing to intercede for the other escorts, putting himself in harm’s way despite the fact they had hired soldiers to do that. The fool.
Sunstreaker gritted his denta. He both loved Starscream for that determination, and hated him for it. Someday, one of the crazy patrons might decide fists weren’t enough. Maybe they’d slip a blade or a blaster past the screeners. And maybe Starscream wouldn’t be able to avoid a killing blow.
He was not allowed to outlive Sunstreaker. They would have words.
The lift deposited Sunstreaker on the appropriate floor, and he headed directly for the infirmary, barging inside. Wrench would understand. He and Sunstreaker spent far too much time together, second only to Starscream.
Sunstreaker scanned the infirmary interior. Wrench and Rodimus both looked up at him, the former bent over Rodimus’ right arm and hand, scope lens glinting over his optic. Starscream was… Starscream was not immediately in sight.
“I’m right here.” Starscream sighed.
Sunstreaker turned and found his roommate leaning against the wall by the door, rubbing his face.
“And I’m not injured,” Starscream added with two raised ridges. “I assume Spinner told you.”
“He was short on the details.” Sunstreaker slid his hands to Starscream’s shoulders, looking him up and down. “You have to stop doing this. Blue Sun pays for guards for a reason.”
“And sometimes they are too slow,” Starscream grumbled. He wriggled out from under Sunstreaker’s hands. “Besides, I’m not the one who was injured.”
Sunstreaker struck down the rising hurt.
“Yeah, what he said,” Rodimus piped up, like a fool who didn’t know when it was best to be silent. “Broken wrist and all.”
“Fractured ulnar strut,” Wrench corrected as he bent back over Rodimus’ wrist. “You’ll live.”
“Who?” Sunstreaker demanded.
Starscream waved off his concern. “A patron. Don’t worry. It was handled.”
Sunstreaker sighed and crossed his arms. Irritation bubbled inside of him, warring with the worry for control. He leaned against the wall, near where Starscream had been standing, his lips pressed together. He would not have this argument again. Or at least, not where others could hear. Besides, when it came down to it, he had no right to ask anything of Starscream. He had no right to anything.
They were only roommates.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with a client?” Starscream asked as he moved to the wall beside Sunstreaker.
“The session is over,” Sunstreaker bit out. He focused on Wrench and Rodimus, the former who was teasing the latter and making him laugh. Wrench was so very good at soothing the injured and afraid. “I am not so unprofessional as to leave a client in the middle of a session, no matter the reason.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were.” Starscream rolled his optics, back and wings hitting the wall with a loud tap. “Turmoil’s cronies are getting more demanding by the way. They don’t like that Rodimus is actually succeeding where Turmoil expected him to fail.”
Sunstreaker made a noncommittal noise. Starscream would move the earth if it meant he could protect Rodimus, apparently.
“That’s for Streamline to handle. Not us,” Sunstreaker said.
Starscream snorted. “Streamline doesn’t care. He puts his loyalties where the creds are. If Turmoil fusses loud enough, Rodimus will have no choice but to bow to whatever whims he decides.”
“And?” Sunstreaker prompted.
“And what?” Starscream’s optics narrowed.
“And if that happens, what are you going to do? Put yourself in front of him again? Hand over your own savings to make sure he stays safe?” Sunstreaker worked his intake over a lump, he felt like he were choking. “What do you think you can do to protect him? More than that, why try so hard? What makes him so special?”
Starscream’s jaw firmed. His glare hardened to coal-fire pinpricks. “They always told me you were sparkless,” he gritted out, his voice just low enough for Sunstreaker to hear and no further. “I didn’t believe it until now. Have you ever cared for anyone but yourself?”
It felt like a punch to the abdomen. Why, why, why was Rodimus so important? Sunstreaker didn’t understand it. Not one bit.
“Star--”
Starscream held up hand, cutting him off, the other rising to his comm unit. He stared at Sunstreaker as he answered the ping.
“Yes, Streamline. I remember. I heard you. I’m on my way now. I understand.” He lowered his hand and cycled a ventilation. “I have to go to the sales floor before Streamline pops a clutch. Can you make sure Rodimus gets back to his dorm or is that too much to ask?”
“He can stay here. I’ll look after him,” Wrench offered up, the eavesdropping aft he was.
“I don’t need looking after,” Rodimus grumbled.
Sunstreaker gnawed on the inside of his cheek, feeling the sting of Starscream’s words like a slap to the face. “I’ll make sure he gets to a berth.”
Starscream gave him a long, searching look before he nodded and turned his attention back to Rodimus. “Get some rest, rookie. I’ll come check on you later.”
“You don’t have to nanny me, Starscream,” Rodimus muttered, but there was heat in his face. His spoiler fluttered with delight.
Damn, but Starscream spoiled him. Even offered Rodimus one of those soft, fond smiles he didn’t give to anyone else. Did Rodimus have any idea how hard Sunstreaker had to work to earn even a fraction of that softness?
Starscream left. Sunstreaker seethed.
His thoughts collided one against the other, until he felt dizzy from them. He’d always known so many truths, but it was hard when he kept clinging to small hopes. Pointless hopes really.
Starscream would never truly be his.
“Alright, kid. You’re all fixed up.” Wrench rose to his feet and easily set Rodimus upon his own. “Try not to move that wrist for a day or so, and don’t lift anything heavy for a week. No handcuffs, ropes, or other restraints either.”
“Aw, take all the fun out of it, why don’t you,” Rodimus drawled with a playful wink and twitch of his spoiler. “Does that mean I can’t put them on other people either?”
Wrench rolled his optics and gave Rodimus a push in Sunstreaker’s direction. “I gave him a shot of analgesic so he might be a little loopy. Other than that, he’s all yours.”
“Relatively speaking,” Sunstreaker corrected with a sigh. He caught Rodimus as the younger mech stumbled toward him, optics a little glazed and carefully cradling his injured wrist. “Come on then. You need rest.”
Rodimus wriggled up under Sunstreaker’s arm, pressing close, his field warm and cuddly. “Ooo. Are you going to take me to berth?” he purred. “Is it my turn now?”
Primus help him.
Wrench burst into loud laughter. “Oh, you have fun with that.”
Sunstreaker tossed him a Look before he tucked an arm over Rodimus’ shoulder and half-pulled, half-guided him out of the clinic. “You’re going to a berth, but not mine.”
He would put Rodimus in Starscream’s berth. He suspected that was where Starscream wanted him anyway, and not left alone in his bunk.
“You’re no fun.” Rodimus nuzzled the side of Sunstreaker’s chestplate, surely leaving smears behind. “No wonder Star’s mad at you.”
Sunstreaker stiffened. “That’s none of your business.”
“You two make it my business.” Rodimus sniffed and stumbled a bit, forcing Sunstreaker to rebalance them. “You drive me crazy, and I always end up in the middle.”
Sunstreaker snorted. “I think you have that backward. You’re the one who’s always bringing the trouble.”
Rodimus listed against his side as Sunstreaker tugged him into the lift and selected his and Starscream’s floor. “Not like this.” He squared his jaw and looked up at Sunstreaker, or at least attempted to do so. His optics didn’t seem to focus. “You should just tell him already.”
The lift deposited them on the proper floor. He hauled Rodimus out, going through an array of choices before settling on the only logical course of action.
Denial.
“Being vague doesn’t suit you.” He unlocked the door and half-dragged, half-carried Rodimus inside.
If Rodimus noticed he hadn’t actually been taken back to his dorm, he didn’t show it. He dug in his heels, looking up at Sunstreaker with petulance written across his face.
“Being stupid doesn’t suit you,” he retorted and stuck his glossa out at Sunstreaker. “You’re pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about because you don’t want to face it. Neither of you do. And it’s the most frustrating thing in the universe right now, I swear.” He wobbled as though his feet had ceased functioning.
Sunstreaker growled and scooped Rodimus over his shoulder. Rodimus made a strangled noise and scrabbled for a handhold, not that one was needed. Sunstreaker took less than a half-dozen strides before he tumbled Rodimus onto Starscream’s berth, the flame-colored rookie bouncing amid a pile of pillows.
“You exaggerate,” Sunstreaker said.
Rodimus wriggled, burrowing into the pillows with his injured arm outflung, laying across one of the larger pillows.
“You wish I did.” Rodimus finally settled, optics drifting shut. “Starscream’s wrong, by the way. You’re not sparkless. You’re a coward.”
Sunstreaker pressed his lips together. He swallowed his anger. Rodimus was only speaking truth, even though he had no right to say it.
“Do you need anything?” Sunstreaker asked.
Rodimus snorted. “Don’t pretend to be kind. It doesn’t suit you.” He dragged a pillow under his head with his uninjured hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Starscream you were a good nanny.”
Sunstreaker gnashed his denta. He left Rodimus to the comfort of Starscream’s berth. No doubt Starscream would join him on it later, leaving Sunstreaker to chilly solitude.
He couldn’t ask for anything different. He couldn’t demand any of Starscream’s time or attention. He was owed nothing.
“Kindness is a trap, you know,” Rodimus said, even though it was clear Sunstreaker considered their conversation over. “Kindness and charity. It’s all a way to ask for something and pretend you’re humble about it.”
Sunstreaker drew his orbital ridges down. “What do you mean?”
Blue optics were firmly shuttered. Rodimus twitched, burying himself further in the pillows.
“You. Drift. You’re so much alike.” Rodimus’ glossa swept over his lips. “You can’t say what you mean. And he uses creds to apologize because he knows I won’t accept it otherwise.”
Sunstreaker concentrated on the mess scattered across the floor. Dirty cloths and empty cans of wax and all matter of detritus Starscream tended to leave laying about. Somehow, it seemed more important than Rodimus’ truth.
“Is that such a bad thing?” he wondered aloud, not sure he wanted an answer.
Rodimus’ engine revved. “In our world?” His voice grew softer, as though the medicine had finally taken hold and was dragging him under. “Kindness is a lie.”
Sunstreaker frowned. But Rodimus had already drifted off, his energy field evened out to the beat of his ventilations.
Kindness is a lie.
Perhaps that was what angered Starscream most of all.
Sunstreaker returned to his cleaning, his thoughts as disordered as before, without an answer to put them to rights.
***
Universe: All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Rodimus, Starscream, Drift/Deadlock, Sunstreaker, Turmoil, Original Character(s)
Pairings: past Rodimus/Drift, Starscream/Sunstreaker, past Rodimus/Turmoil
Rated: T
Warnings: implied bad things including physical and sexual abuse
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.
The number was a countdown, an ever declining balance toward his escape. Rodimus checked his account every week, especially after a particularly generous client, just to feel like he was accomplishing some kind of forward motion. A faster forward motion now that Starscream had helped hone his abilities.
Starscream was never going to let him live that down.
He kept a running balance at the back of his processor, but it never hurt to double-check his own accounting. Math had never been his strong suit. He hadn’t been programmed with it.
He woke up after a late night with a demanding, but generous client, and rolled over and out of the berth. His roommates were already gone for the day, leaving Rodimus free to use their shared console without them peering over his shoulder. He sipped on coolant as he logged into his account, still shaking off the last vestiges of a deep, for once dreamless, recharge.
The page loaded. Rodimus cycled his optics. He rebooted them.
He swallowed a gulp of coolant.
That wasn’t right.
There was a significant decrease in his balance, one he couldn’t account for. It didn’t have a client name attached to it. It was labeled as an anonymous donor.
Dread pooled in Rodimus’ tanks. What if… What if this was Turmoil’s way of making Rodimus owe him further? What if he was playing some kind of mind game? What if it was all a trick or a trap or…?
Rodimus leapt from his stool, hurriedly logging out of his account. He didn’t have to be on the sales floor until later. Which was good, because he needed to solve this mystery now.
Streamline didn’t manage his own accounts. He paid someone else to do it for him. Compute’s office was down the hall from Streamline’s. It was small and cramped, but then, so was Compute.
He was just a shade too tall to be considered a minibot, and without an altmode, had no kibble to get in the way either. He crouched behind a desk that was much too tall, his feet dangling over the edge of his stool, and he hunched over his computer, peering at it like his optics weren’t up to the challenge.
He had all the personality of a wet meshcloth, but his door was always open. Literally.
Rodimus shifted from foot to foot, waiting to be noticed. Compute’s door was open, but his attention was bestowed upon you when he chose and no other moment. Interrupting him, especially in the middle of a complicated calculation was not a good idea.
“Yes?” Compute asked without looking away from his monitor.
“I think there’s an error. In my account,” Rodimus said.
“Impossible. I don’t make errors.” Compute’s fingers continued to move, but he turned to look at Rodimus ever so slowly, staring up the bridge of his nose. “To which transaction are you referring?”
“The most recent one. The anonymous donation. I don’t think--”
“It is yours?” Compute interrupted without a change in his tone. His gaze shifted back to his monitor, keystrokes pausing, possibly as he pulled up Rodimus’ account. “Hm. Yes, this deposit is meant for you.”
The knot in Rodimus’ intake tightened. “Um, I know it’s anonymous but--”
“It was made by one of our new hires,” Compute said as the low drone of his typing resumed. “He has requested that the majority of his wages be deposited into your account rather than his. We have no rule against this, so long as he understands donations are not the same as purchases of time. He signed a waiver.”
Rodimus’ spark squeezed. “Who?”
“Drift.”
Rodimus’ mouth dropped. He went still, thoughts racing, his spark stuttering. “I… what? I don’t understand. Why?”
“That is not a question I can answer. You will have to ask him.” Compute sounded annoyed, or as much as Compute could sound annoyed. “Are there any further queries I can clarify?”
“No. Um, thanks. That was it.”
Rodimus backed out and left. He doubted Compute noticed. Numbers were really all the accountant cared about. Not that Rodimus’ world-view had just taken a severe beating. What the frag was Drift thinking? What was he doing? Was he trying to buy Rodimus’ forgiveness? Trying to force Rodimus to talk to him?
Anger and confusion broiled like an overheated smelter pit. Rodimus staggered from Compute’s office, unsure what to do with this information. He wanted Starscream’s advice, but Starscream was offline. Probably cuddling with Sunstreaker. Rodimus couldn’t interrupt that.
No, he didn’t need advice. He needed answers. He needed to check the posted schedule.
Drift was offline. Drift wasn’t on shift. Drift was, more than likely, in his quarters in the basement, where all the other guards and bouncers bunked if they didn’t have off-site housing. Which most of them didn’t. Too expensive to live off-site. Streamline paid well, but not that well.
Rodimus went downstairs and hoped most of the guards were on shift and not in a mood to leer at him. Or ask him if he came to offer a freebie. Some of the other escorts did. They liked courting favor from the guards in hopes of earning extra protection and the like. Or maybe they just liked fragging someone they didn’t have to impress if they didn’t want to.
Luck was on his side. Only one guard was in the common room, and it was Spinner, one of Rodimus’ favorites. He was younger, and a halfway decent mech. Probably got this job because he figured it was the only thing he was good at. He didn’t ogle, and he didn’t try to sneak a grope.
“Hey, Rodders, what you doing down here?” Spinner asked, looking up from the cleaning and reassembling of one of his blasters.
“Looking for Drift. He around?”
Spinner clicked a piece into place. “He’s in his room. Meditating or something.” He lifted a shoulder and tilted his head in the direction of one of the closed doors. “That one there. Don’t tell me you’re here to offer him a freebs.”
Rodimus wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not. You know I don’t do that.”
“I know. That’s why I asked.” Spinner bent back over his blaster. “Go ahead and bother him. It’s all right. But you know, shout if you need me.”
“Will do. Thanks, Spin.”
Rodimus gathered his courage, his anger, his agitation, and he let all three carry him to Drift’s door. He knocked and waited for the door to open.
He’d thought he was prepared for when it did, but his insides still squeezed into a tight knot when Drift opened the door and gave him a startled look. “Roddy? What are you doing here?”
Anger spiked. “Don’t call me that.”
Drift gnawed on his bottom lip. “Right. Sorry. I forgot.” He peered over Rodimus’ shoulder. “No guardians?”
“They’re not my guardians.” Rodimus set his jaw. “I need to ask you a question. It’s up to you whether or not you answer it with an audience.”
Something flickered across Drift’s face before he stepped back and gestured Rodimus inside. “Hopefully, I got an answer.” The door shut behind them. “Listen, Roddy. I’m glad you came. I’ve been wanting to--”
Rodimus shook his head. “Don’t care. I didn’t come here to listen to your apology. I just want to know what the frag you think you’re doing giving me your creds.”
Drift moved away from the door, as though making it clear Rodimus could leave anytime he wanted. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”
“Well, I did,” Rodimus snapped. He hovered near the door, unwilling to step any further into a room that looked warm and cozy and private, even if it was small. How unfair. “And I don’t fragging need your creds so stop it!”
“Yes, you do.” Drift’s gaze was steady.
Rodimus scowled and folded his arms over his chest. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Drift cycled a ventilation and swept a hand over his head. “You won’t let me apologize, and I can’t change the past. I can’t even make up for what you’ve been through. It’s impossible.” He dropped his hands, shoulders sagging. “So the least I can do is help you get a better future. It’s my debt, too.”
“It’s not going to make me forgive you,” Rodimus spat. He backed toward the door, suddenly feeling trapped by the small space, and the earnestness of Drift’s expression.
Drift shook his head. “I’m not asking for that. I don’t even care. If I did, I wouldn’t have made the transfer anonymous. I just want you to be happy.”
“Happy!?” Rodimus demanded, and hated himself for how it came out too high-pitched to be irate. He wished he had something to throw. “Frag you! I never asked for your pity, and I definitely don’t want it!”
He was done here. Maybe he couldn’t stop Drift from giving away his creds, but he didn’t have to be fragging grateful for it.
“Roddy, please. Wait,” Drift said. His engine revved. His field flared, snatching at Rodimus’, thick and heavy with urgency.
“I don’t need you,” Rodimus hissed over his shoulder, without so much as looking at Drift, who he couldn’t look at without feeling that squeeze in his spark, that longing of what could’ve been.
“It’s not that.” Drift’s hand closed around his wrist, gentle enough Rodimus could pull free, but it was the desperation in his tone that made Rodimus hesitate before he could storm out the door. “Listen, something is going to happen soon, and I’m going to do my best to keep you out of it, but it’s not all in my hands, all right?”
Rodimus pulled himself free, but not to leave. Instead, he faced Drift. “What are you talking about?”
Drift shook his head. “I can’t tell you the details. Just… keep your head down and I swear, I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t get you, too.”
It sounded like another trick. Then again, that’s what all Drift’s words sounded like anymore.
Rodimus rolled his optics. Lies and half-truths, Drift was full of them. He’d say anything to come out less the villain. Aft.
“Just leave me alone,” he hissed, and yanked the door open, letting himself out.
He braced himself for Drift to give chase, but he didn’t. All the better. Rodimus wasn’t interested in talking anymore.
Five minutes past the time Rodimus was supposed to meet him for their pre-sales floor polish, Starscream shrugged and gathered his supplies.
Ten minutes beyond that, and Starscream got annoyed. It wouldn’t be the first time Rodimus was late, and he usually showed up full of grins, vents ragged, still rubbing recharge from his optics or rust stick dust from the corner of his mouth. He was such a child sometimes.
Perhaps it was time for another lesson in punctuality.
With fifteen minutes until they were supposed to be on the floor, annoyance turned to worry. By now, Rodimus would have at least pinged him to let him know he couldn’t make it and why, or for Starscream to go ahead without him, or to explain why he hadn’t shown up.
Starscream’s armor was already perfection. Sunstreaker had seen to that before he’d left for his prepurchased session. His third with Sideswipe, the greedy little merchant. Two weeks and on his third session? Someone was spending a heck of a lot of creds to be ground into the dirt.
Starscream would be offended, if he wasn’t already aware of how amazing Sunstreaker was as a Dom.
Rodimus didn’t answer Starscream’s ping. He was listed as offline.
Worry prompted Starscream to ping Spinner, one of the guards most of the escorts universally liked, because he was just a nice kid.
Rodimus wasn’t already on the sales floor. He had, however, been down to the guard barracks earlier today, and he’d had some kind of verbal altercation with Drift. Spinner didn’t know why. He wasn’t the sort to pry, but Rodimus had been pale and his armor clamped when he rushed out.
Starscream sighed. He should have known.
He gathered up a travel kit – one Sunstreaker had stocked for him – and stuffed it into his thigh compartment. He headed straight for Rodimus’ dorm. If Rodimus wasn’t hiding in Starscream’s room, he was probably there.
When he arrived, Rodimus’ roommates were leaving.
“He’s inside,” Lockstock said with a thumb pointed over his spiky shoulder. Lockstock looked like someone who should be armed and standing out front, not servicing clients, but it took all kinds to satisfy.
Starscream’s association with Rodimus had not gone unnoticed by the Blue Sun employees. Even Streamline had commented on it last week, but only with approval. Rodimus earned more creds now, and he was attracting new clientele. More creds made Streamline happier.
He’d mentioned starting a mentoring program, since teaching Rodimus had proven to be so effective, but Starscream refused. Rodimus had been a one-time deal.
Carbonate held the door open, long enough for Starscream to slip inside, where it was dim and smelled faintly of exhaust. He wrinkled his nose. Thank Primus he shared a room with someone as conscientious as Sunstreaker.
It was quite obvious that the roommates had each chosen a wall to make their own, with hastily erected barriers of metalmesh drawn over thin metal rods. Only one was closed and words had been hastily scribbled over the mesh.
‘Hot Rod’
Starscream swept the curtain inside and invited himself into the closet-sized space meant for Rodimus alone. It was just as dim here, but there was a lump on the berth with visible bright red and orange biolights.
“Rodimus.” Irritation and relief both swept through Starscream. “You have to be on the floor in ten minutes. What are you doing?”
“Is it that late already?” Rodimus replied, his voice oddly hollow. He lifted his face, however, and the blue of his optics were oddly subdued. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I must have missed meeting you. Sorry.” He scrubbed his hand down his face.
Starscream hacked into the lights and brought them up to thirty percent. Rodimus looked like the Pit. His expression was drawn, his armor dull, and there were tracks on his face as though he’d been weeping, as much as it was possible for them to weep.
Anger vanished in the wake of concern. Starscream sat next to Rodimus, though he kept a careful eye on his chronometer, and his optics rounded as Rodimus threw himself over Starscream’s lap.
“What happened?” Starscream stroked the back of Rodimus’ spoiler, long and heavy strokes, not meant to arouse but comfort. “Or since I know you spoke with Drift, I should better ask, what did he say?”
Rodimus buried his face against Starscream’s thigh. “I found creds in my account this morning. When I asked Compute about them, he said they were from Drift. He’d donated them.”
Starscream set his jaw. “Did he now?”
“Yes.” Rodimus’ field flashed with a mixture of emotions, too fast to catch. “I told him I didn’t want his creds, but he says he owes them to me. I told him he couldn’t buy my forgiveness either, and he said it didn’t matter.”
The anger returned, though now it was directed elsewhere. “Do you believe him?”
Rodimus was silent. His armor shivered.
Starscream stroked down his backstrut and gentled his tone. “I know you want to believe him. But I can’t think of this as anything but another manipulation.”
“I’m sure it is,” Rodimus muttered, and he sounded disappointed. He gusted a ventilation and pushed himself back up. “Might as well take his creds though, if it means I can get out of here faster.”
“And if he tries to force you to speak with him because of them, I will make him learn the error of his ways,” Starscream said as he tweaked Rodimus’ chin. “Now. Get up. We have less than ten minutes before you are to be on the floor, and you are nothing I would buy right now.”
Rodimus scowled but then he looked down at himself. “Yeah, I guess you have in point.” He brushed faintly at a streak of old grease on his chestplate. “Good thing you’re here to make me pretty again.” He managed a smile.
“Indeed. Your appearance reflects on me now,” Starscream said.
He urged Rodimus up from the berth and set to making him shine in all the right places. Rodimus was not a hard sell. He was flashy and adorable, and he had an aft any rich customer would like to slap. Starscream wouldn’t mind laying palm to it himself, truth be told. Perhaps some day, if Rodimus was not so determined to set himself on the path to dom.
“You can’t keep letting him get under your plating,” Starscream advised as he swept the polishing cloth over Rodimus’ spoiler, letting Rodimus attend to his own arms. They were running out of time. “You need to learn how to be stone, unshakable and unmovable. That’s the only way to survive.”
Rodimus sighed. “I know.” His spoiler twitched under Starscream’s hands. “It’s just… when I see him, he reminds me of everything, why I’m here, what Turmoil did to me, the stuff I try my best to forget.”
Starscream embraced Rodimus from behind. They had enough time for it. “I know,” he said gently, and gave the younger mech a squeeze. “But you were strong enough to make it this far, and you’re even stronger than that.”
“At least someone believes it,” Rodimus said with a sigh. But he patted Starscream’s hand. “Thanks, Star. Guess we better get to the floor now. Before Streamline fries a circuit.”
“Indeed.”
They hit the floor precisely on time, though Starscream felt Streamline’s optics on them immediately. He shooed Rodimus onto the main floor, and Starscream himself kept to the periphery. Nightshade would probably be here tonight, and if he didn’t snag Rodimus, he might grab Starscream instead.
Hopefully.
Lore was here as well, and Starscream did not like that particular customer at all. He paid well, but there was something in the way Lore looked at you. It was as if he wanted to peel apart Starscream’s head plating and poke at his processor. Rumor had it he was one of Turmoil’s cronies, too.
It was early yet. There were more escorts than patrons, though that would change soon enough. Sunstreaker, of course, was not here. Sideswipe had booked him for the majority of the afternoon and evening. Probably would have bought more of his time if Sunstreaker had not put his foot down.
Starscream was not jealous.
Much.
Starscream made a few broad circles. Lore continued to eye him, though Atomizer was doing his best to capture Lore’s attention, plying him with his favorite engex and making himself enticing.
There were a couple new faces here, patrons Starscream didn’t recognize. One in particular didn’t look like he had the creds to afford even their newest arrival, who went for cheap until he got more practiced. The new patron’s armor didn’t qualify as polished, it was dented, and he slouched where he sat in one of the chairs.
He was massive, empty sheaths to indicate where he usually went armed, and he leered at the escorts like they were all cheap buymechs off the street. Normally, mechs of his kind wouldn’t even be allowed in the front door.
Starscream sneered. He was probably one of Turmoil’s minions. Streamline let them in regardless of their appearance.
On impulse, Starscream checked on Rodimus. At the moment, he was tagteaming one of their repeat customers with Fraction. Sweet of him, but even Starscream new the patron would be walking out with Fraction.
Sometimes, customers just had their favorites.
Drift was here as well. Starscream had noticed him immediately, and while he watched Rodimus, he didn’t try to approach. Wise. Starscream did not resist the urge to bare his denta at Drift as he passed in his circuits.
Drift tilted his head in acknowledgment. Well, he wasn’t stupid at least.
Two cycles later, and Starscream hadn’t caught anyone’s optic yet. Not that he was trying. He felt on edge for some reason, as if there was something in the air, and he knew it.
Starscream had learned to trust his instincts. They’d served him very well so far.
Tension shattered when he heard a ruckus from the other side of the room. Starscream’s attention whipped toward it, anger pooling in his tanks when he found Rodimus’ wrist caught in the grip of the new customer Starscream had pegged for being one of Turmoil’s.
Rodimus was trying to yank himself free, every inch of his frame trembling with refusal, as he had every right to do, especially now that he commanded a higher price. No more could Turmoil’s cronies demand him for a freebie, Streamline had said as much.
The new customer snarled and yanked Rodimus closer to him, the sound of crumpled metal horrifyingly loud over the commotion.
Starscream was across the room before he knew what he was doing, aware that other guards were closing in, Drift included.
Starscream headed Drift off with a snarl. “He doesn’t want your help,” Starscream hissed, and arrived at Rodimus’ side just as Spinner and Outrigger leapt into the fray as well.
The two guards knocked the customer back, as Starscream snapped a blow against the mech’s wrist, forcing him to release his grip. Rodimus stumbled, and Starscream swept Rodimus up into his arms, away from the brute.
Spinner and Outrigger wrestled the patron down, and Drift joined them, appearing with a pair of restraints. Starscream ushered Rodimus away as Rodimus trembled against him, cradling his hand. The customer shouted, his voice audible above the bedlam, none of it complimentary.
All of it directed at Rodimus.
“You owe me, whore!” he spat, oral lubricant spattering from his lips, his field a furious thing, lashing around in denied entitlement. “You owe all of us!”
Rodimus’ shaking increased in earnest. He tucked his face against Starscream’s throat, as though trying to bury himself in Starscream’s arms.
“Get him out of here!” Streamline roared, appearing through the main doors, more guards in his wake, his expression one of thunderous outrage.
Four guards – Drift included – hauled the customer out, still spitting obscenities and threats, before the slam of the emergency exit door cut the sitting room into silence. A shocked, appalled silence.
“I apologize,” Streamline said as the remaining patrons stared, wide-opticked and uneasy, and other escorts flittered around as though not quite sure what to do. “We take your safety very seriously here at Blue Sun. Please, enjoy some refreshments and when you decide upon your companion for the evening, be assured you will be compensated appropriately.”
It was, of course, the right thing to say. Free treats and a discount for their chosen companion? Even if anyone was truly unsettled – which Starscream doubted – that was enough to soothe their concerns.
It wouldn’t be the first time an unruly customer had been dragged out of Blue Sun. It wouldn’t be the last, no matter how hard Streamline screened their clientele.
Custodial staff rushed in to clean up the overturned table, smashed dishes, and spilled energon. Conversation in the background returned to a low murmur. Someone started the music again.
Starscream stroked a hand down Rodimus’ back as Streamline stomped toward them, all but spitting fire through his nostrils.
“Want to tell me what the frag happened here?” he hissed. His biolights flashed in unappealing flickers of red and green. Honestly, Streamline had no taste.
“Rowdy customer,” Starscream said in a flat tone. He thought it was rather obvious. “One who might have broken Rodimus’ wrist.”
Streamline’s gaze fell to Rodimus, but nothing in it softened. “You’d better have a good explanation, Rodimus.”
“Rowdy customer,” Rodimus echoed, his voice muffled as his face still sat half-pressed to Starscream’s chassis. “Wanted a freebie, got mad when I refused. You said I didn’t have to do those anymore.”
“Indeed I did.” Streamline vented, his lips twisted with visible annoyance. He ran a hand over his head. “Fine. I’ll deal with it.” His gaze slanted to Starscream. “Are you booked?”
“Not yet.” Starscream gripped Rodimus’ shoulders and turned him away from Streamline, pointing him at the exit doors. “I’m going to take him to the infirmary.”
Streamline sighed and scrubbed harder at his forehead. “You do that.” He pointed at Starscream with a firm finger. “But I want you back on the floor afterward. I need you out here making sure I get sales. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Starscream’s tone was icy.
Sometimes, he hated Streamline.
He hurried Rodimus off the sales floor and to the infirmary. Wrench was more than capable of taking care of Rodimus. Starscream didn’t need a close examination to know Rodimus probably had a fractured ulnar strut or, at the very least, a sprain. Pain leaked into his field, and it was the only thing keeping the shame at bay.
“He was one of Turmoil’s. Wasn’t he?” Starscream asked.
Rodimus’ gaze stayed planted on the floor. “Yeah. Name’s Hexic. Didn’t like him before I got sent here, certainly don’t like him now.”
Starscream worked his jaw. “Blue Sun doesn’t do freebies,” he said, careful to keep his tone not so much a question but a statement. Rodimus could answer if he wanted.
A ripple ran over Rodimus’ armor. “Streamline owns my debt.” His shoulders hunched and he cradled his aching wrist. “But Turmoil had conditions. If I wasn’t bringing in creds, then I should at least be friendly to his crew.”
Friendly.
Starscream’s mouth curved with disgust.
“I’ve got regulars now though,” Rodimus said with a small smile. He nudged Starscream with his uninjured arm. “Thanks to you. I’m climbing up the ranks in my earnings. So I don’t have to do freebies anymore. Hexic didn’t like that.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Starscream murmured. He controlled himself so as not to squeeze Rodimus too tightly, as anger burned bright and fierce inside of him.
He hoped he never met Turmoil in person.
Starscream ushered Rodimus into the infirmary and straight to the tender mercies of their medic on staff. He was an old mech, so old he hadn’t bothered refreshing his nanites anymore, and he carried a rusty look about him.
He called himself Wrench. Starscream suspected that wasn’t his original designation.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Wrench emerged from the back, wiping his hands clean with a cloth, his amber optics assessing the situation in a glance. “Broken wrist. Fractured ulnar it looks like. Starscream, you want to tell me something?”
“It wasn’t Sunstreaker,” Starscream said with a sigh. That had been a one-time mistake for Primus’ sake. “This was a customer. Hexic.”
Wrench frowned. “I know the name. He’s sent others to me before, usually a bit more dented. I thought he was banned.” He pulled out a stool and patted the seat of it. “Come here, kid. Let me take a look at that.” He snagged a wheeled chair for himself and sat down with a squeak of hydraulics.
“Someone didn’t get the memo,” Starscream muttered. He urged Rodimus toward the stool. “Go on. He’s not going to bite.”
“Much.” Wrench winked and bared his denta, for all that they were blunted with age and not the least bit threatening. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle a delicate thing like you.”
“I’m not delicate,” Rodimus huffed. He dropped down in the stool, thrusting his crumpled wrist in Wrench’s direction.
Wrench, true to form, took his hand gently, a scope lens dropping down in front of his optic. “You are to me. You speedsters, all speed and flash, but not much in the ways of sturdiness.” Wrench carefully turned Rodimus’ hand this way and that. “Still pretty though.”
“Thanks,” Rodimus said.
Wrench had a way of giving a compliment that made it seem like he meant it, and not just as a means to burrow his way beneath your plating.
Wrench vented softly. “Yeah. It’s definitely fractured. I’m going to have to weld this.” He looked up at Starscream. “You can leave him here with me, you know. He’s safe enough.”
Starscream found a nearby wall and leaned against it. He could handle Streamline’s complaints and a dock in his pay. “I’m staying.”
“Suit yourself.” Wrench tucked Rodimus’ wrist back into his lap and gave him a gentle pat. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll get you fixed up in no time. Won’t even hurt a bit.”
Rodimus scowled. “I’m not a kid,” he said. “And I’ve felt worse pain.”
Something flickered across Wrench’s face, an expression that Starscream had seen in the mirror all too often – outrage and anger and resignation. “Yeah. I know.” He stood up and started rifling through his cabinets, looking for whatever he’d need to fix Rodimus’ wrist.
Starscream settled against the wall, arms folded over his cockpit. He would wait until Rodimus was repaired, then he’d return to the sales floor, and not a moment sooner. He trusted Wrench, but he didn’t want to leave Rodimus alone, not with the wild flare to his field, and the way his armor kept fluttering. Rodimus needed to know someone cared.
Starscream intended to make sure he was certain of it.
Sunstreaker received the notification ping as he was drying himself off after his session with Sideswipe. The merchant was currently conked out on the berth, face down and sprawled across it as though he owned it and didn’t merely rent it. Sideswipe’s guard stood outside the door, and would watch his master once Sunstreaker left. Sideswipe could afford to recharge here as long as he wished, with or without escort company.
It must be nice.
Sunstreaker scowled into the mirror, the reflection of his crimson client visible next to his right shoulder. He supposed he was being unfair. Sideswipe was a good customer. He tipped well. He did not push boundaries. He respected Sunstreaker’s space and time. He obeyed enthusiastically, and he submitted beautifully.
Sunstreaker could not fault him for being rich. Sideswipe had been sparked into it, true, but continued prosperity had been his to earn.
Ruminations on Sideswipe, however, would have to wait. The notification ping sent alarm ringing through Sunstreaker’s systems. He dried off as hastily as possible, spark pounding in his chassis.
Starscream was in the infirmary. There was no explanation. Truthfully, Spinner was under no obligation to provide details. It had been a kindness for him to inform Sunstreaker there’d been an incident. It wasn’t as if he and Starscream were actually beholden to one another.
Though Sunstreaker had made a point to change his sparked will. When he died – not if, but when, given the instability of his spark – Starscream was to have all of his earnings. Sunstreaker might be forever trapped, but some day, Starscream would find his freedom, even if Sunstreaker had to die to ensure it.
Starscream was unaware of this. Sunstreaker intended to keep it that way.
Sunstreaker paused before he opened the door. An odd hesitation curled through his lines, as if he couldn’t bear to leave. It was like his spark didn’t want to, giving an odd lurch when he looked back at Sideswipe.
It wasn’t love or affection, it couldn’t be. Sunstreaker knew what that felt like every time he looked at Starscream. It was something else. Something he didn’t understand.
Sunstreaker ignored it. He made himself open the door as his spark shivered.
Starscream needed him. That was reason enough.
Sunstreaker firmly closed the door behind him and nodding a greeting at Skids, Sideswipe’s usual guard. Sunstreaker had met no other, though he had little doubt Sideswipe employed more than a few for personal protection.
“Boss sleeping?” Skids asked. He leaned against the opposite wall, positioned directly in front of the door.
To the layman, his pose was lazy, nonchalant even. Sunstreaker was not fooled by it. Menace coiled beneath the layers of Skids’ bright blue armor and behind the easygoing grin.
Sunstreaker nodded. “He set an alarm, I assume.”
Skids grinned. “I’m sure he did.” He crossed his arms behind his head. “Just like I’m sure you worked him over good. Think the boss is smitten.”
“They usually are.” Sunstreaker tipped his head.
He left Skids to guard his master’s rest.
Usually, Sunstreaker took this opportunity to return to his room for an in-depth polish, or he hit the sales floor to observe the others. Right now, the notification summoned him to the clinic. He tried not to run, so no one could read the slight panic in his field. Starscream was too willing to intercede for the other escorts, putting himself in harm’s way despite the fact they had hired soldiers to do that. The fool.
Sunstreaker gritted his denta. He both loved Starscream for that determination, and hated him for it. Someday, one of the crazy patrons might decide fists weren’t enough. Maybe they’d slip a blade or a blaster past the screeners. And maybe Starscream wouldn’t be able to avoid a killing blow.
He was not allowed to outlive Sunstreaker. They would have words.
The lift deposited Sunstreaker on the appropriate floor, and he headed directly for the infirmary, barging inside. Wrench would understand. He and Sunstreaker spent far too much time together, second only to Starscream.
Sunstreaker scanned the infirmary interior. Wrench and Rodimus both looked up at him, the former bent over Rodimus’ right arm and hand, scope lens glinting over his optic. Starscream was… Starscream was not immediately in sight.
“I’m right here.” Starscream sighed.
Sunstreaker turned and found his roommate leaning against the wall by the door, rubbing his face.
“And I’m not injured,” Starscream added with two raised ridges. “I assume Spinner told you.”
“He was short on the details.” Sunstreaker slid his hands to Starscream’s shoulders, looking him up and down. “You have to stop doing this. Blue Sun pays for guards for a reason.”
“And sometimes they are too slow,” Starscream grumbled. He wriggled out from under Sunstreaker’s hands. “Besides, I’m not the one who was injured.”
Sunstreaker struck down the rising hurt.
“Yeah, what he said,” Rodimus piped up, like a fool who didn’t know when it was best to be silent. “Broken wrist and all.”
“Fractured ulnar strut,” Wrench corrected as he bent back over Rodimus’ wrist. “You’ll live.”
“Who?” Sunstreaker demanded.
Starscream waved off his concern. “A patron. Don’t worry. It was handled.”
Sunstreaker sighed and crossed his arms. Irritation bubbled inside of him, warring with the worry for control. He leaned against the wall, near where Starscream had been standing, his lips pressed together. He would not have this argument again. Or at least, not where others could hear. Besides, when it came down to it, he had no right to ask anything of Starscream. He had no right to anything.
They were only roommates.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with a client?” Starscream asked as he moved to the wall beside Sunstreaker.
“The session is over,” Sunstreaker bit out. He focused on Wrench and Rodimus, the former who was teasing the latter and making him laugh. Wrench was so very good at soothing the injured and afraid. “I am not so unprofessional as to leave a client in the middle of a session, no matter the reason.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were.” Starscream rolled his optics, back and wings hitting the wall with a loud tap. “Turmoil’s cronies are getting more demanding by the way. They don’t like that Rodimus is actually succeeding where Turmoil expected him to fail.”
Sunstreaker made a noncommittal noise. Starscream would move the earth if it meant he could protect Rodimus, apparently.
“That’s for Streamline to handle. Not us,” Sunstreaker said.
Starscream snorted. “Streamline doesn’t care. He puts his loyalties where the creds are. If Turmoil fusses loud enough, Rodimus will have no choice but to bow to whatever whims he decides.”
“And?” Sunstreaker prompted.
“And what?” Starscream’s optics narrowed.
“And if that happens, what are you going to do? Put yourself in front of him again? Hand over your own savings to make sure he stays safe?” Sunstreaker worked his intake over a lump, he felt like he were choking. “What do you think you can do to protect him? More than that, why try so hard? What makes him so special?”
Starscream’s jaw firmed. His glare hardened to coal-fire pinpricks. “They always told me you were sparkless,” he gritted out, his voice just low enough for Sunstreaker to hear and no further. “I didn’t believe it until now. Have you ever cared for anyone but yourself?”
It felt like a punch to the abdomen. Why, why, why was Rodimus so important? Sunstreaker didn’t understand it. Not one bit.
“Star--”
Starscream held up hand, cutting him off, the other rising to his comm unit. He stared at Sunstreaker as he answered the ping.
“Yes, Streamline. I remember. I heard you. I’m on my way now. I understand.” He lowered his hand and cycled a ventilation. “I have to go to the sales floor before Streamline pops a clutch. Can you make sure Rodimus gets back to his dorm or is that too much to ask?”
“He can stay here. I’ll look after him,” Wrench offered up, the eavesdropping aft he was.
“I don’t need looking after,” Rodimus grumbled.
Sunstreaker gnawed on the inside of his cheek, feeling the sting of Starscream’s words like a slap to the face. “I’ll make sure he gets to a berth.”
Starscream gave him a long, searching look before he nodded and turned his attention back to Rodimus. “Get some rest, rookie. I’ll come check on you later.”
“You don’t have to nanny me, Starscream,” Rodimus muttered, but there was heat in his face. His spoiler fluttered with delight.
Damn, but Starscream spoiled him. Even offered Rodimus one of those soft, fond smiles he didn’t give to anyone else. Did Rodimus have any idea how hard Sunstreaker had to work to earn even a fraction of that softness?
Starscream left. Sunstreaker seethed.
His thoughts collided one against the other, until he felt dizzy from them. He’d always known so many truths, but it was hard when he kept clinging to small hopes. Pointless hopes really.
Starscream would never truly be his.
“Alright, kid. You’re all fixed up.” Wrench rose to his feet and easily set Rodimus upon his own. “Try not to move that wrist for a day or so, and don’t lift anything heavy for a week. No handcuffs, ropes, or other restraints either.”
“Aw, take all the fun out of it, why don’t you,” Rodimus drawled with a playful wink and twitch of his spoiler. “Does that mean I can’t put them on other people either?”
Wrench rolled his optics and gave Rodimus a push in Sunstreaker’s direction. “I gave him a shot of analgesic so he might be a little loopy. Other than that, he’s all yours.”
“Relatively speaking,” Sunstreaker corrected with a sigh. He caught Rodimus as the younger mech stumbled toward him, optics a little glazed and carefully cradling his injured wrist. “Come on then. You need rest.”
Rodimus wriggled up under Sunstreaker’s arm, pressing close, his field warm and cuddly. “Ooo. Are you going to take me to berth?” he purred. “Is it my turn now?”
Primus help him.
Wrench burst into loud laughter. “Oh, you have fun with that.”
Sunstreaker tossed him a Look before he tucked an arm over Rodimus’ shoulder and half-pulled, half-guided him out of the clinic. “You’re going to a berth, but not mine.”
He would put Rodimus in Starscream’s berth. He suspected that was where Starscream wanted him anyway, and not left alone in his bunk.
“You’re no fun.” Rodimus nuzzled the side of Sunstreaker’s chestplate, surely leaving smears behind. “No wonder Star’s mad at you.”
Sunstreaker stiffened. “That’s none of your business.”
“You two make it my business.” Rodimus sniffed and stumbled a bit, forcing Sunstreaker to rebalance them. “You drive me crazy, and I always end up in the middle.”
Sunstreaker snorted. “I think you have that backward. You’re the one who’s always bringing the trouble.”
Rodimus listed against his side as Sunstreaker tugged him into the lift and selected his and Starscream’s floor. “Not like this.” He squared his jaw and looked up at Sunstreaker, or at least attempted to do so. His optics didn’t seem to focus. “You should just tell him already.”
The lift deposited them on the proper floor. He hauled Rodimus out, going through an array of choices before settling on the only logical course of action.
Denial.
“Being vague doesn’t suit you.” He unlocked the door and half-dragged, half-carried Rodimus inside.
If Rodimus noticed he hadn’t actually been taken back to his dorm, he didn’t show it. He dug in his heels, looking up at Sunstreaker with petulance written across his face.
“Being stupid doesn’t suit you,” he retorted and stuck his glossa out at Sunstreaker. “You’re pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about because you don’t want to face it. Neither of you do. And it’s the most frustrating thing in the universe right now, I swear.” He wobbled as though his feet had ceased functioning.
Sunstreaker growled and scooped Rodimus over his shoulder. Rodimus made a strangled noise and scrabbled for a handhold, not that one was needed. Sunstreaker took less than a half-dozen strides before he tumbled Rodimus onto Starscream’s berth, the flame-colored rookie bouncing amid a pile of pillows.
“You exaggerate,” Sunstreaker said.
Rodimus wriggled, burrowing into the pillows with his injured arm outflung, laying across one of the larger pillows.
“You wish I did.” Rodimus finally settled, optics drifting shut. “Starscream’s wrong, by the way. You’re not sparkless. You’re a coward.”
Sunstreaker pressed his lips together. He swallowed his anger. Rodimus was only speaking truth, even though he had no right to say it.
“Do you need anything?” Sunstreaker asked.
Rodimus snorted. “Don’t pretend to be kind. It doesn’t suit you.” He dragged a pillow under his head with his uninjured hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Starscream you were a good nanny.”
Sunstreaker gnashed his denta. He left Rodimus to the comfort of Starscream’s berth. No doubt Starscream would join him on it later, leaving Sunstreaker to chilly solitude.
He couldn’t ask for anything different. He couldn’t demand any of Starscream’s time or attention. He was owed nothing.
“Kindness is a trap, you know,” Rodimus said, even though it was clear Sunstreaker considered their conversation over. “Kindness and charity. It’s all a way to ask for something and pretend you’re humble about it.”
Sunstreaker drew his orbital ridges down. “What do you mean?”
Blue optics were firmly shuttered. Rodimus twitched, burying himself further in the pillows.
“You. Drift. You’re so much alike.” Rodimus’ glossa swept over his lips. “You can’t say what you mean. And he uses creds to apologize because he knows I won’t accept it otherwise.”
Sunstreaker concentrated on the mess scattered across the floor. Dirty cloths and empty cans of wax and all matter of detritus Starscream tended to leave laying about. Somehow, it seemed more important than Rodimus’ truth.
“Is that such a bad thing?” he wondered aloud, not sure he wanted an answer.
Rodimus’ engine revved. “In our world?” His voice grew softer, as though the medicine had finally taken hold and was dragging him under. “Kindness is a lie.”
Sunstreaker frowned. But Rodimus had already drifted off, his energy field evened out to the beat of his ventilations.
Kindness is a lie.
Perhaps that was what angered Starscream most of all.
Sunstreaker returned to his cleaning, his thoughts as disordered as before, without an answer to put them to rights.
