Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was an abnormal night at the bar, and Swerve was feeling like utter slag. There was a tightness in his abdomen that he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t like when one over indulged in energon goodies; his protoform was cramping hard as if he had under fueled, and he was starting to believe that was the issue.

But, his spinal strut made him think otherwise. It felt like it was seizing up at random intervals. At first it wasn’t that painful, just a dull ache like when he recharges on his side wrong, but as the night wore on, his condition got worse. Swerve’s back pulsed angrily at him anytime he moved wrong. Then it spread towards his front. Which left his abdomen taunt and achy. It was so bad he considered closing down early to see a medic, though he loathed that idea.

Mechs were really enjoying themselves! Some were huddled near the stage listening to Blaster play something upbeat. The kind of music that made Swerve want to shake his hips despite the pain.

Heck, he didn't even need to. Some bots beat the mini to the punch. He spotted Chromedome dancing away with his sparkmate. Rewind visor brightened in mirth as his partner spun him around, then did a dip to add a little flare. They were a terribly cute couple, and he really didn’t want to interrupt something that precious with his dumb problems.

His bar was about making other bots happy! So, if that meant plastering a smile on his face while pouring a couple of drinks then he’d gladly do it. Swerve could live through pain. His constant state of being was discomfort. What was a few more hours of waiting?

And the main event hadn’t even started yet! Tonight was a big night for any racing fan. It was the start of something special! Like-...like the re-re-re opening of his bar type of special!

The war had taken the Ibex Cup away from them! It was a tragic loss for every speed racing loving cybertronian. A bitter yearly reminder of what precious piece of culture they had lost alongside their home….

Only for, shocker really, Starscream and his array of goons to bring it back. It had something to do with political racing slag with one of the colony planets. Swerve couldn't say he was really invested in that portion of the race but-

That didn't matter! The race was back, baby! All thanks to Screamers greedy pompous aft. All hail the winged leader bestowing the gift of fun to the common folks!

Damn, Swerve never thought he’d be thankful towards a metal chicken. Yet, here he was- spark full of the untapped power of raw pure excitement and love. Legend has it that such power could do anything, such as bring back canceled tv shows from the grave, create fanfictions so deep and vast it rivaled the far reaches of space, and even have fans more dedicated to fiction than their own factions. The thought left Swerve misty optic more than once.That's why Swerve had spent ages preparing for this night. This night was for those that shared the same love and dedication he had for the sport.

The bartender had set up a couple of massive holo screens to live stream it. He even went so far as mixing up drinks based off of the different racers!

There was the Drag Strip; a mix with zinc with a bold, flavorful punch in the face. Rodimus; A spicy little number that hit all the right notes on the glossa.Totally not a bribe. Then there was his personal favorite Blurr; a sweet blue cocktail mixed with three different kinds of engex that went down smooth.

He had put so much effort in setting this night up. It was a waste to just let a little achy strut stop him! And he was dying to see his patrons' reactions to his themed brews.

No, he was going to see it through to the end. Swerve was determined to carry on bartending till the last customer left. He could feel it deep in his spark. Tonight was going to be one to remember!

Swerve, now with his mind made up, tried to focus his attention on anything but his frame. He wiped down the surface of the bar of any sticky residue while his optics flickered to the holoscreen. The broadcasters were spewing their normal nonsense before playing a reel of old ads before the race started. He guessed they didn't have time to record anything new.

Swerve didn't mind-It was a bit nostalgic to see the standard scrap for over priced energon drinks and 'new' exciting alt mods. The stuff that never applied to the mini thankfully. It finally hit him why though. Most of these commercials were outdated relics that blatantly screamed the praise of functionalism. We all are cogs in the great machine that is our society. Do your part by staying in your lane. It made his protoform crawl.

Then there were the ones that ooze corporate influence. Swerve leaned against the bar and soaked in the old commercials they were playing. All of them had a familiar pattern. Get some of fan favorites to wink at the camera! Those suckers will eat that up like rust sticks. And edit out the part of the poor fool gagging. Cant have bots knowing our product is slag!

Honestly, it was painful for him to watch. He felt bad for all the racers that had to bite their glossa and tread through commercials for their sponsors. Almost as painful as his middle right now. Almost.

He kept watching like the trash heap he was though. It was junk food for the processor. Nothing of nutritional value, but kept one busy for a bit.

Till his own guilty pleasure came on. An advertisement that those corporate cog suckers must have made just for him. Since it starred the best speedster around! The beautiful, sleek, and the fastest mech on cybertron: Blurr!

The commercial was for an old chained detailing shop around Iacon. They do everything from custom jobs to fine tuning a mech’s frame, and honestly, they did a perfect job on casting. Blurr was one of the hottest mechs around, and they did a great point to show him off.

It featured up close shots of the polished to perfection paint job he wore. Meaning it proudly displayed his amazing frame. Clearly tailored towards fans with pockets full of shanixs.

The commercial was rather simple besides the fan service. Blurr went on about how he loved going there. How they treat their clients like pieces of artwork. That they made a bot feel like a jewel. It zoomed in to every detail of the speedster's frame, really letting the viewers see how good of a job they did.

It ended with Blurr winking at the camera.Then with a not so subtle shot of his aft as he transformed away. The paint glistened in the sun. Which Swerve could confirm, did in fact sparkle like that.

As the commercial faded away Swerve clung to his cleaning rag. There was an uncertain emotion bubbling inside of his spark. Before; this pandering made the mini bot utterly gitty. It used to make him feel over both moons to see his favorite celebrity succeeding.

But, now? Instead of being an eager happy little fan bot it made him feel awkward. He wasn't bursting with pride or embarrassingly charged up from watching it like in the past. No, he felt...he wasn't quite sure. He stared blankly at the screen trying to pinpoint his emotion.

….

Blurr..

No one on the Lost Light would believe him, but Swerve had met the speedster before. Twice actually.

To his regret their first interaction ended with Swerve alone with a fake comlink number. It had hurt at the time. Still kind of does when he thinks about it. The speedster hadn’t even bothered to give him one that looked legitimate. The number was about four digits too short to actually connect to anything. Swerve’s own damaged pride clung to it like a safety blanket during the war. It was his 'happy' place. Whenever he thought 'this is it' he'd daydream of punching in that number so Blurr could give him words of encouragement.

It was embarrassing. He was embarrassed. For an entire war he clung onto a parasocial relationship to cope with slag then paraded around like it was real.

He wished that interaction ended differently. Scratch that, he wishes he never met Blurr. Then he wouldn’t have to live with the fact that he made such a fool of himself. Twice.

But, Swerve deserved it with the way he behaved. He got it! If he was in Blurr’s pedes, and a fat little mini wouldn’t shut it then he too would get irritated. No wonder the speedster was so eager to leave.

Despite his frag up Swerve still was a fan. He’d kept cheering the speedster on, even though Blurr didn’t need it. In all honesty Swerve needed it more than he did.

Something to find inspiration from. To help him keep going… Because, everytime Blurr crosses that finish line Swerve remembered that warm feeling in his spark. A tiny ball of hope that with hard work, things will be okay. And, after the last couple of months he had….

….

He-..He really needed it tonight.

But, apparently Primus was listening to his thoughts, and promptly laughed at them. Since not a click later it felt like he was sucker punched in the middle.

Swerve took a sharp gasp as pain radiated throughout his frame. Coolant prickling at the corners of his optics. He was thankful for his visor for covering up his pathetic display. His lower lip warbled as he fought not to full blown cry. He nibbled on it in an attempt to hide his distress. He was usually better at this!

But, tonight was making it difficult. He was in a lot of pain. On a scale of one through ten he was about twenty. It was way worse than the time he accidentally shot himself in the face.

“Hey, Swerve, are you okay? Because you look a bit pale..not that you look bad or anything! Just you seem a bit off tonight”

The mini stopped what he was doing to glance at the nervous praxian. Bluestreak's big doe-like optics were wide with concern. Looks like that made Swerve forget that he was a fully upgraded mech, and not a sparkling. He was just such a sweet bot.

“Just feeling a bit blue is all” he said, finger gunning at the grey bot. That earned him a well deserved groan that made him laugh, but that was a mistake.

He clung onto the countertop as his stomach rippled in pain again. He gnashed his denta together as his entire frame shook. Swerve felt strained. More strained than Ultra Magnus at a social event.

Alarmed, Bluestreak stepped closer to help his boss. His servos hovered right above the mini, uncertain how to proceed. He didn't want to make the situation worse.

Swerve took in a shuddering breath until the cramp eased. He slumped forward as this wave finally subsided. Swerve groaned, feeling more drained than ever before.

“Swerve, I think you should sit down.”

“No, no. I’m fine. Just having a bad case of achy tanks.” he reassured, waving his servo.

“Achy tanks? Swerve, you were about to double over. Maybe I should call Ratchet.”

“No!”, Swerve blurted out in a rush that startled even himself, “ I mean the shift only has three more hours Blue-

And everyone is hyped to see the race. I can make it through, and the first thing tomorrow I’ll go to a doc-bot, alright?”

"Swerve.. that sounds like a terrible plan. Look, I can look after the bar. I'll even clean up and close everything down"

Swerve opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by loud whooping from bots in the bar. Most bots had their optics locked on a holoscreen. The show is going through the roster.

Team spirit was in the air tonight. The majority of the bots had covered their frames in decals of their favorite racer’s numbers. They had ridiculous amazing merch like novelty cubes with competitors faceplates plastered on them. Some went so far as to paint themselves temporarily to show their support.

“And now! Mechs and Femmes alike, it's time to start the race!”, the announcer on the holoscreen bellowed.

“I appreciate the offer Blue, but really! I’m fine”, Swerve said, grabbing a tray of drinks for a hasty escape.

He took off before his worried employee could stop him. Swerve was swift to put distance between them. He couldn't stand to see that look again- the one full of concern and pity. Besides, there was plenty of work to do.

He went around the room handing out different orders. His frame protested with every step, but he wasn’t going to let it slow him down! He was going to get through this shift even if it offlined him. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case.

He had empty the tray all but for two drinks. A familiar order that the mini knew by spark now. Swerve smiled, glancing at the booth that cybertron’s cutest love mechs sat at. Chromedome had Rewind settled in his lap. The archivist snuggled in close as the red dot on his helm flickered to indicate he was recording.

He couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped him. There was a longing deep in his chassis to have a relationship like that. A mech to hold Swerve close, and hold him like a precious treasure. For some bot to listen to him chitter on about the stuff he was passionate about. It was a dumb desire that wasn’t going to happen.

The universe just didn’t have it written in the stars for him. Primus, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Oh, he tried. A little too hard in fact. Swerve would do anything to impress his partners. Gifts, jokes, and outrageous dates inspired by the sappiest romantic comedies.Thus, the little bartender fell hard and quickly.

The little bit of kindness was all he desired. But, he rarely even got that. Mechs couldn’t stand his chatting for thirty minutes let alone hours alone. His partners would get annoyed, disinterested, and ignore him within a few days. Desperation wasn’t an attractive quality.

No, the majority of them ended with Swerve lonely with a bottle of his own nightmare brew. Alone with his beloved comedies, overcharged, and hopelessly filling the void in his spark with treats. It was why Swerve had stopped going on dates about twenty years back…

On the bright side Swerve could at least be happy for his friends that did have it. He sauntered up to their table, painful tank ache temporarily forgotten, with their collective orders at servo. Both helms turned to his attention in an instant.

“Hey gentle mechs! How’s it going tonight?” Swerve beamed at the adorable couple

“Oh Swerve! Me and Domey were just settling in to watch the race!”

“Yep! It’s gonna be a real doozy. Now~ Let’s see. One spiced fire bolt engex for Chromedome. And a sickeningly sweet space martini for my favorite datastick.”

“What makes it a space martini?” Chromedome interjected, staring at the green liquid

“Because a space martini sounds way cooler than a normal regular martini, now doesn’t it? And I’m pretty sure this space martini would melt a hole in a human’s stomach. So, gotta clarify a bit!”

“That is absolutely ridiculous. Have you been hanging out with Brainstorm lately? Because, that sounds like something he came up with.”

“Waaah? Nooo, that’s just slander Domey old buddy. I mean, all of my ideas are original. None stolen from absurd human movies and shows. What kind of mech do you take me for ? Now, would any of you like some space fries or some space treats?”

"I can't tell if you're serious or not"

“Oooh! Domey~ We should try some space fries.” The mini proclaimed, vibrating in his lover's lap.

“Well, I think that I can get ya some space fries. Actually, it’s on the house” Swerve offlined half his visor to give an appearance of a wink “Gotta keep my best customers coming back!”

“Swerve you don’t gotta do tha-” Chromedome tried to interject.

“Can’t hear you over my amazing bartending abilities. I’ll be right back,” he smiled, heading over to the kitchen to put the order in.

He returned a few minutes later with a basket of molten hot space fries. In reality it was savory solidified energon sticks dusted with brass powder. A little something he whipped up after binge watching Steven Universe; an adorable sparkling cartoon about love. He had been craving ‘the bits’ since the moment he saw them on screen.

It was sort of a bastardization of actual fries, but being a bot meant he couldn’t try them. Organic material could gunk up one's system. And that was just unfair! They looked amazing.

So, Swerve made his own. His version got the gist of it anyway. Hot, salty, and crispy! It wasn’t like a human could tell him if it was wrong. Well, since his space fries would definitely kill them.

He approached the couple again with a grin that slowly began to become more strained. Swerve could feel something shift within him, and another surge of spasms curled around his middle. Swerve forced himself to power through the pain with each step.

“Hope you like this Rewind. Took me a while to perfect the recipe,” Swerve said, placing the basket in front of the datastick.

“Oooh, that looks interesting!” Rewind said snatching a morsel up, retracting his mask and then promptly stuffing it in his mouth.

Rewind chewed for a moment taking in the taste. Then to Swerve’s delight, his visor brightened. He gathered another one and put it in his spark mates direction.

“Try it! You’ll love it Domey”

“Alright, let’s see” Chromedome hummed snapping his mask away, “aaah~”

The couple munched away at his concoction. Their fields rippled in pleasure as the taste enveloped their glossas. Swerve watched with a smile plastered on his face.

Ordinarily, the minibot would take in their praise and their delight. But, not right now. He didn’t want to alarm them, but this was the most painful wave yet. He stood there struggling not to shake. More than anything he wanted to escape this conversation so he could hunch over in pain in the kitchen.

“These are amazing,”

”Thanks,” Swerve managed to squeak out. “Thinking of recreating more human food. Thought about making cybertronian pizza. Because it's unfair turtles can eat it but we cant"

"Um swerve, turtles don’t eat pizza," Chromedome said with his helm tilted in confusion.

"They do if they're ninjas," he countered.

"Ninja turtles…?"

"It's a human TV show. It's about a rat teaching turtles to be ninjas in New York’s sewer system," Swerve grinned. "You should give it a try. It's tubular."

"Radical!" Rewind snickered back

Swerve cracked them a rare genuine smile. Yes, he was in pain. It felt like something was punching him in the gut over and over; but they were some of the few bots who indulged the bartender in his human media obsession. In fact, Rewind was a bit of his dealer. That mech could get a hold of any show he wanted to watch. Heck, he was Swerve’s own personal pirate bay! Nothing was off the table!

"... Right… Anyway! I have a quick question for you, Swerve." Chromedome said between sips of his drink.

The seriousness in his voice gave Swerve pause. That tone was never good. It was his 'I'm a licensed doctor in the medical field and I got bad news ' voice. Oh, frag. Why now?

"...Alright, shoot?", Swerve forced himself to say without a groan.

At first it was like radio silence. Swerve glanced at Chromedome, who seemed unsure how to proceed, then to Rewind. The small mech was too busy, forcing all his attention to the basket of fries. It was like that for an uncomfortable amount of time….

Swerve was just about to deflect wherever this was going with a joke. Or lie about the bar needing him to avoid this conversation. When, finally, Chromedone broke through the couple's awkward hesitation.

“Why are you single?”

Oh…

Why was he..

Swerve’s little persona faltered. He couldn’t starve off his frown. That was a topic he didn’t want to breach, ever. On top of everything else going on.. He sucked on his bottom lip looking away.

“Oh..um well...You see…”

“Not that there's anything wrong with it!” Rewind quickly interjected, “It's just you are really great, and it’s a bit baffling.”

Swerve gave them a look of utter disbelief. Him, great? As great as a scraplet was at devouring trash.

His many failed relationships were proof of that. He wasn't meant for love or happiness. He was here only to make drinks and crack one liners...

“No, really! I actually wanted to bring this up sooner. You remember my brother, Eject? Well, he’s still single, and me and Domey think you’d be cute together"

Oh… they wanted to set him up on a date. A date… him? He swallowed thickly. A lump forming in his throat.

That… wasn't what he had been expecting. An offer to annoy a new mech with his motor mouth. A way to cut a piece of his spark.

Frag, he couldn't deal with this now. He couldn't even do a one night stand right! He messed that up spectacularly! And, here were these two trying to set his pathetic aft up on a date.

Swerve was trying to be happy and positive tonight. He really was! But, he was hurting. So fragging bad.

He put his servo against the main source of the spasms. Swerve could feel this hard lump pressed against his abdomen. His plating slightly bowed. That.. that was concerning. Really concerning actually.

He didn't pay much attention to his frame. But, that was definitely new. How long had that been there ?

That shouldn't be there. How long had that been there ? Swerve had no idea. Why hadn't he noticed this before ? Swerve couldn't hide the distress from his field.

"Swerve, you alright..?"

He should leave. The back of the kitchen sounded good for a freak out. Or a complete utter melt down.

A jolt of pain rattled to his core. He gasped clinching his servos into a tight fist. O-or maybe a doctor instead. He should go to the doctor. Like right now, because this wasn't normal. Oh, Primus, this wasn't good.

Alarmed Rewind called out, " Swerve! Breathe! Oh domey, he doesn’t look good."

He couldn't form a reply. He couldn't even think straight. Something felt wrong.. some was..!

CLICK!

All color drained from Swerve's face as a familiar sound rang out; one reserved for intimate moments alone in the habsuite.

He gasped as his modesty panel transformed away. He shivered as air touched his now exposed puffy white valve. Shame rippled through his field as a trail of lubricant dripped down his thigh, as if he was aroused. But he wasn’t! He was the furthest he could be right now! Swerve's face was on fire as he stared at the sight.

“...Swerve…?”

In a panic he sent a command to close his interface panel. But, his own frame denied the request. The bartender used his servo to cover his personal equipment from any onlookers.

“I-i’m sorry! I-i don’t know wha-”, he whimpered, mortified.

That was all he managed to say before he cried out and gripped the edge of the table. His knees quivered from the strain of his own weight and threatened to buckle under him. Swerve took in a sharp vent as his middle raged with more cramps. An unhealthy amount that begged him to do something.

“Swerve!!”, Rewind had leapt off his companion to check on his fellow minibot.

Swerve couldn’t focus on whatever his friends were saying. Oh primus, he might be dying. He should have just taken Bluestreak’s offer. As another convulsion hit his valve gushed more liquid. To his horror, it wasn’t just lubricant. This time it was mixed with a familiar pink tint. Energon. He was leaking energon out of his private bits! In front of his patrons.

Why couldn’t tonight just go smoothly? Why must he ruin everything! He cried out as something lurched within him. The sensation scares him more than the pain.

Swerve could feel something pressing the sensitive mesh of his valve wide. It was like some bot just shoved Brainstorm’s entire briefcase up there! He groaned, feeling the urge to bare down on the intruding object. All of his coding is screaming to push.

“Someone call for help!”, Rewind snapped at the bar patrons , “Swerve, you need to talk to us! What’s going on?”

“I-i don’t know!” he cried out, tightening his grip on the table counter.

The thing was abusing his poor calipers to the point he thought he was going to blow a fuse. He just wanted it out! His frame was demanding he get it out!

Ohfragohfragohfrag!!

He didn't know what was going on or what to do. He thought briefly of ignoring his frame and to wait for medical assistance since he could be doing more harm than good. But, frag it burned!

For what felt like forever Swerve fought against the urge to push. He whimpered, shoving a fisted servo in his mouth and bit down trying to distract himself. But, his valve kept throbbing angrily!

And, it felt wrong to battle his coding like this. Swerve decided at this point to listen to his frame. And with all his might he pushed.

“Mech, that's a lot of energon!” Blaster, who made his way from the stage, yelped.

If he had the energy to comment, Swerve would have snapped that yeah it was. And it hurt worse than getting shot directly in the spark! But the only thing that came out was a strained grunt.

Everytime the spasms in his middle got worse, Swerve would tighten his grip on the table. It creaked under the pressure of the distressed minibot. But, it was the only thing grounding him.

He could feel the object making its way down his narrow channel. It met with resistance every step of the way.

Offlining his visor, Swerve took in a fresh vent of cool air. Coolant was dripping down his face and his fans were whirling in an effort to cool him down. It popped through each ring of his valve disregarding how much it hurt him. So much so that Swerve was sure it was never coming out.

The thing nudged at the entrance of his valve. No longer caring about hiding his shame, Swerve parted his legs further. Just praying to Primus above that this would help incite the thing out. He let out one last strangled cry…!

Then, like that, it was all over. Something slipped free from his frame and landed on the ground with a wet slap. His abdomen no longer was squeezing him like a tube. The minibot slumped over relief that it stopped.

That was until he heard a weak cry. Startled, Swerve finally lost his ability to squat, and fell on his aft. He ignored the fact he was in a puddle of viscous liquid, too shocked by the sound. His helm snapped in the direction of the distressed noise. Between his thighs laid a...N-No way...

Right there, a new spark wiggled in a pool of muck. It’s little fist waving in the air as it chirps for it’s carrier. It’s carrier.. Which was him. Swerve, he just went into emergence.

In a daze he picked up the sticky creature, and cradled it carefully in his arms. He stared down, lips pursed, and visor bright. The sparkling was small. So very small…

“Swerve! You were sparked?! Why didn’t you say anything?” Bluestreak demanded to know while handing the new carrier a clean towel.

“I-...I didn’t know”, He admitted

“Swerve, are you serious right now?” Nautica’s cool leveled voice cut through the chaos.

Swerve couldn’t get his vocalizer to work at the moment, so he opted out to just nod in reply. He hadn’t shown at all! His stomach had gotten a little more chubby, but it could have easily been chopped up to overfueling. He hadn’t had bouts of nausea like t.v shows played up. Nor did he have any strange cravings. O-or any weird feelings other than a slightly increased libido. But he simply assumed that was from interfacing again after such a long dry spell.

This couldn’t be right, could it? The last time he’d interface with a mech was… His visor flashed in alarm. Not only did he not know he was sparked, but there was only one mech who could be the sire….

But, that could wait. It had to since his processor couldn't handle that right now.

The fact of the matter though was Swerve was still in the middle of his bar. His legs were still parted for all to see. And everyone was seeing it.

It seemed like every bot in the bar had forgotten about the race. Since Swerve was surrounded by a swarm of curious onlookers. All optics staring at him.

He could see a mix of their different reactions. Some looked utterly appalled by the scene in front of them. Though could he really blame them? What just happened was… mortifying

Other bots like Nautica seemed concerned for him and the new bitlet. She was barking orders to give Swerve some fragging space. And blocking the view of his aching array.

He felt so thankful for that. Because he didn't have the strength to do much of anything besides hold his new creation.

"Well, now we know why he’s single," he heard Chromedome quipped next to him.

Rewind jabbed the bigger mech with his elbow, casting him a dubious look before turning his attention back to the distressed bartender.

Who was now laughing. Swerve couldn't help it. This entire night was just so insane. And they kept tumbling out of him.

"Guess I have an excuse now,'' he said between giggles

This would be a moment when the crowd would cheer because of his zinger. For his perfect comedic timing, right ?

Because, this was hilarious. Almost like an episode of community or scrubs! An episode to remember for the ages! And-and…

A staticy sob erupted from his throat. He doubled over shielding his face from the crowd. Those giggles morphed into distressed keening.

Oh, sweet Primus. Swerve now regretted every instance where he had wished that his life was more like a sitcom. There wasn’t a hilarious laugh track, nor could he muster a witty one liner.

He just sat on the floor with tears rolling down his cheeks. A sticky new spark cuddled in his arms with weak cries. His processor is swimming and optics glitching. He felt dizzy. When was the docbot going to arrive?

The edges of his vision were starting to get fuzzy. He couldn't focus on anything around him. Though he knew somebody was trying to talk to him. It was like all his sensors were turned off. And it was scary.

The last thing Swerve could make out was a voice. He fought against the growing darkness to find the source of the sound. But, he couldn't think properly…

“Not only did he win the race, but this daring speedster just broke the Cybertronian record for his velocity. No doubt, this is the most important day in Blurr’s life!” The announcer's voice rang out from the long forgotten holoscreen.

Oh, yeah.. there was a race tonight. An important one. That he was looking forward to, but had caused a scene and ruined it for everyone ...That's...right.. but, at least Blurr won...

Optical feed was cut rendering the mini blind. It was fine though. Swerve was tired anyway. Recharge sounded nice.. Yeah, he needed rest. Swerve allowed himself to relax, slumping forward in the process, and he lost consciousness. The bar would be fine without him…

Chapter Text

So- Picture this! A minibot walks into a bar. He wakes up seeing double! It was a classic zinger bots that had been spewing for centuries. Unfortunately for Swerve, and let's be honest, all the patrons of his establishment, he took the joke way too literally. Now, here he was with a fresh out the forge minibot in hand.

It was a good joke! A funny one! But, he might have to add it to the list of permanently banned phrases since it might induce a ptsd episode within him. Damn, they just shorten it by finally removing ‘clocks’. He was really proud of Whirl for that one. Then he had to ruin it by adding his own.

Swerve slumped in the uncomfortable chair provided by the fine staff of the medical bay. How was it possible that one chair could cause such strife within his aching frame? It was like they hired Brainstorm to invent furniture as a new form of a torture device. The uncomfortable pain it provided would cause a bot to go insane.

Swerve shifted in the seat once more in vain before giving up. If he moved anymore he was likely to wake up his latest wacky new adventure- A living breathing sparkling!

Man, he sucked at picking quests. Creator Hood was not even in his top twenty list of quests he wishes to partake in. Nah, it wasn’t even on the list. It was more of a foreign concept all the way across the galaxy than anywhere near his processor.

Yet, here he was, cradling the Lost Light's newest member to date. Newer than even sweet naive Tailgate. Which, in itself, was kind of impressive. He didn’t think it was possible to know less than their sweet sweet ex- waste disposal bot….

Swerve couldn't help but wonder if this would land him a Rodimus Star. It was just- he did some many 'firsts' with this traumatic experience. What an absurd thought. Swerve’s processor was stuck on stupid thoughts like that lately- Such as his crotch was the Lost Light's first ever slip n slide. Or that Rewind could probably make funny compilations of everyone’s shocked faces at the bar. Hell, for a brief moment he could have been considered a hat.

..

Yeah, some of his thoughts were more cursed than others. He really couldn’t help it though. Since his mouth couldn’t run a million miles per hour, because it risked waking his newspark, he was left with the dark echoes of his own processor. A horror he didn’t wish upon any other bot…

…

…..

…….

Once more the sounds of medical equipment filled his audio receptors. It was the only sound in this way too quiet room. He needed a distraction. Something to keep the reality of the situation from swarming his processor.

Swerve shuttered his optics as more intrusive thoughts bubbled to the surface. He was for sure going to be featured on the Lost Light's Insider. Great. It wasn't like he was recently featured not even a week ago for surviving the mutiny, then the week before for the holographic earth incident. Or for the bad engex… Yeah…

He sometimes wishes it was physically possible to die of embarrassment. He'd be six feet in the grave by now with that list. Sadly, Ratchet reassured him that it wasn't possible. Maybe with Brainstorm’s help he could make a ray or something...

Swerve sighed feeling frustrated at his own processor. There were better things to focus on instead of an embarrassment ray. So, what if the entire ship saw your fun hole stretched wider than an elastic band around a watermelon? It happened to the best of us.

..Yeah right! He was never going to live this moment down. What's worse is he's clueless on what to do.

Ratchet told him he could start by naming the poor thing. He couldn’t keep going around calling her an ‘it’ or ‘bitlet’.

What an excellent idea! Swerve, master of goofy names, now having to name a living cybertronian. Primus, that was a horrible idea. He didn’t have the spark to tell Ratchet that he named his bar ‘Swerve’s’, not because he was some type of narcissist, but because he couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t a blatant rip off of Cheers! Now he was expected to bestow a worthy name onto his surprise creation.

…You know things are slagged when briefly he considered letting members of the Lost Light pick out the new spark’s name. The only reason he scrapped that idea was because mechs were inputting joke names like ‘Whirl Jr’, ‘Racer McraceFace,’ and ‘Sparkeatter 9000’s’. That was on him. He should have known better than to ever trust these afts with the naming of anything. Let alone his bitlet. None of them could take it seriously. None of them except for maybe-...

Skids. Skids would have helped him pick out a good name. He’d probably have been one of the first bots in line to visit them. Swerve could almost see it- That big blue doofus with a vile of innermost energon in one servo and a cute little plush for the new bit in the other. He’d laugh saying he took on sewing last night just to make it. It would be such a Skids move to pick up a new hobby and master it in one night. That is-if he was still alive.

He missed Skids. He missed Skids more than he would ever let on. That bot was the spark of the ship, their moral compass, and the best friend Swerve ever had. Yet, like with anyone who becomes too close to him, he died. First it was Ironfist, then it was Pipes, and now Skids. Best friends were hard to come by, yet so much harder to keep.

Grief was a hard thing for a bot to deal with. Yet, it followed him around like a bad case of rust. It ate away at one's spark until they were nothing but hollow on the inside. Swerve wondered if he'd ever feel whole again. If only the ship had a psychiatrist of some kind. Maybe then he'd feel better about the friends he lost.

..Swerve turned his attention to the warm frame nestled against his chassis. She was sound asleep with one servo pillowed against her helm and the other tucked away in her swaddle. Swerve was a bit jealous; she was fast asleep, unaware of her carrier's worries.

That was fine. After such a rough start to life Swerve thought she deserved a good rest. At least this way Swerve had the chance to really take in her presence.

He admires the cyan blue plating of his daughter’s small frame. It matched that of her sire’s yet at the moment he couldn’t help but compare it to his best friend’s navy blue. Deep in his spark he hoped that his sparkling could grow up to be like him. Friendly, brave, and a good soul. A fantastic soul that gave his spark to save his friends.

…Skids, he now realized, saved more than just the Lost Light crew. His spark dropped to his tanks. Skids save her life. Not only that, he saved it more than once. Skids was the one who found him out of his mind, slowly wasting away in his habsuite during the Swearth incident. Actually, doing some more mental math it was all likely that Swerve, timeline wise, must have been sparked by the time they were trapped on the Necro World. The DJD could of ripped his creation straight out of him and played with her corpse like a puppet just to torture them. They could have snuffed her light out before it even had the chance to shine. A new fresh wave of grief washed over Swerve. Once more, he was so thankful towards his friend.

..He couldn’t thank him. He didn’t get the chance before he'd heard Skids join the well of the all spark. But, in his own way, Swerve would use this opportunity to show how much his friendship to Skids meant. He was going to name his beautiful new creation after him.

Skirt? No, that sounded like human clothing. Skids? That seemed too direct… Swerve and Skids. Skids and Swerve…What sounded good together? Skwids? ... No, Swerve was pretty sure that was an animal... Maybe he should combine their meanings? Okay, let's just break it down Swerve.

His name meant to ‘change direction’. Skids' meaning was rather similar. Kind of- it involved movement. What words involved moving?

Swerve thunked his helm against the edge of the chair thinking of names. He wanted a name that would really coincide with that, while giving remembrance to his buddy. She really did change the direction of his life. No, she veered his course. Veer. Yes!

“You’re gonna be named Veer!” He cheered then right away cringed as she stirred in his arms.

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t wake the baby. That was dumb. But, he couldn’t help it. The name was just perfect- It was a name that would make Skids proud! He hoped somewhere out there in the great cosmos his bestie was smiling upon him. The legacy of Swerve and Skids would live on! Now as the famed ‘Swerve and Veer’.

Swerve wiped away a stray tear from under his visor and grinned. Yeah, the quest of creation wasn't up there on his list but now he was going to make the most of it. If not for himself then for that blue son of a gun looking down at them. Once it was safe for him to drink again, Swerve planned on toasting to it.

A knock on the door cut his little celebration short. Swerve straightens up expecting for Ratchet to come in to give him another long winged speech about self care and the wonders of birth control. What he wasn’t expecting was for one of the co-captains of the ship to walk in. He was at least thankful that it was Rodimus and not the scary ex-warlord.

“Hey buddy, uh, how are you two feeling?” Rodimus asked slowly, sauntering over.

“Oh! Uh-”, he looked down at his sleeping daughter then back to the speedster, “Not bad for showing off my goods to the world. Achy as hell but Ratchet says it will go away with rest. Veer, here, is a little worse for wear. She’ll make a full recovery with the proper attention.”

“..Veer? That’s her name?”

“Yeah…Thought it was nice. It fits her,” Swerve said in a very hush tone.

Rodimus grinned then whipped something out of his subspace, “Well, then I’m happy to announce that Veer here has won a Rodimus Star for Lost Light’s most adorable little stowaway!”

Swerve choked on his own saliva for a moment. He double take at the miniature size golden plated star Rodimus had in fact- really got custom made. He was joking about receiving one but apparently the Captain took it to spark.

“Rodimus that’s-”

“Awesome? Fantastic? The coolest thing you have ever laid your optics on? Yes, all of that is true. That is why,with pride, I give it to you, and your sparkling. Congrats buddy. You earned it after…all of that.”

Swerve cringed. Yeah, okay, he definitely was the talk of the ship if Rodimus came here himself. What a lovely thing to have swimming in his processor after such a nice moment. He sighed inwardly but outwardly accepted the gift with his free servo.

“Thank you captain, we really appreciate it,” Swerve said with a plastered smile.

“Yeah not a problem buddy. I thought you could use a pick-me-up after everything. But, uh, there’s actually more I want to talk to you about.”

“...Okay?”

Rodimus straightened up his posture, which wasn’t a good sign since that meant he was serious, and then hiked his spoilers up. It was the ‘Rodimus Prime means business’ look. Aka Swerve probably wasn't gonna like anything his captain was going to say.

"So uh- Here, before we get started let me just," Rodimus grabbed a nearby spare chair and flipped it so he could sit in it facing the wrong way. Swerve swore he did it just to mess with Ultra Magnus. There was no slagging way that position could be comfortable in these stupid chairs. He had no idea why he felt like doing it without the big blue present.

"Now!", Rodimus flashed them a wicked smile, "let's get down to business!"

"..To defeat the Huns?" Swerve lamely offered since his spark really wasn't in it.

"Wha- Oh yeah, from movie night. Ha! Nice. But, jokes aside, this is dead serious. Swerve, buddy old pal."

Swerve cringed ready for whatever horrible thing Rodimus was gonna ask for him. Since their captain had a habit of getting him into hot water- like blowing off a mech’s helm level of hot water.

Rodimus inhaled, "When do you think you are going to allow visitors because I'm pretty sure there's gonna be another mutiny if bots don't see you and littlest you soon. Mags literally had to restrain Whirl. He was yelling something about seeing Whirl Jr, which I'm glad to hear isn't her real name. Though, uh, I gotta say names aside you really scored big because she looks exactly like-"

Swerve flushed and threw his free servo up to stop the speedster from finishing that sentence. Rodimus leaned forward in his chair with a knowing smirk. He shot him finger guns then followed it with the chanting of 'Awe yeah, get it buddy'.

Swerve groaned, "it's not Blurr-!"

"Swerve, hate to break it to you but I never mentioned who, and secondly she looks like a xerox copy. Like, Swerve, your forge could be mistaken for a printer. Just look at her! She even has the cute pointy helm crest"

Yeah, Swerve was aware of that fact. He was sure that if they took a picture of her and showed it off to strangers they’d believe it was a sparkling hood picture of the ex-racer turned bartender. The only features that screamed ‘Swerve’ were the chubby little cheeks on her cute round face and the tininess of her frame. Well, and her features were less pointy than that of a speedster. That, however, might be something she’d grow into. Though Swerve couldn’t help but imagine how cute it would be if she stayed this ‘round’.

“..So uh- I’m guessing that he doesn’t know since well- you didn’t know. Do you want me to like… get Blaster to ring him up? After you feel better of course!”

Call…him? Swerve energon lines turned to ice and his spark started to thud against his chamber. His vents stuttered.

He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t even considered calling that mech till this very moment. How in the world would he even say anything? Uh, hey! Remember me? We fragged once or twice while all of cybertron was waiting for the big Megatron trail. Well, guess what! I might have accidentally got knocked up and had no idea. Hope you don’t mind.

Yeah, no. There was no way that was going to fly. At the same time he couldn’t just ignore the problem. You can’t just not tell a mech he’s now a creator…could you?

Ha! Yeah, this all rides on the fact he even could just easily call up famous speedster Blurr. Let's just take a look at the engraving on his servo- Whoopie~ it's too short. Maybe he should try the other fake number? At least that one isn't like a bad tattoo forever reminding him that he's a good frag but a lousy conversationalist.

“Swerve-Swerve! Breath, hey. It’s going to be okay- look..uh,” Rodimus rubbed the back of his helm, “I know this is none of my business but Blurr and I go way back. Would you like me… to be there? Maybe help you smooth things over?”

Swerve shook his helm, "No- wait..maybe yeah? I don't know.. "

The bartender deflated in his chair. Blurr might actually pick up if he was under the impression someone else was calling. But, at the same time it made him feel like a creepy stalker.

"Hey Swerve, if it's too much right now we can talk about it later. No pressure, alright? Just.. keep in mind I got your back buddy. We all do. Alright?"

That was..oddly sentimental and nice to hear. Swerve studied the captain's earnest face. It was the most sincere look he ever saw Rodimus have. Swerve felt his spark throb from the wave of mixed emotions that gave him.

Sometimes he forgot that there were bots on here that considered him a friend. Swerve realized that Rodimus was part of that group of people. It made him feel less alone.

"..Thank you, for real. I'll probably take you up on your offer. Believe it or not, commlink calls give me anxiety. Maybe.. after you help me introduce Veer to the crew, can we try?"

Rodimus grinned like a mad mech, "Aw hell yeah. Let's show them our newest member! I'll get the banner ready!"

Chapter Text

Okay, maybe doing a public event after a traumatic experience wasn't the smartest move on Swerve’s part. He just got so caught up in Rodimus' excitement- A late sparkling shower with friends sounded harmless. Rodimus had pitched the idea in his 'motivational speech' voice. It had convinced Swerve that this was a great idea.

Now, with his spark hammering in his chassis, and him shaking in his plating from the army of optics glued to him, Swerve wished he stayed in the medbay. There were optics everywhere, pinning him in the booth he designated as his home base.

This was out of control. There was an actual line that reached down the hallway of bots waiting to get a glimpse of the sparkling. This was making him feel claustrophobic.

It was all their captain's fault. Rodimus made a ship-wide announcement about the sparkling shower. He got every mech involved to help plan the party.

Rewind had set up a holo screen to display pictures of Swerve and Veer. Nautica repainted the banner in pastel colors. It had Thunderclash’s name crossed out. Tailgate and Cyclonus created sparkling shower energon goodies in the shape of cute baby items like pacifiers. Whirl convinced Brainstorm to create a gender reveal confetti cannon.

That last part was a disaster. He could still hear the screams of the poor mech who was slammed into the bar with pink bits of paper lodged in his transformation seams. It was as hilarious as it was horrifying…..

Swerve ducked behind a stack of presents that were neatly organized on the table. Ultra Magnus had taken upon himself to monitor the situation and to help keep things orderly. Swerve would have appreciated it, if the big lug wasn't making his anxiety worse.

He kept threatening to put guests in the brig if they didn't start behaving themselves. There were a couple of tense moments where Swerve was certain a fight was going to break out. It stressed his poor spark enough that he considered asking Magnus if he could take off the freakin armor and just enjoy the party a little.

Veer, sensing her carrier’s unease, started fussing in his arms. Her tiny face was scrunched up in a way that threatened tears. Swerve, ever the hostage to his own sparkling, gently rocked her in place. He mumbled soft pleads for her not to cry.

Rodimus leaned over and awed at the sight, "Someone is fussy."

'Yeah, me', Swerve thought to himself.

"Ya think she's hungry or…Oh I know! HEY REWIND!" Rodimus shouted across the room.

Swerve cringed as Veer started wailing loudly. He cursed under his breath, watching as pitiful fat tears rolled down her cheeks. He wiped them away and rearranged her to lay closer to his spark casing.

"Rodimus, lower your voice!" Mags scolded.

Even Whirl, from across the room, booed at the Captain for making Veer cry. Cyclonus yanked the copter back into his chair while Tailgate worked on hiding the confetti cannon. Smart. The last thing they needed was Whirl dishing out pink paper justice.

Rodimus, to his credit, looked at Veer with a guilty face, "Aw scrap, I'm sorry Veer. Uncle Roddy sometimes forgets to use his inside voice,"

Veer looked up at the Captain with brilliant blue optics. She blinked the tears away then hiccuped. Rodimus frowned, gently rubbing her cheek with his digit. Veer took a hold of it with her tiny servo which earned a happy gasp.

"Swerve!! Look!" Rodimus said as if he'd been chosen by Primus.

Swerve smiled at the interaction. He couldn't stay mad. This ship was full of bots inexperienced when it came to sparklings. This was a big adjustment for everyone, him included.

"She really likes you captain," Swerve commented

"Aw, yeah! Hear that Mags? I'm her favorite!"

Ultra Magnus rolled his optics then to Swerve’s surprise made a funny face when Rodimus wasn't looking. For a moment Swerve thought he was having a stroke. That earned a happy gasp from the infant. Rodimus whipped around confused. He frowned, not seeing whatever could have made her do that.

Swerve about died when Magnus did it again. Rodimus hiked up his spoilers when Veer cooed. He frowned then glared suspiciously at the ex enforcer. He leaned close then brought two digits to his optics then pointed them at Ultra Magnus.

"I'm onto you Mags."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are referring to Rodimus."

“Riiiiiight- Lying in front of a sparkling? For shame," Rodimus shook his helm then grinned at Veer, "Isn't that right? Big bad Mags is lying."

Swerve laughed when his sparkling took the digit she was holding and then tried to stuff it in her face. Rodimus blinked then laughed saying that it was proof he was the favorite.

Rewind interjected by plopping a wrapped gift on the table, "That's because she hasn't spent time with Uncle Rewind. Isn't that right cutie patootie?"

Swerve eyed the new gift with suspicion. It was probably normal since Rewind brought it. Though he was paranoid after someone thought gifting a newborn a knife was a great idea. He suspected the Scavengers were involved. Yeah, that gift was staying far away from Veer.

"Uh no. I'm still her favorite. Just look at her~ she loves me," Rodimus boasted.

"That or it's time for her lunch… A single digit doesn’t mean scrap. Plus I was there for her birth. Where were you captain?"

Swerve choked on a snort. He has a point… Much to the bartender's dismay, almost everyone here saw it. Really-He couldn’t believe Rodimus missed the Ibex Cup. It was rather weird. Rodimus loves racing.

Nautica, who was tinkering with a Camien music box, looked up from her project with a smirk. "Ooh, the captain has competition now. Good thing I'm already the best aunt."

"I was busy! Doing captainy things.. look- It doesn’t matter; I've already been chosen by the great and powerful Veer!"

Veer continues to drool on the digit that Rodimus refuses to take back. The speedster cooed at her then grinned at all the bots around him. Rodimus really was taking a liking to her.

“Now, what was it that you needed, Captain?” Rewind asked, scooting himself next to Swerve in the booth.

“Yes, Rewind. As your captain I bestow unto you an important mission. I need you to go through your data files and find some awesome music for my new tiny co-captain”

“Co-captain? How come my sparkling is getting a promotion before I am?”, Swerve jokes, “And does Megatron know there’s now a third co-captain?”

Rodimus used his free servo to wave away the comment, “Old Bucket head can get over that fact- Veer is so cute, she earned the title with looks alone. And Swerve buddy- Be happy for your daughter’s success. Jealousy isn’t a good look."

Swerve laughed, “Whatever you say ‘captain’. Guess I’ll go to Veer next time I need my liquor license renewed. Good to have friends on the inside.”

Ultra Magnus scowled at that, “No, Swerve. You still are required to go through the due process of renewing your license. Cutie Patooties aren’t pardons."

Rodimus snorted, “Hey, Mags! You’ve been practicing your jokes. Good one!"

Nautica made a disappointed, "Awe, I was going to ask Veer to approve my engine renovation plans.."

She reached over to boop Veer on her nasal ridge. That earned an excited babble and the clumsy waving of her free servo. The entire group awed.

Rewind, who apparently finished going through his database already, triumphantly, changed the holoscreen to display a cartoon. Four cartoon dogs appeared on the screen dancing. Swerve could hear the group happily yell out “MOM!”, then continued to dance. He recognized it as that human child’s cartoon called Bluey. The effect was instantaneous. Veer stopped drooling on the captain's servo and stared wide-optic at the big screen.

“Wait no! Veer, come back to me. Rewind, you evil son of a bi-" he hesitated. "Blue dog! You stole her away! I just say play some cool jams. Not whisk her away from the best uncle”

“Who’s the favorite uncle now?” Rewind coldly replied.

“Sheesh, Rewind. That was cut-throat. Remind me never to get on your bad side," Swerve said while totally not watching the show alongside his daughter.

Rodimus deflated knowing he couldn’t compete with the likes of Bandit. That dog knew how to be a damn good sire. For Primus sake- that heeler had a puppet unicorn. What more could a sparkling want?

Swerve, taking pity on the captain, decided to throw him a bone, “Hey Captain, want to hear a secret?”

That caught his attention. Rodimus nodded then leaned in close with his kibble hiked way up. Swerve got right next to his audio receptor and whispered:

“You are the only one who’s digit she held,”

Rodimus jumped and fist pumped into the air, “Yes! In your face Bandit. Still the best uncle!”

Swerve leaned back in the booth with a smile. Not a fake one-no. One that felt right. One that felt real. He was…happy? Yeah, he was happy. And despite his hesitation this sparkling shower was turning out nice.

“Oh, hey Rewind. I wanted to ask you a favor," Swerve said basking in the warmth buzzing through his spark.

“Absolutely, Yes.” Rewind said without hesitation.

Swerve slowed blinked behind his visor. He wasn’t expecting such a fast answer. Not that he was complaining…but just to be sure.

“Yes? For all you know you are agreeing to clean my bar.”

“Doubt that- you are weirdly anal about your system. I’m guessing you want me to watch Veer. The answer is a hundred times yes. Me and Domey have been dying to sneak in some private Veer time.”

Swerve laughed, “Well, you read me like a book. Guess I’m too predictable. Maybe I should start doing weird stuff to throw off your game like–I don’t know. Start saying weird phrases like…Hey Rewind, go eat a mango!"

That earned a pause. Nautica made a face while Rodimus looked like he was fighting off the urge to say 'that's what she said'.

…

"Okay, maybe not. That sounds like a weird innuendo. Please don’t eat a mango near my sparkling.” Swerve admitted.

That earned him some chuckles. Swerve grinned like a fool. It always felt nice to have bots laughing with him instead of at him.

“Aw what? Why can’t I watch her?” Rodimus asked with a pout in tow.

“Because it's about that thing we talked about... Also I don’t trust you not to steal Minimus’ mustache and try to put it on her," Swerve said, eyeing Ultra Magnus.

“Oh! Yeah, okay fair.”

The mech in question scowled down at Rodimus as if daring him to ever touch his mustache. Rodimus only grinned back at Magnus. Oh, Swerve knew that look. That was a promise. He better prepare to have a mustache wearing sparkling in the near future.

“Hey Swerve," a newcomer's voice cut through their group.

Their little moment was interrupted by a mech in line finally reaching the table. Crosscut. Oh, Swerve kind of forgot about him. The bot had holed himself up in his room writing a play or something from what he heard. The last time they really interacted was when Swerve held those fake auditions back on cybertron. Those auditions were hilarious but the two of them didn’t have much of a chance to hang after the fact.

What could he possibly want? Well, besides the obvious, to see the sparkling. They weren’t quite friends….And to Swerve’s knowledge the mech didn’t really care about sappy homey stuff. He was kind of surprised he showed up. Swerve glanced down at his daughter’s blue frame. Then it dawned on him that Crosscut was very much friends with somebot important.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh yikes on freakin trikes!

This conversation was about to get real awkward and he was way too sober to deal with it! He hadn’t even had the chance to practice a speech in his helm.

Yep, okay, cool. He could handle this. It wasn’t a big deal. Just the friend of your sparkling’s sire coming to confront you about said sparkling. Normal typical stuff that happens at a sparkling shower. Yep.

“Oh heeeeey Crosscut. The Crosscutty. The CrossCussy," Swerve said, then immediately regretted the words that tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed on the inside but decided to double down, “It’s, uh, nice to see you. What brings you here?”

The ex-senator approached the table with the grace of a well-trained high tower mech. His visor was transfixed on the miniature Blurr clone snuggled up in Swerve’s arms. Crosscut then turned his attention to Swerve.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. In private if you don’t mind.”

Oh, he did mind. He minds a lot. This was the absolute last thing that he wanted to do at this very moment. But, he knew this wasn’t something he could avoid long term. It was a conversation that was going to happen-...That didn’t mean Swerve couldn’t delay it a tiny bit for his mental health.

“Yeah! Sure, uh, could it possibly wait a couple of clicks? Me and Rodimus were about to go down to the communication deck. I got a call to make before it gets too late back on cybertron. Space time zones, am I right?” Swerve said offering him a grin

“..That’s fine. Message me when you are through. Alright?” Crosscut said in this weird tone.

Swerve didn’t know the mech well. But from their brief interactions together he didn’t know Crosscut to be this serious. He was the same mech that helped him punk an entire list of eager future crew members. This didn’t bode well.

“Um, yeah. I’ll hit you up as soon as we wrap it up," Swerve said getting up from the booth.

Carefully, he transferred his daughter off to Rewind’s eager arms. Swerve softens his gaze as he watched Veer nestle into his friend’s chassis. She was a sweet little thing. Way too precious for this world.

Just like Skids. Swerve wished he was here. Skids would have enjoyed this. He glanced at Nautica still fiddling away with her gift. Anytime he looked at her it felt like someone was missing. It felt like the universe was unbalanced. Skids would make this party perfect.

“We’ll be back soon. Comm me right away if she starts to fuss. There should be a bottle ready for her in my bag if she gets hungry. Okay? Oh! And remember if Tailgate wants to hold her then make sure Cyclonus or Whirl supervises. Love Tailgate but he has butter servos. And-”

“Swerve, relax. I got her, okay? Your comm number is on speed dial. Now shoo. Go enjoy your sparkling free time while you can, ” Rewind said waving his servo away at him.

Swerve hesitated for a moment. It was silly, he would only be ten minutes away from her; yet, he struggled to just walk away. It took Rodimus guiding him towards the exit for the minibot to get his aft in gear.

On his way out he could hear Rewind go, "Wait? Did he say 'Whirl supervise' ?"

Swerve didn't get a chance to defend the wrecker. Whirl was surprisingly very careful around Veer. He had no doubt if Tailgate accidentally dropped her that Whirl would dive in for a save.

As they walked away Swerve stole a glance at Crosscut. The mech was still standing there with his arms crossed and his visor darkened. The playwright definitely had some words for Swerve. Maybe, just maybe, things would smooth over once he talked to Blurr.

Swerve pushed it out of his processor as they headed towards their destination. Right now, he needed to forget Crosscut and focus on what to say to Blurr.

Hi Blurr, remember me? I'm that minibot you hooked up with-

No, Swerve cringed. He didn't want to say that in front of Rodimus. His booty call should remain private. Maybe he could try…

Hey zippy! Speedster King! The Ibex champion! Just calling to congratulate you on the win pal. Oh, yeah this is your buddy Swerve. You remember me right?-

No, why did he always get weird with nicknames? That would probably irritate the speedster. Zippy? At least he could be original with the slagging names.

Blurr, I had your sparkling!

..Nope. Starting a conversation like that would scare any bot off. Frag this was hard.

"Swerve, do you want me to do the talking?" Rodimus asked. "You're kind of rattling in your own plating buddy. Also we're here," he made his way to the communication hub.

"YES!", Swerve blurted, then covered his own intake embarrassed. "Uh- yes..please. That would be great. Cuz right now I'm pretty sure my mouth will say something stupid and completely ruin this for Veer. No pressure, right? Just the future relationship between my daughter and her sire is at stake. Oh, Primus I'm doing that thing. You know, that thing when my mouth won't stop moving because I'm like super anxious and-"

Rodimus slapped a servo over Swerve’s running mouth. In all honesty the bartender was thankful that the captain was shutting him up. He knew that once he got going it was almost impossible to stop.

"Relax, Swerve. We got this. I've known Blurr for eons. He isn't going to react as half as bad as you think. Now, sit back, relax, and let Rodimus, the master of awesome speeches, work. "

Swerve could only nod with a servo still covering his mouth. He watched as Rodimus threw him a thumbs up then quickly punched in a combination of numbers. Once the enter button was hit Swerve froze.

The console started to output the dialing sound. Unlike the time Swerve tried to call before, it didn’t spit out an error message. The one Rodimus had was the real deal. It was trying to connect to the other side.

Swerve just stood there as it kept ringing. And ringing. Annnd ringing. Till the call was dropped.

"Huh, that's weird. Blurr usually picks up before the first ring. Fragger loves to be first" Rodimus said while leaning against the console.

So, they tried again. Once more the commlink just rang. They stood there for a couple more tries. Still there was nothing.

Swerve chewed on his bottom lip. He couldn't help the sting of rejection stabbing his spark. This felt like the Blaster call all over again. Only this time he had a friend to witness it.

Swerve stood staring at the blank screen. No one picked up. The only thing he could see was his own pathetic reflection staring back at him.

"He must be really busy- We'll try again later buddy. Let's get back to the party and forget about it for now." Rodimus said, trying to distract poor Swerve.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Crosscuts voice said from the entryway.

It startled Swerve out of his self loathing staring contest. He turned his attention to a nervous looking Crosscut. He walked over like a mech about to be executed. There was this heaviness to each of his steps.

He stopped right in front of Swerve. "He won't be picking up."

Rodimus bristled at the ex senator, "Yeah? Want to explain how you know?"

Swerve watched on as Crosscut rubbed his own helm. The mech looked mad uncomfortable with whatever he had to say. He first looked at Rodimus then at Swerve.

".. Because he's offlined. "

Because he's…? Swerve took a step back, hitting the console. He stared at Crosscut in disbelief.

"It happened during the attack of Unicron. He lost his life helping bots evacuate," Crosscut continued.

"What? No! There's no fragging way that Blurr is-.. Swerve, are you alright ?"

Swerve didn't catch whatever Rodimus said after that. His processor was too busy swimming with the new information.

Blurr, his hero, his idol, and one of the few reasons he kept going was dead. Just like Skids. Just like Ironfist. Just like Pipes. All dead. All gone from Swerve's life without a final goodbye.

For a second he could recall the sight of Skids' grey lifeless frame. The place that yellow sunny optics should be were now a dark bleak empty hole. The brightness that Skids used to bring was replaced by a lifeless husk.

That was the prize Swerve won after surviving the DJD for a second time. Another friend to bury and more hope for the future lost. Maybe it would have been better if he'd offlined instead.

"O-oh…I see," Swerve said, glancing down at his pedes.

Rodimus slammed his servo against the metal console, "That's not funny Crosscut. Swerve, don't listen to him. He's just yanking our chain. Frag off and go mess with someone else!"

Crosscut didn't move. He stared at them with pity in his visor. Swerve swallowed thickly as his words sunk in.

For a brief moment Swerve considered forgetting the party, the call, and this conversation. He could just go back to his room. He wanted to turn off all the lights so he could lay in his berth with no sensory input.

His digits twitched. Swerve wanted to scratch at his protoform. He wanted a distraction. No-he needed one. Any kind- From his experience physical pain could wash out the emotional.

He could do it. He could send out his holo form and nobody would know. Just like he did for months before. This time nobody would find him.

Swerve’s engine hiccuped in distress. This conversation, this moment, didn't feel real. Blurr was dead. Blurr would never meet Veer. Veer would grow up never knowing her sire.

Guilt washed over Swerve. Lost in his own pain, for a moment, he forgot about his creation. He was selfish.

Veer didn't deserve a carrier so willing to abandon her with a hologram. She deserved better than that. Primus, Swerve hated himself.

She was the last bit of joy Swerve had. Yet, here he was thinking of ways to disappear. He should be focusing on her. He should go back to the party and hold her close.

"I need to go," Swerve said, pushing himself away from this conversation.

"Swerve wait-" Rodimus called out.

The bartender flashed his friend a sad smile, "Party guests are waiting and Veer needs her lunch. I'm heading back. Thanks for trying to help Roddy. I appreciate it."

Swerve made a quick exit out of the hall. He headed back to the bar to play pretend. He was good at that. It’ll be fine. If not for his friends then for his creation he'd put on the best performance. He was Swerve! The wacky side character.

Chapter Text

The bar was in utter disarray. There were knocked over tables being used as makeshift cover on both sides of the bar, chairs blocked off a section of the bar, and in the middle of the destroyed space: bots on the ground groaning in pain. The standoff was tense- no tense wasn't right, this was carnage! Utterly horrific! Swerve had never seen such brutality.

One particular mad mech sprung from behind the cover, leaping over the table with a mighty battle cry. Swerve gasped, that bold move was just plain suicidal!

He watched, awestruck, as Grimlock blindly fired into the enemy line. Mechs were helpless as they became fodder. One after another, more and more poor souls were hit by the ferocious dinobot.

Truly Grimlock was a force of nature. Not a single bullet could graze him. He marched on, effortlessly dodging enemy fire; his skills were honed to perfection by millions of years of war. His movements are like that of a predator. Grimlock was built for this!

Only to be cut down with a lucky pot shot. A stray slug slammed directly where his spark laid. His gun clattered down to the ground. The warrior stared down, touching his chassis, in disbelief.

“You’re out Grimsy! I got ya fair and square!” Fulcrum cried out in victory.

The fallen warrior grunts as he pops off the flimsy dart from his armor. He stares down at the yellow piece of toy that took his ‘life’ then back at his team, who’s still behind the tables, with dismay. Misfire lets out a dramatic fake sob as Grimlock falls to his knees. He drops to the ground as if he was dead. Truly, a tragic loss. Meanwhile, the other team cheered.

After a moment of devastating silence he stood up and made his way to the sectioned off part of the bar. Misfire was still yelling about the good dying young while Grimlock made himself comfortable in a booth. Ah, yes, Grimlock is now one with the allspark-Ready to order some drinks.

The entire Lost Light had been participating in this game for about four hours. It was suggested by the Scavengers after a little disagreement. See, Swerve underestimated how many bots wanted to watch their tiny co-captain. It seemed Veer's unconditional love was a hot commodity, and everyone wanted in on the action! All the bots participating in the battle had already been approved for sparkling sitting duty. They just wanted to monopolize Veer's time. Instead of just following the schedule Ultra Magnus provided, Rodimus declared it to be a free for all.

That's when the chaos began. Rodimus started to recruit mechs on his side that were opposed to the idea of a schedule. They believed that Veer should be babysat by whoever was first to call dibs.

The captain managed to snag a hold of the majority of the scavengers. Their army consisted of other lawless mechs such as Riptide, Drift, and Chromedome. Truly, this game’s length could be blamed on the pure unrefined chaos these mechs brought to the table.

On the opposing team were those that believe there should be a clear schedule. That way everyone had the chance to spend time with the little cupcake. Of course, Ultra Magnus and Megatron were leading the green team to victory. They’ve gotten the likes of Cyclonus, Fulcrum, and surprisingly Whirl on their team.

Then there was Swerve. He was off on the sidelines making drinks for those who were already out. He stood there earning shanix while he tried to wrap his processor around the fact of why they were doing this. After all, they should be back to cybertron in less than a week. The schedule, dibs, it wouldn't matter once they were back home!

It was a nice gesture, but Swerve knew this battle was mostly for their own entertainment. Not that he was complaining. It was pretty hilarious to see Whirl go feral with a custom nerf gun, provided by brainstorm, trying to mow down Grimlock. Only to be outdone by clumsy Fulcrum.

“I can’t believe they got Grimlock," Swerve whispered as he worked on a drink.

“Yeah, he was their strongest player. What do you think the pink team is going to do now?” Bluestreak said, so caught up in the battle he was unaware he was overpouring a cube.

That was until the sticky liquid dripped down the countertop onto his feet. Bluestreak swore, finally looking down at the mess he had created. He blurted out an apology and started to wipe it up with a towel.

Swerve laughed, “Happens to the best of us Blue. It’s alright. And I think they are pretty S.O.L unless Rodimus can somehow pull a miracle out of their aft.”

Bluestreak nodded in agreement, "Yeah, doubt that. His team is hanging on by a thread. Right Veer?" He cooed, booping the sparkling’s nose from across the counter.

Swerve smiled watching as his daughter wiggled happily in Nautica's arms. She did a little bounce for them then got distracted by her favorite new toy. She bapped the engineer's wrench, and drooled all over it. Swerve thought it was the cutest thing ever but at the same time..

"Sorry about that Nautica. I promise to clean and polish it when she's done."

Nautica eyed Veer then grinned at the bartender. "No worries! I'm the one who gave it to her. And! Just so you know it's perfectly safe! Brainstorm helped me install a sparkling mode- So she can nom on it to her spark's content. Just think of it as a bribe for our cute little co-captain. Mama wants those engine schematics approved! And a little drool won't hurt anything."

Swerve still handed her a clean rag, "You say that- I know Captain Veer can be extremely drooly. Just don't do what I did. I made the mistake of picking her up above my helm to play with her. I had my mouth wide open. Yuck"

Nautica laughed, accepting the towel. "I'll keep that in mind. Our mighty captain isn't above biological warfare. Right Veer?~"

The sparkling in question was oblivious to their conversation. She was too focused on getting her intake on every inch of the wrench like it was a teething ring. Nautica still cooed at how cute she was.

The bartender props his elbow on the counter then leans against his servo. He takes a moment to drink in the scene. Truly, from helm to pede, Veer was perfect. It's why he pushed through any discomfort or pain. It was all for her.

Swerve smiled, feeling really grateful. Not to just Nautica- but to all of his friends. This big blown out fight was ridiculous, there was no doubt about that. But, whenever he needed help, there was always someone willing to lend a servo.

When Swerve had Veer he thought he was going to face this all alone. It was terrifying… Just one day he had a blue ball of joy shoot out between his thighs and just like that! Boom! He was a carrier!

He didn’t get time to prepare like most creators. Hell, he didn’t even have a sire in the picture to help. All he had was a puddle of his own energon, a screaming weak new spark, and enough self loathing he could probably drown in it. He didn’t like thinking about it too much…

He wasn't sure how he was going to handle it alone. Once they were back on Cybertron things would be different; his friends would be too busy fixing up their own lives to spend time with him or Veer. He should soak these moments up while he can. And practice taking care of Veer alone.

..

Swerve stole a glance at Bluestreak, who was busy spraying the counter top, then sighed. Swerve touched his midsection feeling a dull ache. He was glad the sniper didn’t listen to him. They wouldn’t have made it if Blue didn’t call for Ratchet.

That keeps him up almost every night. Swerve can’t help it. He just lays in his berth, wide awake, stuck on a thought loop. It didn't matter how tired he felt. His processor kept running in circles. Over and over and over again- He kept coming to the same conclusion. He would have bled out. Veer would have either been left an orphan or grayed.

Swerve rubbed at his stinging optics from under his visor. He couldn't remember the last time he felt rested. When it wasn't his processor it was his carrier duties and Veer was considerably less adorable at night. He desperately needed some recharge.

Maybe later today he'll ask Rewind to watch Veer. Just long enough for him to power nap. He was growing weary of his optics burning every time he blinked. The lack of sleep was starting to give a helm-ache. He'd ask Ratchet for some painkillers later.

All that didn't matter right now. He should be enjoying the moment. It wasn't everyday a bot witnesses a ship wide nerf gun fight.

Swerve nudged his employees with a smile, "Hey Blue, remind me to give you a couple of drinks on the house."

Bluestreak paused his cleaning mid swipe to look at his boss, "Okay? Not that I'm complaining but how does spilling a drink give me a freebie?"

"I'm just an awesome boss like that. Don't worry about it," Swerve grinned while reaching over to help pick up.

"That makes me nervous. It sounds like you’re planning something," Bluestreak admitted while throwing his soiled towels in the bin.

"I wasn't but maybe now I will," Swerve said, picking up the tray of drinks. “When you least expect it Blue~ I shall strike from the shadows like a ninjabot. Beware~”

“You sound like The Box Ghost when you say that. And please don’t,” Bluestreak begged, placing the last drink on the serving tray.

“Aww yeah, you watched Danny Phantom! How was it? Just as good as I said? And don’t worry Blue. I’ll just add sweet additives or something to your drink. Harmless fun I promise!” Swerve said with a big smile as he put the finishing touch on a drink.

“I really enjoyed the concept. Wished they went harder with it,” Bluestreak admitted as he leaned against the counter. “And if that’s all you're going to do that’s fine- But if I find one unpleasant surprise in my drink then I’m going to sugar up your daughter and send her back around nap time.”

Swerve gasped, “That’s just evil. You wouldn’t!”

Bluestreak smirked down at his boss, “Oh, I would.”

At that moment Veer accidentally dropped the wrench and squealed. The timing was too perfect. It was like she was excited by the prospect of being hyper.

“No sugar for the new spark! You hear that Veer? Carri says no- Ratchet would kill all of us. Now, be good. I’m going to hand off these drinks. Nautica- you are in charge. Make sure Bluestreak doesn’t go to the dark side. And Blue! Help yourself to anything in the bar. You’ve earned it!” Swerve said, picking up the serving tray and heading to exit from behind the counter.

“Aww, but Veer could become evil with me! We could rule the galaxy Veer! Join me," Bluestreak said, taking a hold of her tiny fist in a dramatic fashion.

Swerve laughed hearing his creation babble nonsense. She was probably agreeing to it. Who knows what horrors she would unleash unto the Lost Light?

He could hear Nautica begging her padawan not to be tempted by the siren song of the dark side. Veer was supposed to defeat the dark side! Not join it.

Poor Nautica. She didn't understand that Veer would join whatever side that gives her the most attention. That, and she was transfixed by praxian's door wings. She didn’t stand a chance.

Swerve left them with a genuine smile on his face. Despite certain recent news…He was smiling a lot more. Veer made him happy.

He no longer regretted that night with Blurr. Yes, he embarrassed himself. Yes, the event is burned into his processor. But, out of all that, he gained so much joy.

He wished that he could have told Blurr. Veer is such a bundle of joy, no doubt she'd bring a smile to his gorgeous face.

He wondered if Blurr knew about Veer - not that he ever could when he was alive. There was no freakin' way he could.

Rather Swerve wondered if bots in the well of the all spark gained that kind of knowledge. Was Blurr out there somewhere looking down at his creation? Was he cringing at who he sparked up?

He kind of hoped so. Not that he wanted to embarrass the speedster by being his sparkling's carrier. Mostly, he hoped the speedster could watch after Veer. He knew he was woefully lacking.

Swerve pushed the thoughts out of his helm and focused on delivering some well earned high grade to his patrons. He stopped by Grimlock's booth first. He figured the dinobot needed something strong to drown his woes.

"Saw what happened Grim. That shot was just unfortunate. Here, I got ya a shot of my own nightmare brew. A good shot for a bad shot. It should make you feel all warm and fuzzy."

Grimlock bowed his helm in thanks, "Next time we'll win," he grunted out then slammed down the free drink.

"Chin up Grim! You got a secret edge they all lack. All sparklings love dinos," Swerve said playfully, nudging the warrior. "You're still Veer's favorite altmode. My little weirdo loves your tail!"

Grimlock grunted in satisfaction, "Good. Me Grimlock love Veer."

"Ha! Nice impression of yourself- and Yeah, she loves you too big brute. And even if your team loses you're still next on Ultra Magnus' list, so you still win!" Swerve said reaching out to high five the dinobot.

Grimlock didn't disappoint. He let Swerve smack the palm of his servo with a nice CLANG sound. It was a satisfying high five. Around the top ten in Swerve's books.

"Ow- the pain is worth it but man what are you made out of Grim? Any harder and I might dent my armor," Swerve said with a playful laugh.

Grimlock looked at his servo then at Swerve, "You tell me- You're a metallurgist."

Swerve opened his mouth then closed it rather surprised. Not many bots remember his ex profession. He was taken aback that Grimlock even knew.

"You uh- got me there! How'd you know that Grimsy?"

"The war was long. Carbon dating has its uses with ancient cybertronian tech. You're services helped more than you realized."

Swerve flushed, not sure what to say. He didn't take much stock in what he did during the war. Most of the time he was stationed on Kimia trying his best not to get in the way of other bots.

"The other's look thirsty. I won't take up anymore of your time," Grimlock said, nodding in the direction of other patrons.

Swerve threw him a thumbs up then immediately cringed. It made him want to facepalm. He did the most awkward slag when he was uncomfortable. At least it wasn't 'laugh at an open casket funeral' bad, this time. Though it was pretty up there.

He was thankful Grimlock was giving him an out. Swerve readjusted his grip on the serving tray and headed to the next nearest customer. That bot being…Crosscut.

He took one step in that direction then promptly turned the other way. Yeaaaah, no. He was going to serve him last. Not that he had anything against the ex senator! He just didn't know what to say.

Hey, We don't interact much but I fragged one of your best friends, who's dead by the way, and had his sparkling. Let's be pals!

That was the best Swerve could come up with. He wasn't the most poetic when it came to words. He mostly just blurted out stuff before he even had the chance to process it.

He'd just leave things awkward between now. Well, until one of them was brave enough to talk. He was hoping and not at the same time Crosscut would be the one.

Ugh, this would be funny if life was a sitcom! There would be a laugh track playing anytime he said something stupid. Goofy wacky Swerve was at it again! Just putting his pede directly into his mouth-

"SWERVE LOOK OUT!", someone across the bar yelled.

The mini bot snapped out of his thoughts only to freeze in place. A pink hoverboard with a panicking Tailgate came flying in his direction. He didn’t have time to move out of the way before it came crashing into him. The tray he was holding went clattering to the ground.

"Oh! Frag!! Swerve, are you alright I'm so-" Tailgate babbled out as he picked himself off the floor.

The fellow minibot paused looking up in confusion. Swerve wasn't a crumpled heap on the floor like himself. No, Swerve was nowhere in sight.

Rodimus, like many other patrons, stood in the middle of the bar with his mouth hanging wide open. One second their friendly bartender was standing there with a tray full of drinks. The next he evaporated into thin air.

The captain walked over to the puddle of spilled drinks and peered at the spot with a tight frown. That could only mean one thing. He turned his attention to the bar. Nautica was sitting there with Veer in her lap. She looked just as shocked as they were.

The sparkling kicked out her little feet as if to get the engineer's attention again. Nautica pacified her by handing back the wrench that fell for the hundredth time. Rodimus watched with his arms crossed.

He walked over to the bar, reached over, and scooped Veer out of Nautica's arms. He tickled her tummy, earning a delighted high pitch laugh from the new spark. Rodimus nodded as she confirmed his suspensions.

She wasn't a hologram. This was the real Veer. Which meant their lovable idiot had been parading around the bar with a newborn as a hologram!

Rodimus took in a deep inhale. Swerve had a lot of explaining to do. Why in the fragging pits would he do that? That was something he would have done!

Rodimus took in another deep vent before looking at Veer. He was absolutely livid by Swerve’s actions. He was so mad he could burst!

But, some of his anger simmered down when he looked at his tiny co-captain. He sighed, taking in her beautiful cyan paint job, and remembered what probably caused Swerve to act so foolishly. It hadn't even been a full week since they received the news about Blurr.

Rodimus didn't know how deep their relationship actually was but he knew Swerve worshiped him. Of course Swerve would fall back on bad coping mechanisms. He didn't like showing how hurt he was.

In that regard, he and Swerve were similar. It's hard being vulnerable around bots that care. They could easily take advantage of your pain. It's easier to run away from connections than opening back up.

Rodimus put his digit in Veer's face so she could hold it. "Come on cutie. We are on a quest to find your carrier. Let's go."

Chapter Text

"I'm a fan. Big fan. Bit of a stalker you could say! Ha-ha-ha. No, joking. Hope you don't mind me shaking your hand for a few moments."

"Er- Not at all. Nice to meet you."

"Hey, Crosscut- Who was that little three fingered guy?"

Swerve ducked down behind the bar faster than a turbo fox chasing a petrol rabbit. With his cheeks flushed he reached for under the cabinet, fumbling at an array of different bottles, til he came in contact with… Ah-ha! The triple distilled engex he bought off of Sunstreaker.

He popped off the seal with his mouth, took a big gulp, and groaned while covering his faceplate. He was going to offline from embarrassment. This was it. It was time for him to join the well!

That was just sooooo smooth! The smoothest! Who in the pits calls themselves a stalker?!

Apparently Swerve does! His cheeks grew hotter as he took another swig of the bottle. He shivered as warmth traveled down his intake to the pit of his stomach. Focus on that- the burning soothes.

His helm thunked against the cool metal of the bar as he hugged the nightmare fuel close.

He'd spent the entire war fantasizing their reunion. Now that the speedster was in his bar, drinking his drinks, Swerve ruined it by saying the creepiest slag. Primus, he hated his own big mouth. Everytime something good happens to him he wrecks it! Heh…like the wreckers.

Focus! Maybe he could ask Brainstorm to invent a new thingy to permanently cease his talking? That would be nice. No more blabbering about uncomfortable topics because the sound of silence is so freakin unnerving. Wait- no.

That would just be a gag. There was no way in hell he was going to ask Brainstorm for that. That would make things waaaay too awkward even for him.

Swerve took another long sip. Why was he like this? He was unlikeable, annoying, and only one step above being worse than a corroding t-cog. At least those were something a doctor could remove! He blinked away the frustration tears forming behind his visor.

"Swerve? You alright buddy?" Skids asked, surprising Swerve, as he leaned over the bar.

Swerve scrambled to wipe away any stray tears, looking away from his best friend in an attempt to save some face. Too bad Skids knew him better than that.

The theoretican noticed. Skids jumped over the counter so he could crouch right in front of Swerve. Frowning, he handed him a spare rag from the bar. Swerve took it with no complaint.

"I saw what happened," Skids admitted as he quietly took the bottle of high grade away from Swerve.

Swerve laughed. "Yeah. That was terrible. I think I won the new record for creepiest bot on board."

Skids frowned, "That's not true. I think Cyclonus still has you beat- Mech sings like a banshee."

That got Swerve to smile a bit. A real one- not one rehearsed to keep up appearances. Nah, with his buddy Skids he felt like he could be genuine. Maybe, it was because Skids was always sincere around Swerve.

"Okay, fair. But I'm at least runner up," Swerve said, wiping away some stubborn optical fluid.

Swerve watched as his friend re-sealed the nightmare fuel and placed it off to the side. Skids then turned his attention back to the mini bot. He gave him a contemplating look before smiling.

"Sounds like you need a mulligan."

Swerve paused, "A mulli-"

"Yes, a mulligan. A do-over. That first time shouldn't count. You weren't ready." Skids said it like it was obvious.

A sinking feeling took root at the bottom of his tanks. He leaned away from his friend not liking where this was going. He was half tempted to snag his liquor back in preparation.

Skids, as if reading his processor, hid the bottle behind himself. "I'm being serious, Swerve. That wasn't indicative of the real you. It was a spoof- and it happens. Come on, let's go together to smooth things over." Skids said, offering him a servo to help him up.

Swerve cringed. "The real me isn't much better," he said, taking his friend's hand anyway.

"Nonsense, you're great! And if he doesn’t see it then it's his loss. Plus, Swerve, you're one of the funniest mechs I know, and between you and me- Blurr enjoys a good laugh."

Hopefully the laughing wouldn't be at him. Swerve sighed standing up to his full height. He searched the bar to find where Blurr was then looked back to Skids. The theoretican beamed at him in victory.

"Come on, it's Swerve and Skids! Skids and Swerve. We got this together buddy. Let's go!" Skids said, looping his arm with the minibot’s and pulling him in the direction of the racer.

Swerve could feel his spark rate increase tenfold as they made their way to the booth. Skids, bless his spark, opened up his EM field to help calm Swerve’s down. His composed presence was like a soothing balm to his anxiety.

Swerve, so focused on staying grounded, was surprised by how quickly they reached the round booth. Crosscut, who was sitting next to Blurr, paused his conversation as they approached. Blurr looked over at them with newfound interest.

"Hey Skids, who's your friend?" Crosscut asked, leaning into his seat.

Oh, they apparently knew Skids. Swerve really shouldn't be surprised- Skids is a very lovable guy. It made sense. It just never occurred to Swerve that his bestie was close to his idol. It never really came up in conversation. Small universe.

"This is Swerve, my amica. Swerve, these two are my friends Blurr and Crosscut. Swerve here is a big fan and I thought it would be a good opportunity to introduce you all to each other. Now, scoot over," Skids said so casually.

Swerve on the other servo was star struck. Not by the fact he was about to sit next to Blurr. No, he was stuck on the fact Skids introduced him as his amica.

Yes, they called each other best friends. It mostly was something Swerve started. But, to hear Skids say it with his full chassis made his helm feel light headed. In a good sort of way.

Dazed, Swerve gave them a little wave as a greeting. He slid into the booth first which sandwich him right next to Blurr and Skids.

He could feel his spark pounding in his chassis. Any moment now he was sure it was going to burst out and run away. If it did, Swerve would be jealous, because he too longed to make a hasty escape.

It didn't help that his knees were almost touching the racer's. He would literally die if they accidentally made contact. He didn't want to come across as a touchy weirdo, so he made sure to push more towards Skid's side.

"So, your amica huh? When did that happen? I thought for sure if anyone it would be Getaway," Blurr said, taking a sip of his drink.

Skids looked across the bar to where his fellow spec op resided. Everybody at the table followed his line of sight. Getaway was busy laughing at something Tailgate said. Then, in a not so subtle move, slung his arm across his shoulders. Swerve thought he was playing a dangerous game with Cyclonus nearby.

"Yeah, that's fair but Getaway has had his servos full lately- And between just the four of us, Swerve is more fun to hang with. And we got a certain ring to our names; Swerve and Skids," his amica said, holding out a servo in a grandiose gesture.

The bartender couldn't help but smile at that. Ha! In your face Getaway! He thought, Swerve is the better friend!

"Back at you buddy! It's not every day you befriend a mech willing to chill in the air vents to help prank people."

Skids laughed, "oh Primus, I almost forgot about that. I think Trailbreaker is still trying to get the lime green off."

Swerve playfully stuck out his glossa, "It's what he gets for not paying his tab."

Crosscut held up a servo, "Wait- Wait. You managed to paint Trailbreaker green?"

Swerve chuckled as he rubbed the back of his helm, 'Yeah-.. we did. Kind of feel bad about it. I didn't realize it would activate his barrier. It took him thirty minutes before the poor mech could wash it off. By then most of it had already dried."

Skids looked at them sheepishly, "Yeaaaahh, not our brightest moment. Definitely most colorful."

"Definitely Trailbreaker's most colorful." Swerve finger gunned at Skids.

Blurr snorted at the comment. Swerve whipped his helm in that direction surprised. His cheeks heated seeing the mirth that was written on the speedster's face. Blurr thought he was funny…!

"Swerve, that's awful!" Skids said but still laughed.

"Getaway could never," Swerve said playfully, nudging his bestie.

"Getaway could never," Skids agreed before turning his attention to his other friends. "Speaking of awful.. I thought we could break the ice by playing a game. Swerve, you still have that human game you were revising?"

Swerve paused in an attempt to recall what Skids was referring to, "..You mean, cards against cybertron?"

"Yeah! That one. Last time we played you almost gave Ultra Magnus a spark attack. It should be perfect for us".

That caught Blurr’s attention, "What's that about?"

"Oh! It's um-" Swerve fidgeted with his servo, "it's a card game where everyone draws ten cards and then there's one prompt. The goal of the game is to respond to the prompt with either the most hilarious or messed up card you got. Here, let me-!" Swerve quickly dug through his sub space before finding the deck of cards. Victoriously, Swerve placed it on the table.

He started to shuffle the deck, only to be stopped by a warm servo, "May I?" Blurr asked with a devilish smile.

Blurr could do whatever he wanted if he kept looking at Swerve like that! He swallowed down those words and instead opted to mutely nod. He passed over the first stack of cards as he tried to keep his mouth shut.

"Ten cards you said? Here- watch this," Blurr smugly said as his servos began to move.

Frag, was it hot in here? It felt scorching to Swerve. Or was that just his face plate?

He didn't know. All he knew was Blurr moved so effortlessly. He watched, in awe, as the racer shuffled the cards like a professional casino dealer. He dished them out in a blink of an optic.

Swerve was too stunned to speak his thanks. The only higher function his processor allowed him was the ability to pick up his dealt hand. Primus, his mouth felt dry. He needed a drink.

"Uh! Next round of drinks are on me!" Swerve blurted out then deflated in his seat, even more flustered. "It'll make the game more fun. Hey! Ten! Bring us a round of the good stuff"

Skids rearranged his cards with a smile. "Awe, Swerve. You don't have to do that."

Swerve perked up a little, "What do you take me for? A bad host? Nah, my amica gets free drinks. So do our new friends."

Crosscut, who up to this point was pretty quiet, cheered. "Free booze? Don't mind if I do!"

Blurr flashed the bartender a smirk. "Remind me to return the favor when I reopen my bar. Now the rules of this game.."

Return..the favor…? The implications of going to the racer's bar made his spark skip a rotation. He was thankful Ten was quick with that drink request. As soon as it touched the table Swerve took his and took a sip to forget his shyness.

Blurr sat up and casually slung his arm right around Swerve's shoulders. Just to get more comfortable of course! Swerve forced his vents not to stutter as Blurr leaned in close to Swerve’s bubble. It was super close… of course, it was just because he was curious about the rules of the game. That's all! Haha, no other possible reason.

Swerve tried desperately to focus on that, but the musky scent of engine oil transfixed his mind. Blurr smelled amazing.

Swerve hoped he smelled good too. Not that he should smell bad!! Or uh he wasn't trying to be creepy. He just hoped Blurr felt comfortable being this close to him… Worse case he probably smelled like high grade. Maybe with a hint of energon goodie..

"So um!! Me and Skids will do a practice round so everyone can get a gist of it. Alright! First prompt is-" Swerve pulled a card from the black pile, "What brought the orgy to a grinding halt?"

Of course that was the first card! Swerve brought his cube to his mouth to block his burning cheeks. He stole a glance at Blurr who glanced back with an amused smirk.

Skids thought for a second then placed down a white card. Swerve scrambled to pick it up with his clumsy fat digits. He dropped it once before quickly flipping it over.

"A rust infection", Swerve was the one who snorted this time, "hilarious and gross. Good one bud- But yeah, the game pretty much works like this. One person draws the prompt and chooses a winner. The other players play a white card to fill in the blank!"

Blurr hummed moving close, to the point their knees were touching, to Swerve. The bartender couldn't control his sharp in vent this time. He tried covering it up with a fake cough.

"Excuse me- dust got caught in my intake," Swerve lied, while trying his best not to accidentally touch Blurr more.

Crosscut looked from Blurr to Swerve then took a sip of his drink. Swerve got the impression that the ex-senator knew something that he didn't. What that could possibly be was beyond the minibot.

"Since Swerve did the practice round I'll go next, and we can go clockwise in order. Sound good?" Skids asked, already inching a servo towards the black deck.

The entire table all individually made sounds of approval. Skids grinned flipping over the card for everyone to see. His optics brightened.

"Help Ratchet! I got ______ stuck in my aft!"

Swerve smirked knowingly, "What's up your Aft- weeelll…" Swerve smacked down a white card.

Blurr, somehow, beat him to it. His card was already in front of Skids. Swerve blinked, amazed at Blurr's speed. It made him feel better that Crosscut was taking longer to pick.

"Okay, let's see what's up my aft port," Skids said, shuffling the cards around. "Up first is- Help Ratchet! I got scraplets? Stuck in my aft! Pff, it's the question mark at the end that gets me. Next! Help Ratchet! I got a fusion cannon stuck in my aft port!" Skids wrinkled his nasal ridge. "Hard pass. Lastly- its… Oh for the love of-Swerve, Really??"

The minibot grinned like a mad mech. "Go on! Read it-" Swerve said between laughs.

Skids face palmed. "Help, Ratchet! I got a data slug stuck in my aft. Swerve-"

The minibot laughed so hard he snorted. Skids rolled his optic but still threw the card in his direction. Swerve caught it then gave him an apologetic but not so apologetic smile.

"Okay- what's the story behind that?" Blurr asked, taking the winning card from Swerve's servo.

Skids huffed nudging Swerve, "it was supposed to be a hypothetical between friends"

That forced Swerve directly into Blurr’s side. He stiffened at the touch, panicked, then promptly froze as the speedster smiled down at him. For a full second he was lost in the racer's cyan optics. Oh no, Blurr was gorgeous.

"Go on?" Crosscut encouraged, staring at them.

Skids crossed his arms. "Swerve asked hypothetically would I shove a data slug up my aft to sneak it out of decepticon territory."

"In my defense! You asked me hypothetically if I would do the same. We both agreed- a million times yes. It shall be called the mighty aft quest," Swerve said proudly.

That earned another chuckle from Blurr. "You two shoving stuff up your aft ports often? And what would you use as lube? You're behind enemy lines."

At this point the shots of nightmare fuel had fully integrated into his system. Swerve was feeling good. Good enough his mouth was starting to loosen.

Swerve blushed before puffing out his chassis proudly. "Blurr, I am willing to do anything for the autobot cause. My supple port would be proud to take one for the team. Right Skids? And what I do behind my habsuite doors is between me and Primus"

"Primus regrets our existence buddy with this conversation. But yes, for the aft quest, we are prepared to do our duties as autobots," Skids snorted out before taking a swig.

Crosscut snagged a card next with his own chuckle, "Alright, aft holes. The next one is 'What are my creators hiding from me?'. A little lame…"

Blurr, like last time, put his card down first. Skids took his time before neatly placing his next to Blurr’s. Swerve couldn't decide between two cards so he yeeted the one closer to Crosscut at him. It flew for about half a second before landing on the table.

"Okay, first one is- Wrecker erotica. Number two- SHOCKWAVES MISSING SERVOS!" Crosscut blurted out with a hard laugh. That one earned a good giggle fest before Crosscut continued. " -The frag is a teenage mutant ninja turtle?"

Swerve sheepishly grinned, "Sorry- still haven't changed all the human cards out. It's a TV show"

"Ah- Well, I'm going with Shockwave's servos. That's awfu!l" said the ex senator.

Blurr chuckled, "Thought so- give it over."

"Don't you mean hand it over?" Swerve blurted out before he could control himself.

Smirking, Blurr took the card, then vocalized a rim shots sound at Swerve. Ba Dum Tish! The metallurgist placed a servo over his beating spark then stared up at the speedster. No one had ever done that before.

"Okay Blurry, you're up." Crosscut stated while finishing up the last of his drink.

The mech winked at Swerve before turning his attention back to the game. For a brief second Swerve thought he was going to crash- or at least reboot. He couldn't believe that just happened.

Blurr eagerly flipped over his prompt, "When all else fails I can still self service to __________"

It suddenly felt ten degrees hotter in the bar. Swerve plastered on a polite smile and tried his best to reign in his mouth before he blurted something inappropriate out. He didn't want to ruin this again.

"What does cybertron's fastest mech jack it to…let's see.." Crosscut said while rubbing under his mask as if he was thinking about it.

For a moment Swerve tuned them all out so he could focus on his cards. What would be funny while at the same time not a creepy answer? There was one card he'd been saving… Maybe he should play it now since it was a safe bet.

Something must have happened because when Swerve looked up Blurr was flipping the playwright the bird. He wasn't sure what exchange he missed but he could have sworn Blurr’s face looked a bit…pinker.

Skids glanced at his amica with this smug look on his face before placing his answer down. Crosscut did the same. Swerve was feeling a bit alienated since it felt like he wasn’t included in whatever was going down. He pushed the feeling back and played his card.

Blurr straightened up in his seat. "When all else fails I can still self service too… Blurr's racing career. Pff, I'm confident not a narcissist. Rodimus on the other servo…"

Swerve blushed since that was his card. He thought it would be funny to play it on Blurr’s turn. In retrospect it did come across as an insult. He shriveled up in the booth a bit.

Blurr must have mistook it for a shiver. "Are you cold? Here-" the racer cuddled up next to Swerve. "My frame always runs on the warm side. Might as well share it. That any better?"

No words could form in his mouth. All he could do was dumbly nod at Blurr and melt into his side. He sat there, cuddled into his idol, like it was a normal thing to do. Swerve didn’t know how he hadn't exploded from the excitement bubbling in his chassis.

"Good- Let's see, next card is- When all else fails I can still self service to- Plump valves," the racer rolled his optics then glanced at Skids.

The theoretican feigned ignorance by focusing his attention on the inside of his cube; he was in the middle of trying to fish out the energon goodie garnish with his straw. Swerve watched, curious, since Skids wore this smug smile.

That left Crosscut's card. Blurr picked it up in a slow deliberate manner while watching the playwright. It was like he was daring the ex-senator to do something. Crosscut, on the other servo, didn't appear to be bothered. He held the racer’s gaze with this challenging look in his visor.

"When all else fails I can still self serve to-...Crosscut, I'm goingtofraggingkillyou. Didyoureallyputthatdown?!"

Swerve leaned in close to take a look at the card.

"..Minibots?"

Blurr quickly moved the card out of his line of sigh. "Ignorethat. Crosscutisjusttryingtomakeyouuncomfortable!"

Swerve didn’t quite get it. Why was Blurr so upset by a clear throw away card? Crosscut probably just picked it because it was the only decent one he had.

"I'm not uncomfortable?" Swerve said, still trying to wrap his processor around the issue.

Laughing hard, Skids placed his servo on Swerve’s shoulder. "You'll figure it out buddy. But first- Hey Crosscut, let me show you the cursed engine room I told you about!"

Crosscut was already getting out from the booth. "Sounds good. Let's see if it's really haunted."

Swerve frowned looking at the cards then at his friends that were leaving. "But Blurr hasn't picked a winner yet-"

The speedster smacked the minibot cards face down with a bit too much force. "Crosscut wins. Therenowleavebeforemypedegoesupyou-"

"Have fun you two~" Crosscut said, smirking.

Swerve caught a hold of Skids servo, suddenly feeling terrified of being alone with Blurr, "W-wait! You're coming back right?"

Skids paused, turned around, and then smiled at Swerve. All color drained from Swerve's face as the once bright face of his amica was grayed. There were cracks littering his frame- And his sunny yellow optics were black inky voids. Swerve jerked back like he was burned.

"S-skids?" Swerve whispered.

"You got this buddy. I'll check in on you soon!" Skids whispered, gentle as always, and let go of his servo.

Swerve watched helplessly as to what to do. He turned to ask Blurr for guidance only for all the air to be knocked out of him. That wasn't Blurr- No, he was cuddled against the charred remains of an unrecognizable mech. Protoform was melted into armor, his faceplate metal framing was exposed, and his brilliant cyan optics shattered from the internal temperature. Swerve gasped, ams lurched away from the racer in a panic.

Blurr smiled. "Guess it's just the two of us."

What was left of the speedster reached over to cup the side of Swerve’s face. This-! This wasn’t supposed to happen. Blurr wasn’t supposed to be-!

Swerve shut his optics tight. Wake up-wake up-wake up! He chanted over and over again in his processor.

Rodimus Prime stood tall, with a sparkling sling strapped to his chassis, and a new spark drooling on his autobot insignia. He cradled Veer close as he paced along the corridor that led into the bar. His spoilers fidgeted, a nervous tick, as he redialed Swerve’s commlink again. He still got nothing.

"Come on Swerve-!" Rodimus vented out in frustration.

It had been an hour since the crew discovered that their beloved bartender was missing. Rodimus had called off the game once they realized Swerve had been using his holoform. It went from a ship wide game to a search party in the matter of seconds.

Rodimus thought for sure Swerve was simply in his room lounging in his berth. He had assumed maybe the little guy was just having a depressive episode- which happens to the best of them! Rodimus just wanted to make sure he was okay.

However, Cyclonus, Tailgate, and Whirl went down there. There wasn’t any sign of their friend. In fact it looked like nobody had used that room in a while; the berth was neatly made, there was dust collecting on shelves, and the air apparently smelled stale.

That's when Rodimus really started to get worried. If Swerve hadn't been staying in his room with Veer then where in the pits was he projecting his hologram from?

Rodimus looked down at the sleepy new spark, "Veer, do you know where your carrier is?"

The bitlet let out a big yawn before snuggling close to the speedster's chassis. Rodimus sighed as he cradled her very close.

"Adorable, but not useful…"

That's when his own commlink crackled to life. He answered the phone immediately- Not bothering to check who it was.

"Swerve?! Is that you?? Where have you been?" Rodimus blurted out.

"Wrong bot, Rodimus. But I do know where he is" Ratchet's cranky voice grumbled.

"O-oh, yeah. I knew that.. So, where is he docbot?"

"In the medbay, with me, resting. At least now he is. Dumb aft passed out after his holoform was disrupted."

"The medbay?! Why-" Rodimus began to yell but lowered his voice when Veer stirred. Why is he back in the medbay?"

Ratchet sighed deeply, "His welds opened back up after the sparkling shower. He's supposed to be on berth rest until the patches fully assimilate with his protomesh. The kid couldn't take that sitting down. So against my sound medical advice Swerve thought using his holoform would be an acceptable substitute. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

Rodimus paused his pacing, "His welds reopened…? Why didn't he… "

"Because he's an idiot," Ratchet mumbled.

Rodimus knew their medic didn't mean it. He was just as upset about Swerve as Rodimus was. They just-...already came close to losing the minibot once. They didn't want to lose anyone else.

Rodimus rubbed his now tired face, "I'll call off the search and be there in five clicks. I'll see you then Ratch."

Rodimus ended the call before the medic could argue. Right now, He didn't really care if Swerve was allowed visitors. Him and Rodimus had a lot to discuss.

When Swerve onlined his visor he was back in the medbay. He looked around but was too dazed to really absorb his surroundings. It all looked like sterile white nothingness except for-

Energon? He looked at his servos to find they were coated in the pink substance. Where did it come from?

Swerve looked down at his frame only to discover a gaping hole in his abdomen. It was pouring out energon, covering his legs, and the chair he sat in. He touched it in disbelief.

Then he remembered. He had a sparkling- That's right… She punctured his gestation chamber on the way out.

Swerve watched as it gushed more pink liquid out. His white armor was unrecognizable. It painted his thighs similarly to the day at the bar…

Where was his sparkling? She wasn't in his arms like she was supposed to be. Nor was she lying in a nearby crib.

That's when the silence was broken. He could hear a pain filled cry in the room. It was accompanied by the sound of buzzing medical equipment. It was unnerving.

They were sounds of agony- yet they came from something much smaller than a mech. His sparkling!

A heavy sense of dread filled his spark as he took it in. A tiny, clear box, strapped to the brim with different medical equipment. To Swerve it looked like a small tomb. Swerve was overcome with the need to sob as he got closer to it.

He knew what was inside. Swerve didn’t want to look, but felt compelled to. He reached over, pressing his servo to the glass, as guilt boiled out of him.

Nestled in the middle was a swaddled new spark. Her frame heaved as it struggled to get cool air into her over taxed systems. Swerve covered his mouth as he watched her continue to cry. Seeing her like this made his spark wither in his casing.

"In all likelihood she won't survive the night. I'm sorry Swerve, but prepare for the worst." Ratchet's voice echoed in his audio receptors.

And it was all his fault. Swerve was careless when he was sparked. He was going on stupid and dangerous adventures, he neglected his frame to the point of near deactivation, and he was so stressed from all the losses they endured. All were things Veer had to pay the price for.

Now, barely a cycle old, his creation was fighting for her life. Her frame couldn't cool down as quickly as she heated up. Ratchet was pumping copious amounts of coolant in her lines to prevent overheating. Swerve could only watch and feel her pain through the creation bond.

It was maddening. Deep lined coding demanded he scoop her up and provide comfort. He knew better than to do that, yet his arms twitched at his side in restraint.

He knew from the minute he held her-something wasn’t right. Her protoform was too brittle, too weak for someone her size. She was sick. She didn’t deserve this. He did. He was the one that should be suffering.

Those thoughts were drowned out by the sudden warmth touching his chassis. Confused, Swerve looked at his sparkling, then around the room for answers. There wasn’t anything physically there that could be causing it. Then his frame started to jostle around in his seat. It was powerful enough that it caused his chair to titer back and forth. Then he gasped flying backwards in his chair.

Swerve optics flew open, disoriented, he grabbed a hold of the thing shaking his frame. It took a moment of blinking away the recharge before he could focus on what he was holding. It was a bright red servo.

".. Rodimus..? What are you…?" Swerve croaked out.

The captain was standing off to the side with a scowl cemented on his face. He tapped his pede against the hard floor in a steady fast rhythm as he stared down at Swerve. He looked seconds away from blowing up.

Swerve sat up, while still disoriented from the dream, to look at Rodimus, "You're..mad? Did…I do something?"

That stopped Rodimus in his tracks. He clasped his servos near his chin, pressing two digits against his lips and inhaled. He then deliberately exhaled slowly.

"Yes. Care to explain why you were using a hologram to hold your new spark?!" Rodimus snapped.

Oh. That. Swerve rubbed his aching helm with a frown. He knew that this conversation was going to happen if he got caught. He had been hoping that he wouldn't. Stupid pounding processor.

"I will if you promise not to yell," Swerve said wearily.

Swerve didn’t have it in him to deal with loud upset mechs. He could feel pressure right behind his optics from the helm ache. His limbs felt so heavy and he wanted to call Ratchet for some painkillers.

Rodimus took a look at him then sighed. "Fine-..I won't yell. But, Swerve, buddy. You look like slag. Are you…alright?"

Was he alright? Swerve brushed a servo against his scarred aching middle. He slumped in bed feeling his own simple touch light a fire of pain on those welds. He cringed but tried to give the captain a forced smile.

"I'm making it.'' Swerve managed to stutter out.

"Swerve, cut the slag. You just- hologramed out of the bar like the Swearth incident. You clearly are not fine! Physically or mentally!" Rodimus threw up his hands in frustration. "Please, as your friend- talk to me pal. Everybody is worried about you!"

The captain pulled up the chair next to the medical berth, and sat in it. Swerve watched, surprised he was sitting in it correctly, until he realized Rodimus was cradling Veer. His optics softened as he reached out to touch her. Noticing, Rodimus moved her sleeping form a little closer to Swerve.

"If not for me then for her," Rodimus begged while rocking Veer.

The guilt from his dream came back with a vengeance. He didn't mean to worry anyone. That was the entire point of the hologram! It was supposed to be a way to take care of Veer and still run the bar while he was out of commission.

That backfired spectacularly. Swerve was just beyond thankful he was holding a stupid tray of drinks and not his sparkling when he lost concentration.

His optics started to get misty the more he thought about it. She could have gotten hurt and it would have all been his fault. Just like when she was born…

Swerve reached over to hold her tiny balled up fist. She was safe. She was right here sound asleep thanks to his friends. He could hide the one stray tear that slipped under his visor to his cheek.

Swerve quickly wiped away the optical fluid. "I..didn't want to bother anyone."

Now all of the Lost Light was worried about him. He should prepare for more pitiful looks. He was getting tired of them. First time it happened was when no one wanted to be his roommate. He could hear everyone whispering and giggling about how pathetic he was. Not even Ultra Magnus wanted to bunk with him

Then after he accidentally shot that mech's helm off. The rumor for a while was that he did it on purpose. Who could frag up a hostage situation that badly? Swerve, apparently.

There were so many more incidents. His bar shutting down for bad engex, Pipes death, Swearth, Skids death, and now Veer's traumatic birth. Swerve was sick of tragedy following him. He just wanted to feel normal for at least one week! Just- he wanted to feel less fragile.

Rodimus frowned. "Pretty sure that did the opposite buddy. No offense, you handled it as well as Whirl djd when anyone mentioned clocks the first week of take off."

Swerve would have to agree. It was just- easier to fall back into old habits. It's what he always did when overwhelmed.

"That's..fair," Swerve admitted while admiring his sleeping daughter as a form of distraction.

Rodimus sighed, "You going to give me more to work with buddy?"

Swerve lower lip wobbled as a heavy lump formed in his throat. He could feel more stubborn tears making their way out. He knew the dam was about to break.

"It's just-.." his voice cracked, "I've… We're more hurt than I've led on. Veer had some complications, Roddy. "

That's when Swerve started to break down. The memory purge from his dream flooded his processor. She was so tiny and helpless.

Swerve thought she was going to die in that box. All because he didn't take care of himself. All because he didn't listen to his frame-

"I'm a frag up." Swerve sobbed out

Alarmed, Rodimus put a comforting servo on Swerve, "Whoa whoa whoa- Swerve, it's okay. "

"No! It's not! Rodimus, she needs daily injections-" Swerve wailed.

Rodimus frowned looking at Veer then at Swerve, "wait- why? She looks fine!"

That only made Swerve cry harder. Yes, she looked fine. They both did. But, that was far from the truth.

Rodimus watched on powerless with what to do. He grabbed the box of tissues on the end table and handed off a few to Swerve. The bartender took them and bawled into it.

It was like that for a few minutes. All the hurt, pain, and burden of this secret came bursting out of Swerve. It was like falling into the oil reserve and having to claw one's way out. It was violent and ugly.

There was a moment where nothing but the sound of broken sobs filled the room. Swerve hated himself for being so weak. Yet, here he was, crying in front of the captain more than Veer ever had.

Rodimus let him do it. He didn't force the bartender to explain. He just let him get it all out.

Swerve was thankful for that. He didn't realize how much of a burden he was carrying until now, with his spark spark stripped bare, his optics puffy from weeping, and his chassis hurting from strain. He needed all of this pent up pain out.

Swerve sniffle and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Swerve, Primus, don't be. It's clear you're hurting- in more than one way. Don't ever apologize for your feelings." Rodimus said, setting the tissue box off to the side.

"I know, I know- Rung always told me not to self isolate-...." Swerve paused to think about what he said. "Rung…"

"Who's that?" Rodimus asked curiously.

"I'm not sure- he was there during the swea- Never mind, it does really matter. What matters is he's right. I did that self isolate thingy again. And I really shouldn't have."

Rodimus hummed. "Have to agree buddy. I mean- how can your friends help you if we don't know what's wrong?"

Swerve sighed then touched his battered abdomen. "That's fair. I just-...it's hard to admit when you're scared."

Rodimus looked to the bartender's stomach then looked to Veer, "Why don't you tell me about it so I can help. We got this together buddy."

Swerve sighed at those words. He gave the captain a sad defeated smile before leaning back into the medical berth. He rubbed his tired optics under his visor.

"Veer punctured a hole in my gestation chamber. She's technically premature, which has caused its own set of issues, but yeah…Ratchet had to go back in there and patch it back up. It was fine but I pushed it too far at the party. The original patch job reopened. It's not too bad but it hurts like the pits." Swerve admitted looking at the ugly welds.

"Veer though.. as I said before- she needs injections. Daily coolant to keep her core temperature at a consistent level. See, she has a racer frame. They tend to run hot. The issue is her internal systems didn't develop fully. Maybe with time it will be something Ratchet can fix- but as for now.. those injections are the safest option. It's-...it's why I used the holoform. Someone needed to take care of her."

Rodimus frowned, then crossed his arms. "I could of- hell anyone on this ship would have gladly helped. Swerve, I still don't get why you would use the holoform."

"Because in less than a week there won't be a crew! I won't have a million servos offering assistance. It will just be me and Veer!" Swerve snapped before curling up on himself. "I need to be used to handling it all alone."

There was a moment of silence where neither bot said anything. It was true though. Swerve was going back to Cybertron all alone. There weren't going to be friends available to help. The quest was over.

"What if I told you that isn't necessarily true?" Rodimus said with this smug grin plastered on his face.

Swerve blinked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Swerve old buddy, pal, friendo. I missed the Ibex Cup to talk science magic with Percy and Brainstorm. How would you, and my cute co-captain, feel about hopping universes?"

Chapter Text

Things weren't that different since jumping universes. The crew was still their chaotic selves, Swerve still had a bar, and Veer was still the cutest co-captain.

It was a little underwhelming. Swerve hadn't expected fire fights or world ending adventures right away. But, it had already been a week and nothing had really happened.

The only real difference was Swerve felt like he was under constant surveillance. Well, correction, he was under constant surveillance.

These bots were taking shifts, like he was sparkling that needed to be watched. Somehow, Swerve knew Minimus was behind the schedule. He didn't have any evidence, but he knew.

At first Swerve found it a bit demeaning. Yeah, he got it! He messed up once again with the holoform- but he wasn’t fragile!

However, it actually didn't take long for him to begin finding it soothing. Swerve didn’t realize how lonely he'd been. It was.. nice to have a bot to talk to.

Don't get him wrong! He loves Veer. Just- she wasn't a very good conversationalist yet.

Swerve felt.. cared about. It didn't matter who he was with. They'd always indulge him with his silly human media obsession or play with Veer. He felt like a part of a group.

Maybe that's why he started to wander the halls of the Lost Light. He was equal parts as nervous about the new universe as he was just feeling more social. 'Walks' were a good outlet for both. (Yeah, walks….He used that word very loosely considering he was stuck in a hoverchair until his welds were healed).

That's how they discovered a mysterious room. Swerve passed by it while on his way to the observation deck. He didn't recall a bot bunking in there. Naturally, his curiosity got the better of him and he broke in.

Okay, broke in was a strong word. It was more like he got Rodimus to override the key code. Breaking in just sounds cooler.

It was strange, finding this room that was decorated with a wide array of model ships. It was a large, impressive collection. Every ship displayed neatly on shelves that were hitched to the walls; all categorized by make and model. It was the kind of dedication to rule following that reminded Swerve of Minimus!

The problem was the ex enforcer had no idea who these toys belonged to. No one really did. It was like they appeared out of nowhere overnight.

Rodimus had brushed it off suggesting the items probably belonged to the previous owners of the Lost Light. That didn't bring much comfort to the metallurgist, considering they had also kept a sparkeater on board. Though, in his opinion, Swerve had doubts about that claim.

Model ships and spark eaters were an odd combination. He should know- he'd mixed a lot of different drinks together in his lifetime. Heck, he did it for a living.

He knew what worked and what didn't. Model building was a delicate hobby he couldn't see insane mechs doing. It took a lot of patience that he believed they would lack.

It bothered him. There was this nagging thought in the back of his processor yelling 'he should know!' any time he looked at those ships. Yet he kept drawing a blank.

In his gut he felt it had something to do with that mysterious mech Swerve recalled from his meta induced psychosis. There was this odd nerdy character nobody else seemed to remember. He was a slim, reserved fellow that stuck around his friends. Swerve had assumed he was just a character he made up- a background character to fill some space but… Swerve swore he was in that meta comic he narrated.

He was the orange mech that wore glasses. At least, that's what he assumed. Nobody else on the Lost Light looked like that.

It was driving him crazy. Swerve felt like he knew his name. Rang? Rub? Room? Swerve couldn't recall. All he knew for sure was it started with an R. Even worse was he felt like he said his name before.

From what little he could remember that mech spoke softly- and was all delicate like. He seemed like the type to collect model ships. That seemed to fit the bill much better than the bots that kept a spark eater as a pet.

Either way, the crew inspected that spare room about five times. There was no way they were risking a ship destroying macguffin with a sparkling on board. And with their track records it wouldn't have been surprising if something like that was hidden among their stuff.

The room wasn't dubbed safe until Perceptor scanned it himself. (No offense to Brainstorm but details sometimes slipped his processor). After that the crew worked together to dust the entire thing out. The cobwebs weren't that bad for a room that had been sitting there for Primus knows how long. It took maybe two mega-cycles for it to look acceptable.

Then with Minimus’ help they took down the ships then the shelves. Minimus made sure to keep them neatly organized while they stored them in the hallway. Everyone agreed that it felt important for some reason.

That's when Drift came in! He busted out the spare paints and started changing those blindingly orange walls into softer pastel colors. By the time he was done it looked like one of those human shows. Swerve had to admit that it was a massive improvement. The orange was starting to hurt his optics after a while.

Once dried they started decorating the room with spare odds and ends. Cyclonus provided a beautiful tapestry with cybertron's constellations, which they decided to display on the wall. Swerve had to admit he was surprised when he noticed the warrior had also added glow in the dark stars to the ceiling. When Swerve asked about it, Cyclonus simply stated that it matched.

Whirl created a simplified clock for one of the side tables, and much to Swerve’s dismay, he also mounted the gender reveal confetti cannon for 'emergencies'. Swerve doubted they would ever use it, but it made Whirl happy, and Swerve couldn't find it in himself to say no.

Nautica fixed her camien music box and put it on one of the end tables for Swerve to wind during Veer's naptime. It was a sweet gesture that Swerve greatly appreciated.

Rodimus, of course, had Veer's star framed front and center, on the wall directly across from the entrance. Rodimus was adamant that his face should be the first thing Veer saw anytime she came inside.

Megatron, surprisingly, made a first aid kit to keep in the room. The warlord had approached Swerve with it out of the blue. He passed it over ensuring it contained everything a sparkling needed, smiled down at Veer, then left. It was rather… nice.

Just about every bot chipped in to help make the room more homey. In fact, one could argue that it was over filled with junk. Swerve, however, wouldn't be one of those bot. He thought it was charming.

Once that was done they put the shelves back alongside the model toys. It was a nice touch- having cute toys displayed in the Lost Light’s new nursery. Swerve hoped the initial owner didn't mind. Those silly hunks of plastic made the room feel special. There was something about them that brought a certain…warmth.

Swerve caught himself staring at them more than once. Everytime it tickled his processor in a certain way-He just knew that whoever that mech was- he was important. Hopefully, one day soon, he will remember him.

The adorable high pitched laugh of his sparkling pulled him out of those thoughts. Swerve peered down at the mess of blankets and toys surrounding his daughter; every single item, a gift from the crew. All were very thoughtful and endearing. Veer, of course, ignored her array of play things to instead squeal in victory as she nommed on her own foot.

Sparklings, they had a mind of their own. Swerve huffed out a laugh watching Veer lose her grip. Her little pede ended up kicking Whirl’s knees. The wrecker peered in his direction with his optic squinting into a slit. He reached over and, carefully, gave her back her foot. Veer grabbed a hold like it was the sweetest energon goodie and squealed.

“I like your tenacity kid! Good call, always go for the strongest mech in the room!” Whirl encouraged with a smugness to his voice.

“I think it was an accident Whirl. Veer is way too sweet to-” Tailgate stopped as a single claw was pressed against his lips.

“Sssh, let me have this” Whirl said then turned his attention back to the sparkling. “She’s gonna be a cold sparked killer anyway. I see that glint in her optics- Veer is a wrecker through and through.”

“Hate to break it to you, but that look right now? That’s because she’s gassy,” Swerve said, leaning back into the chair with a laugh.

The helicopter leaned away from the sparkling with new found suspicion. He then scooted a little bit away from the play mat as if she was going to let one rip at any moment. Swerve could have easily told him that she needed to be burped. That’s the only way to relieve gassy tanks, but seeing the former wrecker treat his sparkling like a bomb was hilarious.

Cyclonus, forever the responsible one, leaned over to pick her up from the mat. Whirl made a disappointed sound, “Wait-wait. I changed my mind. She can hang with me and still be gassy-!”

“It will take two seconds Whirl, I’ll put her back after she’s done,” Cyclonus said, passing the sparkling to her carrier.

Veer slotted into Swerves arms with ease. Upset, she beeped loudly at Cyclonus; she let him know that she wasn't pleased with the sudden change in destination! But, she quickly settled down once she realized she was with her carrier. The little stinker cuddled close like she wasn't just cursing Cyclonus out in sparkling.

Well, Swerve assumed that's what she was saying. Sadly, he didn't speak bitlet- but he could feel her annoyance through their bond. He thought her tiny wrath was kind of cute.

Cyclonus, the mighty warrior of the Golden age, tickled the sensitive plating of Swerve’s sparkling. She laughed in utter delight, earning a smile from the horned mech. Swerve marveled at how gentle he was despite his claws.

If Swerve had been a betting mech he wouldn't be surprised if Veer had a playmate soon. There were a few bots on the Lost Light, that have been crazed with sparkling fever ever since she showed up. Cyclonus, of all bots, was first on that list. Seconded by Rewind and Chromrdome.

Swerve could see the way the mech looked at Veer: he got this longing in his optics. The same look he often gave Tailgate and Whirl. There was no doubt that Cyclonus would pounce if given the chance.

Now, if only Whirl realized he was dating both of them. Swerve glanced at the helicopter, who was still sulking on the floor, to Tailgate, who was laying next to Whirl, then to Cyclonus again. This was beyond ridiculous. The sexual tension between the three of them was denser than the warrior's sword.

Yet, all three of them danced around the topic like it was going to offline them. He knew that it was none of his business but- If these thick helmed afts didn't resolve it soon, then Swerve was going to explode.

Okay, maybe not explode, but definitely would step in. Maybe it was cycles worth of processor damage but Whirl just didn't get it. He needed a little push (or a blunt confession).

They've even been on throuple dates. Tailgate has already started the rites with both of them. Frag, Cyclonus even sang for Whirl! Still, Whirl thought he was third wheeling- It was like that human saying! Whirl thought of himself simply as a gal pal.

What made it worse was Whirl wasn't any better! The mech was downright tender anytime he interacted with the two. Swerve even heard that he showed them his workshop! That's, like, huge for Whirl.

It just boggled Swerve’s processor why they all were doing this. At this point they all were practically sparkmates. If Swerve had anybody like that in his life he'd jump at the chance!

Yeah… He would. Swerve sighed internally. He really longed for that.

He could see the love between them, love that he lacked. He was happy for them- He really was! But, a selfish part of him thought they took it for granted.

Nobody had loved Swerve like that. No one ever would… There was a part of him that had given up on love. To Swerve, it was something only found in cheesy romcoms, or dialogue choices in a video game. It was something meant for main characters like his friends. Not annoying loud mouths without an ounce of charisma.

But that was alright, at least he had Veer. He was finding that her love was more than enough. Everyday she gave him a reason to get out of bed, and that was more than enough for him!

He glanced at his daughter, who had traded drooling on her foot for drooling on her fist. Swerve leaned down and nuzzled her silly little face. She cooed happily from the sudden affection.

"Gimme two seconds Whirl, I'm a certified pro at this. She'll be free from the evils within her tanks! Begone gassy demon!" Swerve said while rearranging Veer to lay on his shoulder.

He gave her a couple of pats on the back. Whirl sat up from the floor to watch, suddenly interested in how it was done. Swerve tried his best to hide his smug smile.

Oh, if both Whirl and Cyclonus were interested then Veer was definitely going to have a playmate. Swerve made sure to go slow so the wrecker could make mental notes. You know-in case the wrecker is in the same boat in the near future.

It took mere seconds before his daughter loudly burped. When she did Veer reeled back as if startled by her own power. Swerve cracked up at her wide optic look. She was just so freakin cute and expressive.

"Whoa! Did you do that? Veer! You're too strong!" Swerve cooed as he moved her back in a cradled position.

Veer hiccuped then smiled up at her creator. She hadn't the faintest clue what he just said but she still responded like she did. It reminded Swerve of himself, when he accidentally zoned out mid conversation, but answered yes to pretend he was still listening. Moments like this reminded him she definitely was his sparkling.

"Yeah Veer! That was so mighty~ Whirl, you better watch out. She might take out your leg," Tailgate chimed in.

Whirl flopped up so he could face them. He glared at the sparkling before bringing his claws up. "I'd like to see you try pip-squeak! I'll beat you up". Whirl then did a fearsome attack of fake punches right on her tummy. Veer giggled away with every 'impact', "You think this is funny? Huh, you little blue gumball? I'll show you!"

The wrecker leaned in real close and blew a raspberry on her tummy. Well, it was more of a light nuzzle while he made the sound, since he lacked the correct anatomy to do it properly. Still, it had the desired effect: Veer squealing in delight.

"Whirl, stop! She's too young to die!" Tailgate playfully wailed.

Even Cyclonus, 'gasped', in despair. "Veer, you must fight back little one!"

Whirl stopped his onslaught of 'attacks' when Veer suddenly hugged his face. She babbled something as she snuggled away at the wrecker. Swerve watched in awe as Whirl sort of melted into the touch. He looked more like a house cat instead of a feral raccoon, like he usually did. It was sweet.

Whirl didn't move for a moment. He brought both his claws up to 'hugs' Veer back. "I'd kill for you kiddo."

Swerve was sure he meant it. "Hopefully it won't come to that".

As soon as the words left his mouth the high pitched wail of the emergency alarms went off. The sound was so loud it rattled the inside of Swerve’s helm. He winced, covered his creation’s precious audio receptors, and glared at the flashing red lights. Him, and his big mouth!

Whirl leapt up from his position on the ground, much like a feral raccoon jumping out of a dumpster, snatched up the confetti cannon from the wall, and cocked it like a shotgun. "My time has come! Witness me Veer!" He cackled out.

Maybe introducing Whirl to Mad Max wasn't their smartest move. Swerve was sure regretting it now with the former wrecker acting a fool while an actual crisis was going down! Swerve gave Cyclonus a look, pleading with his optics to stop Whirl. He was already dealing with one upset sparkling- He didn't need Whirl adding to it.

Veer, poor baby, was now sobbing. All joy was sucked out of her by the loud sound and flashing lights. It was a lot for a little bitlet.

All Swerve could do to offer her comfort was to lay her on his chassis with a blanket covering her sensors. He rocked her, despite the protest of his aching middle, and mumbled our reassurances. It was kind of hard to with Whirl somehow cackling louder.

Thankfully, Cyclonus walked over to Whirl, and restrained him just as the ship's intercom system crackled to life. "All available bots down to the docking bay!" Megatron barked, only to be interrupted by Rodimus stealing the mic. "Bring all the fire power we got! Let's show these new universe fraggers that nobody anchors onto our ship without permission!"

The docking bay…? Swerve’s insides twisted. That wasn't too far from the nursery! Oh, he didn't like that. Maybe they should move. Or-was it safer to stay? At least then everyone would know their location if something bad happened.

Wait, no, those were the rules when you got lost. That wouldn't work. Oh, frag. Oh, no.

Nervous, Swerve moved the hoverchair in the direction of the observation window. He peered out to see the tail end of a large ship. Wait a moment, Swerve dried swallowed, was that…?

The microphone was swiftly snatched from Rodimus’ hands. He turned to scowl at the gray son of a glitch that had the audacity to do that. See, this was why Veer was the better co-captain.

"Was that really necessary, Rodimus?" Megatron asked like a disappointed creator.

The speedster paused to pretend he was actually thinking about it. He rubbed under his chin in order to really ponder the question; Was that really necessary? Well, frag yes it was!

"Look, I don't know what or who is dumb enough to try to dock but they are gonna pay for it. We gotta teach this universe that the Lost Light isn't to be messed with!"

Megatron sighed, "Rodimus, we don't even know if they are hostile. Rallying everyone up is just going to cause a shoot out I'd rather avoid!"

Thunderclash, forever the suck up, chimed in. "I have to agree with him, Rodimus. We don't know what we're walking into."

Rodimus rolled his optics, 'No one asked for your opinion BlunderClash', Rodimus thought.

Their universe's greatest autobot needed to mind his business. Yeah, things between them were getting better, but siding with Megs? Not cool.

For once he'd like it if that red opticed, goofy looking smiled, fragger would take his side! Especially in arguments with his co-captain. But, nooooo! Thunderclash has gotta take Megatron's side.

Funny, considering he was part of the mutiny. Though Rodimus never threw that in his perfect face, no matter how frustrated he got, because he understood what it was like to make a mistake… At least Thunderclash's cost less lives.

Rodimus crossed his arms then looked between the two massive mechs. Thunderclash gazed back with those puppy dog optics. That wasn't fair- it's hard to stay annoyed when he does that! He huffed, trying to keep a hold of his exasperation.

"Why? Are you scared?" Rodimus challenge.

The ex-wardlor's mouth thinned into a frown as he crossed his arms together. It took Rodimus a bit off guard. Megatron was serious.

"Yes," he said, meeting the speedster's optics. "You seem to forget-We have precious cargo on board! We might be able to survive gun fire but a new spark can't. Please, get your helm on straight and think before you start to attack."

Rodimus' confident stance faltered. His spoilers pinned back against his armor. He frowned, hating to admit it, but Megatron was right. They now had a new spark to consider before they jumped helm first into danger.

He grumbled looking away, "Okay, Yeah… I'll be on my best behavior…. For my little co-captain."

Thunderclash studied him for a moment before giving the speedster a little nudge, "I think you mean our little co-captain."

That surprised Rodimus but he couldn't help but grin up at the warrior. Okay, maybe Thunderclash wasn't too bad after all. Anyone who saw Veer's value as his co-captain was alright in Rodimus' books. All should bow before her cuteness!

"Frag yeah! Let's do this- for Veer!"

The racer then transformed into his alt-mode and zoomed out the door. He could hear Megatron's deep sighed from behind as he raced down the hallway. What? He promised to behave- Not act like somebody else.

That only encouraged him to pick up speed. He didn't bother to see if Clash and Megs were behind him. They would just slow him down.

Nah, he focused on weaving through the crowd of other mechs making their way there, earning a few 'Heys!' and 'Slow the frag down!' while he barely dodged them. He didn't really care- His spark told him to gun it! And the spark wants what the spark wants.

It took a matter of mere minutes before he burst through the docking bay door, transformed back into root mode, and skidded to a stop right in front of Ultra Magnus. His engine was still running hot as he smirked up at his second in command. Ultra Magnus looked back in his 'not impressed' face.

"What's the status, Mags?"

Rodimus peered around to assess the situation. There were crew members all circled around the front with weapons drawn. Yet no baddies in sight.

Odd, usually there would be a shoot out at this point. He supposed that it was a good thing. Yet, there was this uneasy feeling probing at his spark. Like…something big was about to happen.

Nope. He didn't like that one bit. Last time that happened, they had the DJD knocking at their door.

"Nobody has attempted to make contact with our ship Captain. However, I believe we have bigger problems than that. The ship docking ours is-"

"Vis Vitalis?" Well, at least this universe's version of it.

This one looked way more banged up then the one Firestar left with. There were clear signs of a firefight; Scorch marks blackened parts of its blue and yellow paint, holes shredded its weapons equipment, making it look like Swiss cheese, and one of the thrusters was smoking.

Swerve didn’t know if its state made him feel any better. Whoever was in there must have been through the pit and back, and desperate mechs were dangerous things. Swerve should know, he was the literal definition of it.

He trembled, hoping they were friendly and not the other option. He wasn’t prepared if it was the other option. He'd left his freaking blaster back at the bar!

Frag, how is he going to protect Veer? Frag, frag, frag.

He was pulled out of his freak out by Cyclonus putting a servo on his shoulder. He looked up, with his visor glitching and vents blaring, at the warrior. Cyclonus gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"You two will be safe, I promise you that"

"Frag yeah! I've been itching to bust open some helms. We got your and the pip-squeak's back!" Whirl chortled.

That…did make him feel better. Cyclonus wasn't the type of mech to go back on his promises. Neither was Whirl (Despite what he might say).

Swerve slowly relaxed his frame and laid back in his chair. He gave the window another glance. It might be his anxiety talking but seeing the ship made him jittery.

He tried to squash down the feeling as he moved the chair back towards the play mat. Maybe things wouldn't escalate to that point. Hopefully, the four of them will be safe.

He should distract himself. That sounded like a better idea than being a paranoid nervous wreck. Last thing they needed was for Swerve to start acting like Red Alert.

He took in a deep calming breath then exhaled. Things were going to be fine. They were going to be safe.

Swerve glanced down at his sobbing sparkling with a frown. She always looked pitiful when she cried. This? This look broke his spark.

He wished that stupid alarm would shut off. It was upsetting Veer. Yeah, they got it. The ship was under attack. Now, please stop reminding them of their potential doom. Most of the crew had too much anxiety or some other mental disorder to deal with it.

Whirl must have felt the same way because when Swerve went to check on him the wrecker was unspooling a roll of duct tape. He wasn't sure where he got it from nor did he want to find out. The helicopter wrapped tape several times around the screaming speaker. After he took a step back to admire his handiwork.

The sound was muffled to a more manageable level but it was still going off. It was like trying to fix a gaping wound with a bandaid- Meaning it barely did anything.

Whirl still appeared proud of himself. He nodded at the craftsmanship then tossed his roll off to the side. He dusted off his claws, picked back up the cannon, then made his way back to the mat.

Yeah, when he told Whirl humans could fix anything with duct tape he didn't expect to be taken so literally. That was on him. Maybe he should explain stuff better.

Tailgate glanced at the helicopter then at the alarm. Swerve could tell by the glint in his visor- he wasn’t impressed.

It wasn't like anyone was going to correct the wrecker. At least he tried to fix the problem…In his own Whirly way.

Cyclonus, who almost got hit by the tape Whirl tossed, made his way over to the alarm. He said nothing as he pressed a button right underneath it. Like magic the high pitch wailing ceased.

"Oh frag off!" Whirl exclaimed.

Tailgate snickered at the exchange. Swerve couldn't blame him. If the situation wasn't so tense he'd probably laugh too. It was a little funny.

Cyclonus leaned against the wall as Whirl flipped, what one could assume, was the bird. The warrior only smirked in return. Damn, they needed to frag already.

Swerve turned his attention back to his upset sparkling. Veer was a mess. Her cheeks were red, her vents were rattling from strain, and Swerve couldn't help but worry she was overheating. He placed his servo against her forehelm to gauge her temperature. He frowned, rocking her close.

"Tailgate, Gimme a shot from my bag. She feels warm."

"Oh! Sure!" He squeaked out before fumbling with the sparkling bag.

Swerve eagerly accepted the syringe. He always hated this part… Swerve placed a quick kiss on top of her helm before carefully injecting it into her arm. She let out a pained beep before wailing more.

Whirl distracted her by tickling her with his claw. He started to coo and gush at her for being brave. Swerve appreciated his attempts at calming her down.

Veer blinked up at the wrecker with tears rolling down her cheeks. She hiccuped then reached out to grab his claw. Her sniffles slowed as she stared at his single yellow optic.

"She really likes you," Tailgate said, kneeling right beside Whirl.

Swerve had to agree. Usually it took him thirty minutes of non-stop coddling before she'd calm down. Her fits were legendary. Whirl managed to do it in seconds.

"Nah, she just knows I'm the baddest mech here. It's a respect thing."

"Hmn, I see. Is that why she's trying to eat your servo?" Tailgate asked with a laugh. "Because she respects you?"

Whirl squinted at the waste disposal bot then at Veer, "Yep, all respect. She doesn't do it to anyone. For example, she isn't drooling on Cyclonus' servo."

"That's because you capitalize all of our time with her." Cyclonus pointed out as he stood by Swerve’s side.

"Blah blah blah. Sounds like an excuse. Just admit it- I'm so bad it makes you look stupid."

"I'd admit nothing of the sort," Cyclonus mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing Whirl, just thinking out loud-..Shush. someone is coming," Cyclonus said, glancing at the door.

Swerve didn’t hear anything. He was too distracted by Whirl. But, Cyclonus clearly did.

The horned warrior stepped in front of them and unsheathed his sword. His red optics narrowed. Whirl joined him by aiming the cannon at Cyclonus' line of sight.

On instinct, Swerve shielded Veer's body with his arms. His daughter, unaware of the danger, beeped out in confusion. He swallowed down his fear and prepared for the worse.

For a moment nothing happened. They all stood there in their stance, ready for a fight. A full minute passed. Then two. Then five. It was long enough that Swerve started to wonder if Cyclonus had been wrong.

Then there was a knock. A calm friendly sounding knock. It threw Swerve off for a moment. He was expecting something more frantic- like somebody to pound on the door to warn them of incoming danger.

The door flew open as Rodimus stepped in. Swerve brows furrowed. Their captain had this off look on his face. His lips were pursed and his spoilers trembled. All very un-Rodimus-like characteristics.

That's when Swerve realized that their captain wasn't alone. Behind Rodimus he could see a glimpse of blue armor. Swerve assumed whoever it was must have been from the Vis Vitalis.

Right when Rodimus went to step out of the way a projectile of pink confetti came flying out of the cannon. Swerve’s jaw dropped as it slammed full force into this new poor soul. He whipped his helm at Whirl’s direction to see him cackling once more.

"It's a girl!"

Rodimus ran up to Whirl and snatched the cannon from him. "WHIRL! Stand down!"

"Awe, just saying hello!" he chirped.

Rodimus rubbed his temples before handing the cannon off to Cyclonus. The warrior accepted with a grunt as Rodimus turned back around to help their guest. Whoever it was must be important by the way apologies were tumbling out of him.

"No, no, it's fine. I should've expected that out of Whirl," chuckled an eerily familiar voice.

Time froze. Did his processor just glitch? He knew that voice. There was no way. No possible way he heard that correctly.

Swerve grabbed ahold of his arm rest, squeezing it tight, to feel grounded. He leaned forward in a desperate attempt to get a better look, ignoring the pain it caused his middle. Right now, that didn't matter. He needed to know!

Rodimus helped up the knocked over mech. The two of them emerged from the hallway. Swerve didn’t realize he was holding his breath until all the air was knocked out of him. Standing there in front of him was a ghost.

"It's good to see you buddy. How have you been?" a warm voice greeted.

His optics started to water and for a moment he lost his ability to speak. Swerve covered his mouth while trying to form words. Any words at all! But all that came out was static.

Swerve spark flip flopped in his chassis. If this was a dream then he didn't want to wake up!

“Skids!?”

Chapter Text

Skids! It was Skids!

At that moment he didn't care if this was a dream or some kind of hallucination. All that mattered was giving that son of a glitch a hug.

Swerve scrambled to get out of his seat. He managed to get halfway out before red hot pain lit up his abdomen. He inhaled a sharp gasp. Frag- that hurts!

Swerve cursed under his breath. He really didn't have time to deal with his broken frame. Not when his dead best friend was right there! Swerve grit his denta together as his pedes wobbled from the strain of his own weight.

Swerve failed to keep his balance. His optics widened as he felt the hoverchair, the thing anchoring him, started to slip from under his servo. He failed trying to save himself from meeting the floor.

Oh, scrap! His optics widened in realization. Veer! Swerve gave up on trying to catch himself and instead shielded his creation from the incoming impact. Her frame was more important!

"SWERVE!"

Somebody flew forward just in time to catch the bartender. Swerve clung onto their sold, warm frame as he desperately tried to stand up. He vented out in frustration as his pedes kept clumsily slipping underneath him.

Swerve was thankful when he was carefully lowered to his knees on the floor. His cheeks burned. He couldn't believe he just floundered like some kind of torque turtle flipped on its back.

That couldn't have been any more embarrassing. Swerve let out a little laugh to save face, though even to his own audio receptors it sounded forced. He opened his mouth to make a joke about it only to fall flat as a single servo was placed on his shoulder.

Two sunshine optics, filled with concern, laid on him. The room felt unreal at that moment. The best way he could describe it was like his frame was two steps to the left while the rest of him stayed in place. He was starting to doubt reality, yet he could very much feel that servo on his shoulder. This wasn't a dream. Skids was really kneeling in front of him.

Swerve threw his free arm around the stupid and brilliant theoretican. He willed his tears not to fall as two arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

He hugged as tight as he could out of fear Skids would vanish right there. He shook in place pleading for that not to happen. Please, let this be real. His spark couldn't take losing anymore.

He was sick of waking up to an empty room anytime he dreamt that his amica was still here. Countless times his processor convinced him that Skids was alive. He was just waiting in the bar- Ready to smile at Swerve for any lame joke he made with that famous bright smile, the one that could charm the spark out of the worst cybertronians; the same smile Swerve missed seeing around his bar! A smile void of pity. One that brightened up the room- A totally Skid's smile.

"I missed you."

The hug tightened, "I miss you too buddy!"

Hearing that voice again made his optics tear up. He blinked away any moisture threatening to fall. Swerve decided to smile instead. That's what his best friend deserved.

He would gladly stay like this forever. Swerve and Skids. Skids and Swerve together again. The quest adventuring duo ready to take on the universe!

An unhappy beep pulled them out of the moment. Skids released the bartender from the embrace to peer down at the source of the noise. Skid's mouth hung open in surprise.

Veer, who had been squashed between their two frames, had her face scrunched up in a way that threatened tears. Swerve immediately started to apologize and whisper reassuring words to her. He was grateful she was a forgiving bitlet. She settled back into his arms after a kiss to her cheek.

Once she calmed down Swerve began to inspect every inch of her frame for damages. No dents or scratches but still- Swerve felt awful.

Instant guilt filled up his spark. She could have gotten hurt. All because he was clumsy and impatient.

He nuzzled the top of her helm to reassure himself she was fine. They both were. Skids saved them.

Veer, ever the attention lover, soaked up the affection. She snuggled her carrier back completely unaware of the scare she just gave him. Swerve sighed in relief. She was okay.

Skids quietly helped the bartender back to his feet. Swerve was thankful since he doubted he could do it on his own. Once back in the hoverchair Swerve noticed Skids staring at him. Then at the bundle in his arms.

"Is… that your sparkling?"

Swerve froze. That's right- Skids wouldn't have known.

He tried to figure out what to say.

Yes, that's his creation. Her name is Veer. She's actually named after you since- Well, you were dead. Surprise! Welcome back to the land of the living buddy.

Swerve instead blurted out, "Maybe."

He cringed. Maybe? Like Veer could be mistaken for anything else.

"Nah, Veer is actually a scraplet colony we decided to keep," Whirl chimed in.

"Whirl, don't call her a scraplet colony!" Swerve huffed out.

The helicopter wasn't done showing his aft. He slung an arm around Skid's shoulder, taking time to admire some of the pink confetti stuck in his seams, and pulled Skids close. He leaned over to his audio receptor.

"Finnnnne, the real secret is she's a clone of Blurr we created thanks to an engex mishap!" Whirl corrected.

That- was closer to the truth than Swerve felt comfortable admitting. His cheeks heated. He gave the ex-wrecker a warning glare, as if to tell him he'd be kicked off the sparkling sitting schedule if he kept it up. Whirl must have got the message because he crossed his servos like a bitlet who just got put in time out.

He felt a little bad. Only a little bit. Swerve knew that Whirl was just acting out because he was happy to see Skids. They all were. He just wished the ex-wrecker found a better outlet for it instead of being the drama.

"She does look a lot like Blurr.." Skids agreed.

Swerve bit the inside of his cheek. Yeah, she does. Everybody knew it. But, Swerve didn’t want to confirm anything. Last thing they needed was to become the focus of the Lost Light's rumor mill again!

Maybe when they were in a more private setting Swerve could tell him the truth. It would be nice to share that secret with someone he really trusted. Skids would understand.

"Her name is Veer!" he blurted out to distract from that comment. "She’s my creation- um. I'm sorry there's so much to go over. How are you here?"

That was the thing- his mind couldn’t over the fact he was here. Like- really there! Asking about his creation. As if he hadn't been offline. Like he didn’t sacrifice his life to save them. Swerve had seen his grey frame himself. But, here he was! Just standing there like nothing happened!

Swerve still wasn't convinced this wasn't a dream.

"That's a long and complicated story buddy. I can say the same to you and the rest of the crew. From my perspective- This ship is packed full of ghosts," Skids admitted with this pained look in his optics.

"That's why we came to get you. Everyone is gathering at the communication hub so both crews can compare notes. Be prepared to see a lot more friends we said goodbye to. There's a lot of ghosts," Rodimus added.

Skids nodded in agreement. “Yeah…And, I know plenty that are going to be excited to see you buddy.”

That gave Swerve pause. He couldn’t imagine a lot of bots happy to see him walking around. Swerve knew he wasn’t to everyone’s personal taste. He was loud, annoying, and sometimes a down right problem if bored.

Yet, the glint in Skid’s optics told the truth. Swerve titled his helm trying to think of anyone that would want to see him… It was already a short list- shorter considering the Lost Light’s mortality rate.

Unless… Rodimus did mention seeing old friends. Swerve visor brightens at that thought. Skid’s was proof enough that something whacky was going on. Dead best friends don’t just reappear out of nowhere…Right? Swerve could feel his spark flutter at the possibilities. Though he tried to squash it down so he wouldn’t be disappointed. Skids' appearance was already a miracle. That sort of thing doesn’t happen twice. Plus, The ship Skids was on was the Vis Vitalis. It could be Firestar’s crew.

That still left him with questions. Swerve doubted he made an impression on anyone during Thunderclash’s funeral party. Well, a good one at least. Swerve chewed the bottom of his lip as he tried to figure this out.

"Wow- okay. Getting night of the living dead vibes up in here- I'm assuming they all are normal and not the zombie eat your brain type of undead friends?" Swerve asked unsure.

They'd already dealt with an army of spark eaters. He didn't think punching them in the face could fix a zombie infection like it did with the previously mentioned army. Plus, he didn't want to punch Skids. Zombie or not.

"No, we aren't coming to get you Barbara. We all are fine like you are buddy," Skids said then paused to take in Swerve's ragged frame, "Well, almost. Won't lie- you're looking a bit rough. You alright?"

Was he alright? Skids was the one who's supposed to be dead! And this lovable idiot was asking about him!

A wave of different emotions hit him all at once. He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat. Was it from the movie reference or the absurdity of it all? Swerve wasn't sure.

His chassis felt warm from the way his spark thudded against his casing. At the same time he felt like a fragile cube that was about to shatter. Skids had remembered movie night! Not just any movie night-That was the last film they watched together before the mutiny.

Part of him was elated. He never thought he’d hear Skids play along with him again! Conversations had felt a lot more lonely since his departure. It was like an important piece was missing.

Swerve covered his mouth to hide the way his lower lip wobbled. He refused to cry. Not when this was a happy moment. He just wasn't expecting that hearing Skid's worried voice to affect him so badly. He didn't think he'd ever hear it again.

Primus, he missed Skids.

Swerve swallowed back the sorrow. He didn't want to be sad right now. He just wanted to be in the moment.

"I um-" his voice cracked for a second.

Swerve cleared his intake, "Sorry, vocalizer glitched. This? It's fine- I'm fine!"

Skids didn't look convinced. His amica gestured to the healing weld marks, calling Swerve out on his boldface lie. Swerve forced an uneasy grin.

"It looks worse than it actually is. Ratchet is just being over dramatic-"

"We both know Ratchet isn't the type to be over dramatic. Swerve, stop trying to downplay this. Please- I just… want to make sure you’re okay," Skids urged.

There was something in Skids’ voice that caught Swerve off guard. It was…sort of desperate? Like he needed to know that he was fine. Swerve opened his mouth to pacify his worries but nothing came out.

Rodimus, not having any of it, decided to butt in before Swerve could reassure his amica. "Swerve here, is on berth/hoverchair rest till his welds heal. He'll be fine if he follows Ratty's advice."

Skids didn't look satisfied with that answer. His brows knit together as he studied Swerve up and down. Skids optics lingered on Veer's swaddled form. Swerve could almost see the cogs moving in Skids processor.

Yep, nope. Time to downplay this before Skids gets all mother hen on his aft. He already had the rest of the Lost Light doing it; he didn't want his long lost amica to focus on that when they should be celebrating!

"Rodimus is telling the truth. It looks worse than it feels- It's not even from anything epic. Promise. No shootouts or stabbings. Just from little Veer here. Don't let her fool you. There's a reason she's one of the co-captains. See, she may have gotten inspired by Tokyo Drift- She decided to bust some moves on her way out. Veer thought she was Han when in reality she was more like Sean at the beginning of the movie. She scraped a few things. It happens! Really it was my fault for rewatching that movie so much when carrying. It's okay though! Look at her cute face- One day she'll master drifting!"

"Did you just compare a gestational wall punctured to... fast and furious?" Tailgate asked.

Swerve cringed on the inside. Well, thanks Tailgate. There goes his attempt at downplaying his injuries. He was hoping Skids wouldn't pick up on it if he stayed vague. Maybe he could still salvage this.

Swerve forced a grin."Maybe, okay yeah. But in my defense it's a great movie. Plus, you're telling me my daughter wouldn't attempt drifting?"

"She's a bit too young for that but maybe after a upgrade or two I can give her lessons," Skids said as he gently bumped his fist against Swerve's armor.

His visor brightened at the offer. It was silly- really silly. But hearing that- it made him happy. It meant Skids planned on sticking around long term. It made this feel more real.

"Yeah… I'll hold you to it, Skids," Swerve smiled at him. "It's only right someone cool teach her,"

Rodimus huffed, "The coolest mech is right here."

"Veer? Yep, you're right. She is the coolest captain," Skids said with a smirk.

Rodimus reeled back surprise from the clap back but recovered quickly with his own grin. "Okay, well played. Veer is the coolest. We all pale in comparison to that stylish blue gumball!"

Skids laughed, "Blue gumball?"

Rodimus perked up with pride. "Yeah! Cuz she looks like a cute little energon goodie. Isn't that right Veer?"

Veer made a happy sound hearing her name. Swerve chuckled knowing she was completely clueless on what was happening. She just liked being included.

Swerve nuzzled the top of her helm earning a happy coo. He grinned like a damn fool when he made optic contact with Skids. He was staring in awe. Already his amica seemed intrigued by her.

"Hey Veer," Swerve whispered down to her. "I'd like you to meet your Uncle Skids. He's gonna teach you to drift one day."

Skids beamed hearing that. He stepped forward, once Swerve signaled to him it was okay, and grabbed ahold of her tiny fist. He then very carefully shook it.

"It's nice to meet you, Veer. I'm Skids- your carrier’s best friend. Wow, that's crazy to say. And you're just so tiny- Is she a minibot too?"

Swerve nodded to confirm as his creation happily took a hold of Skid's digits. Veer kicked out her feet and waved around her free servo. Somebody was definitely excited to meet Skids.

Rodimus patted the theoretican’s shoulder. "Feel honored dude. She only does that to bots she really likes."

"Oh- I definitely feel honored right now!"

Veer must have liked his energy because a big happy smile bloomed across her face. She babbled nonsense at them with a happy bounce. Her affectionate demeanor rubbed off of them. Skids happily laughed at her adorable face. The theoretican then grinned at Swerve.

"She’s just like you- Look at the smile! That's all you buddy."

It is? He really took her in. Veer had these pronounced dimples on her cheeks anytime she smiled. Her optics shone with the same joy she felt in her spark. She was just brilliant.

Swerve flushed. He sat up a little straighter as a wave of pride hit him. Veer, sweet precious Veer, was like him? It made his spark swell.

Plenty of crew members had compared her to a certain blue racer. He couldn't blame them really. Veer took a lot of her looks from her sire. Honestly, Swerve had trouble seeing much of himself in her. He stayed up countless nights wondering how in the pit did he create someone so perfect?

Count on Skids to find something they had in common. Swerve was glad. Sometimes he forgot they shared coding. He mostly only saw Blurr in her.

Swerve cleared his intake. "Sorry guys, we all got distracted by cute sparkling time. We should probably head to the communication deck, like you mentioned, Rodimus?"

Skids pouted a little. "Does that mean she has to let go?"

"Sadly, yes. But! I promise you can hold her after we get everything sorted."

Skids optics crinkle with warmth, "You'd let me hold her?"

"Skids…Of course I would. You're my amica- You get Veer dibs anytime you want."

"Hey, that's not fair. There's a schedule for a reason!" Rodimus pointed out.

"A schedule that you wanted replaced with a dibs first rule. The irony isn't lost on us captain." Cyclonus said with his iconic frown.

"He has a point," Tailgate added.

"Plus, my sparkling my rules. You'll still get time with her. Just- Skids has a lot of catching up to do." Swerve said as he gently unwrapped Veer's servo from his amica's digit.

Veer made a noise of complaint. She never liked being forced to let go of any bot she claimed as one of her favorites. Swerve distracted her by exchanging Skids digit with a bottle.

At first she moved her mouth away since Skids was more interesting than fuel. She fussed against the nozzle for only a moment before giving in. Swerve laughed hearing her make a disgruntled beep.

"Yes, yes. Carrier is so mean for making you refuel."

"Wow- she already has such a big personality," Skids remarked

"Yeah, she does. You'll see how demanding she is later, don’t let her cuteness fool you. Now, let's go. If we're lucky she'll fall asleep on the way there."

"Sounds good buddy,"

The group made their way out of the nursery. Skids walked beside the hoverchair the entire time. It was quiet. The only sound was their footsteps against the floor. Swerve shifted in his seat to help distract himself from it.

No one knew what to say. Not that he could blame them. This situation was strange. More than once he had to reassure himself that his amica was real and not some kind of weird shared hallucination created from their collective grief. Stranger things had happened.

The awkwardness between the group was starting to make him nervous. He wanted more than anything to fill the empty air with some kind of noise. A cough or even a lame joke would do. He hated when things were all silent. It felt very unsettling.

That might be from his trauma with the DJD. His first encounter with them rendered him mute for weeks. That time in his life made him appreciate every little noise. He couldn't talk. He couldn't babble the sickening feeling away. Swerve was stuck with only the horrors he witnessed and the fear they would reappear. The only thing that helped was putting on reruns of races on the tv. He recalled getting many complaints about it being on full blast.

At the time, Swerve hadn't felt bad about it. Sound helped distract the processor from those less savory thoughts. Shout out to the first time Blurr won the Ibex Cup. That was the broadcast that he played the most. The crowd's cheering drowned everything out.

Swerve, unable to stand in anymore, sighed loudly. He glanced down at his creation. Veer stared back up, optics half lidded, and her mouth struggling to keep nursing on the bottle. Swerve mouth twitched into a smile. She was fighting nap time so hard right now. Cute little thing always wanted to keep going.

He bet she got that from her sire. Or maybe it was just a speedster thing. Swerve wasn't sure.

Swerve wiped some fuel from the corner of her mouth. Veer blinked a few times before her optics shut completely. Swerve relaxed once he heard the soft snoring of her vents.

Once again Veer saved the day from his own crippling anxiety. He focused on that precious sound. It helped him feel grounded. Everything about her did. The heavy warmth of her frame in his arms, the creation bond buzzing within his spark, and the feeling of face pressed against his chassis all helped make this moment feel real.

"She's so lovely- Buddy, I just can't believe you have a sparkling," Skids whispered.

"Me too," Swerve admitted with a flush to his cheeks. "You missed her grand entrance, Skids. I had no idea she even existed till she decided to meet everyone right there in my bar,"

Skids steps slowed. "Wait- Are you saying…?"

"That Swerve showed off his tunnel of love right in the bar? Ha! Yeah, he did!" Whirl chimed in.

Swerve rolled his optics behind his visor. He was already used to those jokes. Plus, he knew Whirl didn't mean anything behind it. The helicopter was one of the first bots to visit him afterwards. Whirl had a habit of trying to hide how he really felt with pointless jabs.

"Yeah, it was a big dramatic show- But hey! I got a cute sparkling out of it so it wasn't too bad."

Just a little traumatizing. Swerve was still beyond thankful Blue stepped in before anything could happen. Though Skids didn't need to know that.

Skids looked like he wanted to say something but was stopped by the sound of a door opening in front of their group. Swerve couldn't contain his loud gasp. His visor must be glitching- Right there, standing in a group, were a sea of lost familiar faces.

The one that stood out the most was a hulking tan frame. Swerve gripped the arm rest again as he resisted the urge to jump up. He was transfixed by the colorful murals on the mech’s plating- He thought they were lost forever.

"T-ten? Is that you?"

The peaceful giant turned when he heard his name. Swerve could see his face lit up- Sort of. He lacked a lot of features like Whirl does. Still, Swerve could tell he was excited. He watched as the big lug grinned, stood on the tip of his pedes, and threw open his arms to the air and waved.

"TEN!"

That got the attention of the rest of the bots in the room. Swerve jaw dropped taking in the group. There was Pipes! Trailbreaker?! Ambulon! And fragging Ravage?!

Even the orange bot was here! The one with glasses! Ring? No! Rang-.. Wait, no! RUNG! That was his name. Rung was here.

It blew his processor-All bots that died during their quest were right there! Alive and well. Swerve was now convinced this was a dream.

Rodimus gently nudged the bartender, "We warned you about the ghosts buddy."

They did- but Swerve wasn't sure there was any amount of warning that could prepare him for this.

"Okay, please someone explain what's going on before I glitch!" Swerve begged.

Brainstorm, who was examining their formerly deceased friends with the help of Perceptor and Ratchet, perked up. He made his way to the control center with his wings eagerly bouncing. He punched in a few things causing the screen to come to life.

"About that, now that I've confirmed their identities to be correct I can present to you all my running theory!"

On the screen a title displayed 'Jumping Universe's for dummies! What you need to know by Brainstorm'. The slideshow even had pictures. Swerve had to admit he was a little impressed.

"..Brainstorm, how did you find the time to make a powerpoint presentation?" Ultra Magnus asked, genuinely surprised.

"Had this baby ready to go in case I was right- and I was. In your face Percy~" The blue jet teased.

"I never said your theory was incorrect. If you recall I stated that we should run more test before jumping to a half cocked concl-"

"Yeah, yeah, tests and science. Doesn't matter. Our theory is right. Now, if everyone would please look at the screen I'll gladly explain"

Swerve craned his neck to see two images of the Lost Light on the screen. One of them was labeled A and the other B. He could already tell this was going to give him a helm ache.

"Okay, everyone. My crew is Lost Light A. The other one, the one that's from this universe is Lost Light B. Now, in theory, they should be exactly the same. Same bots, same fuel, and even the same quantum engine. However! That is an issue. We've learned the hard way what happens when one universe has two of the same ship. We all go poof! Bye-bye. It's not good. In order to prevent that from happening me, Nautica, and Percy came up with an idea. We'd just jump to a universe where we don't exist. Simple, right?"

Brainstorm paused so the words could sink in. Swerve frowned. That didn't make sense- Skids clearly recognized him.

"Welll… We couldn't just jump to any universe either. We needed one with energon of course. Slowly starving to death didn't sound fun. That limited our options quite a bit. So what universe fits our criteria? Turns out a lot of places don't. You see, friends and colleagues, here, and now- We're standing here because in Universe B, we all died."

..Died? Swerve felt his stomach drop. That couldn't be true, right? He tries to look to Skids for confirmation but he looked away.

Brainstorm continued. "It appears our quantum drive picked this universe so we could easily just- slip in. It found a solution to our fading problem all on its own. It's beyond fascinating. I mean- what could be a better solution? Replace our already dead selves! Like Rewind did- er sorry for bringing that up. It's just the best example…What's more interesting is that bots that died in Universe A are very much alive! The possibilities of this discovery are endless! "

Swerve swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "We died?"

Skids put his servo on the bartender's shoulder and squeezed. The theoretican didn't say anything, but there was this protectiveness flowing in his field. It wrapped tightly around Swerve. It was like he was swearing their safety.

Skids frowned at the co-captain then glanced at the remaining of his crew. His shoulders sag from an invisible weight he'd been carrying.

"Yeah, Getaway led a mutiny. The bots here are the ones that managed to escape. But the rest… " Skids didn't finish.

Swerve could guess what happened to them. If Skids didn't force himself to remember grindcore then there was no way they could have fought off the DJD. Swerve shivered at the thought.

Rodimus crossed his arms with a scowl. "Of course that glitch would- wait, is he still alive? Because I'd gladly teach him a lesson again!"

"He's already been handled- It's why we approached your ship. We thought that we were boarding ours. We were supposed to meet up with some friends… Then discuss what to do with him," Skids admitted. "I should contact them and let them know what's going on."

Rodimus nodded towards their communication equipment, "Feel free to help yourself. Though I got to ask- how did you mistake the two ships? I mean- no offense but didn't your friends give you their location?"

Skids sighed as he approached the console, "They did- but our navigation equipment has been on the fritz. We docked solely based on sight. It isn't like we expected a second Lost Light."

"Guessing your engine didn't glitch out during take off," Rodimus muttered.

Swerve moved his hoverchair closer to Skids. He wasn't quite ready to leave his amicas side yet. Not when this still felt so unreal. He'd catch up with the others later.

"So who are your friends? If you don't mind me asking." Swerve inquired as he watched Skids punch in some numbers.

The theoretican gave him a small smile. "I'll never mind you buddy. Always feel free to ask way."

Swerve smiled back. "Thanks Skids. Now, who beat up Getaway for us?"

"Hm, oh. Well just-" Skids glanced down at Veer with a mischievous grin. "The Wreckers."

Chapter Text

The shimmery glow of distilled engex cast a rainbow of color across the darkened bar. Nearby, neatly stacked cubes caught the gleaming light and emitted magenta, yellow, and cyan reflections across the countertop. One could regard the sight as romantic or beautiful; if it wasn't for the bits of brain modules floating in the liquid like a lava lamp.

There was no saving them. Getaway made sure to sever the spinal cable from the primary processor. In his madness he doomed everyone that dared question his authority.

Zeta Prime might have been dead, but there were always those that walked down his path. Blurr sneered at the mere memory of that bastard. Just like Zeta Prime, Blurr promised that Getaway would suffer a similar fate.

Blurr looked at the remains of the crew's members with a familiar numbness. Death happens, it was something he'd grown accustomed to. It was quick- sometimes faster than himself, and often gruesome.

This wasn't anywhere near the worst he'd witnessed. No, he'd seen plenty of tank twisting corpses in his lifetime. Though, this bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

There was something about seeing a location so full of love and life twisted into a morbid display of power. It pissed him off.

This bar contained so much laughter. A place where the war started to feel like a distant memory. Now it was the resting place of those very same patrons looking for an escape.

He didn't try to figure out who was floating in the engex. They'd get a list of names out of their prisoner sooner or later. Blurr watched, detached to the way those parts bobbed around. It was morbid, but he wished that one bot was mixed in there. At least then his death would have been quick.

Blurr closed his optics as a bright happy face popped into his mind. He clenched his fist tightly. He didn't deserve the death he got. He deserved mercy.

There was nothing he could do about it now. They weren't fast enough to save them. He wasn't fast enough.

He laughed. What was the point of his ability if it couldn't save anyone? Blurr took in a deep breath as anger bubbled in his spark.

He slams his fist against the counter with a loud clang. Oh, he was going to make Getaway pay. Slowly. Swiftness was not a mercy he felt like delivering.

Blurr opened his optics to see the space across from him empty. There was no one there to take his order. There wasn't a smiling face or a silly joke. The spark of this bar was gone.

He flatten his fist against the counter top. He gently rubbed its surface as an apology. It didn't matter how upset he was, this place was still special. It deserved to be treated with respect.

"Ya alright kid? You've been in here for a while."

Blurr stilled his servo to glance at the mech at the entrance. Kups stood there, smoke swirling from his cygar, with his brows knitted together. Blurr knew that look meant the old mech was worried. "Not like you to take this long."

Blurr sighed knowing he was right. It took less than a click to get anything done. Yet, here he was, taking his time. He had meant to come here for one thing.

"I'm wrapping up right now," he muttered as he made his way behind the bar.

Blurr crouched down to be on the bottom cabinets level. He opened it up to reveal an array of different liquors. The majority of them were hand crafted by the bartender that owned this place. Blurr quickly read the different labels as Kup approached closer.

Kup whistled. "Pretty nice place. Could do without the body parts but who am I to judge the decor. You come here often, kid?"

Blurr hummed out a confirmation as he set back down a purple bottle. That one wasn't it either. Where could it be?

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

Blurr knew what he was doing. Kup was trying to get him to open up about slag. He wasn't sure that he wanted to right now. Not with everything still so fresh.

"Didn't you say you wanted to open up a bar, kid? Well, again. Heard about what happened to Maccadams. Sorry about that."

Blurr paused for a moment. His bar's eradication was what prompted him to join the Lost Light. The non-stop adventuring since take off had made him forget about his loss. He didn't miss it.

"...It's alright... This bar was better anyway."

Slag. His well built wall was chipped. Blurr sighed in defeat. There was no getting out of this conversation. Kup was good at getting his way.

Kup prop his elbows against the counter and peer down, "Yeah? Don't leave an old bot waiting. Tell me about it."

The racer decided to pop off the lid of one of the containers and take a sip. It went down smoothly. Not as smooth as the fuel he's looking for but still good. He glanced up at Kup then handed him his own bottle so he could partake. The old wrecker gladly accepted it.

"Yeah, this one was better. The bots were all rowdy and fraggin immature. They once glued Ultra Magnus to one of the stools," he paused to snort. "To put it bluntly- it was a disaster. But, that was part of the charm.."

Kup hummed in acknowledgment as he took a drag from his cygar, "Sounds like one hell of a time."

Blurr leaned back against the shelving. He indulged in another sweet sip as he stared up at the old wrecker. He shivered as the sweet liquid coated his glossa. He personally preferred more tangy flavors opposed to the brews that the owner of this bar preferred. Yet, at the moment, it was what his spark wanted.

"I like this bar a lot- it was a place for rejects. Didn't matter what your background was. You were always welcome. Ha, believe it or not they even let Whirl in here."

Blurr’s helm thudded against the shelf. He gave his respected comrade a sad smile. He gripped the bottle in his hand a bit tighter.

"They didn't deserve this Kup. This-" he gestured around him, "Should be reserved for afts like us."

"I sense that it's more than just the bar you're talking about. Tell me about 'em?"

Blurr swallowed thickly. He sat the bottle beside him with a frown. Kup was always good at seeing right through him.

"..He was the bartender. Cute minibot- had these dimples when he smiled. It was actually his idea to put glue on the bar stool. He loves jokes-" Blurr’s optics dimmed, as words caught in his throat. "Well, loved..."

Kup was quiet as he glanced at the tubes of engex behind Blurr. Blurr knew what he was thinking. He shook his helm.

"No, none of these are him. Though I do think one might be Crosscut. Damn idiot, survived politics on Cybertron, but couldn't beat one lame escape artist." Blurr let out a humorless laugh. "It's like being killed by a clown. It's embarrassing- all of this."

He knew something was happening. Getaway oozed elite scuminess, the same kind that Blurr used to suffer through. He should have stepped in and stopped him.

"But no, it isn't him.. I wish it was," he admitted.

Kup tilted his helm, "You do?"

"You saw that goodbye message Rodimus and his friends broadcasted across the universe? Almost everyone has." Kup frowned. They both knew what that meant. Yet Blurr continued. "He was the red and white minibot. His name was Swerve. He was still smiling and joking despite being scared out of his plating. The DJD got their servos on him."

Blurr deflated as his own words sank in. It was a horrible death. Swerve deserved better than that.

"I think you would have liked him Kup. He'd probably find a way to make you laugh. That was his thing- he always wanted to make a room better than he found it."

"That right kid? That's a rare quality now in days,"

Blurr made a noise of agreement, "Yeah.. Well, he was something special."

Kup's gaze softened, "He was special to you."

The former racer doesn't acknowledge the statement. If he did that then he might have to face the feeling he was currently running from. Instead Blurr found a spot on the cabinet to fake interest in. Kup took a sip from his bottle as he flicked some ash in a nearby cube then stood up straight. He pushed away from the bar.

"Appreciate you telling me Kid. I'm sorry things ended this way. I'd have loved to meet him."

"Yeah, me too…"

Blurr stared off into space till the twinkle of a bottle caught his optic. He surged forward to grab the special container. Swerve’s favorite: Nightmare Fuel. The same liquor that they shared together. He cradled it close like it was a precious treasure.

"Found what you were looking for, kid?"

"Yeah, Kup, I did." He said as he carefully placed it in his subspace.

"Good, now. Let's show our captive clown what happens when they mess with one of my boys. I'd rather get it over with before your friends get here."

Kup made his way behind the bar to offer Blurr a servo. The racer clasped it with his own and stood up. He huffed out a laugh seeing the eager glint in the old mech's optics. Getaway was in for a world of hurt.

Kup claimed any bot that could survive the trials of being a Wrecker as kin. Spilled energon bonded them together as a messed up family. Rule number one of that messed up family was nobody fucked with Kup's boys.

Blurr followed the older wrecker towards the exit. He paused to give the bar one last look. He lingered on one particular round booth. It was hard to believe that the first time he set foot in this place was just a few months ago.

"Kid, you coming? You're moving slower than me with my rusted joints."

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming. Just thought you could use a head start."

Kup barked out a laugh. "Keep that sass up and I'll weld your pedes together. We'll see how fast you are after that"

"I'd still beat you with both my pedes and servos stuck together old mech"

The two of them continued the banter through their walk down the halls. He was thankful to Kup for that. The old wrecker knew how much the quiet bothered him.

Blurr hated it even more now. The Lost Light felt dead. There weren't any bots hoverboarding down the hall, no mechs cheering on Whirl’s rampage, or even the stern steady voice of Ultra Magnus enticing a strike upon some poor soul.

Blurr pushed down the feeling of loss rising up from the surface. He was a wrecker. A soldier. Death happens. It would continue to happen until his own spark is snuffed out.

That thought brought him no comfort as they entered the communication deck. Blurr walked in to see Impactor circling their prisoner like a hungry sharkticon. Springer scowled, standing between the former miner, and his potential punching bag. Their green leader appeared unimpressed. Fair, considering Impactor's history with unarmed captives.

"Any other survivors?" Springer asked.

Kup let out an old tired sigh, "'Fraid not. Though we did see his arts and craft project in the bar."

"Do I even want to know?"

Kup shook his helm at Springer. He took a long drag from his cygar as he made his way beside the triple changer. He blew his smoke purposely in Getaway's face.

"I have to give him points for creativity, though it seems a shame to waste so much engex."

Springer watched with his brows pulling together. He crossed his arms glancing at the older mech than to Blurr. He couldn't really blame him. It was rare to see Kup in a sour mood.

Impactor cocked his helm then grinned wildly. "Oh, this is going to be one of those. Goodie. What did you do to get the old grouch all worked up?"

Getaway, of course, couldn't reply. His mouth plate was removed and intake was currently covered by a gag. Shame Impactor didn't weld it shut like he suggested.

Impactor came over to rip the thing off his face. Springer tensed, ready to step in to stop him if necessary. Getaway reeled back from the harsh treatment but only scowled up at the harpoon welder.

"Come on, spit it out. What did you do to get good old Blurr here to call us? And Kup-" he whistled. "He's about to blow a gasket. What did one little weakling like you do?"

Getaway's optics flared. He struggled against his bonds, like he wanted to attack the wrecker, and lunged in his direction. Impactor laughed at his pathetic display. That only made Getaway more mad.

"Frag you!" he spat.

Impactor rolled his optics, "Sorry, you ain't my type. But please, keep struggling. I get a kick out of it."

Blurr couldn't help the smirk forming on his lips. Impactor was playing with him like a turbo fox did before devouring its meal. He was trying to get under his plating and Getaway was falling right into it. It was satisfying to see him struggle.

"Now don't make me ask again. See, I only ask nicely once. Speak up and tell me what happened," Impactor cooed in a cruel taunt.

Getaway tensed as the tip of the wrecker's harpoon was pressed right below his optic. Impactor put enough pressure to create a small warning cut. In a panic Getaway looked around the room for anyone that could stop the loonatic.

Springer didn't even twitch. He just crossed his arms and watched, ready to step in if Impactor got too far out of line. Doubtful. They all watched on like they've done thousands of times before.

Blurr wasn't sorry for the mech. There were consequences for greed. Getaway was finally learning that lesson.

Blurr had to admit, he was surprised when the escape artist managed to get his trembling frame under control. Most wet their oil pan when threatened by Impactor's harpoon. One point for Getaway.

It was like a switch was flipped. Blurr cocked his helm with interest. Getaway went from a scared little petrol rabbit to that of a cornered mech animal. My, my, what would he do?

Impactor chuckled. He reached over to yank his chin up. The tip of his harpoon mere inches from the pearly blue orb that was his optic. The threat was left unspoken. Talk or lose an eye.

Springer stiffened. He always was the first to crack when it came to ethics. Blurr was more willing to bend them in cases like this one. Some mechs earned their place under the Wreckers delicate care. Getaway did the moment he called the DJD.

"Impactor," Springer warned.

Getaway leaned away, the best he could while tied to a chair. It didn't provide much relief from the looming threat. Or from Impactor. Blurr knew if the miner wanted he'd pop that optic out and play cube with it if he damn well pleased. Springer's words were always taken as vague guidelines rather than rules.

Getaway glared at the wreckers with utter disdain. Good, Blurr wanted him to hate them. Even then his hate couldn't compare to the inferno raging in his spark.

It wasn't often Blurr felt like he'd lost. He was the best of the best. He'd won more races than digits on his servo. Getaway was pathetic! A narcissist with a God complex bigger than Metroplex. He wasn't worthy of being on the same level as Blurr. So, how did one such bot deliver a devastating blow?

"Why not ask Blurr what happened to the lemon he was fragging?"

In a flash Getaway flew backwards in his chair. Blurr stood over him with his servo still stinging from the punch he delivered. He sneered as a pair of arms held him back.

"Don'tyoudarecallhimthat.I'llripyourvocalizerout!" The words spilled out of him as his engine revs hard.

Getaway chuckled from the floor, "What? Upset Tarn ripped that hunk of junk to bits? Please, I was doing you a favor Blurr. He was beneath you," he breathed out, pride seeping from his field. “Because that’s what real primes do! We make the hard decisions.”

Red hot rage blinded him as he lunged in Getaway's direction, but Springer held him back. Impactor, thankfully, shut the fragger up by delivering a kick to his abdomen.

"Blurr that's enough-! Time out- Impactor! Stop- you're making it worse!" Springer barked.

Impactor hoisted their prisoner up. He grinned seeing the sizable dent Blurr delivered to Getaway's cheek. He playfully tapped it with two digits.

"Awe, somebody got a booboo. Poor Getaway, never learned when to shut up. Right? You just can't help it," he chuckled before slamming the mouthpiece back in place. “There we go, that should help!”

He made a pained gurgle as the gag silenced him once more. That still wasn't enough. Blurr wanted to make him really hurt.

Springer pushed him back more. "Enough! Both of you. Roadbuster, take Getaway to the brig. Watch him till I send a replacement. Blurr, vent! Step down!"

It wasn't until Roadbuster dragged Getaway's chair out of the room till Springer let go of him. He stumbled forward before catching himself. Blurr stared at the door, frame shaking, as he weighed between the options of following him out or not.

Impactor watched as well, probably thinking the same as Blurr. Sometimes it was better to kill a mech before they could plot revenge. It was too bad some members of the crew acted like morality police.

Blurr’s anger diminished as a certain shy dimple smile played in his mind. He could almost feel a playful nudge against his armor. The same way he did it after the Whirl clock incident at the bar.

Half of Swerve’s visor had flickered off to 'wink' at the racer before telling him that Whirl really Wrecked the bar. He'd laughed while fetching a broom. Back then, Blurr had frowned; the bar was beyond wrecked- It was in shambles! When Blurr brought up reporting the incident to Ultra Magnus he waved him off.

"Whirl was just a bit overcharged. He didn't mean anything by it. We all have bad days," he paused to pick up part of a shattered cube. "Whirl just had a very bad one. I'm not going to sick Mags on him for that."

Swerve had believed in second chances. Third and fourth chances as well. He was such a forgiving bot. He believed bots could be better. Blurr glared at the door Getaway left through. It was why he was sent to his death.

Springer blocked his view, "What was that?"

"That was Blurr punching the slag out of a piece of scrap. Thought we all saw it." Impactor said as he casually leaned against the nearby console.

Springer pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. He opened his mouth ready to lay into them when Kup put a servo on his shoulder. Blurr didn't like the pity in the old mech's optics.

"Go easy on him kid. He's hurting. "

Springer frowned, then studied Blurr. He refused to show them anything. Blurr zipped past him to the communication console.

"..So, who was prime-complex talking about? Must be someone important enough to get under your plating." Impactor said as he adjusted one of the dials.

"That would be nunya."

"Nunya?"

"Yeah, nunya business. Now frag off!"

Impactor rolled his optics, "Cute, Where did you pick that up? Sounds like the human slag Springer's been spitting."

Springer joined them with curious optics staying on Blurr, "That's because it is. Verity has used that line before. Where in the pits did you hear that?"

For a moment Blurr considered telling them a half truth. Crosscut had been introducing him to earth culture lately. The playwright was obsessed with Greek tragedies. Though he knew his brothers would pick up on any lie he'd try to spin.

Blurr stared at the blank screen of the console. His own ragged reflection gazed back. He sighed knowing deep down Swerve would have been delighted to share.

"Yeah, it's from human media. The bot that fragger mentioned- His name was Swerve. Me and him had been watching a lot of movies together. It was his favorite," Blurr confessed. His spark throbbed in his casing, "We sort of made a game of it. Quoting movies and junk. We tried to see who would crack first. Gotta admit- he was better at it than me."

It was true. Swerve just knew when to drop the perfect line. Blurr wouldn't ever dare to throw out a 'Are you feeling me now, Mr.Krabs?' mid makeout. Blurr had to stop because he was laughing too hard to properly work his glossa.

Blurr realized something then laughed, "Frag- that isn't fair. He'd probably get a kick out of permanently winning by dying."

It was bitter sweet. Blurr was glad that Swerve had one up on the racer. He earned it. On the other servo… he was going to miss the pit out of that minibot.

Impactor didn't often show he cared. Emotions were a tool to be exploited on the battlefield. Blurr knew that about their ex-leader. So he was surprised when the son of a glitch bumped his shoulder with his fist.

Blurr couldn't see his face. Impactor had his optics trained on the keyboard but his field said enough. It was dark and promised retribution.

It brought some solace to Blurr knowing his brothers would rain vengeance onto that rusted pile of scrap. Getaway was already dead. He just didn't know it yet.

Blurr pushed those thoughts away for now. They had more pressing matters to deal with. Such as the fact Skid's crew had yet to appear.

According to their last conversation they should have been less than a joor away from docking. They still hadn't made contact. Blurr didn't like that.

"Still no sign of them?" He asked.

Impactor pulled up the camera feed of the outer hall of the ship, "That would be a negative zippy. Anything on your end?"

Blurr shook his helm. He was about to call Skids himself when a jingle started to play. Blurr recognized it as the song 'Hollaback Girl'.

Of course it was coming from the Lost Light’s communication unit. Blurr covered his face with a servo. This was either Rodimus or Swerves doin. His gut was saying both. Even in death they haunted him.

"Is that really…?"

"Yes Springer, it is. Just- answer the call. I don't want to hear how to spell Bananas" Blurr groaned.

Springer accepted the call. The holoscreen came alive to reveal the very mech they were worried about. Skids sat in front of the screen wearing this odd dopey smile. It was very different from the grave expression he wore last time. Pits, he looked down right cheery.

"Skids, the hell you've been?" Impactor asked first.

The theoretican rubbed the back of his helm, "Seems we got a little mixed up. We kind of docked on the wrong ship. But! It isn't all bad!"

Kup strolled over to Impactor, "Kid, you might need to get your vision checked. Not many ships are similar to this one. "

Skids nodded in agreement. Yet he still seemed ready to jump out of his own plating from whatever was exciting him. Blurr could see him drum his digits across the console. He was acting like a youngling experiencing their first sugar rush.

Skids glanced off screen then back to the wreckers, "Okay I can't take this- Sorry in advance buddy but-" he pulled a red and white mech into view.

Blurr’s processor stalled. Right there, and very much alive, was Swerve. Swerve quickly tried to cover up his own face as Skids side hugged the metallurgist. Swerve’s face was flushed, visor bright, and overall beautiful.

He looked fine- Well, from what he could see. The console was too high up for the minibot. Blurr could only really see his faceplate.

"Skids!? Warn a mini-!" Swerve blurted out.

Blurr came closer to the screen with his servo reaching out. He desperately wanted to touch him- know that this was real and not some kind of trick.

Swerve was dead. They confirmed his death back on the necro world. His frame- he had seenwhat was left of it!

"How?" He breathed out.

Swerve’s visor brightened in surprise, "Is that Blurr?!"

Skids laughed playfully noogieing his helm, "Told ya some bots would be happy to see ya!"

Swerve gave him a look like he grew three helms. He held up his servo to pause the conversation. He appeared just as confused as Blurr felt.

"Wait wait wait- Skids you're giving me a processor ache. Why uh-.. why would I know Blurr?"

Skids pulled away surprised. He looked down at something then to Blurr. His brows pulled together as he tried to fit together pieces of a puzzle.

Swerve flushed, "Okay okay- that's… I'll explain later."

Blurr had many questions. His processor kept prompting different ways how this was possible. All came back to the same conclusion- It wasn't.

"..Swerve?"

The bartender perked up hearing his name. He did a nervous wave followed by a laugh he always did when he was uncomfortable. He put on an uncertain smile.

"Uh- Hiya, Blurr! It's super cool to meet you, again? Super huge fan. You-..probably know that. Wow, um. Okay, Skids when you mentioned the wreckers I thought maybe just the new guys like Bulkhead and Strong-arm. Not- not the OGs… and Blurr!"

Springer frowned, "New guys? I haven't recruited those bots yet."

Swerve appeared surprised then thoughtful, "Okay yeah, no that makes sense. Think back to the future rules- things are different here."

Skids flashed them an apologetic smile, "It's a long and complicated story. I'm still trying to wrap my processor around it. Right buddy?"

Blurr watched as Swerve nodded in agreement. Blurr noticed something odd. Swerve would glance in the racer's direction then off screen. He appeared uncomfortable.

Blurr couldn't help himself, "Are you alright?"

The metallurgist froze like a diesel deer in front of head lights. Swerve pointed to himself confused if the racer meant him. Blurr gripped the edge of the console. His spark thudded in his chamber. As if he could mean anyone else.

"Yes, you. Swerve. Are you alright?"

Swerve blinked. Then let out a nervous laugh. He nudged Skids like someone just told a joke.

"Pretty swell for a dead mech! Aw wait, no- frag. That's too soon," Swerve cringed, "please forget I said that. I'm- I'm just going to hide over there and pretend this interaction didn't happen. "

Swerve started to inch himself off screen. Blurr lunged forward as if he could stop him. This time he was going to be fast enough.

"SwerveWait!"

A strange sound distracted the bartender. It was like the sound of a bad belt. High pitched and squeaky. Swerve’s visor lit up in panic. He glanced at his lap then at the screen.

"Sorryigottagobye!" Swerve blurted out as he disappeared from view.

Skids, much to Blurr’s frustration, didn't stop him. The theoretican wore the same perplexed expression as the rest of the wreckers. He glanced their way and offered an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, its been a weird day. Little buddy received the brunt of it."

Blurr wasn't a fool. Something strange was going on. And Skids was covering it up for Swerve.

Hopefully he wasn't hurt.

"Send us your location- We'll compare notes when we meet you there."

Blurr could feel his engine aching to gun it. Details could be filled in later. All that didn't matter. Right now, Blurr could see the end of a track, and Swerve was the finish line.

He breathed in. "I'm coming for you, Swerve."

Chapter Text

Okay, okay. That totally wasn't embarrassing! He reacted the normal amount of cringe, considering the circumstances. It's not everyday a bot finds out that his idol is still alive. Yep.

Still alive, and apparently knew him well enough to talk casually! He's doing super right now, and totally not trying to upchuck from the ball of anxiety bouncing around in his tanks! Yep, super!

Swerve tried to take in some nice calming breaths. They were coming out more like desperate gasps of air. Great, he was doing great, staying calm. Now if only his servos would stop shaking like a wet turbo fox.

It was hard to comfort Veer like this. She had woken up when her sire said his name. Swerve helm felt light headed. Oh yeah, her sire! Blurr is her sire!

How could he ever forget? He glanced down to take in her sleek shiny blue frame. Veer hiccuped back up at him. Swerve rocked her gently, the best his nervous frame could, knowing his distress was upsetting her.

He just couldn't reign in it. Swerve was delighted the racer was alive. Of course he was! He's dashing, amazing, and an overall badass! All the things Swerve wasn't. That's why he'd always been drawn to the racer. He inspired him. Blurr’s career got him through some hard times.

Swerve moved his hoverchair to a nice, dim corner of the communication deck; praying to Primus nobody would see him. Everyone was gathering around to hug, share stories, and bask in the happiness of being reunited. Swerve really couldn’t handle that right now! He wanted to! He did! He really did! But…

Swerve knew if he heard any of their voices he'd become a puddle of tears. He missed them- He missed Ten being a constant strong presence in his bar! He missed the way he drew on napkins then presented them like gifts to Swerve after shift! Swerve had a binder of those napkins he collected, kept safe in protective sleeves. He'd looked at them on nights he felt the most alone.

Already he could feel moisture forming behind his visor. He quickly wiped away any evidence of it. Veer keened at her carrier, cheeks becoming flush from strain, and her own tears falling. Swerve lifted her up so her helm could rest on his shoulder. He patted her back a couple of times as he whispered calming words to her. Veer hiccuped then buried her face into his neck.

"I know, I know. We both are feeling a lot of emotions right now, and that's okay. We're okay sweet spark," he soothed.

Veer slowly relaxed into his frame. Her sobs tapered down into unhappy beeping. Swerve nodded in agreement. Things were hard being such a tiny bitlet. He rubbed soothing circles in her spinal strut until she went slack against him.

Very carefully, Swerve rearranged her into a cradling position. Veer struggled to keep awake. Her helm would start to droop before stubbornly jerking up. She was fighting naptime so hard. Swerve busted out his secret weapon- The bartender pressed her helm right against his spark plating.

Veer rubbed at her heavy optics. She blinked up at her carrier before finally losing the battle. Her tiny snores were music to his audio receptors.

Swerve sighed suddenly, feeling very tired himself. No, not tired. He felt stripped raw. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. He was starting to regret ever thinking this universe hopping was boring. Now it was just complicated.

All of his friends, his amica, were all alive! Swerve was beyond happy about that. He'd mourned them, grieved for them. All of them. Everyday he'd wake up from recharge wondering who was next? Whose face was he going to miss around the bar? Who's favorite drink would he make only to have no one to serve?

He wouldn't lie- Swerve often daydreamed about them. He imagined that one day he'd come into the bar to find Ten hovering by the door to make sure bots won't get out of line. Trailcutter would request a virgin cocktail as he read over his duties as head of security, and Swerve would wonder what the point of it was when he could drink all the engex he wanted without overcharge. Pipes would be off in a corner ogling Riptide. Ambulon would roll his optics at the display as Rung would sip on his curly straw. Skids would greet him with a side hug and a smile. He fantasized introducing them to Veer. This ship was their family- it felt important.

So, why was he hiding from them? They all were right there, just a couple of steps away!

Swerve felt frazzled. Blurr being alive unlocked some deeper feelings he'd been hiding away. He wasn't anywhere near ready to confront all of that.

Maybe it was because he was afraid? Ha! Afraid? He felt like he was walking on a tightrope, teetering on the cusp of a full blown panic attack! He was a little clown centerstage for this shit show; one wrong move and his whole act would fall apart!

He couldn't do that to them. Not after everything they've been through! He was supposed to be the type of clown that delivered one liners and laughs! Not the sad ones full of tears and regrets. His friends deserved a happy Swerve! He wasn't sure he could make that performance right now.

Not with the way his processor kept echoing that Blurr was alive! He was alive, with this weird expectation for Swerve because he apparently knew him! Well, no, he knew a version of him. Probably a better version! He had to be if Blurr could stand his aft.

Not to mention the situation with Veer. Swerve had accepted in his spark that Blurr was dead! He'd never know of his daughter. Swerve convinced himself it was better that way. Accept that bitter truth and move on.

He had cried about it. Swerve wanted to give his creation the world yet there was one thing he could never provide- a sire.

This second chance should be a great thing! Veer would get to meet him. But, he was scared for both of them. He knew all too well what rejection from Blurr felt like.

Swerve glanced down at the numbers inscribed onto his palm. Who knew simple numbers could hurt so bad? He balled his servo into a fist to hide his greatest shame. He didn't know the racer, not really. Swerve swallowed the lump in his throat then took in his daughter’s sleeping form. He didn't want Blurr to reject her.

He didn't want him to reject her because of who her carrier was. Swerve wasn't naive- he knew exactly how he came across: A pathetic fat minibot who's only good trait was he used to be a metallurgist. Not exactly the type famous racers wanted to be associated with.

What's worse was that this Blurr was expecting a different Swerve. Boy, wasn't he going to be disappointed with what he got. He just hoped it didn't ruin any possible relationship between him and Veer.

Swerve startled as a servo touched his arm. He frowned seeing Skids standing there with his brows furrowed together. Of course Skids would have questions after that call.

"So, are we going to talk about…" Skids shifted his gaze to the communication hub.

Swerve laughed. "Oh that? Just trying to beat my record for how fast I can make a conversation awkward. Five whole seconds! I'm beating my score,"

"Swerve, buddy, you're deflecting… "

"Me? Deflecting? No, never. Why would you ever think I'd deflect? It's not like I just embarrassed myself in front of the coolest warriors across the galaxy. Nope, I'm just moving my mouth because that's what I do! Motormouth Swerve at your service!"

Skids kneeled down to be on the same level as him, grabbed a hold of his free servo and squeezed. Swerve squeezed back as two sunshine yellow optics pleaded with him. That's when it hit him. This Skids lost his Swerve. Just like he really lost his Skids…

"Okay, okay…" Swerve rubbed his tired face, "I admit it. I'm deflecting."

Could he really blame him? There was a lot to process. Swerve stroke his daughter’s cheek to distract himself.

"Look- I don't know about your Swerve or how things went down in your universe, but in mine I didn't know Blurr. It was more of a pity frag situation," Swerve admitted with his cheeks on fire.

"I don't buy that…Swerve, nobody would ever just pity frag you,"

Damn his throat tubing. It felt all tight. Like he was going to cry. But, he definitely wasn't going to.

"Hah- I appreciate the confidence but it's true. We hooked up a couple of times after that crazy dead universe incident. Wait, did you even have that here..? That- doesn't matter. I'm rambling again."

Swerve tried his best to ignore the way his voice shook with every word. Skids was his amica. It was okay to cry a little.

"But I heard it from the bot himself- Wow, it was embarrassing. More embarrassing than calling a fake number for years. I really thought hey! Things are looking up! Cool Blurr really finds me funny. Maybe we could be friends on top of frag buddies!"

He hadn't said a word to anyone about what happened between him and Blurr. He had nobody left to really talk too. Now with Skids here, holding his servo, Swerve let the tears well up and blind his vision. He sniffled feeling as if his spark was going to break.

"I'm not the Swerve this Blurr wants. I'm not even a Swerve my Blurr wants. Skids, I'm so fragging scared-"

Swerve took off his visor since it kept getting in the way of him wiping his tears. He sat it on the armrest so he didn't have to see Skid's frown. He must be a pit of sight in his current state.

"What… What if he wants her? It should make me fragging excited but- what if he tries to take her away?" Swerve chokes out.

"Hey, hey, buddy. It's okay- Blurr would never do that to you- Swerve, I don't know about your Blurr but this one- He would never dream of taking Veer from you. Trust me, he's just happy any version of you is alive."

Swerve bit his lower lip while trying to stop his tears. "But I'm not your Swerve- or his. I'm just- me. The fragged up version of me!"

Skids shook his helm. "By that logic I'm not your Skids and you shouldn't care about me," the theoretican sighed with that pained look in his optics. "Swerve, you should hate me. Tell me, what did your Skids do that ensured so many of you lived? My Lost Light- my crew is gone. But yours? Almost everyone made it… You're stuck with an inferior Skids."

Swerve felt a fierce protectiveness surge from his spark. "No! Skids, I could never hate you! Original or not, you're still Skids!"

"And you're still my best buddy. Original or not," Skids said with a sad smile.

Swerve laid back in his seat. "I see what you did there. See, that's how I know you are just like my Skids. All soft sparked and nice.." Swerve smiled back. "Correction I guess- You are my Skids."

"And you are my Swerve," his amica confirmed.

How did Skids manage to cut down the majority of his anxiety with one conversation? Swerve didn’t know. Maybe Skids had a second secret outliner ability that makes him an awesome friend?

Still there was a looming threat that bothered him. Swerve sighed hugging his sleeping daughter close. He wanted to be prepared- For her sake.

"Skids, can you tell me about this Blurr? How does he know me?"

"I will buddy, promise. But first, let's go say hello to the others. Ten has been missing the scrap out of you."

From where Swerve was sitting he could see the gentle bouncer's hulking form. Ten was facing their direction, standing on the tip of his pedes, like he wanted to come over. Swerve smiled feeling the same way.

Swerve laughed, wiping away any evidence from his little breakdown. "Okay, sure. Seeing Ten sounds awesome. Just gimme a second so I don't look all mopey and slag."

He fished out a spare rag from his subspace, that he kept for sparkling related emergencies, and cleaned his face, before putting his visor back on. There! Back to happy Swerve. The one everyone loves.

"Okay, ready- just..do me a favor Skids"

"Of course, what's up buddy?" Skids asked as he stood.

"I bestowed upon you a noble quest- Keep co-captain princess Veer safe from any bots that may wake her from her slumber. We are lucky that she fell back asleep once. If she wakes a second time then say goodbye to our audio receptors. We'll be wearing hearing aids like Blaster."

Skids saluted him. "I swear on the matrix of leadership that I helped steal- Veer will have her nap time".

Swerve laughed. Yeah, he sometimes forgot how much of a wild badass Skids was. His amica was practically a super spy.

"Thank you agent Skids. How will my hearing ever repay you?"

Skids beamed. "Just keep being you. Annnd maybe let me hold her after she wakes up?"

"Oh deal- Skids, buddy, old pal. You're going to be holding her a lot. We got time to make up for, and she's a little attention seeker."

Just like her Sire. Swerve smiled despite that thought. Blurr was something he'll deal with later. First, came his friends.

Their ship couldn't go fast enough. Blurr revved his engine in frustration as he zoomed past a curve. His tires glided like oil against the ground. Swerve was alive and only three cycles away. He was so close!

Blurr finished another lap, his spark soaring in his chassis. He couldn't stand still! He had to keep moving or the inferior pace of their ship would drive him mad!

Blurr was never a patient mech; he preferred things at a fast pace that left wheels spinning and motors purring. It's why he was assigned so many courier missions during the war. Get in, get out, and boom! He was done!

This though? Frag, this was torture. He needed to be there now!

Blurr zipped past the small crowd of onlookers, ignoring their concerned looks. The onlookers were mostly made up of newer members of the Wreckers- Ironfist, Hubcap, and other little guys that Blurr hadn't bothered learning the names of. He didn't see much of a point until they survived at least one mission.

Some of them would clap as Blurr, once again, beat his own track time. Blurr would have rolled his optics if he wasn't in his alt-mode. This? This was nothing. It was unfocused nervous raw energy.

Their oldest team member watched him burn laps around the makeshift track. Kup had pulled up a chair muttering something to do with his rusty hip joints. Slowly, he savored his cy-gar, lazily blowing out smoke anytime Blurr whipped passed. He knew the old geezer was doing more than just watching him. Kup was concerned; he was looking for answers.

Blurr ignored him. His own processor was moving too quickly for him to even talk properly. No doubt it would come out as a jumbled babble. He naturally talked fast- faster than a normal cybertronian.

He had to focus to slow down his speech enough for others to understand it. It was a tick he had worked his whole life on controlling. He had it down, for the most part; but it was harder when he was flustered.

Right now, Blurr was too distracted. His mind kept screaming at him to go go go! Swerve was alive!

Blurr’s spark had flip flopped when that slagging cute bartender appeared on camera. Swerve, always flustered, ran off before Blurr could even confirm he was okay. It was equal parts frustrating as it was reliving to see him act like his usual self.

Even if he was technically a different Swerve. Skids had sent him a data report that clarified a few things after their call ended. Blurr was too distracted at the time to fully absorb the information. All he knew was it involved quantum drives and parallel universe's. It was a helm ache he should have expected from the Lost Light.

It was why Swerve appeared so panicked when Blurr had addressed him. They were basically strangers. Supposedly. Blurr had a feeling there was more to it.

Though, something more than that felt off. There was more to it than just a nervous fan panicking. Blurr was used to that. No, Swerve seemed frightened by something. Blurr ached, having a hunch what it could be.

He jerked his wheel as unwanted images flooded his processor. Blurr swore, wheels spinning out, as he lost control. He went hurtling towards the wall. The only thing he could do to stop the collusion was to quickly transform as he flew forward; arms extended, as he stumbled into the metal bulkhead. Blurr gnashed his denta together as the vibration traveled up to his socket joints.

Kup was already up and out of his seat before Blurr even had the chance to steady himself. The teal mech was on him like an axle hound to its pup. Blurr sighed feeling worried servos checking for damage.

"Kup, I'm fine!"

Kup held his cy-gar in his mouth as he prodded at the racer's seams. He scowled down at him once he was satisfied then smacked him upside the helm. Blurr reeled back surprised.

"Good, cuz I'm gonna scrap you myself for that stunt!"

Blurr, with his now slightly bruised ego, bristled at the old soldier. He took a step forward with his arms crossed, purposely getting into Kup's space as a challenge. Kup wasn't having any of it. He put out his cy-gar, and made a show of slowly putting it in his subspace, as he gave Blurr that ominous smile a furious creator gave their sparkling.

Blurr watched the display with a poker face that could even rivals Smokescreen's. He knew that he had misstepped. Kup wasn't at fault for his own blunder, he was only concerned for the racer, but Blurr was angry.

Oh, he was angry. He wanted to go down to the brig and torture Getaway until the mech begged for mercy. He longed to hunt down the members of the DJD to give them a taste of their own medicine. Most of all- he wanted to tear himself to shreds.

"Blurr, me and you are going to have a spark to spark. Something has crawled up your exhaust port and it's more than you are letting on. Because this-" he gestured at the scuffed up flooring then poked Blurr square in the chassis, "Is beyond ridiculous. You've been running laps for hours and you're still worked up more than a miner with a pleasure drone!

Before Blurr could rebut the old soldier Kup grabbed him by his back kibble and dragged him towards his chair. He forced Blurr to sit down, then turned his attention to the new recruits. He pointed to the exit.

"Scram if you know what's good for you!" Like magic they all disappeared.

Kup huffed watching the door shut. Blurr heard it click, knowing Kup must have sent the command for it to lock. Blurr scowled.

Kup walked in front of him, arms folded, and knowing optics barring into him. Blurr had been ignited from a hot spot, not kindled like some upper class mechs, but Kup somehow always made him feel like a misbehaving youngling.

"Now, is it safe to assume your mood has to do with that minibot?"

Blurr took a deep vent as the urge to snap at Kup came surging forward. It really wasn't any of his business! But Blurr reminded himself that Kup wasn't there to judge him, he was there because he cared. Blurr nodded and sighed. Kup was right, but it ran much deeper than that.

He rubbed his face suddenly not wanting to carry this burden alone. He went slack against the chair as the tank twisting image came to mind. He glanced at Kup then to the ground.

"My Swerve is dead. Found his frame back on the Necroworld myself before I called you. He was in pieces," he confessed.

Kup frowned, already knowing that much, but nodded for Blurr to continue. The speedster closed his optics remembering the sight, and covered his intake with his servo as his fuel tank churned. It was by far the worst thing he'd ever seen.

Blurr, took a breath and moved his servo away from his face. "They didn't just dismember him- They butchered him," he covered his intake again. Blurr could have laughed. 'Butchered'. It was worse than that. Much much worse.

He had found Swerve propped against a wall, abdomen ripped open, and faced twisted in agony. Swerve’s gestation chamber laid in his lap; barely recognizable amongst the gore and energon The forge was squashed open by some kind of massive force. Blurr tried not to think about how the shape reminded him of a pede. The sight had made him sick.

Blurr swallowed, his mouth suddenly too full of lubricant. "That wasn't all I found though Kup," Blurr admitted, his voice strained, and an odd guttural noise slipped out of him before he covered his intake again. He didn't realize he started to shake until he heard the rattling of his frame against the chair. Blurr hunched forward, lips pursed, and optics pale. He squeezed the chair as a wave of nausea washed over him.

There was one last thing Swerve had to give. A secret that would haunt Blurr for the rest of his function. Nestled against Swerve's chassis, in a mockery of a carrier’s embrace, laid the smallest frame Blurr ever saw. A frame so very similar to his own. Blurr tried to focus on anything else but the sickening image that was burned into his mind, as he took slow deep breaths, in an attempt to calm his tank. There was a long moment of quiet before he was able to move his servo and continue speaking.

"Swerve was sparked, Kup- He was carrying my sparkling!"

Kup swore. Blurr gripped the armrest hard enough that it cracked. Ashamed, he looked away. "That isn't all. I think-" Blurr struggled to find the words. He leaned forward in the chair, servos fidgeting, as he looked Kup in the optics.

"I think this Swerve- is too. "

Chapter Text

Swerve peered down at the kicking and cooing mess in front of him. Veer squealed in delight as solvent splashed everywhere. He bit his bottom lip, trying not to smile at her antics. Primus, she was just too cute!

"I'm glad you like bath time Veer, but I need you to stop squirming so I can clean you up! We're on a tight schedule!"

Swerve carefully wiped a rag between her seams earning a delighted squeal as she kicked more cleaning solvent into his face. He huffed, using his dry servo to wipe away the droplets. Swerve peered down at her happy face before sighing in defeat. "You're too ticklish- just like carri, huh? Well, luckily for you, I deem you cleaning enough. Now, let's get you all nice and shiny!"

Swerve snagged a towel off the counter. He picked her up from the bathing bassinet and swaddled her. Veer, delighted by being held, waved her arms around.

"You're just a widdle wiggle worm huh?" Swerve cooed as he walked out of the washing unit. Very carefully he placed her on his berth, then unwrapped her from the little cocoon and started to dry her. She squealed out, rolling around to the best of her abilities. Once satisfied, Swerve grabbed the sparkling grade polish from his side table. He scooped the goo out of the little jar and rubbed it onto his daughter’s armor. Still too young and fragile for a real buffer, Swerve instead opted to gently start buffing the polish out with a microfiber cloth, which earned a displeased noise and some squirming from Veer. Swerve made little faces at her as his servos worked. Veer would coo when Swerve would cover his visor, "Where's Veer…?" He'd remove his servo with a gasp. "There She is!"

Swerve’s would grin as she burst into giggles, too distracted to fight off his attempts at polishing her. He'd repeat the process until he thought her armor looked perfect. He pulled away to inspect his beautiful sparkling.

Veer's blue glistened brighter than any Praxian crystal. Her optics shone like cybertron's constellations. Swerve felt pride bubble in his spark. Swerve might be a little biased, but he was sure that Veer was the best sparkling in existence. Swerve gently cupped her chubby little cheek. Blurr better recognize that or he'll fight the racer himself! He sighed and leaned down to nuzzle the side of her helm.

Today was the day. The Wreckers were well within the range of the Lost Light. Which meant they, along with Blurr, would be docking soon. Swerve buried his nose against her tiny frame and breathed in her scent. It helped calm down his haywire carrier protocols. Primus, he was on edge.

He couldn't help it! There was just so much that could go wrong! Swerve snuggled his face further against her frame as he tried to push his worries aside. He had a plan. He had to keep reminding himself that. Things were going to be okay.

Swerve kissed the side of her helm before he reluctantly pulled away. Part of that plan included him getting ready. He really didn't want to. Really, he would rather turn on some cartoons and have a lazy day with Veer.

No luck in that department. Maybe after all of this, no matter the outcome, Swerve would close the bar early and he'd introduce Veer to some classics. The real question was should he start off with cartoon network or nick? Both sound good.

Swerve smiled to himself. Yeah. Veer and Swerve bonding time. That's what they'll do. Never mind all this Blurr business! At the end of the cycle the only thing that mattered was Swerve’s relation with his creation. That's what he'll focus on.

A ping from his door snapped him back to attention. Oh. It was time already. Swerve sent the command to unlock the door.

"Hey guys, come on in," Swerve said as he gathered Veer into his arms.

Whirl stepped in with his claws extended in a grabby motion. "Way ahead of you short stack. Now where's the package?"

"She's right here. All sparkly and clean, and I expect her to stay that way until after introductions. Okay Whirl? I mean it. No glitter or confetti cannons!"

Whirl waved him off as he got closer to Veer. "Yeah yeah, I hear you. Now gimme the tiny wrecker!"

Swerve rolled his optics and placed her in Whirl’s waiting arms. He chuckled watching Veer instantly grab a hold of Whirl’s mounted guns. Whirl optic brightened in delight.

"See, she's ready for a shoot out. My kind of gal,"

"Whirl, your weapons take up half your chassis. She's simply grabbing a hold of the easiest thing." Cyclonus said, walking over to pat Veer's helm.

"I don't know, Cyclonus. I think she grabs that one because it's the closet one to his spark," Tailgate chimed in.

"Aah, finding my weaknesses. Clever little thing."

That earned a laugh from Tailgate, "You know that's not what I meant. She likes you Whirl. Your spark has good vibes."

"You take that back and stop hanging with Drift. My vibes are murdery and nasty. Right Veer?" Whirl said, while tickling her tummy.

Swerve gathered the sparkling bag with a smile. Whirl wasn't fooling anyone. The mech was a complete softie when it came to bitlets.

He handed over the bag to Cyclonus, "Well, she likes you and that's all that matters. Now, here are her things. There should be some spare bottles, blankets, her injections, and a couple of toys. I'll comm the nursery ahead if I decide to introduce Blurr, okay? And, once again, thank you guys for watching her till I get this mess fixed. And don't hesitate to call me if anything happens."

"Yeah, of course! You know we love spending time with Veer. And we were going to lay low anyway. Whirl's still angry at the other Wreckers," said Tailgate.

"The frag I am!" Whirl hissed.

Veer startled in his arms. Her optics widened and her face twisted into an upset frown. Whirl, realizing his mistake, quickly distracted by bouncing his frame. Her upset beeps morphed into thrilled trills.

Cyclonus sighed, "Whirl, it's a different universe. They are different mechs."

"And I bet they still had the nerve to kick me out! Frag them, I got a better squad anyway. I got tiny tot here to defend my honor."

Swerve had to agree. For the most part all the bots from this universe acted the same. In all likelihood they did boot their Whirl. Yet, this Blurr joined the Lost Light, so there were some differences. Anything was possible he supposed. Well, he was about to find out.

Swerve went over and placed a goodbye kiss on Veer's helm, "Be good sweet spark. I'll pick you up soon."

He stepped away, feeling a little ping in his spark, as he did so. Swerve suppressed the urge to frown. Things would be different after this. He just hoped it was for the better.

Cyclonus noticed. He crossed his arms, which looked slightly ridiculous while holding a petrol rabbit pattern sparkling bag, and frowned. "If he has honor, he will not abandon you and Veer. If he does not, then I will ensure he cannot ever do this again."

Swerve paused, taken aback. "Did…you just threaten to sterilize Blurr?"

Cyclonus grunted before turning to face the door. He walked out with the grace of a dedicated warrior. Tailgate, waved goodbye, and followed him out. Whirl, not far behind cackled at what Cyclonus said. Swerve suddenly felt very worried for the racer.

He stood there watching as the door closed. Swerve rubbed his own arm not sure what to do with himself. He should get ready, he supposed.

The bartender made his way back into the washing unit. He paused at the amount of water Veer managed to splash on the floor. This made him wonder if she was secretly a boat instead of a racer frame. Nautica would be delighted if she was.

Swerve placed a towel down to soak up the mess before turning to face the mirror. He frowned, taking in his own form. Yep, he was still the same chunky mini bot with zero charisma. Now with the added bonus of a big ugly weld scar on his middle. He touched the healing mark with a sigh.

No amount of cosmetic work would hide the ugly grey color. According to Ratchet, it just had to heal naturally. Swerve just wished it would repair itself faster.

It made him feel more self conscious. He wasn't a looker on his best of days. He knew that. This ugly scar just made that worse.

Swerve looked away. It wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone. Blurr was too far above him for them to really even talk. He just wanted to appear decent for Veer's sake. She deserves a relationship with her sire. Swerve didn’t want to scare the racer away.

It's okay, he reminded himself. His injuries weren't even going to be part of this equation. He had a plan to hide them.

Granted, he got inspired after binging some sitcoms again, but it was still a decent idea. He'll just stand behind the bar the entire time. The counter was high enough it would hide his lower half while still letting him chat. He has an apron too that would help cover it up.

Okay, maybe it wasn't perfect, but it was a plan. There were some flaws like he wouldn't be able to deliver drinks without limping. He was still technically on berth rest. He got the okay to stand for a few hours. Though Ratchet threatened to glue his aft to his seat if he reopens that weld.

But! That's why he enlisted the help of his best buddies. Bluestreak was to be on drink crafting duty since Swerve was still a big sluggish. Ten would ten it up by delivering drinks and being an awesome bouncer. Which was good, because you never know what chaos wreckers would cause. And, Skids would stand by for moral support.

Swerve nodded to himself as he jumped in the shower. It was going to be okay. Things would go off without a hitch!

Everything was going way too slow. Blurr tapped his foot rapidly as they stood in front of the ship's docking chamber. He glared at the door wanting it to open already.

"Kid, staring at it ain't gonna make it go faster," Kup inhaled his cy-gar slowly.

Impactor slung an arm around the racer. "The old mech is right. 'Sides you're more jittery than a dead end mech on circuit boosters. Gonna scare away your lover-bot all hopped up like that."

Blurr’s engine growled. He pushed Impactor off of him. "Frag off 'Pactor"

That only earned a grin from the harpoon wielding mech. He crossed his arms, an air of smugness seeping through his field, as he stared Blurr down. He whistled. "Somebody has it bad. Can't wait to meet the mini that got your belt in a bunch. "

Blurr scowled, "If you try anything I'll put you in that grave you made for yourself, you fragging narcissist!"

Much to his annoyance, Impactor only chuckled at the threat. Blurr ground his denta together in frustration. His pedes tapping sped up till he heard the hissing of the latch. Finally!

He sped out the door as soon as the ramp descended. Only to be stopped in his tracks by the group of mechs waiting to greet them. There, and very much alive, was Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and, ugh, Bucket Head. Shame, it was almost a pleasant sight to see.

Suddenly Blurr stumbled back as he was decked in the face. Blurr swore and grabbed ahold of his now bruised nasal ridge. He glared at Rodimus. "The frag was that for?!"

"That's for the other version of you for being a glitch." Rodimus suddenly brought Blurr into a big hug. "This is because I'm happy you're still kicking, you glitch!"

Confused, Blurr decided it was easier to just hug Rodimus back. He could admit he was relieved to see his friend again. He was glad to see them all alive.

Rodimus only pulled away when Kup made his way down. He audibly gasped before pushing Blurr out of the way so he could hug the older mech. Blurr crosses his arms a bit offended he was forgotten so quickly.

"Kup, you're alive! Awe, frag. I think I'm gunna cry!"

Kup patted the spot between Rodimus' spoilers, "Of course I'm still kicking kid. I'm not that easy to get rid of!"

Ultra Magnus gave their party a respectable nod. He stood there still professional as always. Though his mouth, if you squint, almost looked like a smile.

Megatron, much to Blurr’s surprise, actually put a servo out towards Impactor. He watched as Impactor cocked his helm but nevertheless took and shook his hand.

"It's good to see you again," Megatron admitted.

"This ship making you all touchy and Feely again, Megs? Surprised you are even here to say hello."

The ex-war lord grunted in acknowledgment, "Yes, Well. My priorities have changed."

"Now that's a dangerous sentiment. Last time that happened a war broke out" Impactor said squeezing the gladiator's servo tight.

Megatron didn't rise up to the bait. He let go of his ex-amica's servo and nodded towards the exit.

"Let's not get confrontational, Impactor. We have too much to discuss before we delve into petty squabble. Besides, the crew is eager to meet the fabled Wreckers. They even set up a little celebration at Swerve’s."

Impactor was about to open his big mouth so Blurr interrupted him before he could ruin any good will. "Swerve, is he alright?"

Megatron paused. His mouth pinched into a flat line. He folded his servos together as if he was contemplating the question. "I think it would be better to ask him that directly."

Rodimus nodded in agreement. He put his servo on his cocked hip, regarding Blurr with an unimpressed look.

Blurr bristled at the stares they were throwing his way.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" He demanded.

"Yeah, actually. Before we go in there I'm giving you this one warning. Don't. Frag. This. Up." Rodimus poked the center of his chassis with every word then turned towards the exit.

Blurr swallowed down any rude comments he was going to throw Rodimus' way. Blurr knew him well enough to know when Rodimus was feeling protective. He only acts this way when something's gone wrong.

A sense of foreboding clung to the air. Already, just by how the others were reacting, he felt like his suspensions were confirmed. There was something wrong with Swerve.

The image of that sparkling came to the front of his mind. He balled up his fist and followed Rodimus out of the bay. Almost every step towards the bar felt heavy and too slow. He needed to know.

Swerve’s visor was glued to a stubborn stain on his otherwise immaculate bar. He'd already given up on trying to use a rag and cleaning spray. This thing was way too stubborn. Instead he decided to scrape away at it with his digit.

"Swerve, it's fine," said Bluestreak as he fixed a slightly out of place cube.

"I almost got it Blue. Just needs a little attention is all,"

Swerve kept scratching at it. He just wanted his perfect was all. He totally wasn't using it as a distraction.

"Uh huh, well I'm pretty sure you're just peeling off the paint."

That- might actually be true. Swerve paused to assess the damage he'd done. Looking at it now, Bluestreak was totally right. He frowned.

"Coulda told me sooner, Blue."

"Yeah, but then you would have broken your vocalizer from panic talking before Blurr even got here. Better the paint than you," Bluestreak said gently nudging Swerve.

Skids, who was nursing a drink, chimed in, "He has a point."

Swerve gave his friends a weak smile. "Okay, yeah. But in my defense, I have the right to be nervous. The fragging Wreckers are going to be in my bar! That's-that's just crazy!"

Not to mention the sire of his sparkling. The ultra famous racer and best pity frag Swerve has ever had, Blurr. No big deal. "I mean- suck it, Mirage. My bar is obviously better. I already got a picture of Optimus hanging out here. Now I'm getting like- All the Wreckers! Who else, besides Maccadams, can say that they've had that many famous bots patronizing there?" Swerve couldn't help himself. He just kept on talking.

"Guys, I won't lie to you, this feels like some kind of crazy dream. The Wreckers are here, our friends are alive, and I have a daughter. A heckin cute one. Which, by the way, Blurr better find her cute or I might set my bar on fire as a form of protest. Okay, maybe not I-"

Skids interrupted him with a chuckle, "Swerve, breath!"

Swerve was doing it again. His mouth was running off without him already, before Blurr even got here! He needed to calm down. Man, he was regretting turning down Drift's offer to teach him meditation.

"Swerve, I'm telling you, it's going to be okay" Skids gave him a reassuring smile, "He's going to love Veer. And he's just going to be happy to see you again."

That's what scared him. Blurr was expecting a version of him that no longer exists. He didn't want to disappoint the racer or ruin Veer's chance.

Bluestreak threw the cloth he was using over his shoulder, "If he's a glitch then I'll just get Ten to kick him out."

Skids nodded in agreement, "We have your back Swerve, okay?"

Swerve upper lip twitched into a small smile, "Right, well I hope we don't have to kick him out. Bad look for my business."

Bluestreak hummed, "If we do I can cash in a few favors to get a better racer to pose in the bar for some photos?"

Swerve gasped, "No- what? Nobody is better than Blurr!"

That was heresy! In this bar the best racer around was, and forever would be Blurr. It didn't matter his relationship with the racer.

Bluestreak shrugged. "I don't know. Those colony bots from Velocitron looked pretty fast.."

Swerve was about to argue his case when he heard the front door open. His mouth snapped shut as Rodimus stepped inside. The captain waltz like he owned the place. He stopped in the center of the bar.

Rodimus cleared his vocalizer, "Alright glitches, the party has arrived! Make way for the one and only Wreckers!" The effect on the bar was instantaneous: loud whooping and cheers from patrons. One by one the different squad members walked in.

Swerve felt star-struck. He knew already that Kup, Impactor, and Springer were coming thanks to that call with Skids. He hadn't expected freaking Roadbuster, Topspin and Twintist, and was that Rack'n'Ruin?! The fan bot inside of him was absolutely losing it right now.

Would it be weird if he asked all of them to sign a table or something? Or maybe the banner? That way he could have it proudly displayed in the bar.

Swerve was about to ask Skids to fetch it from where it hung on the ceiling when all words died on his glossa.

The happy bubbly feeling of having his idols enter his bar turned into something more unpleasant. His insides twist as another ghost comes strolling into the bar. Swerve couldn’t help but compare him to the last photo he had of them together. The only real difference was the cracked casing on the side of his helm. No doubt, the place where the cerebro bullet struck him all those years ago.

Swerve should have guessed the scientist somehow found a way to survive that accident in this universe. He could hardly believe it. He could still hear the last words of Ironfist’s final broadcast. That final goodbye etched their way into Swerve’s spark. Now, he was here like nothing had happened. Late at night, Swerve laid awake, regretting not doing more for Ironfist. Now he’s back….

"Finally opened that bar, eh?" asked Ironfist as he sat next to Skids.

Those are the first words he says to him after all this time? Swerve wanted to scoff. He wanted to grab ahold of the scientist and- and shake him! Or hug him! Swerve wasn't sure. He just knew he wanted to do something.

Swerve forced himself to smile, "Yep, like how you obsessed over the wreckers so hard somehow you became one. Like, you glitch! You never told me!"

That was an understatement. One day Swerve woke up to find Ironfist had left Kimia. No note, no message, or even a goodbye. But Skyfall got his freakin workshop! Which turned out great for him, by the way. It took everything in him not to say that.

Ironfist rubbed the back of his helm, "That's because things got a bit complicated after I left Kimia.."

Things got complicated before he left Kimia. Swerve wanted nothing more than to hash it out with Ironfist! But, as he glanced at his friend surrounding the bar, he decided this wasn’t the time nor the place. He’d deal with it later. Right now, he’d play the polite bartender. He put on his best customer server face.

"Oh! Skids, Bluestreak, this is an old science buddy of mine, Ironfist. We go waaay back- went to the academy together. We were roommates. Ironfist, this is Bluestreak, my friend and employee, and this is my amica, Skids!"

Bluestreak flickered his wings as a greeting, "Nice to meet you."

Skids went for a hand shake, "Always nice to meet friends of my amica."

Ironfist shook his hand in return and nodded at Bluestreak, "Nice to meet you two. Wow, Swerve you're moving up in the world. You have two more friends than I have."

Swerve laughed, "Ha! Yep, beating your record. But it's alright, I'm sure they are willing to befriend you."

Ironfist drummed his digits on the counter in acknowledgment. He looked like he wanted to say something to Swerve. His optics stayed lingering on the bartender, but he didn’t say anything. Smart, Swerve wasn’t sure if he could fake being nice for much longer. Seeing Ironfist again brought up some complicated feelings.

Ironfist hummed then slightly nodded his helm behind him. "Speaking of friends- I thought you were full of slag about knowing Blurr. Mech has been staring at you since we walked in."

Swerve froze. He looked past Ironfist to see a certain blue racer staring right at him. He was standing next to Kup who was chatting with Rodimus. Yet, his attention was directly on Swerve. Their optics met. Then he started to walk towards the bar.

Swerve did the only thing he could think of. He quickly ducked down behind the bar out of pure panic. He was so caught up on Ironfist that he forgot about Blurr!

Oh frag, oh frag, oh frag. This was happening!

Bluestreak, bless his face plate, pretended to knock over a rag. Swerve knew he was just trying to make it look like he was retrieving it for Blue instead of hiding. Swerve tried to stop his frame from trembling as he grabbed the cloth.

He heard Ironfist greet the racer, "Hey Blurr, want a drink?"

Blurr said something Swerve didn’t quite catch. In all fairness, he was trying to calm his nerves. He could do this.

He stood back up with a plastered on smile, "Here you go Blu-"

Swerve froze. There was Blurr, right there in front of him. The gorgeous racer did a once over on Swerve’s frame and for a second, and Swerve thought he was going to faint.

"Uhh…" he swallowed down his anxiety. "What can I get ya?" Blurr didn't say anything. He just kept staring at Swerve. He shifted, feeling uncomfortable. "Not sure? Then- uh let me suggest our newest drink-the 'Wreck n Rule'. It's bold and tangy- just like victory feels, you know? Came up with it myself. Not really an original name but I can promise it makes up for it in flavor," Swerve fidgeted with his digit and stared at the counter. "If that isn't to your liking we got some classics like a Outliner blast, or Interface on the beach-"

Swerve snapped his mouth shut at the last one. His face plate heated. He cleared his throat as he tried not to freak out. Way to be subtle Swerve!

He was about to find an excuse to abort this whole conversation. Maybe pretend he left something important in his habsuite or go hide at the observation deck for a few hours? All those thoughts left his processor when a hand gently tilted his chin up.

Blurr, with his lips pursed, and optics settled on him, used his digit to rub his face. It was so..caring? The racer bowed his helm as if he was relieved. Swerve couldn't believe his audio receptors when Blurr breathed out.

"You're really alive.."

The racer stilled his servo as if he just realized what he did. Swerve stood there unsure what to say as Blurr mumbled out an apology. He flushed, already missing that little bit of contact.

"It's okay- I am used to being touched," he mumbled out before slapping a servo over his mouth. "Not what I meant! That came out wrong. I just meant as a bartender. Wait no, that seems worse-" Swerve groaned wanting to disappear.

Blurr didn't laugh, though he did appear amused. He smiled at Swerve, such a spark melting smile too, and took a seat in front of him. Swerve flushed further at his intense gaze.

He glanced away in Bluestreak’s direction for help. Only to find the mech left to deliver a tray of drinks. Oh awesome, there goes one of his safety nets.

Skids cleared his intakes, "Hey Swerve, I'm going to go introduce Ironfist here to Nautica. I think she'll enjoy to talk science "

Swerve pleaded with his optics for Skids to stay. He knew his amica was just trying to give him space but his anxiety was so bad he was afraid he'll purge. Skids only threw him his typical reassuring smile. Swerve wanted to vent in frustration when he saw Skids mouth 'you got this'.

Ironfist followed behind the theoretican, "We'll catch up later Swerve. I'll show you my latest piece from my Vanguard collection."

Then there was none. It was just him and Blurr. It felt weird being the center of attention. He felt awkward.

Swerve needed to busy his servos so he decided to make the racer a free drink. Maybe that would help ease the tension.

"There are some things I'd like to talk to you about, if that's okay?" Blurr, with his stupid husky voice asked.

"Yeah, uh sure! I'm an open book. Ask away!"

Blurr leaned against his servo and took Swerve in. The minibot tried his best to calm his frantic spark. Which he was finding to be an impossible task.

"I'll be blunt then, what was our relationship?"

What was their…? Oh, that was a loaded question. Swerve’s face heated further as he tried to form the right words. Frag buddies? Semi friendly berth amigos? Luke warm wrestle comrades? None of those things really fitted their relationship.

“Um-We knew each other?” He said very unsure.

Even that sounded like they were closer than they were. Swerve distracted himself from Blurr’s thoughtful expression by handing him the finished drink. He rubbed the back of his helm and sighed.

“It was..complicated but not? I don’t even know," he finally admitted. Swerve covered his face with his servo. He didn't want to say it. But it needed to be done so he could bring up Veer. "You pity fragged me a couple of times back on Cybertron, okay? We weren't whatever it is you had with your Swerve. You barely knew I existed and this is really overwhelming."

Swerve took a step back to put some distance between them. He wasn't worth more than just a pity frag. He was loud, ugly, and overall a pain in the aft. It hurt admitting it out loud.

Blurr brows knitted together. He sat up straight and leaned closer to Swerve. "How long ago was that?"

Swerve shrugged looking away. He subconsciously put a servo against where his hidden weld mark was. How old was Veer? Only a couple of months? …It was hard to think of the noise of the bar.

"I don't know? Time gets weird on the Lost Light. Does it matter?"

Blurr’s optics flickered to the minibot’s abdomen. He gripped the countertop as if to anchor himself. Oh, based on Blurr’s frown, that was the wrong answer. The racer glanced at his drink before taking a sip of it.

"I see."

Swerve bit the bottom of his lip. Already Blurr's reaction had a bolt of rejection stabbing his spark. He pushed the pain down by forcing out a friendly laugh.

"Ha yeah, it was a short arrangement… Uh- so how's your drink. Does it need anything?"

Blurr optics flickered up to Swerve, "No, it's perfect like always. Thank you. Though I wouldn't mind some company, why not make yourself something while we chat?"

"Oh, I can't," Swerve blurted right away. He winced at how quickly he said that. Swerve, the only bot not drinking at a party. That was totally not suspicious. Good job.

It was true though. Ratchet would kill him if he had a drink in his servo. It slows down the healing process. He already wasn't happy Swerve was standing. Not only that but he was hoping to use his own feeding lines with Veer after the pain killers were out of his system. Feeding carriers were supposed to avoid highgrade.

"I uh- don't like drinking on the job. As a bartender you understand" Swerve lied with a polite smile. Blurr studied him for an uncomfortable amount of time. Swerve tried not to nervously fidget. For a moment the only sound was conversation taking place in the background. He picked up a nearby glass and pretended it needed polishing.

"We were lovers. Me and my Swerve" Blurr said casually. That was blunt and unexpected. Swerve fumbled, almost dropping the bottle. He luckily caught it before it landed on the floor.

"O-oh" Swerve choked out. "Congratulations?"

Blurr gave the bartender a sad smile. He took a deeper sip that time. Swerve blinked till it hit him.

Oh slag! How could he forget?! Blurr's Swerve was dead. He resisted the urge to slap himself for that comment.

The racer tilted his glass around to watch the liquid slosh side to side. Blurr took in a deep breath then sighed. "You act just like him," he said quietly.

Oh, the look he gave Swerve hurt his spark a bit. Swerve knew the look in his optics- it was that of loss. Countless times his own reflection would stare back at him in the mirror. Over and over again it taunted Swerve with its cruel whispers: why couldn't you save them?

In all counts he was basically a stranger, yet Swerve ached to rid him of that pain. Nobody deserved to have that gaping wound in their chassis. It was a silent killer of joy. Swerve should know, he almost lost his own life to it.

Swerve chewed on the inside of his cheek. Blurr looked so sad…Feeling a bit brave, and perhaps a bit idiotic, he reached over to grab a hold of Blurr’s free servo. He gave it a little squeeze.

Blurr’s optics brightened from the touch. He squeezed back before thumbing the back of Swerve’s servo. It felt odd but pleasant. Though it was a bit more intimate than Swerve had expected. He tried his best to control his burning cheeks.

Blurr, realizing what he was doing, stilled his digit. "Sorry- I didn't mean.. Force of habit.." he mumbled but still didn't let go of the bartender's servo.

Swerve fiddled with the hem of his apron. "It's alright, trust me, I understand. They had to pry my huggy hands off of Skids and the rest of the bots two cycles ago. It's relieving and scary to see dead mechs walking around again."

"Not going to lie, I'm jealous to hear they got a Swerve hug before me. Yours are my favorite."

Swerve’s lost all higher processor functions for a moment. He hugged Blurr? Blurr likes his hugs?

He cleared his dry intake and nodded at Blurr's drink. "Let me refill that for you."

Blurr thanked him then pushed over his empty glass with his cyan optics trained on Swerve. He picked it up and effortlessly started to mix the cocktail. Swerve tried focusing on that instead of the anxiety cramping his tanks.

Swerve needed to get his processor straight. For Veer's sake, he needed to actually talk to the racer instead of being an awkward pile of garbage. Blurr needed to know about her. He took in a deep breath before straining the highgrade into its cup. He opened his mouth only to be interrupted by a large purple arm slinging across Blurr’s shoulder.

Tailgate watched, amused, as Whirl laid next to Veer. The normally manic helicopter was laying on his stomach pushing different toys in front of the sparkling’s view. Veer would grab her at her favorites and ignore others. Whirl would gather the ones she didn’t like and ‘banished’ them to the other side of the room by throwing them against the wall. Every time Veer would giggle in delight at his antics.

So far, everything was going well. Veer hadn’t cried once since her carrier had passed her off to them. In fact, Tailgate would dare to say, she was having the time of her life.

He hoped that Swerve was having a good time. Tailgate winced knowing how awkward it must be. The situation was like that human show Swerve showed him. What was it called again? Murray? Hopefully there would be less yelling and sparkling denying than that show had.

Who could deny Veer anyway? She was a heckin cutie! Tailgate leaned over to playfully tickle the bottom of her pede. Veer gasped out and squealed in delight.

“Hey pipsqueak! How dare you attack my charge!” Whirl said, knocking gently against Tailgate’s plating.

Tailgate laughed, “I can’t help it! She’s so cute! Right Cyclonus?”

Cyclonus, who was sitting in the rocking chair, hummed. Tailgate smiled behind his mask. Cyclonus looked down right at home. Frankly, it was adorable.

Whirl huffed, “Doesn’t matter how cute she is. Nobody touches my squad members without paying the price!”

Tailgates gasped. He glanced at Veer. “Please have mercy on me! I meant no harm princess co-captain!”

Whirl rolled his shoulders. “Sorry tiny, Veer here says mercy is for the weak.”

The waste disposal bot yelps as he’s suddenly tackled against the playmat. Two massive claws begin gently tickling his sides. He gasps and kicks out against the attack.

Whirl laughed at the violent onslaught. Tailgate wheezed trying to get some cold air in his vents, begging for Whirl to stop.

The helicopter only did after Tailgate was crying from laughing so hard. Tailgate gasped trying to regain his composure before a brilliant idea came to him. He looked into Whirl’s golden optic before wrapping his arms around his neck. He pulled the ex-wrecker down so he could nuzzle the side of his helm.

Whirl froze. He doesn’t pull away so Tailgate takes it as a sign to keep going. He disengages his mask and kisses him. Whirl melts into the touch. He cups the side of Tailgate’s face before nuzzling him back.

“Fine, you win. I’ll grant you mercy,” Whirl whispered into his audio receptor.

Tailgate snuggled against his warm frame with a sense of victory. Whirl huffed before sitting up, gathering the minibot in his lap and leaning back to a more comfortable position. Together they both watched Veer, who was happily nomming on a plush.

Whirl scooted them both a bit closer to the rocking chair. Tailgate knew that he wanted to feel Cyclonus’ field too, though Whirl would never admit it.

CRUNCH!

Everybody froze. Whirl glanced behind him only to realize he accidentally backed up into the sparkling bag. Whirl swore, Cyclonus grabbed the bag, and Tailgate gasped in surprise. Oh, scrap!

Tailgate winced seeing Cyclonus take out one of Veer’s injections. Yeah, it was beyond shattered. And by the looks of it all of them were.

Veer, sensing their tension, began to cry.

"Solve your issues lover bot?" Impactor cooed.

"Frag off! Not now!" Blurr snarled.

The ex-miner only laughed and patted the racer’s cheek. "Trouble in paradise? Awe, go easy on him, Swerve was it? He's been dying to see you since that call with Skids."

Blurr jerked Impactor off of him. He elbowed the fraggers gut hard. Impactor grunted before grinning wildly at Swerve.

"See? Super sensitive. Now, how about you two make up so the rest of us can grab a drink?"

Swerve flushed. Now that he mentioned it, nobody else had approached the counter since they started talking. He coughed into his servo.

"Sorry about that. We got wrapped up in our own conversation. How can I help you?"

"Got any nightmare brew?" Impactor said while leaning against the bar.

"Yeah, of course!", Swerve fished out a bottle from under the cabinet.

Blurr stiffened as he watched Swerve pour the shot. Impactor accepted it and threw it back with ease. He smacked his lips together then nudged Blurr.

"You were right about taking this bottle with you. Stuff is smooth!"

"ShutthefragupImpactor" Blurr hissed out.

Swerve tilted his helm, "What do you mean..?"

Impactor glanced at the now fuming racer. That only made his grin wider. He slapped some shanix down in front of Swerve.

"Blurr didn't tell you? Took the bottle from the other ship. He was guarding it like a turbo fox with its pups. Now, kiss and make up. The rest of us want to drink till we black out."

Swerve watched, stunned, as he simply walked away. He glanced at the nightmare fuel in his hands then at Blurr. That was his favorite drink and Blurr took it with him…?

Blurr glared daggers until he was sure the warrior was out of his sight. He crossed his arms together with a scowl. It kind of reminded Swerve of two siblings fighting with each other.

“I hate to say it but uh,” Swerve blushed, “I think he’s right. We’ve been skirting around each other like freshly upgraded new sparks. Let’s…just rip off the bandaid.”

Blurr nodded in agreement. Both opened their mouths and started to talk.

"There’s actually something I want to as-"

"There’s something I need to tell-"

Their voices overlapped. They paused. Swerve nervously rubbed his helm.

"Oh scrap, sorry. Here, you go fir-"

Swerve frowned as he was interrupted by a call. His brows furrowed seeing it was from Cyclonus. His spark sped up with worry.

"I'm sorry, give me a second. I got a call," said Swerve.

He turned the other way before answering the call. "Cyclonus, is everything alright…?"

"Veer's injections broke. She's having an attack"

All color drained from Swerve's face. "Try to keep her cool. I'm on my way!"

Swerve scrambled to get out from behind the bar. He was yanked back by his apron which got caught on the corner. He smacked his tender middle in the process. He swore before yanking the stupid thing off of himself.

"Is everything alright?" Blurr asked, already standing from his seat.

Swerve whipped his helm in the speedster's direction. He couldn't think of anything to say. He panicked and threw him a thumbs up.

"Yep, yep, yep! Everything is perfect- uh Cyclonus just needs my help," he lied as he started to jog towards the exit.

That's when pain bloomed from his abdomen. He cursed, stumbling forward. His knees buckled under his own weight. He crumbled towards the floor. Blurr shot out and caught him.

"Swerve?! You're hurt!"

He scrambled against the racer, "Does matter- I need to go!"

Veer was overheating! She was in danger!! Frag his stupid welds. He didn't have time for this.

His protocols were screaming at him. He could feel Veer's fear and pain through the bond. Frustration tears pooled in the corner of his optics.

Blurr stared at his injuries for a second before lifting the minibot off the ground to hold him bridal style in his arms. "Tell me where we're going!"

Swerve swallowed, "Near the docking bay. It's room 500C,"

Blurr nodded. He tightened his hold onto Swerve before taking off with lightning speed.

They zoomed down the halls, drifting past corners, and strolling mechs like it was nothing. The speed was dizzying. Swerve clung onto the racer for dear life. In what felt like a blink they were at the nursery.

The piercing sound of a sparkling's desperate cries filled the air. Swerve flared around in Blurr's arms like a desperate fish. Stunned by the sight it took Blurr a moment to actually set Swerve down.

Once his pedes touched the ground Swerve took off towards Cyclonus. The horned mech was rocking the screaming sparkling. Veer whined with tears streaming down her face. Swerve could hear her internal fans stuttering in a vain attempt to cool herself.

Swerve scooped her up in an instant. His fear grew tenfold at how hot she felt in his arms. His spark cracked seeing how red her face was. She looked miserable.

"Please tell me you have more of those injections!" Said Tailgate, who was definitely freaking out.

"I do, I do! Shh, it's okay. Carri is here. Vent for me," Swerve reached inside his subspace before yanking out one of his many spares. He pressed it against her main cooling line. "There’s going to be a pinch, okay? It's going to be fine,"

Swerve blanked his field over his daughter. He then hit the plunger. Veer beeped unhappily. It took a moment for the coolant to flow through her system and for her to relax in his arms. Swerve did vent himself until her little face nuzzled against his chassis. He sighed in relief.

"We are so sorry Swerve! Everything was going fine but then we accidentally rolled onto her bag- that freaked her out and-" Tailgate rambled.

Swerve tuned them out. He was too busy searching over his daughter’s frame for any possible damage. She looked okay but Swerve was still going to call Ratchet to make sure.

"Thank Primus you got here in time. I thought you weren't going to make it!"

Swerve paled. There was a reason he made it there so quickly. He swallowed down the lump in his throat before turning to look behind him. Blurr was standing there staring directly at Veer.

Oh, scrap.

Chapter Text

Welp. The time to freak out was now! Swerve stood there, whimpering sparkling at hand, trying to come up with a decent explanation as to why he had an upset bitlet clinging to him. One that happened to look just like Blurr. The racer's expression, something between shock and completely blank, wasn't helping him come up with anything. Think Swerve, think! What could he say?

"I need to get her to Ratchet!" Swerve knew that he needed to defuse the situation but- He was worried! That was the only thing he could think of.Veer's vents were making this awful ragged sound. They stuttered worse than his own voice when he had to do a presentation on Kimia! That wasn't normal!

Swerve knew his sparkling: Veer’s a happy little bitlet that loves attention; right now she was hiding her face against his chassis, and her servos were weakly gripping his plating!

Did she look pale? Swerve thought she looked pale. Frag! Did they take too long with her injections?!

He cupped the back of Veer’s helm with a frown. He didn't like how weak her field felt against his. Instead of her usual open and inviting, her field was scared and tightly wrapped within his own.

There was too much going on at once! The sudden onslaught of stress was giving him a helm ache. He swore he could feel a slight tremble coming from his plating. Oh, perfect, the anxiety shakes were kicking in!

Cyclonus stepped forward to put a clawed servo on his shoulder. "He's already on the way. I called him right after you."

"Thank you Cyclonus," Swerve sagged a bit in relief. Bless his friends and their quick thinking. Swerve could have kissed Cyclonus for doing that. He was glad somebody had their helm on straight right now, because his certainly wasn’t.

Now the problem was waiting. He hated doing that on a good day, but with his daughter’s vents freaking out, it felt like an impossible task. Swerve readjust his hold on Veer so he could get a better look at her face. It was still scrunched up and wet with recently fallen tears. Swerve chewed on his bottom lip, "I hope he hurries"

He put one pede in front of the other, looping in a little circle, to help distract himself from this crisis. Swerve wasn’t even aware he was pacing around the nursery. He just knew that he couldn’t stand still. Not with his little gumball being hurt.

"He'll be here soon. She will be okay," Cyclonus said with confidence that Swerve envied. He sounded so sure of himself. Swerve, on the other hand, felt like his world was going to shatter if Ratchet didn't get here soon. He'd lost so many loved ones before. Skids, Pipes, Ironfist, and even Blurr met the well of the allspark. He didn't want to lose anymore!

The inside of his intake felt dry. His spark was hammering away from the inside of his chassis. Overall, Swerve felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

Swerve was startled out of his own downward spiral by the gentile grip of a servo on his shoulder. "I'll go get Ratchet. Go sit down, and try to remain calm," Blurr instructed as he gently guided him to the rocking chair. Swerve was at a loss of words as the racer gave him a reassuring squeeze. The speedster did a once over on them, optics lingering on Veer, before taking off in a flash.

Ratchet- he needed to go find Ratchet! They needed the medic to help the sparkling.!

He felt like a gestalt was pounding inside of his spark casing with all their might against his frame. Blurr used that as fuel to push his pedes faster. The medbay wasn't that far away. Thank Primus.

Still, it gave the racer enough time for his processor to try and play catch up. That was a nursery. Yep, he was just at a nursery- and inside that nursery were Whirl, Tailgate, and Cyclonus who were watching a sparkling. Not their bitlet- not just any bitlet. Nope! That sparkling belongs to Swerve. A living, breathing, little newling.

Swerve had a sparkling. Swervehada sparkling!Thatmeanthehadasparkling!

Between his discovery back on the Necroworld to their trip reuniting with the Lost Light, Blurr had enough time to accept the fact that he was a sire. A sire without a sparkling.

It was a painful revelation. It hurt more than seeing the pile of rubble his bar had become. He mourned the life he never got to know.

It was still fresh in his processor, the moment he said his goodbyes. He had put a vial of innermost energon on their makeshift grave, prayed for their safe journey to the well of the allspark, and wondered how they suffered.

It didn't take long for Blurr’s grief morphed into rage. At first he swore on the darkest part of his spark that he'd grant them vengeance. Still simmering with fresh hate he contacted all his brothers: every single wrecker he was still in good standing with would help rip Getaway to shreds.

Once that task was done he parked himself on a patch of fresh dirt near the resting place of two frames. While awaiting their replies Blurr sat there with so much anger that his frame shook. The weight of what happened resting heavily on his shoulders.

Swerve. His Swerve was gone. Blurr had dug his digits in the earth and gritted his denta together.

Blurr tried to push past those thoughts as he rounded a corner in the hallway. Still they occupied his mind like a ravenous scraplet colony. He couldn't escape it.

The picture of that small husk of a new spark was burned into his processor. All that rage towards Getaway turned to himself. He had failed to protect them. He let the mutiny happen. He's the reason why they're both dead!

Blurr, the fastest mech known to Cybertron, stood idly by as a narcissistic wannabe prime destroyed innocent lives. It was like serving Zeta Prime all over again. He was pathetic.

Blurr didn't feel worthy of a second chance. He spent all his life running away from problems, and every single time he tried to do something good it blew up in his face! Life had granted him plenty of opportunities that he was lucky to have. Racing, owning his own bar (be it briefly), and meeting Swerve. It would be selfish to ask for more.

Yet, there was one thing he desired more than anything. He wanted to see Swerve again. He wanted to see Swerve’s beautiful dimpled smile blooming across his face as he rocked that newspark. Swerve would have been a wonderful creator. Blurr knew it deep in his core.

When Swerve came into view during that video call Blurr thought it was a dream. There he was, still nervous and charming as always. Nothing like the body Blurr had buried.

The universe was kinder, kinder than he deserved. Swerve was alive, Blurr was given another chance. Still, there was a question that burned in his mind. What about their creation? Did it even exist?

The racer had prepared himself for both possibilities. Blurr had accepted that there was a chance that this Swerve was never sparked in the first place. Then there was the chance Swerve is actively carrying. Blurr could tell Swerve was trying to hide something, and Blurr would coax the truth out of that brilliant bot sooner or later.

This time he promised to step up for the bartender. He'd protect them both with every ounce of strength he has. He'd be a good sire and hopefully a wonderful partner to Swerve. He would right all his wrongs. Sparkling or no sparkling, he still wanted Swerve in his life.

All of those well convictions went flying out the airlock when he realized the sparkling had already emerged. The scene he just witnessed kept looping as he ran. He just couldn't believe it.

Blurr was a mech of pure actions. He rarely felt at loss with what to do. Yet, when he heard the weak cries of that newling he felt dazed. Blurr was stuck in the doorway like somebody had glued his pedes to the floor.

He was amazed at how easily Swerve had jumped in to comfort the sparkling. It was surreal to see the same tiny husk he had buried move around with such life. He didn't think he'd get to see Swerve cradling that life so soon.

An array of emotions rip through him like a bad acid storm. He wanted to rush over to them in order to ensure this wasn't a dream. He longed to hold them both tightly and never let go. But all those selfish desires that felt too inappropriate at that moment.

There was something wrong with their sparkling, and he didn't know what to do. He watched helplessly as Swerve injected something into its soft protoform. The loud wailing tampered down to wet sniffles. Blurr’s insides twisted.

He had so many questions, all threatening to come tumbling out in a garbled mess of words. They died on his glossa seeing the panicked expression Swerve wore.

No, he didn't fully understand the situation, but that could wait. He could get those details later. Right then, Swerve needed a rock. Somebody to help soothe his concerns. Blurr wanted to step up.

Blurr calmed his own erratic field before approaching the bartender. He guided them to sit in the nearby rocking chair. Blurr summoned an air of confidence and calm to blanket it over his nervous partner.

That's why he was racing through the halls right now. Swerve needed him. The sparkling needed him. This time, no matter what, he'd protect them.

His engine revved hard as he almost slammed into the very medic he was searching for. Ratchet swore loudly seeing the racer barreling towards him. Blurr, in a split second decision, decided not to stop. No, he scooped up the doctor, spinned on his heels, and turned back towards the nursery.

"The frag- put me down!"

"Sorry, but hold on doc bot. This courier bot was tasked with getting you and this is an emergency. You've been upgraded to express shipping!"

Swerve stared at the spot Blurr was standing at. The only indication that the racer was even there was the door that was left wide open and the black scuff marks now on the floor. He leaned back in the seat. His processor was having trouble understanding what just happened.

Tailgate gasped, "Cyclonus, did you see that?! He just vanished! Who was that?"

"Haven't you been paying attention, tiny legs? That was Swerve’s baby daddy. Veer's transfluid donor. The sire of our best co-captain!" Whirl rattled off.

"Whirl!" Cyclonus warned.

Swerve’s face heated. The urge to fling something at the helicopter was strong. He was lucky that Veer needed him more than Whirl needed a toy thrown at his optic.

Tailgate tilted his helm. "So wait…that's Blurr?"

Whirl clanked his claws together, "Ding ding ding!"

"Huh..wow! Swerve, you weren't joking about him being-"

"Maybe not now guys!" Swerve snapped, cutting Tailgate off. He reeled back, startled by how harsh his own voice sounded. All three of his friends looked at him just as surprised. Swerve covered his face and muttered an apology.

Usually he'd jump at the opportunity to gush about Blurr! It was his favorite topic. However, right now he really didn't want to think about the racer. Not with his sparkling hurt, nor with the potential fallout looming at Blurr’s return.

Swerve felt his insides clench. His mask had slipped; goofy side kicks aren't supposed to lash out during tough situations. His job was to clown around! Help ease everyone's worries with some jokes, and good laughs! Swerve just... didn’t have that in him right now. What were they supposed to do when the side character was the one hurting?

In more ways than one; he was sore, the spot he smacked against the counter throbbed at him angrily. He was surprised the weld hadn't torn because of his clumsiness. That wasn't what hurt Swerve the most. No, that was his upset sparkling.

There were lines of deep engraved coding screaming at him to help Veer. He wanted to scream back that he did all he could! He was useless! They'd have to wait for Ratchet.

There was nothing worse than not being able to do something for her! She is supposed to rely on him- he's her carrier! The only thing of comfort Swerve could offer was soothing circles against her back and to gently rock her.

Swerve thunked the back of his helm against the chair. He took in a shuttering vent as he tried to get control of his own emotions. He knew these thoughts wouldn't help Veer any faster. But Blurr could.

This was the same mech who won the Ibex Kup over seven times! Blurr used to rip past enemy lines to deliver critical information to Autobot headquarters like it was nothing. If anyone could get Ratchet here faster than it definitely was Blurr!

Veer was going to be fine. Blurr would be back any second. Swerve just kept reminding himself.

Those thoughts were interrupted by a sudden flood of warmth from both of his sides. Swerve blinked. He unexpectedly found himself in the middle of a warm hug.

Tailgate had made his way to one side of the rocker, Whirl on the other, and both had wrapped their arms around Swerve. Even Cyclonus stood behind him close enough so his field could brush against Swerve's.

His lower lip wobbled as his friends delivered the comfort he so desperately needed.Their gestures helped ease the dread that had settled in his core. For just a moment Swerve remembered he wasn't alone.

His friends were right there for them. No matter the outcome he could count on them for support. It was a startling realization.

All three of his friends could have left. It wouldn't have been the first time Swerve was left alone devastated. Yet they stayed. Even though he was just a jerk! Something in his spark squeezed at their clear affection.

Swerve was no longer that lonely bot desperate for any type of connection. He didn't have to put on an act for scraps of attention. There are bots here and now that want to be around him.

Swerve leaned into their snug embrace. Whirl, despite his violent persona, was the one leaking the most care into his field. He was genuinely worried and felt guilty. They all did.

No no, that wouldn't do! Swerve knew that the injections being destroyed was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. In fact, he was surprised this didn't happen on his watch! He was the same bot that managed to shoot off his own face. This pales in comparison to that.

Swerve reached out to grab ahold of Whirl’s claw. He gave it a squeeze. "I don't blame you guys, you know that right?"

Tailgate looked away. "Maybe you should."

Tailgate loosened his side of the hug. His visor dimmed in a way Swerve recognized well. Sadness. His own reflection often stared back at him with that same expression. No, he wouldn’t stand for his friend to feel that way!

Swerve was quiet for a moment. He glanced at Veer. She no longer looked red in the face. Her optics were dimmed and her frame was relaxed against his. His friends did more than just ease his nerves.

Swerve nudged Tailgate with his shoulder. "The only blame you're getting from me is a 'thank you' for helping Veer calm down. Look at her, she's halfway into recharge thanks to you guys."

Tailgate followed his gaze. Veer happened to turn her face away from Swerve's chassis at that time. A sleepy smile bloomed across her face as her optics met his. Tailgate leaned forward as his field gushed with fondness.

"See? Veer isn't upset. She loves you guys."

Tailgate reached out with a digit to rub her soft cheek. "Does..this mean we get to keep watching her?"

Swerve nodded. "Yeah, of course! Anyways, I'm pretty sure Veer would riot if she didn't get her wrecker time with Whirl."

Tailgate laughed, "She does have a mighty blood lust."

Swerve couldn't help but to smile. It was kind of funny to compare his sparkling to those hardened warriors. Since she was such a friendly bitlet. Their moment was interrupted by a sudden gust of wind blowing into the nursery.

"Put me down you overclocked pile of scrap!"

Swerve looked up to see the disgruntled form of Ratchet in Blurr's arms. He batted at Blurr, who must have carried the medic all the way there, and fought to get his pedes on the ground. Blurr grunted as one good smack got him right on his audio receptor. Swerve cringed in sympathy. That had to hurt.

Blurr revved his engine in annoyance.The racer grunted as he set the medic on his feet. Once Ratchet was back on steady pedes he whirled around to jap his digit square in the middle of Blurr’s chassis.

"Pick me up like that again and I will weld all your limbs together!"

Blurr rubbed the spot on his frame with a scowl. His optics narrowed as if he had some words he wanted to throw Ratchet's way. Any snide remarks he had died on his glossa as his optics caught the sight of Veer.

Ratchet followed his line of sight. His demeanor softened as he saw Veer's tired face. She was barely keeping her optics online.

Hope bloomed across Swerve’s frame. Thank Primus they were here! He’d never been so happy to see the old doctor’s faceplate.

"Cyclonus told me she had an episode, mind telling me any symptoms she's experiencing, Swerve?"

Swerve nodded. "Her vents sound off- like..a rattling? Ratchet, they didn't do that last time. Is she okay?"

The edge of his voice came out more strained than he intended. Swerve couldn't help it. The worry he had pushed aside came back ten fold.

Ratchet must have noticed his distress. He patted Swerve's arm before taking what appeared to be a stethoscope out of his subspace. Swerve, recognizing the tool, shifted Veer to give the doctor better access to her back.

Veer's face scrunched up as the cool metal touched her bare frame. Swerve was quick to whisper words of comfort as Ratchet worked.

He tried his best not to read into every slight difference in Ratchet's expression. That task was appearing to be impossible because Swerve's anxiety was determined to decipher every possible meaning of Ratchet's slight brow furrow. Swerve tensed as he awaited Ratchet's verdict.

The medic sighed, removing the device from Veer. Swerve felt a wad of dread settle in his tanks. Here comes the bad news.

"Kid, control your own venting before you get your sparkling worked up. She appears to be fine for the most part. That being said, it would be best if we avoid another incident like this anytime soon. Another attack would risk real damage. That sound you're hearing? It's just from her fans overextending themselves. It should go away on its own in a couple of cycles. I do recommend refueling her soon. She burned through a lot of her reserves."

Swerve deflated in the rocking chair. He muttered thanks to Primus that she's okay. That relief only lasted a minute before he caught Ratchet's unhappy expression.

"Now that Veer is out of immediate danger, let's discuss your health Swerve."

Oh, that was ominous. Swerve leaned away from the medic's scrutinizing look. Ratchet had this way about him to make fully upgraded mechs feel like bad sparklings. Swerve looked to be the next victim.

"Care to tell me, Swerve, how is it that the area that I just welded back together is already agitated and threatening to split at the seams again? Not to mention the fact you were up walking around longer than I recommended."

"Uh…goofy hijinks?" Swerve offered with an uneasy smile.

Ratchet crossed his arms. His optics had an edge to them. As if warning Swerve to come clean or else.

Blurr stepped forward gaining the medics attention. "That would be my fault. We were chatting so long we lost track of time. Sorry about that, I had a lot of questions. "

Swerve blinked. Was…Blurr covering for him? They both knew Swerve could have easily pulled up a chair. There were over a dozen littered around at the bar.

As if to confirm his suspensions Blurr winked at him when Ratchet wasn't looking. Swerve was too stunned to do anything clever back. All he could do was watch as Ratchet redirected his wrath towards the racer.

"Since you're talking for him, then what about his welds, speedy?"

Blurr stood tall even in the face of a fragged off medic. Swerve was impressed with how cool and collected he appeared. Ratchet got most bots shaking in their plating.

"It was an accident: he hit the corner of the bar pretty hard after he got the call from Cyclonus."

Ratchet huffed at that answer. The medic looked very slightly less annoyed but his scowl was still planted on his faceplate. He turned back to Swerve and placed two small pills in his hand.

"Take these, it'll help ease any residual aches. I expect you to get a cold compress after this and use it to get the swelling down. Got it Swerve? And no more standing. Get one of these fools to fetch the hoverchair. Don't let me catch you disobeying or I will admit you back into the medbay until you're fully recovered!"

Swerve paled at the threat, and nodded. Weeks in the medbay with no entertainment or other bots to chat with?! He wouldn't last a cycle!

Swerve swallowed down the pills Ratchet offered to him without complaint. He wanted to appear as a good cooperative patient. Last thing he needed was to get on Ratchet's bad side.

Swerve gave him a thumbs up. "Cold compress, no walking, and refueling for Veer. Got it".

Ratchet sighed. "I mean it Swerve. Take care of yourself. Now excuse me while I head back to the medbay. Somebody has to make replacements for Veer's broken injections."

Ratchet turned towards the door. He paused at the sight of Blurr. He narrowed his optics. Blurr didn't even flinch when the medic waved a digit in his face.

"You! Since you're so eager to cover for him! I'm holding you personally accountable for both of their conditions. You make sure Swerve listens to my instructions. Got that zippy?"

Swerve flushed. That was taking it a bit too far. He opened his mouth to protest only to be stopped by Blurr holding up his hand.

The racer lingered on Veer's swaddled form before landing on Swerve’s face. Blurr expression was thoughtful before flashing them a dazzling smile.

"Loud 'n clear Ratchet the hatchet. I take full responsibility."

The dual meaning of those words was't lost on Swerve. He was probably just reading too much into it. Still, he couldn't help the heat that went straight to his cheeks.

Ratchet grumbled something under his breath as he marched out of the nursery. Swerve winced as the door slammed shut behind him. Primus he was not happy.

Swerve couldn't blame him. It seemed to be a never ending emergency when it came to his health. Swerve would try to avoid any future injuries for the sake of Ratchet's mental health.

"Maybe I should make him some goodies or something as an apology…At this point both me and Veer could have a frequent visitor punch card"

Tailgate nodded. "Yeah, I'm just happy he didn't lose it on us. Ratchet is scarier than Whirl's scraplet colony!"

Swerve let out a nervous laugh."It's the power of Veer. Her cuteness is the ultimate shield."

"Is that her name?"

Swerve stiffened hearing Blurr’s voice. The racer had his arms crossed, helm tilted, and lips pursed. His optics were steadily trained on the bundle of sleepy sparkling Swerve had.

Tailgate looked between them. He then grabbed a hold of his partners' servos. "Uh- We'll be right back Swerve! Gonna go grab that hover chair like Ratchet wanted!"

Swerve wanted to plead for them to stay. He sucked at tough conversations! He much rather do it as a group. He didn't get a chance. Tailgate was already ushering the other two out the door. Whirl did snap his claws at Blurr on his way out. Swerve knew it was supposed to be a quiet threat. It came across more as an angry lobster.

Once they were gone the nursery got ten degrees more awkward. Blurr was standing there watching Swerve. Not sure how to break the tension he opted to fish out a bottle of sparkling grade out of his subspace for Veer. Yay for distractions!

He fumbled with the nozzle of the bottle before bringing it to her mouth. Veer at first didn't open her intakes until a few droplets landed against her lips. After tasting the fuel she latched on with no problem.

It was then it dawned on Swerve that he hadn't answered the question. Swerve cleared his intake. "Yeah, um.. her name is Veer."

Swerve smiled down at her. She had her helm pillowed against the crook of Swerve’s arm, her little servo outstretched to loosely hold the bottle close, and optics hazy with sleep. Veer kept nursing completely oblivious to the fact she was about to meet her sire. Blurr took a step closer to the rocking chair.

"So, she's mine.." Blurr stated more than asked.Swerve swallowed. Well, there's no stopping the inevitable. Swerve shifted to get more comfortable in his seat as he worked up every ounce of courage he had.

"Well, technically a different you.. but yeah.. She’s my- our? sparkling… Not that I expect anything out of you! Wait- no I mean-..."His helm thunked against the rocking chair. "Primus, universe hopping is confusing. I guess the short answer is yes?" Frag, this topic was heavy. Which, naturally meant he had to do something ridiculous before he offlined from the sheer weight of this conversation. "So, uh."

Swerve did the stupidest thing he could come up with. He lifted his servo, carefully since he was using it to support Veer, and wiggled it around in a 'jazz hands' motion. He even threw in a 'tada' sound. "Surprise, you're a sire!"

Blurr looked down at him with an amused laugh. "I can see that!"

That really shouldn't have thrown him off as much as it did. Veer was the spitting image of Blurr. Her parentage would be hard to dispute. Still, Swerve hadn't expected Blurr to be so calm about it, since it wasn't every day a bot found out they were a creator. Swerve thought there would be some denial.

"And you're right. It's as confusing as Marty Mcfly meeting his own parents but I'm sure we can figure it out together."

"Wait-You've seen back to the future?"

Blurr smiled as he snagged an extra chair. "Yep, you showed it to me on our third date."

Wow, a third date?! How in the pits did he score a second or third date with Blurr? He hadn't even gone on a first date! Swerve stared dumbfounded as Blurr sat across from him.

The racer sighed. "I know that face. Swerve, I wasn't lying when I said we were lovers. And technically it was our first date. The first two didn't count since you believed we were 'just hanging out'"

Just hanging out…? That's what Swerve thought they were doing back on cybertron. Wait- were those dates?! His processor swam at that new information. That couldn't be true. Swerve almost dropped the bottle he was so surprised. He suddenly had a thousand questions for both versions of Blurr. The biggest involved a fake commlink number.

"Based on your reaction I say the other me fumbled the bag when it came to establishing our intentions. So let me clear that up before we get started. Swerve, I've been interested in you since we played that card game."

Swerve felt his jaw hit the floor. Since that far back? No, that couldn’t be right! There was no way gorgeous super star Blurr was actually interested in him! Not seriously. No way!

"You're pulling my leg, right? I mean you and me..?"

Blurr quirk an optical ridge at Swerve with a smirk. He looked down at Veer as if she was all the evidence he needed.

He wanted to argue just because they had a couple of romps together didn't mean Blurr was genuinely interested. Swerve had dated plenty of people who just wanted his mouth to be used in better ways. He thought Blurr was one of them.

Not that he minded! Their time together was the hottest- Stay focused Swerve. He looked away unable to contain how flustered he felt.

He wasn't sure what to think of this Blurr. The one Swerve briefly knew was just as calm, cool, and charismatic. His field even felt the same. But that was the issue; Swerve had already been deeply rejected by the racer not once. but twice! He still remembered how much it stung when he realized he got another fake comm number. Fine, that was okay! Swerve understood why Blurr wasn’t interested in him. He was chunky, loud, and pretty annoying. Nothing like the seductive racers. Swerve was just one of many who were hypnotized by Blurr’s personality.

Now, here was this Blurr, claiming to be lovers with some other version of him. A dead version of him.

The math wasn’t mathing. Swerve’s occupation may be that of a bartender now but he onlined as a scientist. He had great pattern recognition and he often relied on those old skills in everyday life. That’s why, from all the evidence he had on the previous Blurr, them having a relationship made little sense. It had to be a lie.

Oh, he would love for it to be true! Him and Blurr? Holy smokes, that's a crazy thought! That was beyond any fantasy Swerve could think of!

But, if it sounds too good to be true, then it is. Swerve didn’t believe the racer. He suspected maybe Blurr was doing this out of some kind of obligation?

But why? Why would a super awesome racer like Blurr feel the need to do all this? That’s what was throwing Swerve for a loop.

After settling in his seat Blurr leaned forward to get a better look at Veer. Swerve tried his best to quell the urge to fidget. He was finding it increasingly difficult since Blurr was now reaching a servo out. It hovered right above Veer as if he was unsure about touching her.

"She's so small.. may I?"

Swerve swallowed. "Um, yeah! Go for it,"

Blurr brushed a single digit against her chubby cheek. In response Veer let go of the nozzle and turned her helm to see who interrupted her meal. At first the only thing she did was stare up at the racer. Then a happy smile spread across her face showing off her dimples. Blurr grinned back, unable to resist her charm. Oh. That was a good reason. Swerve suddenly felt very lightheaded.

Already his processor was supplying him with the possibility of what happened. This Blurr just lost his version of Swerve. That meant their sparkling was also…

It made sense. Swerve swallowed the thick lump in his throat. This Blurr must have dated his version of Swerve because they found out they were expecting. That had to be the reason he joined the Lost Light. There was no fragging way otherwise. Blurr would never date him.

Oh, he went from pity frag and upgraded to pity date. Swerve felt awful, he just wanted to disappear! Swerve forced a smile. "She loves meeting new people. Really, Veer has more charisma than Rodimus. Already half the ship is under her little thumb."

Blurr let out a chuckle as he stroked her face. "Little spark stealer, huh? Look at that smile. I bet it lights up any room."

Swerve could feel the affection pouring out with each word. And that look he was giving her was the same one Swerve had the first moment he laid optics on her. Blurr was already smitten.

It was like an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Veer wasn't going to be rejected. Not like the countless times Swerve had been.

Veer is his world. Swerve would much rather burden that type of hurt than let her feel it. Let Blurr turn him down. That's okay! But if the racer would have done that to his bitlet… Swerve was ready to fight.

There was the possibility of it happening in the future, Swerve knew that. He was just.. beyond thankful her first rejection wasn't going to be from her sire.

That sort of pain wasn't something he could easily mend. Scrap, he was still dealing with his own emotional scars from other bots shunning him. He wouldn't know how to soothe it if his own sparkling had to go through that.

This Blurr appeared to be nice enough. Though Swerve would need to address the force dating issue. He’ll deal with that later but for now…Maybe it was being dumb or too hopeful but.. Swerve wondered if he'd like to….

"..Do you want to hold her?" Swerve offered unsurely as he sat the bottle off to the side.

Blurr breathed out. "Can I?"

"Considering I let Whirl hold her I think you should be just fine. Here, just copy how I have my arms. You are going to want to support her neck cables. Yep, just like that," Swerve instructed.

The bartender very carefully handed off his daughter to Blurr. Swerve tried not to laugh when he saw how stiff the racer looked. Never did he imagine he'd see Blurr look so out of his element.

At first Veer started fussing during the exchange. She didn't like to be passed around during refueling time. Though once her field made contact with Blurr’s she calmed down.

Her face was a bit comical. Her optics widened, her brows knitted together, and she let out a surprised 'beep'. That was the look of a sparkling, who just felt a new yet similar spark to her own.

Blurr had a similar expression. It reminded Swerve of the racer's first interview. That was early in his career before his natural confidence kicked in. Back when he was unsure about his future and answers. Blurr looked like he was about to be asked a dreaded question about his personal life.

Well, in a way, he sort of was, wasn't he? Swerve cleared his intake as he watched the racer hold their infant daughter like she was made of glass. At least he had her cradled close to his chassis.

Blurr let out a breath he'd been holding. "She's beautiful.." He seemed to be memorized by Veer. Swerve could see the way Blurr traced every inch of her frame with his optics. He was studying her like she could vanish at any moment.

Swerve had to admit he did feel some pride swelling up in his chassis from that comment. Frag yeah she's adorable! That's his sparkling.

"She's so tiny too.." He continued.

Some of that confidence got squashed. Yeah, she is tiny. Thanks to her early emergence and his coding. Swerve did regret that.. He knew how minibots could be treated.

"Yeah, uh, she got that from me. Sorry to say but she's definitely part of the minibot club. I supposed she had to inherit something from me since she got all of your dashing looks,"

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Blurr said as he leaned back in his chair. "There’s nothing wrong with her being a mini. Besides, I like minibots."

Swerve felt a blush creeping up on him. He knows. That's the reason why Veer is even here.

He distracted himself by grabbing the sparkling bottle, wordlessly offering it to the racer. Blurr took it but delivered such a sexy smirk Swerve thought his soul was knocked out of his frame for a second. Then the reality of the situation hits leaving Swerve feeling icky. He didn’t want forced flirting.

Blurr adjusted Veer in a better position so that he could feed her. "Also that isn't the only thing she got from you. She has this friendliness in her field like yours. And that smile- it's way too cute to come from me."

Swerve could see it if he squinted real hard. Her little chubby cheeks for sure came from him. No doubt about that.

Heck, she even had his awkward laugh. Anytime Veer dropped a toy, which happens often since her motor functions aren't developed quite yet, she'd let out a surprised burst of giggles. That was a move she probably developed after watching Swerve do the same with a tray of energon goodies. They were clumsy buddies together.

Other positive attributes obtained from him were harder for Swerve to see. Veer just reminded him too much of the racer. Swerve rubbed under his chin as he compared the two. From her frame type down to her vibrant personality it screamed Blurr. It was only becoming more apparent the longer he looked at them together. Blurr was just trying to be nice.

Bots around the ship were right. His forge really was like a copy machine.

"She does have a cute smile. Though I think that was pure luck, not so much my coding," he admitted.

"Oh, I'd gladly dispute that Swerve, and I plan to, but there are a couple of things I want to discuss first. Such as…" Blurr glanced at the ugly welds littering Swerve's middle.

"Oh..yeah…those."

"And I'd like to know what just happened with Veer. What was that? Why does she need injections?"

Swerve cringed at the questions. "Veer, our sweet little bun, came out of my oven a little under baked and a bit too early. That's, uh, my fault…" he sagged.

It's okay. He could do this. He just had to admit to his idol he's so out of touch with his own frame that somehow he missed all the signs that he was carrying.

"Ididntknowiwassparked!" He blurted out.

Now that the gate is opened words started to tumble out of his intake. "I had a bolt installed! So I thought there was a zero chance of me getting preggo. It never crossed my processor that the reason I was feeling so funky was because of a stowaway. Nope! Couldn't be that! I thought it was because I opened Brainstorm’s suitcase, which was partially a factor, but yeah I had no clue until she was shooting out between my legs like a slingshot. Trust me it wasn't a pretty sight. Be glad you weren't there. There was so much energon that I thought I was dying. " Swerve couldn't stop his mouth from moving. "Like the bar looked like the ending to Carrie levels of fluids. Oh, yeah, forgot to mention that. Veer was born in the bar. Still haven't got the stain out. Oh, Primus, please shut me up before I keep saying embarrassing slag!"

Swerve hid his face in his servos as his cheeks burned. He couldn't bring himself to see Blurr’s reaction. Frag, why did he say all that? Why couldn't he just speak like a normal person?

"Wait- you didn't know?"

His spark stopped for a second. He wanted to shoot back 'Did you?' but Swerve felt too flustered to be confrontational. Though, in a way, that comment confirmed his suspicions. Blurr totally was seeing the other Swerve because he was sparked. Right? Right. There was no other reason.

He nodded but still refused to look up at the racer. It didn't help that he could hear Blurr swear under his breath. Could he just disappear from this conversation?

"So, let's see if I'm following this correctly. You both got hurt because she was premature? That's why she had an attack? "

"Sort of? She kind of punctured my gestation chamber with her helm crest on her way out. So, yeah, she would totally win a knife fight. As for the attack… See, she's got a racer frame, but her ventilation system isn't fully developed, so she can overheat.. Her injections are full of coolant to combat that. But she's okay! Ratchet said with time it could repair itself. This is temporary."

He was jealous of his other self, even if he was dead, because at least that Swerve didn't have to explain how his extreme self neglect had lasting consequences. On both him and his creation. Suddenly he felt so very small in his seat.

Blurr spoke softly, "I'm sorry that you went through that alone. That must have been terrifying, for both of you."

"I guess it's a good thing that I like horror movies, right Veer?"

Swerve finally looked up to check on his creation. Veer was laying in Blurr's arms with an unhappy face. She grumbled out a beep at the racer since he wasn't tilting the bottle quite at the right angle.

Blurr’s face lit up in panic unsure at what's upsetting their creation. Swerve bit the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn't laugh. Blurr clearly hadn't been around a lot of sparklings. Wordlessly Swerve offered assistance by guiding the racer's servo in the correct position.

Blurr frame eased up as Veer refueled. "Thank you.."

"Not a problem. You'll get a hang of it after a while. If, uh, you want to spend more time with her"

"Oh, absolutely. I want to spend more time with the both of you." Blurr flashed him another devilish smirk.

Remember, if it's too good to be true then it is. Swerve gave a polite smile back. Hopefully soon Blurr will realize that he didn't need to force a relationship with them. He should go out there and live his own life. He was Blurr after all! Two minibots he barely knew shouldn't dictate his future.

Chapter Text

There was that awkwardness between them again. Blurr continued to feed Veer as he tried desperately to come up with something to say. This entire situation still felt unreal.

It was just starting to hit him. Right now, he was holding his daughter. She felt so light in his servos. She seemed so delicate and warm against his chassis. Blurr swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Nothing at all like the hollow gray frame he had put to rest.

There was a swarm of different emotions making him feel light headed. It was hard to accept that this was the same sparkling that he had mourned. Not a lifeless husk but now a living breathing bitlet that was safely tucked in his arms.

That didn’t mean he didn’t lose her once. His spark clenched at that thought. He couldn’t forget that, ever.

He felt something brush against the servo he was using to hold the bottle. He looked down to see Veer had put her tiny fist on top of his to bring the bottle closer. She emitted some small happy beeps as the formula flowed easier. The racer leaned back in the chair, gaze focused on their sparkling, before smiling up at Swerve.

"She's a greedy little thing, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it. Primus, if I'm even a second late for her lunch she starts throwing her servos up all dramatic like and becomes a super grump. I kid you not she glares! At me! Like I'm purposely starving her!"

That earned an earnest laugh from Blurr. “She glares? Oh, I can hardly believe that. Look at her face! She’s too sweet for that.“

Swerve straightened his posture to show he was dead serious. He leaned forward with an optical ridge raised. “Don’t believe me? Take away her bottle for a second.”

Blurr hesitated for a bit. She seemed so content right now. It felt like such a shame to ruin a precious moment like this, and yet... In the end his curiosity got the better of him. Blurr very carefully removed the nipple from her intake.

The reaction was instantaneous, Veer went from sleepy bitlet, to full on scowling. Blurr bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to keep from laughing at her disgruntled face. Swerve was right; she was glaring up a storm! Oh, he knew exactly where she got that expression from. Blurr looked at the metallurgist before chuckling.

“She’s like a mini you,” Blurr muttered.

That earned a confused look from Swerve. “A mini me? What do you mean? She looks just like you!”

“Hm, maybe in frame type, but those big doe optics are all you. She looks exactly like you when someone says they prefer the later seasons of Community.”

“Hey! In my defense-Things weren’t the same when Dan Harmon left! And, she does not! ...Does she?” Swerve asked, leaning closer to get a better look. There was a moment of silence before Swerve swore under his breath. “Frag... You're right.”

Blurr smirked, “Told ya so.”

Under his visor Swerve’s optics crinkled into a smile. He settled back in his chair with a laugh. “Okay yeah, yeah. You got me there. Sorry Veer, you're cursed with my expressive face plate."

Blurr frowned. At this point he was used to the negative self-talk Swerve tended to squeeze in every conversation. That didn’t mean he was going to allow it.

He fed the bottle back in their creation's intake before standing up. He walked over next to Swerve and kneeled down.

"Look at her"

Swerve blinked but did as he was told. Blurr stroked her cheek with his digit causing her to smile. Swerve couldn't help but to smile back.

"Now what part of that cute little face is cursed?"

That seemed to startle Swerve. He reeled back as if he'd been smacked. Blurr looked at the minibot right in his visor.

Without thinking Blurr stretched out his field and brushed it against Swerve's. It was a gesture he often did in quiet moments alone with the bartender. The feeling was a warm and reassuring presence that he missed.

"Swerve, don't say things about yourself you wouldn’t say about her. You're passionate, driven, and, from what I can see, you're a great carrier."

Swerve chewed the bottom of his lip as he looked away. He let out a nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his helm. His field pulled away from Blurr's.

Right. At that moment Blurr realized he might have overstepped. He didn't know this Swerve like that. Not yet anyway.

"I guess you're right. I didn't really mean anything about it. Just joking around."

His servo twitched. Blurr fought the urge to cup the side of Swerve’s adorable face. More than anything he wanted to show Swerve what he saw in him. But he knew their relationship wasn't at that level yet.

Not one to be discouraged, Blurr felt his spark twitch with determination. Yes, they were back to square one. It’s going to take a lot of work before Swerve trusts him. But, this was a challenge, and Blurr never backed down from one. He couldn’t help the small smirk.

“Then let’s joke about other things, like how about the fact I looked more lost holding her than Rodimus does when you tell him verbal instructions. You make it look so natural...”

That did get Swerve to relax a bit. It was a small victory that Blurr would gladly claim.

“In all fairness, I’ve been holding her since she came shooting out of me like a confetti cannon. It would be bad if I couldn’t hold her with some ease.”

“Well, maybe you can give me a few pointers? Between you and me, holding her is the most terrifying experience I’ve ever had. I keep worrying that I might drop her or support her neck cables wrong”

Swerve let out a little laugh. “There’s no way this is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done. I mean- you roll with the wreckers! I’m sure you’ve faced the worst the cons could have thrown out.”

Blurr shook his helm. “Danger? Racing? That’s what I do. Getting shot at is easy, but this? This is hard. She’s completely helpless. She has no choice but to rely on us to live-I can’t even keep a crystal garden alive! Primus, I once got a tramp stamp decal right above my aft cover. I had to get the thing lasered off. Yet, she's trusting me to take care of her.”

Swerve balked, “You had a what?”

“A decal,” he laughed. “Right above my aft cover. It was before my career took off. My manager was adamant that I get it removed. Hate to say that he was right. Sometimes I miss the thing, but that would have been the perfect target for cons to aim at.”

“Wha…Are you serious? Why are you telling me this?” Swerve asked, his face plate an endearing shade of red.

“Because no one will ever believe you,” Blurr quotes while wiggling his optical ridges.

Blurr waited for the realization to hit Swerve. He laughed when his face lit up with understanding.

“Did you just quote Brooklyn Nine Nine? Wait, is that story even real?”

Blurr grinned. “One hundred percent. Seems only fair you get to know something personal after having my sparkling.”

That earned him an adorable frazzled look from Swerve. “It wasn’t a big deal I mean I’m sure anyone would gladly have your sparkling. Waitno-notthatIdidn’twanttooranything. Please make me stop talking-I’m putting my pede directly in my mouth!” Swerve babbled out.

“Why would I stop you? I missed hearing your voice,” Blurr said as it was the simplest thing in the world.

Swerve choked on his own saliva for a second. He proceeded to hit his own chassis with his fist. It took some coughing before he could get air back in his vents.

That did make Blurr feel a little bad, but he enjoyed teasing the bartender. There was something so appealing to see his cheeks bloom with a blush. That didn’t mean he aimed to embarrass Swerve.

“Are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Swerve threw up a thumbs up and nodded as his vents cleared up. “Yep yep, just fine. Perfect, sorry. I uh just was taken off guard. It’s hard getting used to you knowing…Well me.”

That was an opening he’d been looking for. Blurr readjust Veer’s position in his arms before gently nudging his shoulder against Swerve. “About that… I’d like to get to know you more. If that’s okay?”

Swerve stiffened at the touch. Blurr watched as the bartender fiddled with his own digits. He gave him time to ponder the question. It took a second before Swerve looked up.

"Before I answer I have my own question about Veer. I just need to make sure we are on the same page. You…want to…." He paused trying to find the right words.

Yes, they've kind of been over this…But, there was this protective side to Swerve that wanted to make sure his creation wasn’t going to be tossed to the side like he had been. Swerve breathed in a calming vent.

"Do I want too…?" Blurr continued.

"You know…be the Joel to her Ellie? The Tony Stark to her Peter Parker? Wait, is that a good example- nevermind I'm overly complicating this. What I'm trying to ask is… are you going to be a sire to her? I mean- actively in her life type sire?"

Blurr stroked Veer's cheek with his thumb. It was such a simple yet loving action. Veer responded by nuzzling her face against his chassis. Swerve’s spark hiccuped at the tender moment.

Blurr gazed down at their daughter with a soft expression before turning his attention back to Swerve. His optics already told the bartender everything he needed to know. Still, Swerve wanted to hear it. He held his breath.

"I was hoping you'd let me. At the end of the cycle it's your decision who Veer sees, but I want to be there. I want to do everything I can to help support you two."

“Okay," Swerve breathed out. "Then I guess we don’t have much of a choice but to get to know each other. Not that I don’t want to! It’s always been a dream of mine to get to know you. Wow, that sounded creepy. But, yes. Yeah. I would like us to know each other.”

“It sounds like a plan,” Blurr said

Swerve gave him an uneasy smile, “Maybe let’s call it a quest. Sounds cooler.”

That took Blurr by surprise. He emitted a chuckle before standing up. He used a free servo to gently squeeze one of the bartender’s. “Sounds good to me. By official wrecker decree we are now on the mighty Veer quest.”

Swerve grinned at the speedster. He returned the gesture by squeezing Blurr back. “It’s going to be the best quest. Promise!”

Right after their official quest declaration Swerve received a commlink text and several calls from different members of the ship. Just about everyone saw Swerve being lifted off the ground to be whisked away to the unknown. Everybody seemed to be worried.

Rodimus had even offered to punch Blurr again. (Again? When did that happen?). Of course Swerve told his friend not to punch the sire of his sparkling! Blurr didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he was the reason they got to Veer so quickly. He tried to get Rodimus to explain what he meant by again. The captain dodged the question like it was a bad case of rust.

Swerve ended up having to write a massive group text to inform everyone on what happened. He explained that Veer had an attack but she’s doing okay right now. What he didn’t expect was the outpour of bots demanding to see her. Sometimes Swerve forgot just how much of an impact she had on the ship’s morale. He promised to swing by the bar to ease everyone’s concerns.

Though he doubted he’d be spending much time there. In reality, Swerve felt exhausted. Talking to Blurr had somehow made him feel better and worse all at the same time.

Swerve glanced at the racer who was busy swaying Veer back and forth as he walked around the room. He was delighted to know that the racer was interested in being a sire to Veer. That alone took the weight off of Swerve’s shoulders.

Though there was a voice in the back of his helm whispering that he should feel ashamed. The only reason Blurr would ever want to be around him was because of Veer. He totally sparkling-trapped the mech!

Swerve averted his gaze. It felt like a bad plot point in one of those k-dramas. The desperate mech pulls a full blown stalker move by having the main lead’s bitlet. He wondered when the main protagonist was going to sweep in and woo Blurr away.

That sounded like he was claiming Blurr. No, that wasn’t what he meant at all. Blurr was way too good for him. This was strictly a platonic arrangement for Veer’s sake. Swerve rubbed underneath his visor.

“Just received a message from the captain. Rodimus would like for us to swing by the bar to make sure his co-captain is okay.”

“Co-captain?”Blurr questioned.

“Oh yeah, you weren’t here for that. It’s uh- an ongoing joke around the ship. Veer is the unofficial co-captain.”

Blurr peered down at Veer. Veer looked up from her nibbling on her own fist. The racer snorted then laughed.

“I’m sure she’s wiser than both Megatron and Rodimus combined.”

Swerve grinned. “She’s been doing great. Nautica loves that Veer always approves of her plans. I swear with her making decisions this ship hasn’t run smoother”

“Things do appear to be going well,” Blurr admitted.

“Yeah, I’m almost tempted to put a ‘blank days since our last life dangering crisis’. Though I'm worried that as soon as I do, something will happen; and with that thought, I'd rather not jinx it… That being said… Do you… want to come with us to the bar?”

“I was planning on it. I’m sure there’s a few bots in there that are going to have some questions about her”.

Oh, that’s right! Swerve felt his cheeks heated. He sort of forgot the Wreckers were there. There was so much going on it kind of slipped his processor.

“Have they ever…been around a sparkling before?” Swerve asked, a tad bit nervous.

“Kup is so old I’m sure that he has. As for the others? ...I'd suggest not letting anyone hold her besides Kup.”

“That’s fine by me. To be honest I really don’t want a lot of strangers having their servo’s on her. It makes my carrier coding get all twitchy. “ Swerve admitted.

Blurr paused his walking. “Is me holding her making you anxious?”

Swerve felt like he just stepped on a landmine. He threw up his servos and let out a nervous laugh. “No no! I don’t mind you holding her. I mean you’re her sire. Of course you want to hold her! It’s fine. Trust me!”

Blurr didn’t appear convinced. He walked over to the minibot and gently passed their daughter over to Swerve. In reality his coding did calm down after having her back in his arms.

After he got the news about Veer’s attack his coding had been screaming at him to get her back into his embrace. He just didn’t want to be the bot who withheld their sparkling from their sire. Especially when it was their first meeting.

“Swerve, you can be honest with me. If something makes you uncomfortable please tell me. I’ll be the first to admit I’m clueless when it comes to sparklings and carrier coding.”

Swerve let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “Okay, yeah, sorry. I just want to make sure you two get some time together.”

Blurr smiled at Swerve before gently stroking Veer’s chubby cheek. “We will.”

Veer looked up at her sire with her expressive optics. Swerve bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from ‘awing’ when she reached for her sire’s digit. Blurr just met her and it was clear he was quickly becoming her favorite person. That, he thought, she got from him.

Swerve cleared his throat. “I’ll comm. Tailgate, see how far away they are with that hoverchair.”

It didn't take long for his friends to return with it. They were already right down the hallway. Cyclonus helped transfer him out of the rocker into his floating prison. He sighed tiredly once his aft made contact with the familiar padding. Primus, he was over this injured bot bit.

"Thanks guys, can't wait to roll out on this thing.."

Tailgate gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm, "Ratchet said it wasn't for much longer, right? You got this!"

Swerve didn't feel like he did. He didn't realize how restless his frame got until he couldn't move around. It was almost as bad when he couldn’t talk. It was absolute torture.

He gave his friend a strained smile. "Yeah, I guess. Still can't wait to be free. My frame is itching to do some deep bar cleaning."

Tailgate tilted his helm, "But your bar looks fine?"

"To the untrained optics, yes. But to me? Filthy. But in my defense it's hard to clean with a new spark."

“I would offer to watch Veer but after what happened...” Tailgate shrugged.

“As I said before, you guys are still on the babysitting list. Stuff happens,” Swerve was quick to remind them.

Tailgate wrapped his arms around the bartender for a hug. Swerve smiled and patted his arm. They were some of his closest friends. Of course he was going to let them spend time with Veer!

“Now, are you guys coming with us to the bar? We better head out before Rodimus gets impatient and sends out a search party or something,” said Swerve.

Tailgate’s visor brightens. “Yeah! There’s no way I’m gonna miss the Wreckers meeting Veer!”

Swerve laughed. “Tailgate, yesterday you didn’t even know who the Wreckers were.”

“But I do now! And Whirl was a part of them so they must be cool. But like-not too cool since they kicked him out…It’s their loss and our gain! Gah-!”

Whirl snuck up behind the white minibot and lifted him up in his arms for a surprise squeeze. Tailgate flailed wildly for a moment before settling in the embrace. Whirl cackled then nestled his face in the crook of Tailgate’s neck.

“This is why I like you, tiny legs. You know how to sweet talk a bot. Those losers pale in comparison to you and Cyclonus anyway.”

Blurr watched the exchange with a surprised look on his face. Swerve leaned in close so only the speedster could hear what he had to say.

“Those three are practically spark mates,” he whispered.

Swerve couldn’t blame the racer for eyeing the helicopter like he had grown three helms. It’s hard to believe that Whirl of all bots had a soft side. Sometimes he even forgot about it.

Cyclonus grunted. “Rodimus is now messaging me. We should go. Whirl, put Tailgate down.”

Whirl threw the sword-mech a pout before Tailgate spoke up. “I don’t mind if he carries me Cy! If he doesn't toss me around like last time,” he tacked on shooting a look over his shoulder.

Whirl’s optic shone with a mischievous glint. “Fine, but I want to know where you hid that confetti cannon!”

Tailgate wiggled in his arms. “Cyclonus would kill me. Sorry but my lips are sealed.”

“We’ll see about that,” Whirl hefted him up further in his arms.

Swerve smiled at the exchange. “Alright, alright, you guys are sweeter than an energon goodie,” he then moved his hover chair out of the nursery and into the hallway.The others followed behind him as they made their way to the bar. They all walked together in comfortable silence till Tailgate spoke up.

“So….You’re Blurr” Tailgate asked.

Swerve listened in, curious as to where this conversation was leading. It could go many different places with Tailgate.

“Yep, I’m Blurr” the speedster answered.

“And you are like super famous for racing.”

“That’s what my wiki says.”

“And you are Veer’s sire.”

“That is also correct.”

Tailgate tilted his helm to the side. “How did you end up here?”

That…was actually a good question. Swerve knew vaguely that Blurr wanted to get revenge on Getaway. Who didn’t at this point? But, how did he end up joining the Lost Light.

Blurr slowed his pace. He was quiet for a moment. Swerve was worried that maybe Tailgate offended him. He was about to change the topic when Blurr cleared his intake and spoke up.

“Well, once your bar is smashed into a million pieces you tend to lose your desire to set some roots. Thought joining the Lost Light would help me clear my processor and could be a bit of fun. Besides-There was a cute bot that I wanted to meet again,” Blurr said, looking directly at Swerve.

Swerve almost lost control of his hoverchair. He looked away feeling his face ablaze. Blurr joined the Lost Light to see him again? Yeah, right…

“Well my audition posters did make the ship out to be more glamorous,” Swerve managed to mumble out.

“Those auditions were brilliant,” Blurr grinned. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he promised.

Swerve nodded as his processor spinned. Blurr went to his crewmate auditions? He pulled a prank on the racer?!

It... made some sort of sense. Crosscut had been there, and he was close to Blurr. Maybe the mech invited him to come..?

By the time his helm stopped rattling different possibilities they were on the right deck level for the bar. From the outside Swerve could hear the chattering voices of his patrons. Blue must have got the high grade flowing in his absence. Good, he didn't want to be a bad host to the Wreckers. Drunk Wreckers were fun Wreckers! Right…?

Well, maybe with the exception of Whirl. He tended to get a tad bit destructive when overcharged. He still owed him for a few broken bar stools.. Still! Things should be fine. It wasn't like he was about to introduce his sparkling to them.

Swerve adjusted his hold on Veer before moving the hover chair over to the door. He could feel his spark pounding against his chassis. He was grateful that Blurr was going to be entering first.

Swerve swallowed as the door to the bar swooshed open. Bots cheered as Blurr took a single step in. The fan in him couldn't help but swell with some pride. Blurr was just that awesome after all.

Swerve didn’t receive anywhere near that level of excitement when he hovered in. In fact the bar went dead silent as he came into view. He couldn't blame them. They must be a sight for sore optics.

He suddenly felt very self conscious. He glanced down at his busted frame. Primus, he looked like slag….

Swerve was all too aware of the ugly weld mark that sat across his abdomen. He tried covering it by laying his free arm under Veer's bottom in an attempt to make it look like he was just trying to support her frame. He knew it didn't cover up much.

But, at least Veer's plating still sparkled from her earlier buffing. That was one good thing. Yeah, focus on the positive.

Another thing Swerve was thankful for was the lack of Ironfist. It seemed he had taken his patronage somewhere else. Which was fine with Swerve! He could hang out at “Visage” for all he cared.

The sound of a chair scooting on the floor caught the bartender's attention. Kup, with cygar barely hanging in his mouth, had stood up. He gave both Swerve and Veer a look over before settling his gaze onto his fellow wrecker. Blurr nodded at him. Kup came over in a rush.

“I don’t believe my optics. Kid, is that…?” the older wrecker breathed out, taking his cygar out of his mouth.

Blurr stood tall. He put an arm around Swerve’s shoulders with a proud smile. “Yep, Kup, I’d like you to meet Swerve and our daughter... Her name is Veer”

The wrecker’s face morphed into that of wonder before settling into something soft. “She’s just like ya kid…”

“That’s what I keep hearing but I see more of Swerve in her,” said the speedster.

Veer perked up at the new voice. She turned her frame to get a better look at the older wrecker. Kup let out a startled laugh as Veer tried to get a hold of his cygar. He was quick to jerk his hand away, holding the thing far from the bits reach.

“Woah there, little bit. You are way too young for this stuff,” He quickly turned it off and put it in his subspace.

Her face scrunched up as her new ‘toy’ was taken away. Swerve was fast to remedy this by taking out one of her stuffies. Veer was mesmerized by the blue petrol rabbit that was now in her face. She grabbed ahold of it and babbled excitedly.

“See, just like Swerve,” Blurr joked.

Swerve smile and playfully rolled his optics. “Hey, she can’t help it. The cygar looks pretty awesome. I mean who wouldn’t want to touch wrecker stuff? But that junk isn’t good for sparkling so plushies will have to do. Right Veer?”

In all honesty he was a bit jealous of his creation. He would have killed to get that close to Kup’s cygar. That thing has seen so many epic battles. Oh, he was fan botting again. Whoops. He needed to reign it in.

"Where did you get that?" Blurr asked, curious about his daughter’s clearly favorite toy.

Swerve couldn't help but smile. "Oh, this? Skids made it for Veer as a late sparkling shower gift."

Veer let out a happy, "Bah!"

Kup chuckled, "Bossy little thing. Without a doubt you are Blurr's creation. Come- I got a spot for us to chat over here," the wrecker said, leading them towards a familiar circular booth.

The irony wasn't lost on Swerve as they settled in. He ended up parking his chair right next to the spot Blurr stood at. Around the table were Springer, Rodimus, Impactor, Kup, and Skids. There was no doubt that they were talking about the Getaway incident before they arrived.

Skids’ face lit up as he caught sight of Swerve and Veer. He did a little wave at them. Swerve naturally had to wave back at his bestie.

Rodimus grinned, "Co-captain Veer! You’re here!”

Veer kicked out her legs and babbled back a nonsense greeting to her fellow co-captain. She then started to drool on the arm of her stuffie. Rodimus hiked up his spoilers and grinned at the infant.

“I’ll be right back”, Blurr muttered before heading towards the bar.

Swerve watched on, curious as to what the racer was doing. Blurr exchanged a couple of words with Bluestreak. Baby blue nodded before handing off something to the racer. Blurr returned to the group with something in his servos.

“Ratchet said you needed to ice your weld, right?”

Swerve blinked as the racer offered him a makeshift ice pack. Ratchet did mention something like that, didn’t he? He was so focused on Veer that it slipped his processor. Really, he had planned to just sleep off the ache radiating from his middle.

“Oh, thank you”, Swerve accepted the cloth wrapped in ice.

Blurr settled next to him with a nod, “Do you want me to hold her while you apply the pack?”

Before Swerve had the chance to answer Rodimus spoke up, “Swerve, buddy I’ll hold her! Please let me introduce them to her. I’ll give you like a hundred Rodimus Stars!”

“I think you are grossly overestimating the worth of those stars… Tell you what. We watch ‘What we do in the shadows’ next movie night and you can. With the stipulation! The ship stopping planet wide for a snack run” Swerve demanded.

Rodimus jumped out of his seat. “Deal! Gimme Veer!”

Swerve hesitated. Before he had a chance to tell him to be gentle Rodimus had already scooped her up. The bartender almost had a mini spark attack when the captain held her up like simba from the lion king.

“Support her neck cables!” Swerve gasped out.

“It’s okay, I got her,” Rodimus said, holding her in a way that didn’t ease Swerve’s worry at all. Veer squealed out loud as her arms flailed about.

“He said support her neck cables!” Blurr demanded as he shot up with a furious glare, interrupting Rodimus' grand speech before it could begin.

Rodimus scowled at the racer before moving Veer into a more comfortable position. “There, see? She’s fine. She likes being high up anyway. Right Veer?”

Veer’s optics were the size of dinner plates. She appeared to be slightly startled from being at such a high height back to her usual one. She let out a string of beeps.

“Completely loved it,” Rodimus said with a nod.

Kup rolled his optics, “Says the bot who was dropped on his helm enough to have permanent processor damage.”

“Rude. Anyways- before I was rudely interrupted. Wreckers, welcome our best co-captain, and daughter of the one and only Swerve! Veer! Oh, and I guess Blurr is the sire or something,” Rodimus said in his grand speech voice.

Swerve gave them all a little wave. He highly doubted anyone there, with the exception of Skids and Rodimus, knew who he was. He cleared his intake.

“Nice to meet everyone. I’m the owner of the bar- you guys probably figured that out since my name is plastered everywhere, but wow yeah. It’s really cool to meet you guys. I mean I listened to the Wreckers: Declassified all throughout the war. Well, until that bullet took out Ironfist. Oh, wait since good old Fist is alive does that mean the broadcast never stopped going here…? That…doesn’t matter. Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

“So does Blurr”, Kup muttered under his breath.

Swerve faked cleaning out his intake. “Um yeah, and as Rodimus was saying. This is my creation Veer. She’s a little surprised. That’s for sure.”

“It’s nice to meet ya kid. Blurr has been carving a hole in our floors from pacing around since we heard you were alive. He’s told us so much about you,” Kup smiled.

“Oh… he has?” Swerve asked, surprised.

“He told us how funny you are,” Impactor supplied.

“Oh Swerve is way more than just that. Have I told you guys that this mech once created an entire holo earth with just the power of his imagination? It was so detailed that there were background characters having their own side stories” Rodimus said plopping right next to Kup.

The older Wrecker took the opportunity to get a closer look at Veer. Rodimus grinned as Kup clearly melted as she babbled up at him. It would have been really cute if Swerve wasn’t trying to disappear. He wasn’t too proud of his incidents with holograms.

Skids, bless his face plate, spoke up. “Swerve helped found a cure for cybercrosis,”

That made him sound way more important than he was. “That’s only because Pharma had the fundamentals already laid out in his research. All I did was fill in the gaps-”

Kup whipped up his helm. “You did?”

Swerve put his servos up in a placating gesture. “No, well-yes. Kind of. As I said it was already right there. Don’t let them fool you. I didn’t do much. It was mostly my servos- See I used to be a metallurgist. I can just tell when something is missing.”

Kup’s optics dimmed. “I've known plenty of good bots that lost their lives because of that damn disease. Since they aren’t around anymore to say it, from one soldier to another- Thank you.”

Those words knocked any reply out of Swerve. He gave a polite smile and thumbs up to the older wrecker. Swerve shrinked into himself trying to appear a bit smaller. He felt like a fake.

“Yeah, no problem…”

Swerve glanced at the table booth since he found he couldn’t look Kup in the optics. “Um-Anyway…Would you like to hold Veer? She seems very interested in you.”

Kup perked up. “Can I? You don’t mind these old rusty joints holding her?”

Swerve smiled. “Well, you are practically her grandsire, so why not?”

His face heated, realizing it might have been inappropriate to assume that. Just because those stories he listened to made Kup as the wise sire figure to the wreckers didn’t mean he actually was. Really, Swerve had no clue what their dynamic was.

Luckily, Impactor laughed and grinned at Kup. “Hear that old mech? Straight from the mini bot’s mouth. Are you gonna hold her sire?”

Kup snorted then shot back. “I’d offline from embarrassment if I was your sire. You have the faceplate of roadkill. But I think I don’t mind being called grandcreator by someone this cute.”

Rodimus grinned while passing Veer off to Kup. “Does that mean I get to call you grandsire? I am, after all, the hottest mech here.”

Kup rolled his optics. “Call me grandsire and see what happens kid.”

Swerve relaxed a bit since the attention was off of him. He settled the ice back against his weld marks with a sigh. It did help ease the burning ache that had permeated from there. He smiled watching as Kup settled in the booth with an arm full of curious sparkling. Veer hugged the petrol rabbit closer to her frame before bapping a servo against Kup’s chassis.

The scene was cute. Though there was this nagging sense of foreboding settling in his tanks. He fidgeted in place watching his daughter meet the older wrecker.

“Feisty, aren’t ya?”

Blurr leaned close to Swerve and murmured quietly. “Are you sure you are okay with this?”

That took him by surprise. He recalled their earlier conversation about bots holding Veer. Blurr was checking in on him. That was probably why he was so..anxious.

Swerve chewed the inside of his mouth. Did he mind? He was the one who offered to let Kup hold their creation. It seemed rude to just..revoke Veer privileges.

Though the scene of Veer gasping for coolant kept playing in the foreground of his processor. He thought coming to the bar, his sanctuary, would calm his nerves. Instead, with all these people, it made him feel worse.

He was stuck between being polite and wanting to retreat. Swerve glanced around at the different faces in the booth. That's when it hit him that no-he didn’t feel up to this. He didn’t have the energy to fake it.

Blurr must have seen it on his face since he spoke up. “Sorry to cut this short Kup, but it’s been a rather eventful day. I promise we’ll get together and spend more time with Veer. But for now we are going to split.”

A sense of relief washed over Swerve. He was glad Blurr was the one who ended this get together early. He didn't want to leave a bad impression on any of the wreckers.

“I understand kid,” Kup smiled down at Veer. “It was nice to meet you little one and your carrier. I hope we can chat again later.”

Veer beeped up at him before wiggling around. Kup chuckled then passed her off to Swerve. The bartender felt instant relief as her familiar weight rested in his arms.

“It was rad meeting you guys. I’d stay longer but Veer is a demanding client.” he joked.

Rad? Did he really use the word rad? Slag, he was bad at conversation.

Luckily everyone around the table seemed to accept their goodbye. Blurr gave them all a polite nod then led them outside of the bar. Swerve gladly followed.

Blurr ushered him towards his room. The entire time there they walked in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until they reached the door that Swerve found the courage to speak up.

“Um-Thanks, by the way. For the escape.”

“No need to thank me.” he insisted. For a second they both stood there as if unsure what to do. Before that awkward unease could kick back in, Veer let out happy beeps at the both of them. Swerve smiled at their daughter. She always knew how to break the tension.

Blurr took a step forward so he could kiss the top of Veer’s forehead. The sparkling blinked before blooming into a full on smile. Blurr grinned and rubbed her cheeks.

“I’ll see you later. Comm. me if you need anything”

Swerved nodded. “Yeah sure. We’ll call sire right away, right Veer?”

Veer let out a yawn before cuddling close to Swerve. Blurr smiled at the two of them. “I think it's time to put that one to bed. Have a good recharge Swerve.”

“You too!” he replied only to realize that Blurr probably wasn’t about to sleep like they were.

Once again he managed to say something dumb. He quickly retreated to the inside of his room before the embarrassment could settle in. He’d like to go one cycle without being cringe.

Swerve pushed those thoughts out of his helm. He flipped on one of the lights and walked over to his berth. He had the urge to faceplant into the mattress and hide from the world. If he didn’t have a sparkling greatly in need of a nap he might have.

He still might do it after Veer is sound asleep. First, he needed to get her ready for recharge. He started by winding up the music box Nautica had gifted them. A soft melody started to fill the room. Swerve then gathered her favorite baby blanket and tucked her in with it. Veer already had her optics half way closed by the time her helm hit the pillow.

It was only right after placing Veer in the crib that it hit Swerve. There was no way he could call Blurr. He still didn’t have the racer’s comm number. Only the fake one scribbled on the inside of his palm.

Chapter Text

The lowlight emitting from the berthside table was the only thing illuminating Swerve’s habsuite. He had just put Veer down for her evening nap, and he feared turning on any other lights might wake her. Not wanting to risk it he just made do with the dinky little lamp.

It wasn’t like he needed much light anyway. Swerve shifted from laying on his side to an upright position. The only thing he had been doing was watching reruns of Archer on his tablet. Totally not because he was trying to distract himself. Not at all.

Okay, maybe that was a tiny little lie. Swerve always watched reruns in the dark as one of his coping mechanisms. He had been doing this long before Veer came into his life. There was something about being in a dim room that calmed his jittery nerves; and right now his processor was a whirling vortex of concentrated stress. Swerve kept fidgeting with his own servo as he thought about the source of his current woes- Blurr.

He glanced at the engraving on his palm then swallowed.

“I’ll see you later. Comm. me if you need anything”

Those words kept replaying in his processor. It sounded so simple! Yet, here he was, agonizing over the fact that it was an impossible task. There was no way he could call the racer even if he wanted to. All because he didn't actually have his contact information!

Even worse was the fact it had been days since that exchange. Blurr probably thought he was avoiding him (which was partially true, because he gets so nervous around the racer) or trying to keep him from Veer. Which was definitely not true! He only wanted the best for her- and Blurr is the best.

Aughh! His helm felt like somebody put it in a blender and hit puree. How was he supposed to fix this? Just casually go up to Blurr and confess how much of a loser he was to his own Blurr?

Swerve swallowed as he traced the number with his digit. Each little grove felt like a nail in his spark chamber. A reminder that he was unlikeable.

It didn’t help that he still had the other fake number laying in the side of his subspace. He couldn’t bring himself to throw the stupid thing away. Swerve fished it out and looked at the scrapped piece of paper. He traced each number with his digit. It was long enough to be real, but Swerve knew there was no way that it was. Not after the way he embarrassed the racer...

He sighed thinking back to when he first received it- He had been so happy…How did any of this happen?

The nightmare fuel must have been hitting him hard, because he no longer felt nervous. No, he was giggling down the hallway, leaning against Blurr for support, as he rambled on about the time he pranked Cyclonus .

"See. My liquor license needed to be renewed, or I was at risk of good old Mags busting into the bar and shutting it down. Aaaand that's one helm-ache that I did not want to deal with- Totally not because Magnus and his punishments are scary. Who do you take me for Blurr? Iiii'm totally fearless. Anyway- I did the reasonable thing… and begged Rodimus for help. Since he could totally speed up the process-"

Blurr nodded, and stumbled with Swerve down the hall. Their height difference was making it a little difficult to walk straight. Maybe if Swerve stopped hanging off of the speedster they could go faster, but this felt way too nice. Swerve couldn’t resist sagging closer to the nice smelling frame next to him.

..Was it weird that he thought Blurr smelled nice? Swerve took a moment to inhale the sweet mixture of expensive polish and frame oils racers used. The combination reminded him of those fancy energon goodies before the war. Swerve giggled thinking he'd gladly eat Blurr up if he was a goodie.

"Anyway- to avoid doing a mountain of paperwork Roddy struck a deal with me. All I had to do was prank Cyclonus. See- Rodimus wasn’t convinced of his mor-morali? Goodness. Yeah, that’s the word. He wanted to push him a bit and see if he’d snap...” Swerve paused. “Wait, you know who Cyclonus is, right? Big, tall, and purple? Has a sword”

“The one with the horns,” Blurr confirmed as he hugged Swerve closer to his side.

“Yeah! That scary looking bot. Which, one would argue, would be worse than facing Ultra Magnus. Well, not anymore. Heee's like one of those human Russian dolls, but filled with tiny green men…."

Blurr furrowed his brows together. "What? You had me till that. Green Men..?"

Swerve gasp loudly, "Oh frag that's right! You weren't there. Sorry, crazy Lost Light quest shenanigans. I am- waaaay too drunk to explain that. Ask me again. When I am sober."

Blurr chuckled, "If I remember, sure."

A ball of happiness fluttered inside his frame. Primus, that laugh did things to him. Swerve really hoped to hear it again tonight.

Swerve smiled at the racer, "I'll remind ya! It's preeetty wild- Oh! Anyway, back to the story. I weighed my options and- Death by Cyclonus seemed quicker. He'd probably slice me in half while Magnus would just bore me to death. And Blurr- You have to understand. When I say bored to death I mean by the end of it you would rather eject yourself into the void of space where your thoughts are your only company than hear him drone on. "

That earned a snort from Blurr. "Oh trust me, I understand. I used to have intel meetings with that massive stick up his aft. How does he make a bomb threat boring?"

Swerve threw up his arms. "See! You get it! Cyclonus was definitely the better option. Anyway, to ensure that my death would be quick and painless, I decided to do something simple- Next time he'd come into the bar I'd give him a freebie and say it was from somebody else. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. I could easily come up with a lie and say it's from somebody like Sunstreaker, but that wasn't believable. Soooo~ I might have played a bit of match maker and said it was from Tailgate, his roommate. Why Tailgate you might ask? Well, those two had more chemistry than… Megatron with war crimes! Like every time they'd come in they just shared these longing stares but would never make a move. It was driving me insane"

“Oh, they're one of those. I swear there’s at least one couple on every ship” Blurr said, rolling his optics then paused. “Wait- what the hell is a lemon squeezy?”

He leaned into the racer's warm side and let out a series of giggles, “It’s a human saying!”

“Aaah, I didn’t really engage in earth culture. Heh, lemon squeezy. Sounds cute though”, Blurr then flashed him a dazzling smile, "Not as cute as your laauugh~"

Swerve lost all train of thought as he felt his face flushed. He stumbled forward a bit, almost tripping on his own pedes, but Blurr kept him steady by wrapping an arm around his waist. Swerve felt his engine hic-up.

“Ooh careful now, don’t want to lose you,” Blurr said, guiding his steps forward.

Swerve mutely nodded as his spark spun like crazy in his casing. Blurr, super talented racer, just called him cute! Primus above, this was gonna be the best night of his life.

“Anyway-what happened next in your story. You decided to pick Tailgate…?”

“Y-yeah! So, the next night when Cyclonus came to order his usual I told him it was already paid for. Then, with the coolest aura I could muster, I nodded to Tailgate, who was just hanging by himself in a booth, and told Cyclonus he bought it. Cyclonus stared at me for a while. Long enough that I start to think the ruse is up- Then, I kid you not, he orders Tailgate’s favorite drink! Like- when did he ever figure that out! And he marches over there with both drinks in hand. He ends up joining Tailgate, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I’m pretty sure they confess their love for one another. And that’s how I totally set them up. I know- hold your applause. I’m just that good”

Swerve could barely believe his optics when Blurr started to clap with a smile. “I can’t help myself. A good wingman deserves some recognition.”

The minibot rubbed the back of his helm with a small nervous laugh, “Don’t give me too much credit yet. I’m still trying to figure out how to get Whirl in the picture.”

Blurr stopped clapping as his face morphed into confusion, “Whirl? Ex-wrecker with a foul mouth? That Whirl?”

Swerve nodded. “Yeah, I know what you're thinking-but trust me. Those three make a cute throuple. They just don’t know it yet!”

“You are totally full of scrap. Whirl loves violence, guns, and being a hazard. I can maybe see him with ‘tall and scary’-but that blue minibot? There’s no way,” Blurr said as he slowed his stroll.

"Well, look at us," Swerve pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

Swerve, feeling braver than normal, put his hand on top of the one resting on his hip. He blushed, hoping to Primus he wasn't making this weird by reading the signs wrong, and brushed their fields together. He made sure to put across the feeling he was shy but open enough to be flirtatious.

When a warm, confident field met his own, instant relief flooded his system. This was real- Blurr was actually interested!

Without missing a beat Blurr smirked and said, “I don’t think that applies to us, see I’ve been thinking of you with me all night.”

That-was the smoothest line he had ever heard. Swerve stared at the racer, disbelieving his own audio receptors, as a blush brighter than a sun bloomed on his face plate. His processor spun as it tried to come up with a reply. It had to be something as smooth as that.

“Frag, you’re gorgeous-”

Not that! Anything but that. Swerve cringed on the inside. Mission failed! Abort! Abort! There was no saving this.

That earned another chuckle from the racer. He smirked at Swerve and did a move that almost made the poor minibot blue screen. Blurr gently pushed him against the nearest wall, their frames pressed closely together, as he leaned in. They were so close together that the hot air of Blurr’s vents tickled Swerve’s face plate.

“Funny, I was going to say that about you..”

It took a moment for those words to actually sink in. He was distracted by Blurr's lip components, almost brushing his own. Swerve felt his insides flip flop. Blurr really thought he was gorgeous?

Doubt started to seep its way into his spark. This had to be some kind of prank, right? This couldn’t be real! He waited for a hidden camera crew to come out and say that this was a joke. That never happened. The way the racer was stroking his hip felt very real. Same with the warm tingles that were working its way through his frame. All of that felt real.

“May I kiss you?”

K-kiss? Blurr wanted to kiss him? Swerve swallowed down the nervous lump that had formed in his throat.

Oh, Blurr was staring at him! Oh scrap, he was waiting for a reply. Swerve didn’t think- He just blurted out his answer.

“Yes”

He froze in place as a servo cupped the side of his cheek. It felt so heated against his bare protoform. Swerve felt his vents stutter and his tanks roll.

Only when Blurr was mere inches away from touching him did he remember to offline his visor. Then it happened. Blurr kissed him.

Their lips brushed against each other in a slow caress. Swerve melted into the peck, with giddiness dancing throughout his frame, as he followed Blurr’s lead. Swerve grounded himself by placing a servo against the racer’s chassis.

Their lip components moved slowly as they explored one another. Swerve could taste the earlier highgrade on his mouth. It was sweet.

Later on, he would blame his boldness on the fact he was drunk. But at the moment all he wanted to do was to sample more of the racer. Swerve licked the racer’s bottom lip component. Blurr responded by opening up his intake.

Blurr made a sound of encouragement as their glossa met. He pressed closer to Swerve as his stroking turned into plucking. He searched the bartender’s seams, teasing bare protoform and wires, to get Swerve to make little noises.

Each touch made charge start to crackle in his frame. Swerve panted against Blurr as their kiss became more intense. He started to play with Blurr’s vertical venting right below his chassis. He slid his servo against his abdomen and played with the pleats. Blurr buckled against him with a groan.

“Oh yeah, get it Swerve!” someone from down the hall shouted.

Surprised, Swerve jerked away from the racer. His helm snapped in the direction of the voice. He flushed realizing Brainstorm was right there, briefcase in hand, watching them swap spit.

Blurr recovered faster than Swerve could. He pulled away from Swerve, but still not removing his servo from his hip, to glare at the scientist.

“We are a little busy here!” he snapped.

“I can see that! Swerve, I feel like I should high five you right now. But that can wait till later. You two should know- Magnus is doing his rounds. Might want to take this someplace else,” said Brainstorm.

Swerve wanted to disappear in that instant. Yeah, they were lucky it was only Brainstorm that saw them. If it was Magnus they might have ended up in the brig for publicly displaying some light petting. But, it didn’t make it any less embarrassing that they got caught.

“Thanks Brainstorm- we were uh, just about to leave,” Swerve said as he stepped away from Blurr. “Come on, my habsuite is just around the corner.”

“Anytime!” Brainstorm chirped.

Blurr glanced at the scientist one more time before following Swerve down the hall. As they walked together Blurr slung his arm around the minibot’s shoulder, pressing Swerve close to the racer’s side.

Swerve thought his spark chamber was going to explode. It was beating in his chassis harder than a combiner taking down a city skyscraper. He just kissed Blurr! Not just kiss- but totally made out with him!

He could still feel the tingles against his protoform. He resisted the urge to bring his servo up to his lips and feel it. More than anything he wanted to yell at Brainstorm- He wasn’t ready for that kiss to be over.

Swerve tried his best to ignore the charge that was running through his circuits. It didn’t help that Blurr was still right next to him. He wondered if the racer was hyped up too. If he was..maybe they could..?

Nope! No! He shouldn’t make assumptions like that. Swerve forced himself to look ahead at the hallway. He cleared his intake.

“My room is just right there,”

Blurr nodded. “Good, I prefer something more private anyway.”

Yep, don’t think about it! Swerve didn’t dare look at the racer in fear he would think of something lewd like- his spike or maybe kissing him again. That was a fluke! They were just gonna go back to his room to watch a movie or something.

It didn’t take them long to finally get to the habsuite. Swerve punched in his passcode,unlocking the door, which swung open revealing the big dark room. He flipped on a light.

“Welcome to my habsuite! Uh-ignore the mess. I wasn’t expecting any visitors...” Swerve said, glancing at the stack of comics he forgot to put back.

It really wasn’t that bad. Thankfully he didn’t have any empty cubes or energon goodie wrappers laying about. That would have been embarrassing.

Blurr looked around the room. “Quite big for one bot.”

“Uh yeah-I got lucky and didn’t have to get a roommate! So I have this unit all to myself. Cool, right?”

He didn’t want to bring up the fact that nobody actually wanted to be his roommate. That little fact could just disappear.

“Um! Anyway, would you like something to drink or a snack? Here, I got my own little stash.”

Swerve was already opening his drawer full of goodies he kept hidden away. He only really brought them out during movie night, but since this was a special occasion, he was totally gonna share them with Blurr. He fished out a bag of copper dusted carbon chips for himself, and a homemade bar of jellied energon with pieces of gallium mixed in for Blurr.

He was so glad he didn’t eat that bar. Thanks to some old gossip magazines, and interviews, Swerve knew it was the speedster’s favorite. He was excited to share it with Blurr, since production of it stopped sometime during the war.

Blurr looked like he was about to refuse until he caught sight of the candy, “How did you get that?”

Swerve gave a little smirk feeling like he actually accomplished something. He had gotten the recipe from Sunstreaker of all bots. Apparently his twin liked to mess around in the kitchen in his spare time. Homemade engex and goodies were Sideswipe’s speciality. Swerve was just lucky enough that Sunstreaker liked him enough to share it. The credit chip exchange might have helped.

“Can’t tell you all my secrets. I have to remain a little mysterious,” Swerve said as he offered him the goodie.

Blurr took it with a smile. “Gotta keep up that alluring personality I see. Well, it's working.”

Swerve almost dropped his bag of chips. It fumbled in his servos but he managed to catch it before it could hit the ground. He was not used to being hit on on a good day. With Blurr doing it, he felt like a diesel deer in the headlights.

“Says the bot that was on the cover of Hot Motor Oil three times,” Swerve blurted out.

Blurr cocked an optic then smirked. “And how would you know that?”

Swerve quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with the holoscreen. It totally wasn’t because he was trying to hide how flushed his faceplate was. Why did he say that? That was so creepy!

Hot Motor Oil was a well known spicy magazine that was popular before the war. It was famous for having celebrity guests take photos in very suggestive posing. Often the model would have their panels open for the shoot. The editor claimed it was to capture the vulnerability of their guests. In reality it was basically softcore porn. The senate was big on censoring anything related to interfacing at the time; so the magazine got around it by using a black bar to cover anything too scandalous. That black censor bar was the tiniest thing Swerve had ever seen. It didn’t cover anything. But it must have worked enough considering they never got shut down.

Swerve would be lying if he said he didn't keep a few issues. They were stuffed somewhere in his cabinet. Mainly, those with a certain racer featured on the cover. He couldn’t help it. Those images had changed his life. That didn’t mean he wanted to confess to Blurr that he looked at that!

“Swerve, relax. You’re not the first bot I’ve met that has seen that dirty magazine. I’ve read a couple of issues myself. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t know about it.” Blurr said as he took a seat on top of the berth.

That.. did make him feel a bit better. Swerve relaxed his shoulders before grabbing the remote from the entertainment center. He turned around to look at Blurr on his berth. Blurr smirked and beckoned him over with a hand wave. Swerve swallowed down the lump his intake and stumbled on over to the racer. He took a spot next to Blurr’s side. They were close enough that their frames were touching.

“Haha…yeah! Those pictures sure are something!” He said turning on the holorscreen.

Blurr dramatically flopped backwards into the pile of pillows, and held out his candy like it was a prized possession. He broke a piece off the bar, tried to pop it into his mouth, but almost missed. He fumbled with it a bit before deciding to just carefully take a bite. He chewed then let out a big groan.

“Swerve, I legit may cry. These are the best,” He then wiped away a fake tear and grinned at the bartender.

Swerve huffed out a laugh. “They aren’t that good,”

“Agree to disagree, I’d gladly charge through an army of decepticons, with my servos tied behind my back, just to get a crumb.”

The speedster paused, thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yep, totally. Servos behind my back and frag- maybe even throw in a bunch of angry seekers. These are worth it!”

Swerve could tell the liquor was still affecting Blurr too. He shook his helm and laughed at the silliness.

“All that for some energon goodies…? Can’t lie, I’d do the same.”

Blurr grinned. “That’s why we get along! We know how to appreciate the little things in life.”

The speedster paused for a moment, did a once over to Swerve’s frame, then grinned. Swerve blinked as the racer looked like he wanted to laugh. That made him feel a bit self conscious.

“Something funny?”

“Yes, well no- It’s…a stupid joke that popped into my processor”

“Yeah, What is it?”

“Well…uh…”

While the racer struggled to formulate the right words, Swerve took a moment to think about their conversation.

…Blurr had read a couple of those issues, huh? Swerve chewed on the bottom of his lip as he tried to imagine what could tantalize Blurr of all people. He could get whatever bot he wanted! Yet he was looking at those magazines.

Curiosity got the better of him. He really shouldn’t ask considering how awkward things already were but… The nightmare fuel in his lines made him do stupid things.

There was a moment where the only sound in the room was the holo screen playing the introduction to Fast ‘n the Furious. Swerve glanced over at Blurr to see him eating the jellies as he watched the movie. Swerve played with the bag of chips in his hand but didn’t bother opening them. He was a bit too anxious to eat anything.

Swerve placed the remote off to the side table, “Actually, I have a question...Back to Hot Motor Oil, is there a certain issue that you prefer?”

For a moment the only thing Swerve could do was hold his vents. He awaits for Blurr to lash out at him or call him disgusting for asking. Those were fair reactions… What he didn’t expect was for the words that came out of Blurr’s mouth.

“Theonewiththeminibots”

…

What?

Swerve optics widen as his processor decipher his words. The overindulgence of high-grade earlier was making Blurr's speedy talk harder to follow. It didn't help that the racer's words were slurring together. Did he hear that correctly? He swiveled his helm to look at the racer. Blurr cleared his intake.

“The one with the minibots”, he confessed.

Oh…Oh! That was surprising. Swerve always thought racer frames would prefer other racer frames. They were always sleek and sexy. Or maybe bulkier bots that could throw them around! Not, well, minibots. That, from his experiences, was nobody's favorite.

“It’snotafetish!” Blurr babbled out, “Itsnotjustanyminibottheir! Ihavetolikethe-”

Blurr covered his blushing face and swore under his breath. He took in a deep vent, “Let me start over. It’s not a fetish thing. Primus knows I know what it's like for somebody to just want you for your frame type.”

Blurr leaned back against the pillows. ”I don’t know how to explain other than I have a preference. But it isn’t just any minibot- I have a type, and well you can guess what kind it is..”

Swerve could only nod as he absorbed this information. That didn’t stop the energon from rushing to his cheeks. He glanced down at his own chunky frame then at Blurr.

“It’s why I was kind of laughing at myself. Appreciate the little things in life? And I like minibots…it was stupid..”

He wasn’t crazy was he? Did…Blurr just confessed that he found him attractive? He truly blamed the kiss on the highgrade! But here was Blurr telling him that he meant it.

Blurr looked away. “Sorry if that’s weird or makes you uncomfortable. I can leave if you’d lik..-”

“No!” Swerve blurted out.

He tried to cover up his eagerness with a fake cough. “I mean no, it doesn’t bother me. You should stay.”

Blurr nodded then sat his snack over by the table. He glanced at Swerve, optics traveling all over his frame, before he moved closer to him. Swerve’s vents stuttered as the racer splayed his servo against his inner thigh.

“How about we recreate some of those images, hot stuff?” Blurr purred out.

That earned a surprised giggle from the bartender. The way Blurr tried to wiggle his optical ridges at him came across as more humorous than sexy. Despite his cool demeanor Blurr was as sloshed as he was. Still the previous charge he had gathered came back with vengeance.

“Frag,” Swerve breathed out.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” Blurr joked.

Swerve couldn’t help but to let out a laugh. “Okay, you got me there. Yeah. That sounds good. Let’s frag.”

Blurr grinned before leaning over to kiss the minibot once again. It was more fervent than the last one. Their mouths moved together in a messy, uncoordinated, display of lust. Blurr was already exploring the inside of his mouth. Swerve groaned against his lips as he tasted every inch of the racer.

The servo that was stroking his inner thigh was slowly moving up to his codpiece. Swerve jerked towards the contact. It already felt so good. He had to fight off opening up his panels right then and there. Frag, when was the last time he hooked up with somebody?

Blurr pulled away to start kissing down Swerve’s neck cabling, leaving little bites that jolted spikes of pleasure in his frame. He shivered as that talented mouth licked at sensitive energon lines, before the racer captured one between his dentae and applied a light pressure that built a fire in his core.

Swerve resisted the urge to rub his thighs together. He could feel his spike pressurizing from underneath his panels, moisture starting to trickle out of his valve, and a growing need to have some friction against his frame. He gasped when Blurr finally reached his pelvic area. The touch made his frame feel like it was on fire. Then the speedster started to lightly stroke it causing Swerve to buckle.

Blurr started to rub a little circle on his code piece. Swerve squirmed against the touch. Those components hadn’t been touched in a while, leaving him acutely aware of how good it felt. He twitched in place as the racer continued to pet away.

Swerve fought his hardest to not just open up his panels- the stroking was leaving him a needy mess, but he didn’t want to appear too eager to the racer! He couldn’t just let Blurr do everything.

“Look at you, frag,” Blurr breathed out.

Swerve flushed. He could guess how needy he looked right now. Panels burning hot, lubricate seeping out of the seams, and vents blaring as Blurr played with him.

Already Swerve looked like a shareware bot! He became acutely aware that he barely had touched Blurr. Swerve was a lot of things, but he wasn't selfish in the berth. He scooched back away from the speedsters.

“Here, let me…”

The racer blinked, surprised by the sudden shift, till Swerve made his way in between his legs. Swerve leaned down, and began to lap at the junction in between the racer’s leg vents. He prodded his tongue against the sensitive slates, feeling the growing charge buzz against his mouth, as he sought out bare protoform to stimulate.

Blurr leaned against the headboard enjoying the sensation. He groaned as Swerve made his way upwards to his housing. Once there he began to suck and kiss the spot that hid his spike. Blurr lost it when the bartender lovingly nuzzled the spot and said.

“Open for me?”

A blue and white spike emerged from behind Blurr’s paneling. It was sleek like the racer, decorated with biolights that throbbed in time with his energon lines, and long. The sight of it made Swerve’s mouth water.

It nudged the side of the bartender’s cheek. Swerve smiled, planting a little kiss on it, and stroking it with his free servo. Beads of pre-transfluid formed on the tip. Swerve wasted no time sampling it. As the tangy fluid coated his tongue he looked up at Blurr. The racer swore under his breath and planted a hand against the back of Swerve’s helm.

“I like your spike,” Swerve muttered as he admired it. It was true. Swerve had sucked a lot of spike in his day-He loved giving oral, but by far this was the prettiest.

“Thanks, got it-Aah~ Custom done.”

Swerve huffed out a laugh, imagining Blurr looking at different spikes, before settling on his. “That must have been a fun appointment,” before lapping at the head.

“It’s not everyday you go dong shopping. You wouldn’t believe what they had. Some of them glowed in the dark,” He agreed with a smug smirk. “Though, I picked the right one. It’s gonna look beautiful around your lips”

Swerve made a surprised little noise. He gazed up at Blurr, his erect spike resting on his tongue, as his servo slid the base of it. Blurr groaned, admiring the image, as Swerve kept slowly worshiping his rod.

He pumped it a few times, earning more droplets, and caught each one with his glossa. Swerve pressed his tongue directly against the racer's transfluid slit, earning a gasp from above. He hummed, enjoying himself as Blurr’s spike throbbed under his touch.

Swerve wrapped his mouth around the spike, taking all of it in with practiced ease, as his digits found Blurr’s valve. He was greeted with fluid dripping out of the racer. Blurr was just as wet as Swerve was. The bartender spread the folds of his valve and sunk two digits into him with ease.

The wet squelch of Blurr’s eager valve filled the room. Swerve swallowed around his spike and began to bob his helm as he worked that lovely channel with his digits. He’d pull off that wonderful spike before swallowing it back down. Blurr moaned, spreading his legs as far as they could do, while his charge built.

Blurr used the servo on the back of Swerve’s helm to help guide him at a steady pace onto his spike. Every pass downward made an obscene slurping sound. Swerve moaned with his mouth full, loving the way it moved in his intake.

“Yesyeses!”

That was all the encouragement Swerve needed to pick up his pace. He swallowed the spike down, letting it hit the back of his throat, and gagging himself a bit in the process. Swerve's optics watered as he abused his own intake tubing.

Blurr couldn’t contain himself any longer. He started to hump Swerve’s face. The minibot picked up speed, massaged the rod in his mouth, and hit every internal node he could find with his digit. He could feel the spike in his intake twitch against his glossa. Blurr was close.

Swerve offlined his visor and focused on pleasing the racer. He hollowed out his cheeks, using his tongue to massage the bare sentio-metallico, as he worked his mouth. He was rewarded with the tangy taste of pre-fluid that danced along his tongue. Then his digits struck Blurr’s sweet spot.

The narrow channel rippled against Swerve’s fingers. Blurr made a choking sound as he shove his spike as far down Swerve’s mouth as he could take. Swerve stayed still as Blurr’s spike pulse out a steady stream of transfluid into the bartender's waiting mouth. It overfilled the inside of his intake forcing Swerve eagerly to swallow down the burning hot liquid. Only a little dripped out and down onto his chin.

He pulled off with a wet pop and tried to catch his breath. He glanced up at the racer who was still recovering from his overload. Swerve couldn’t help but feel proud with how debauched Blurr looked. There was one thing he was good at. And that was using his mouth!

Once they both collected themselves, Blurr wiped away the dribble dripping from his chin with his digit. He smirked, keeping optic contact with Swerve, and licked his fingers clean. Swerve felt his valve throb in need as he watched on.

“Is that better than the jelly?” he blurted out.

Blurr laughed, “No, but you sure are.”

Blurr leaned down before Swerve could even process what was happening. He captured his lips and tasted himself on the bartender. It was sloppy, their tongues intertwining, as swerve groaned into the kiss.

That’s when he noticed something poking at his armor. Swerve looked down and was greeted by one still very pressurized spike. He blinked, surprised it was standing tall. “Oh, hello again.”

Blurr noticed and chuckled. “I’m a racer, remember? Quick refractory period. Hope that's okay?”

Swerve stared at the hard on unsure what to think. He really thought he was going to suck the racer off and that would be that. It wouldn’t have been the first time he gave oral and his partner called it quits; but Blurr’s spike had other plans.

“Yeah, but my jaw might need a little break," Swerve confessed, “And just let me take…” Swerve took off his blue visor and set it to the side table, next to his long forgotten chips, before turning his attention back to Blurr. “Thing's all fogged up..”

The racer was about to say something but got distracted by Swerve’s brillant cyan optics. Blurr stared into them, taken aback at how adorable the bartender looked without his visor.

“..Do I have something on my face?”

Blurr forced himself to stop staring. “No-uh. Sorry, That’s more than alright. There are other ways we can have fun.”

Blurr smirked before reaching down to stroke Swerve’s panel. He was already charged up from watching Blurr overload like that, so it didn’t take much for his equipment to slide open.

His spike was way less impressive than Blurr’s. It wasn’t flashy with a bunch of custom biolights or modded like some bots did. Though there were many times he thought about getting it done. He just wasn’t brave enough to go through with it. No, his spike was the one he was forged with. It’s red and white, small, and a bit chubby like he was.

Blurr hummed, rubbing it with the palm of his servo. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Swerve flushed as his spike twitched at the compliment. Already his tip was weeping from the contact. Blurr wiped it away with his thumb.

The bartender grabbed a bundle of the blanket underneath them to help himself stay grounded. He held his breath, trying to fight the pleasure already building in the pit of his stomach. Swerve felt like the racer could breathe on his spike and he’d overload.

Blurr kept paying with the weeping head. Every once in a while he’d lazily pump it. Swerve couldn’t help shoving his servo in his mouth and biting down. His spike gave a hard throb.

Swerve tried to think of other things as the pleasure grew. Blurr gathered the fluid drooling out of his slit, and used it as lube to slide his servo in a strong fluid motion. The pace Blurr sets was a steady motion that made Swerve gasp.

Then the racer started to tease him. He would stroke his spike in a series of hard pumps, then let go when he was on the cusp of overload, leaving him in a needy haze of pleasure. Swerve whined out as his spike was left throbbing.

The edging left Swerve in knots. Yes, he did it in the privacy of his own berth, but to have Blurr do it to him was something else. There was something thrilling about having the racer in control.

Blurr tightened his grip around the needy rod, tugging on it, then letting it spring forward as he let go. Swerve tried to chase after his touch, by thrusting forward, only to be stopped. Blurr used his free hand to hold his hip in place. No matter how needy Swerve was he couldn’t frag that fist.

“That’s it… you’re almost to the finish line.”

Swerve whimpered, “I feel like I’m in last place!”

Blurr let go off his spike, letting it twitch from the loss of contact, and dripped a line of pre-transfluid from the tip down to the blankets. Swerve could feel it throbbing in time to his spark beat. This sweet torture was driving him mad.

“Then let’s make you feel like a winner,” Blurr purred out.

Blurr grabbed a hold of his rod again, pumping it with strong determined strokes, as he eased his grip on Swerve’s hips. The bartender cried out from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, canting his hips into the vice grip, while his charge buzzed through his circuits. Swerve offline his optics, and started to hump the servo until it was too much. He cried out as thick transfluid flew out of him and into Blurr’s digits and parts of his chassis.

Blurr kept moving his servo until Swerve ran completely dry. The bartender kept his optics offline as he floated above a haze of pleasure; that was the best overload of his life.

When he could see again, he was greeted by a massive mess. Swerve flushed, staring a what he'd done to Blurr. Blurr had the pink fluid all over his windshield. The racer didn’t seem to mind, he puffed out his chassis, and grinned.

“I’ll take this as a compliment. I bet you feel like a winner now.”

“S-sorry! Oh, Let me get a towel or something-” Swerve hurriedly looked over at his night stand for wipes.

“Don’t bother, we’re still not done yet,” Blurr said, nodding to his own spike. “Unless, you are tapping out?”

There was no judgment in his voice. Just a perfectly reasonable question. Swerve knew high endurance frames like Blurr’s had a harder dissipating excess charge, overloading once only took the edge off. It was a good thing Swerve still felt so achingly empty…

“And miss out on your custom spike? I’d be crazy to say no! I mean come on- I wonder if it flashes when you overload. Couldn’t tell when you did earlier since well..my mouth was kind of full..”

“I’m a racer, not an enforcer Swerve” Blurr laughed out.. “Wait, do officers spike’s light up..?”

Swerve thought about it then made a face, “Well, that was a cursed thought.”

“Hm?”

“Short answer, Prowl. Horrifying answer- We could ask Chromedome.”

Blurr gasped then laughed, “Oh, Primus, no. I rather not live with that information.”

Swerve nodded in agreement, “Yeah, nah. I’ll stick to playing with your spike. Now, how do you want me?”

The speedster flashed him a dazzling smile, before pushing him down onto the berth. He slotted himself between Swerve’s legs, and revved his engine. Swerve flushed seeing Blurr’s pressurized spike near his aching valve.

Swerve already had a trail of lubricate that had started to stain the fabric underneath them. The bartender felt his cheeks heat further as Blurr stared at his chubby white valve. The white contrasted with the pink smears between his thighs. Swerve noticed the hunger in Blurr’s optics as he watched at his cute aroused external node that was peeking out from its sheath.

Blurr grabbed a hold of his own spike, and dragged it across the sensitive nub. There was something so erotic watching Blurr rub his spike between those puffy lips. A new powerful wave of want and lust hit Swerve, and he longed to feel it sink deep inside.

The racer kept toying with Swerve, by rubbing his rod all over his valve, but only grazing the entrance. Blurr made sure to pay extra attention to his external node, rubbing the tip of his head against the engorged bud. A couple of times he’d gently slap his entire spike against it, causing zaps of pleasure that left Swerve wanting.

“Are you ready for it?” Blurr asked, dragging his spike to the entrance of his valve, but not yet breaching him.

“Fragg…yess!”

Blurr rolled his hips, finally pushing inside the opening. Swerve's optics rolled up as that spike speared him open. He groaned, loving the burning stretch that occupied it. Blurr was slow moving it in his narrow channel. Swerve could feel every ridge against his nodes as it passed through. Once their pelvis were flushed they both took a moment to revel in the sensations.

Blurr pulled back leaving Swerve to feel every inch work its way out of his channel. He gasped already feeling so empty without it. Blurr was quick to remedy that ache.

Swerve almost whimpered at the slow pace the racer was taking. Blurr was definitely savoring the feeling. He moved his hips like he had all the time in the world. It was enough to keep charge but made Swerve ache for more.

“F-faster! Please-” He begged

Blurr paused his movement causing Swerve to squirm. The racer took in his needy form and then smirked. He leaned down to kiss Swerve again.

“Let’s see if you can keep up.”

The racer grabbed a hold of Swerve’s pedes and hiked them onto his shoulders. Swerve was suddenly seeing stars as the racer started to thrust at the new angle. It hit something deep within his chamber that caused him to cry out.

Never had any bot reached so deep inside of him before! Swerve gasped as his inside clenched down hard on the spike driving against that spot. Blurr kept hitting it until Swerve swore he felt something give.

Pleasure like no other burst to life inside of his valve. Swerve’s helm lolled back as his knees shook. Was he drooling? He was pretty sure he was drooling.

Blurr didn’t seem to mind at all. His thrusts remained powerful, quick, and erratic. Swerve held on for dear life as his channel was assaulted with bliss.

Swerve started to cry out Blurr’s name, begging him to keep going! He was so close! The racer delivered, driving his spike deep inside, leaving Swerve a wreck.

That’s when Blurr struck his core once more, reached over with his servo, and rubbed Swerve’s external node. Swerve almost snapped in half as his frame tensed up, and he came hard on Blurr’s spike. The racer above him groaned, feeling the rhythmic way Swerve clamped down on his rod, before following after him. Blurr buried his face into one of the legs he was holding, and pulsed hot transfluid into Swerve.

Despite that, it wasn’t over yet. Blurr’s spike was still hard after overloading. Swerve still had charge driving him to chase another euphoric peek. He wanted to feel that spike keep hitting that sweet spot!

“Keep going,” Swerve moaned.

Blurr flipped the minibot to his hands and knees. Swerve flushed realizing the position they were in. He hid his face in the blanket as Blurr started to pound into him. His valve was already dripping from the transfluid he already deposited. It made his spike glide quicker and faster into his hole. Swerve felt like he was losing his mind. He mewled as Blurr’s spike struck his core again. It was like the head was kissing his gestation chamber seal!

Blurr had a hold of Swerve’s hips. He guided them back onto his spike over and over again. Drunk on pleasure, Swerve started to babble nonsense. He used his own servo to fist his own spike. Charge was crackling against his planting. That rod hit the back of his seal again causing Swerve to go over the edge. His frame stiffen, and Swerve yelped as stars bloomed across his vision. His channel clamped down on Blurr’s spike, rippling across his rod in an attempt to milk all of his transfluid. Swerve’s own spike came across the bedding like an abstract golden age painting.

That pushed the racer over. He held Swerve hips still as he buried his spike deep, breaching the gestation seal, and pumping more hot proto material into his forge. The nanites pooled inside of his chamber, filling Swerve up to over capacity. The excess drooled out of his valve and into a puddle underneath his aft. Blurr buckled as he rode off the last waves of his overload.

There was a moment when the smell of ozone and the sound of their vents blaring filled the room. Swerve was limp, unable to move his frame after such a world shattering overload. Blurr vented hard, slowly lowering Swerve’s legs, as he recovered from his own high.

Blurr laid on top of him, rod still buried deep, as he caught his own breath. They both laid there for a moment before Blurr removed his spike. A gush of fluids came falling out.

“Frag, I made a mess in you...”

Swerve glanced down at the sticky disaster they were now laying in. He was kind of impressed at the combined amount of fluids they created. He stared, then grinned up at Blurr.

“Blurr, have I told you that if you were a dessert… you’d be a creampie?” Swerve quipped without thinking.

Blurr snorted, “Well you look more like an enclair right now.”

Swerve blinked, “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t engage in earth culture,”

“Not when I was stationed there, yeah. But my buddy Crosscut has been getting me to watch the great british bake off. I made the mistake of looking up creampies without the safe search filter on”

Swerve snorted, “That’s one hell of a mistake.”

“Tell me about it.. Hey- are those squishies racing?”

Swerve looked over at the movie that they had long abandoned. It was the scene when Vin Diesel’s crew were amidst the heist. Swerve grinned, snatching the remote from the side table.

“Blurr, strap in. I’m going to show you the amazing world of street racing and family. Well-after I change these sheets”

“Here, let me help-”

Together, they changed the bedding, and wiped down their frames before getting comfortable for the night. Swerve ended up snuggling close to the racer, his helm nestled against Blurr’s now clean windshield, as they watched a cheesy action movie. Blurr happily listened to him ramble on about the film until they both fell asleep.

Chapter Text

That night still felt like a far away memory that happened to someone else, yet there was no denying it happened. On the left side of his bed was his proof. He could see Veer recharging in her crib.

That didn’t mean she stayed still. Quite the opposite in fact. Veer would kick out her pedes, wiggle her arms, and roll around. It wasn’t just her frame. Her tiny face would occasionally scrunched up, like she was fussing at someone, before relaxing into something softer.

Swerve couldn’t deny that she inherited her sleep habits from him. He was literally the worst on the recharge slab. But hey! At least they both didn’t snore.

He smiled watching her snuggle into the blanket more before turning his attention back to the paper. It sucked that Blurr was missing this. Swerve turned his attention back to the paper and groaned in frustration.

The paper crumbled into his tight fist. Why couldn’t the stupid thing be real? Then he could call Blurr, and let his creation actually be around her sire!

Swerve buried his faceplate into his balled up fist as the stress of the situation tore at him. He could come clean to this Blurr, admit the truth, but that meant sharing how he embarrassed them both. It was something he prepared to bury.

What made it worse was that things were going okay between them! He had even gotten Blurr to smile at him, like a real smile! He missed that smile….

Streams of coolant dripped down from Swerve’s face as he waddled through the narrow channel of the air vent. Every small movement created an ominous creak that made the bartender cringe. He feared that one wrong move would result in him falling through the ceiling.

He could see it now. Fresh on the front page of the Lost Light insider, “Dumb minibot crashes through Ultra Magnus’ office’. He’d be the ship’s laughing stalk for the next month if that happened.

Well, that’s if he’s even in the right spot. He grabbed the flashlight hanging in between his denta and pointed it down one of the metal airways. Swerve fumbled with his free servo to turn on his tablet. He glanced at the schematics that seem to twist into more complex pathways the longer he stared at them. Damn Skids and his excellent photographic memory; this map was way too detailed for Swerve to understand!

There really should be a ‘you are here’ marker on the stupid thing. Swerve furrowed his brows together as he tried to decipher if he was in sub unit A or sub unit B. The only indications of his location was the arrow Skids had etched into the walls. The only issue was there were hundreds of similar arrows. All of them pointing in different directions.

Yep, by his clever deduction- he definitely was lost. Frag, at least he was pretty sure he was still on the ship! That had to count for something.

Swerve thudded his helm against the wall as the temptation to give up and turn around filled his spark. From the corner of his optic he could see a glimpse of light peeking out from the bottom of the ‘floor’. Swerve scooched closer to look in between the slotted ventilator plates.

About five feet below him he could make out the pristine surface of a desk. It had stacks of datapads that were organized in individual trays, there was only one pen that was placed in its own fancy case, and there were no personal items besides a lone photograph of a petite human woman that Swerve recognized as Ultra Magnus’ holoform.

He did it! He had made it to the right office! Swerve couldn’t help but to fist pump the air. This sweet feeling of victory gave Swerve the strength to push forward. Now, all he had to do was find the…. Swerve glanced around the barren room searching for the item he’s risking his spark for- A working printer!

Turns out, the most dangerous quest on the Lost Light was finding a copy machine that functioned. The communal one located in the rec room was destroyed shortly after the Legislators attack. Those evil bastards not only wrecked his bar, but now are preventing him from his destiny- making fake try out posters to spread all across cybertron.

After searching every inch of the ship the only working one Swerve could find was located in the worst place possible. His beautiful goal laid dormant in the forbidden office of the one and only Ultra Magnus. Forget the Wreckers, this was a real suicide mission! If caught, Swerve would surely be subjected to horrors beyond comprehension.

Yeah, he could have just asked, maybe mini-bot solidarity would work in his favor, but he had a feeling that Ultra Magnus would say no. He definitely would want to know what the flyers were for, and Swerve didn’t want to risk getting shut down before the auditions even started. Plus, he worked hard on these posters! He spent all night picking the right font (naturally comic sans) and clip art that screamed “fun”. These babies needed to be shared with the world!

Swerve fiddled within his subspace to pull out a screwdriver. He put the flashlight back into his mouth and pointed in the direction of the screws. He squinted down at them as he used his clumsy digits to start undoing them.

Those screws fought him every step of the way. Whoever installed these hardwear of doom really put them on tight. Swerve had to use all his strength to get them to even twist a little bit. By the time he was on the last one his digits were cramping.

Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. The previous owners were the type to keep a sparkeater aboard, why would they stop at shoddy craftsmanship? Swerve muttered some unpleasant things about their creators as he tried to unjam a screw.

“Annnd…That should be the last one!” Swerve said as he lifted the grate out of the way and placed it against the wall.

The handsome face of a certain blue racer popped into his processor. “Then let’s make you feel like a winner,” echoed in his helm. Swerve sharply inhaled some air in his vent ways, and choked on it in the process. The stale dust that he had kicked up from exploring clogged up his vents. He pounded on his chassis in an attempt to dislodge it from his system.

While coughing up a storm Swerve lost his balance. One second he was sitting next to the opened hole in the floor and the next he found himself tittering a little too forward. Swerve optics widened, as he realized his mistake. He tried to grab a hold of the ledge, but it was too late, he was already falling face first down to the office.

Swerve smacked something hard enough that he could feel his helm rattle. He groaned against the desk that kindly broke his fall. The plunge had jostled his visor off of his face, and had landed right next to that stupid pen case. He laid there longer than he really should have, just to let what happened catch up to him.

Right, maybe being that close to a drop wasn’t the brightest move. Swerve groaned at his own stupidity before forcing himself up on his elbows. His entire frame felt like he just got smacked down by a titan. He threw a thumbs up in the air towards nobody.

“I’m okay!”

He felt like one of those bots on those compilation fail videos that Rewind used to show them. Swerve could see it, the title of the video saying, ‘Cybertron’s top belly flops’.Thankfully, there was nobody here to witness him pancake himself on top of Ultra Magnus’ desk. He rolled off the piece of furniture, put on his visor and got onto his pedes. Luckily, his fall didn’t do much damage. Only one datapad looked slightly out of place. Swerve fixed it so that it laid perfectly in its tray before making his way towards the printer.

Swerve turned on the power button, inserted his data slug, and hit the print button for around two hundred copies. That should be plenty to get Cybertron’s attention. These auditions are going to be great!

He took a moment to wipe away any dust that was still clinging to his frame. Swerve chewed on the bottom of his lip while trying to push the earlier image out of his helm. It was just hard to believe… He and Blurr really…!

Yes, it had been over about 2 weeks, 1 day, and 63 minutes since the two of them hooked up, but who was counting? Swerve definitely wasn’t. Only a weirdo would do that!

It just felt so unreal. The next morning Blurr was gone, the only evidence that anything even happened was a pleasant ache between his legs, and the holovid playing the fast and the furious play menu on loop. Swerve wasn’t expecting a goodbye or anything, it was a hookup after all, but he wished that he could convince his processor that it happened.

Swerve sighed watching as the machine spit out copies of his beautiful flyers. Swerve pushed aside the uncertainty in his spark and kept one optic on the door. Any minute he could get busted for wasting ink and be forced to do some horrible task like mop the hallways. He could feel the ball of nerves inside the pit of his tanks get worse. It didn’t help that he had a notification going off on his HUD warning him of Ultra Magnus’ immediate return.

He whispered words of encouragement as it spat out paper after paper, “Come on~ You can do it! I believe in you. Please please please channel your inner Blurr and hurry!”

In an act of appeasement Swerve began to rub loving circles against the copy machine’s side paneling. There was no scientific proof that his methods were working but Swerve could have sworn the thing was printing the posters faster.

Once the last piece of paper came sliding out of the printer the screen popped out an error message. Swerve squinted as he read what it said. ‘Low on ink’. He glanced at the multi-colored design of his flyers then shrugged.

“Sounds like a Ultra Magnus’ problem”

He put in a fresh stack of paper to cover his tracks and power down the machine. Hopefully Ultra Magnus will just think he’s low on toner because of all his daily reports. That, or he might assume Rodimus had something to do with this. The captain could take one for the team.

“It will be fine” he muttered as he piled up his gorgeous stack of flyers.

Swerve paused to look up at where he made his grand entrance. It was high enough off the ground that he would need to use a rollie chair to get enough height to climb back up. Though, with how short his legs were he doubted his own ability to reach it.

That left Swerve with only one option. He’d have to use the front door. Yeah, he could have tried to lock pick it from the beginning and completely avoided the claustrophobic vent system like a sane bot, but where was the fun in that? It’s a quest! Easy ways are for quitters.

The front door was more dangerous to use than it looked. Swerve glanced at his chronometer on his HUD, and swallowed. Based on his time Ultra Magnus should be right outside the hallway. That was okay! A good minibot always planned ahead. He brought a digit up to his audio receptor like a cool secret agent.

“Crosscut, operation: paper stack is a go.”

“Are the goods in hand?”

“Yes, now it’s time for phase 2. Activate protocol spray paint”

That’s right! Swerve wasn’t working alone. See, this grand quest had two co-conspirators! Crosscut the straight man, and Riptide, the golden retriever with a spark of gold, and of course Swerve himself, as the comedic relief. It was the dream team perfect to create the right amount of fun chaos this ship needed!

Lately, Swerve felt like things were getting way too serious for his liking. The Lost Light suffered a major blow when they lost Pipes and Rewind to the Overlord incident. Then, right after that, half the cybertronian population almost got snuffed out from the kill switch (not to mention his bar got destroyed). Now the majority of Cybertron was wiped out from a massive Titan fight. They really couldn’t catch a break!

Annnnd, there might be a certain one night stand that Swerve was desperate to get out of his helm. It seemed like everytime he closed his optics he could see Blurr’s devilish smirk looking down at him. When Swerve went down to the medbay with sudden spark palpitations Ratchet almost smacked him with a wrench for wasting his time. In his defense! They weren’t normal! Swerve hadn’t felt this bubbly and embarrassed since his last relationship.

At first Swerve tried ignoring these feelings by putting all his attention into serving the bar. That quickly failed since there was nobody to serve! It seems like everyone on the Lost Light wanted to enjoy some shore leave before they took off again. There were only a few who remained aboard.

That’s when Swerve had the grand idea to start a quest! Maybe quests were his way of coping, but Swerve thought it was a good way to break the tension. Sometimes a bot just needs some good silly hijinks to help them recharge at night, and to get certain racers off the processor.

It wasn’t that hard to form a team. See, there were only two mechs that still frequent his bar during their docking on Cybertron. Crosscut, who was struggling to write his screenplay, and Riptide, who didn’t want to miss the second launch of the Lost Light. All it took to get them to agree was non stop rambling, begging, and pleading about a quest. When that didn’t work, and they threatened to leave, Swerve tried a different tactic. He offered them both free drinks for partaking in their grand adventure, and he might have mentioned it could cure Crosscut of his writer’s block. They reluctantly agreed, and the dream team was born!

Swerve tip-toed over towards the door, and very carefully looked through the tiny window. Standing in the hallway was Ultra Magnus with his arms crossed, scowl glued to his face, and an annoyed twitch in his optic as he talked with Riptide. The poor shipformer was blocking the enforcer’s way to his office with his frame. Swerve could see the physical effort it took Riptide not to start sweating coolant. While straining his audio receptor Swerve could barely make out what they were saying.

“Riptide, for the last time, that is my office”

Riptide stared off vacantly at him before finally replying, “...Oh….are you sure?”

Ultra Magnis pinched the bridge of his nose before pointing to the office plaque mounted against the hallway wall. In clean bold letters it displayed the office number, and Ultra Magnus’ name. Riptide squinted at the words like they were a foreign language.

“See, it clearly states my name”

“But I thought your name was Minimus”

Ultra Magnus reigned back as if he was struck, “Well that’s- That might be technically true, but who told you about th- It was Swerve, wasn’t it? I should reprimand him for disclosing other people’s private information. The truth of the matter, Riptide, is that both of those designation belong to me. They are interchangeable. ”

At that moment Ultra Magnus looked towards his office door. Swerve quickly ducked his helm away from the window. Turns out it was true, a bot could feel their audio receptors burning when somebody was talking about them. He reached up to rub his audio receptors as a new found gust of anxiety swept through his frame from hearing what Magnus said. Swerve just hoped that the big guy didn’t see him.

Once Swerve was sure that Ultra Magnus wasn’t going to come storming in, ready to throw his aft in the brig for breaking and entering, Swerve carefully cracked open the door. The conversation between the two bots had died, and Swerve wanted to know why. They were caught, weren’t they? When Swerve glanced into the hallway he understood.

Poor Riptide stared up at Ultra Magnus as if his processor had just crashed. It was clear that any words said to him were just going through one audio receptor and out the other. It didn’t help that Magnus had the habit of using big words like “reprimand” or the word “the”. Those were usually a struggle for Riptide.

Bless Riptide, and his inability to understand simple conversations. It proved to be the perfect distraction for a stick up the aft like Ultra Magnus. The only issue was Swerve was sure they could continue on in a frustrating ouroboros of suffering if left alone to their own devices. Good thing Swerve had a plan for this.

Speaking of which, Swerve tried to stifle his laughter as Crosscut rushed over to the two mechs. His optics were blown wide as he skidded to a stop. “Ultra Magnus, sir, there’s an emergency. Somebody has graffitied the eastern hallway!”

Now with Ultra Magnus’ attention elsewhere, Swerve started to inch his way out of the office. He made sure his movements were lighter than a cyberninja’s. He kept to the shadows and clung to the wall like it was a lifeline.

“It is so vulgar that I dare not repeat what it says. The paint is still wet- If we hurry we can scrub it clean before anyone else can witness its crass portrayal of the rule book” , Crosscut continued.

Personally, Swerve thought the dialogue Crosscut came up with was a tad stilted. Then he remembered who Crosscut was talking to. Magnus didn’t seem to notice how terrible it was at all.

Ultra Magnus brought his servo to cover his mouth in shocked horror, “The rule book? Crosscut, are you saying someone defiled the-...the-....”

Crosscut nodded, “Yes, sir, it’s sickening to see what they’ve done! I’m sorry that you have to witness it”

Ultra Magnus straightened up his posture, “Well, let’s not waste anymore time. The eastern hall you said? I bet it’s by that scoundrel Sunstreaker. Him, and his brother never had respect for the autobot code!”

“Uh…Sure. Yep, totally probably him. Lead the way Ultra Magnus! I’ll be right behind you,” Crosscut said while glancing in the direction of Swerve.

Swerve flashed him a grin, and gave a thumbs up. The stack of papers wobbled for a second in his grasp. He held his breath as they threatened to fall to the ground. Riptide, who had moved to Crosscut’s side, let out a gasp. Ultra Magnus brows furrowed together as he glanced in the direction that Riptide was staring. Swerve hugged the stack of flyers close to his frame as he curled in on himself. Maybe if he doesn’t move then Ultra Magnus couldn’t see him? Jurassic park rules, right? Ultra Magnus was just like a t-rex.

Before Ultra Magnus can spot Swerve, Riptide comes in with the save by ‘accidentally’ tilting his Autobot badge slightly to the right. The movement was enough to change Ultra Magnus’ attention. He frowns, staring at the unleveled piece of metal.

The former enforcer of the Tyrest Accord looked seconds away from having a full blown melt down. Magnus kept his arms sternly staying by his side, the only indication of his internal struggle was the way his digit twitched in place, as he stared at the crooked badge. The permanent frown displayed on his faceplate deepened into something that sent shivers down Swerve’s spinal strut. Clearly, he wanted to straighten the symbol, but lacked the social skills to navigate the conversation in a productive way.

“You are no longer in compliance with the Autobot standard issued dress code,”

“Uhh….huh?”

Riptide glanced down at the red autobot symbol then shrugged. “Looks fine to me,”

“I see… Well, I suggest you move it about .35 percent to the left.”

Swerve could tell this was going to be awhile. He pointed at Ultra Magnus and signal to his friends to move him out of there. Riptide nodded at him, which made Swerve want to facepalm, since Ultra Magnus could see that. Crosscut must have felt the same because he cringed.

“Riptide, Is everything alright?”

Riptide stares up at him, optics wide, before nodding “Yep, I just…uuhhh…realized that the spray paint is gonna dry quickly. I think…. You should go clean it up.”

“You are correct, Riptide, I expect your badge to be fixed by the time I come back.”

The rule lover went marching in the direction of the eastern hall. Crosscut pretended to follow after him for a couple of steps before ditching him completely. Riptide forgot to follow him at all. That was fine since Ultra Magnus didn’t seem to notice.

Swerve didn’t leave his spot till he was sure Ultra Magnus wasn’t going to reappear. He let out a loud sigh of relief as he came out of the shadows. He grinned up at his two co-conspirators.

“The operation was a success! Riptide, buddy, I thought for sure that you blew it. But that move you did to Ultra Magnus, with the badge? Genius!”

Riptide gathered a stack of flyers from Swerve, “Huh? Oh, yeah…That was my plan…”

Crosscut rolled his optics, “You were just messing with your symbol for fun, weren’t you?”

Riptide flashed them a fangy grin, “It still worked, didn’t it?”

That made Swerve chuckle, “Riptide, never change buddy. Now! Let’s head back to my bar, and start passing these bad boys out.”

The group regathered at the bar. Swerve made sure to lock it behind them, just in case a certain enforcer figured out that they were the ones who spray painted the hallway. Yeah, they could have lied, but they needed Ultra Magnus busy long enough to start passing out posters.

As promised, Swerve began serving them some strong drinks. The bartender made sure to make them extra tasty. It was only fair considering they put their well being on the line to distracted Mags.

The three of them grabbed a seat from the circular booth. Swerve didn’t realize he sat in the same spot as last time till Crosscut gave him a knowing look. The bartender flushed and pretended to be very interested in the stack of flyers that he sat on the table. Thankfully the playwright didn’t say anything else about his sitting choice.

“Well, that didn’t blow up in our faces like I expected it to,” Crosscut commented as he picked up one of the pieces of paper.

“Yep! Now all we gotta do is glue these bad boys up, and wait for the poor victims to come pouring in. I can’t wait to see who will show up,” Swerve said while flashing them a grin.

Crosscut disengaged his mask to take a sip of his drink, “Knowing our crew history… only the best.”

The sarcasm must have gone over Riptide’s helm since he grinned at them, “Yeah! And we get to scope them out first. Where should we put these?”

“I guess we can start here?” Swerve suggested.

Riptide nodded before grabbing a couple of flyers, and began taping them in different spots in the bar. Some of them made sense, like him putting it near the entrance, while other locations left Swerve a bit puzzled. Why did Riptide tape it directly to the flat surface of a table?

An idea popped inside Swerve’s helm as he watched Riptide place one of the flyers high on the wall. High enough that a bot with a normal neck component wouldn’t be able to see it. Typical Riptide, he had the spark but was a little confused. That did, however, give him an idea. He perked up from his seat and grinned at his two quest buddies. “Hey guys, how about we make this a bit more fun?”

Crosscut, who was busy trying to get tape off his digit, paused what he was doing, “How so?”

Swerve picked up one of the flyers, slapped some adhesive on it, and placed it against a waste disposal bin. He stared down triumphantly at his work. Crosscut tilted his helm, staring at the bin, while Riptide fiddled with a flyer.

“So…bots can see it when they throw stuff away….?” Riptide asked.

“No-, well, yes! Buuuuuut, what I’m trying to get at is let’s have fun putting these up! Any bot could just hang it on the wall. Let’s get creative! I want to see them hanging in the funniest places we can think of!”

Crosscut rubbed under his chin, “That could be interesting….But why?”

“I don’t know, maybe to get your creative juices flowing? Think of it as a writing exercise! We can take a picture of where we placed them-and at the end of the day we will pick whoever has the most hilarious spot. But! Let’s make it more high-stakes. That way I know everyone will put their spark into it. Winner earns a favor from the other two bots. Let’s say…we have the rest of today to find a funny spot and we’ll meet up back here when we are done! Think of it as a second part of our quest!”

Riptide grinned, “And it can be anywhere? Right?”

Swerve paused, “Maybe try to avoid the ship. Nobody is really here..but other than that! Your imagination is the limit! Go where no boat has gone before Riptide.”

Crosscut tilted his helm to the side while taking another sip of his drink, “A favor? Swerve, I really can’t see anything good happening by gaining a favor from you.”

A bit offended, Swerve placed his servo over his spark, “Crosscut! I’m wounded. You clearly aren’t considering the possibilities…like performing your screenplay at my bar~ Or having your pick of my vintage collection of engex. You’re a writer, you gotta be more creative!”

The ex-senator tilted his drink back to finish off the remaining high-grade. He hummed before picking up a piece of paper, “And who would determine the winner? You? I have no desire in participating if this thing is rigged.”

That…was a good question. His default would be to suggest someone like Skids, but the bot was busy doing spy stuff with Getaway. After the kill-switch incident the two of them were drowning in reports. It was a miracle the theoretician had time to even send Swerve that map of the vents.

Their options were very limited considering most bots were off exploring cybertron. Swerve held his own chin guard trying to think of a good judge. They needed someone unbiased, and actually on the Lost Light. That really only left high-command. And there was no way they were asking Ultra Magnus. That only left…

“Why not…Rodimus?” he suggested.

Riptide made a face. Swerve knew the shipformer wasn’t exactly happy with their captain. He had been looking forward to seeing Drift again when they arrived back to Cybertron. Only to discover the ex-decepticon had been banished.

“I know! I know…”, Swerve still wasn’t quite happy with him either. He still had terrible nightmares about blowing off Rung’s helm. The thought he had offlined the psychiatrist left him uneasy.

“But I think he’s our best option. He doesn’t have a rod up his aft, he can take a joke, and there is literally nobody else here unless we want to pick a random bot off the street to judge.”

Riptide frowned, “Fine, we can use him-but I demand a refill on my drink before we start!”

“Sure buddy! Not a problem, I can do that. How about you Crosscut, are you fine with that decision?”

Crosscut chuckled as he grabbed himself a stack of flyers, “That’s fine. Though, Swerve, you’re gonna regret owing me a favor. I’m going to start, See you two soon.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Hey Swerve, I regret owing you a favor’," Swerve said as he handed Riptide his own stack and topped off his drink.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” Crosscut said while heading to the exit.

“Well, you’re both wrong. I’m gonna win this thing- just you wait,” Riptide said with his chassis puffed out.

The boat-former earned a chuckle out of Swerve. He looked ridiculous while trying to look cool. He patted Riptide on the arm. “Sure, if you even remember to do it. Good luck! You're gonna need it.”

Riptide was quick to toss his drink back before getting up himself. Swerve watched while the two of them left the bar. The minibot quickly cleaned up, gathered a stack of flyers to shove in his subspace, and packed plenty of tape before locking up the bar.

Swerve wasted no time heading towards the docking bay. Oh, he had so many ideas for this quest. He couldn’t help the pep in his step as he loaded up in the elevator.

Crosscut was going to eat his words! Him, owning a senator a favor? Yeah right! Swerve pressed the button to begin the descent. A big grin was spread across his face as he formulated his plan. His first idea would definitely nab him first place. Nobody could deny the glory of the photo Swerve was planning on capturing! Though this job was way more dangerous than triversing Ultra Magnus’ office…

But that’s the thing! One thing everybody knew about Swerve, was he was willing to sacrifice anything for the bit! If that meant making Cybertron’s scariest mech his enemy then by Adaptus, He was going to do it!

Besides, what’s the worst Prowl could do to him?...Well, maybe send his gestalt after him or maybe find blackmail or…You know what? It was best not to think too hard on it or Swerve feared he might chicken out.

Plus, Swerve had a secret advantage that nobody else had! See, Swerve, may or may not have eavesdropped on the great Optimus Prime when he was at his bar. He didn’t mean to! But it was kind of hard to tune out that smooth bass of a voice. It was the kind of voice that demanded to be listened to! Though…for some strange reason it reminded Swerve of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh… He wasn’t quite sure why it did, but it did. Maybe that’s why he listened so intensely to their conversation, he just couldn’t believe the similarities. He needed to tell Bluestreak this. He’d get a kick out of the comparison….

That didn’t matter! Thanks to that night, and to Optimus woe’s, Swerve knew that Prowl’s new office was located inside the Spire. Apparently, Starscream took issue with sharing a building with Prowl, so the high chancellor banished him to the lowest level possible. The basement. Optimus had gotten an audio receptor full about the injustice after his return to Cybertron. Dealing with Prowl’s complaining was bad enough that Optimus Prime ordered three shots of triple distilled energon. Swerve kept that booze flowing as their former leader tried to ease the pain that was dealing with Prowl.

That made sneaking into the building a whole lot easier! Nobody wanted to be around Prowl, so it’s going to be left unguarded. And if he got spotted by the ex-enforcer it would make his end goal way more hilarious. Imagine putting a flyer on Prowl’s flipped desk? Iconic.

On his way to the Spire, Swerve made sure to put up a couple of ads up and down the streets of Cybertron. He did want people to actually show up after all, though there weren’t many good spots considering half the city got destroyed by a titan fight…

The devastation was vast, displaced bots laid in the street with nowhere to go, rubble littered every surface, and crushed buildings were left everywhere Swerve could look. It made the pile of posters in his subspace feel so much heavier. For a moment he considered that what he was doing may come across as insensitive. The other part of him argued that these auditions were to bring some fun into these bots' lives! And if they wanted to join the Lost Light then they needed to be ready for the absurd.

Though, the destruction couldn’t halt cybertronians’ capacity to adapt and overcome. Ahead, laid a vast number of booths containing merchants from all factions, decepticon, autobot, and neutral. Throughout the war bots tended to hoard different supplies that were considered useful. Now that the war was over there was no point in having thirty energon dispenser filters. So these bots set up a tent, and started to sell their stashes. Might as well make some profit during the chaos.

As he traveled through the pop up market one booth in particular caught his attention. On a tiny table were an array of different bouquets of crystal flowers. When the light catches the crystal just right it would dance a prism of color across the surface. Swerve almost slammed into another mech because all his focus was on the display. He muttered out an apology before approaching the tiny shop.

The last time Swerve saw one of these was back at the science academy. It was a gift from somebody that once was close to his spark. He carefully reached out and traced the carved petal of the crystal. The smooth texture felt exactly the same as he remembered. His optics dimmed as he recalled how happy he’d been when he received them.

Before the war, the cost of importing them was an exorbitant amount of shanix. Now, only hobbyists grew crystals, and the art of flower making was considered lost. By some miracle, the neutral that owned this booth continued the craft.

A bundle of Praxian crystals was considered to be a grand romantic gesture. At one point, somebody thought Swerve was worth it. The minibot sighed as he pulled his hand away from the flower.

That was a long time ago. Now, if he wanted some flowers he’d have to buy them himself. Nobody wanted his annoying mouth.

“Find something you like?”, the neutral asked.

“Oh no I was just looking…” Swerve paused to glance at the bouquet he’d been staring at.

Inspiration suddenly struck, and Swerve couldn’t help the massive grin that formed on his face. Oh, this was a terribly mean idea, but it was Prowl after all.

“Actually, I would like to buy this one”

“Got somebot special in mind?”

“Oh, you could say that” Swerve hummed out while grabbing his new purchase.

This sudden bout of inspiration may lead to his offlining, but the overwhelming excitement of seeing it play out left Swerve gitty. This was all Bluestreak’s fault! His ‘quest’ seemed to be getting crazier since they met.

Three weeks ago Swerve ended up crossing paths with the autobot’s youngest sniper, Bluestreak. He came into the bar to meet with Sunstreaker. Apparently, the two of them had been friends since early on in the war. Well, if you could really call them that. From what Swerve saw, Bluestreak just rattled off stuff while Suntreaker polished his armor.

“Sunny! Can you at least pretend you’re listening?”

“Uh huh…” Suntreaker muttered as he checked the shine of his frame.

“What did I just say?”

“Something about Gross organic media,” he stopped to wrinkle his nose, “I don’t understand the appeal.”

Bluestreak leaned back in his booth, dejected that he was wasting his breath. Swerve felt a heavy twinge in his spark, because he knew what it was like. There were countless times he wanted to share his passion with others only to be told to shut up. Maybe that’s why he slided into their booth uninvited with a grin.

“Hey Sunstreaker, the sun burn, the polish king, how are you?”

Suntreaker glanced at the bartender with an annoyed look in his optic. It had a lot less murder intent compared to the looks he usually threw at bots. Swerve called it a win. They had sort of a weird understanding after the phobia shield incident.

“Don’t call me that”, the frontliner bit out.

“That didn’t answer my question” Swerve said before turning his attention to Bluestreak, “Oh hiya! My name is Swerve, nice to meet ya….?”

“Oh, Bluestreak,” the Praxian said, taking the offered servo to shake.

“Hi blue! Has anyone told you that you look like Prowl? It’s kind of uncanny. Like I almost had a spark spasm when you walk through the door.”

Bluestreak smile falters a bit, “Uh..Yeah. I get that a lot. We share a frame type”

Suntreaker’s optics narrowed, “What do you want, Swerve?”

“Why, can’t a guy come and make some new friends? I heard you talking about earth, I always wanted to go! Sadly, I was stuck on Kimia, and let me tell you- Scientists are sooo boring. Zero out of ten I do not recommend going. But that doesn’t matter- Tell me about this earth's media. Is it true that they spit acid?”

The grey Praxian perked right up, his door wings flicked upwards, and his smile returned to his faceplate. Even Sunstreaker’s hostile aura seemed to calm down when he realized what Swerve was doing. The minibot flashed him a wink before turning his attention to his new friend.

The next few hours were filled with Bluestreak going on about earth media like it was the most interesting thing in the galaxy. He even handed over a data slug containing his favorite shows. That was Swerve’s first introduction to sitcoms, and by primus it changed his life!

Ever since then, Swerve was determined to spice up his life with wacky adventures like in Scrubs or Community. That’s why pretending to be a delivery bot sounded completely reasonable to the bartender. It was the perfect cover! Prowl’s a busy mech, he probably gets weird deliveries all the time.

For a moment, it felt great to pretend he was in some silly sitcom rather than reality. All of his problems melted away as he strolled towards the spires. He wasn’t a background character that disappears when the leads go off on adventures, or some b plot line that isn’t as good as the main story. In this moment, Swerve was the main character, and he was gonna win that silly bet!

It didn’t take long for Swerve to reach his destination. Standing tall, with a grand stairway leading to the entrance, was the Spire. Oh, walking up that wasn’t going to be fun with his short legs. It was not mini-bot friendly.

He sighed, starting his journey up. After making it up those stairs, which left his joints burning and his vents blaring for cool air, Swerve reached the Spire. He stood outside for a moment till his cooling system vented out in a more steady flow instead of blaring for dear life. There was no way he was gonna let other bots hear how much he struggled to just go up a flight of stairs.

After regaining his composure Swerve entered the building. The first thing he noticed was the amount of guards posted on every side. It was unnerving seeing them stare him down as he approached the front desk. He cleared his intake to gain the attention of the attendant.

“Uhh…Delivery for…” he pretended to squint at his datapad like he was reading a name, “Prowl of Petrex?”

The mech up front didn’t respond at first. He seemed busy typing something away on his computer hub. There was a long silence between them, and Swerve started to wonder if they just didn’t hear him.

“I uh…have a delivery for-”

“Set it over there with the rest of the packages,” the bot said, pointing to the pile sorted neatly by the desk.

That threw a wrench in his plans. Not to be deterred, Swerve cleared his intake and plastered on the biggest grin that he could. “Yeah, uh, I kind of need his signature. The boss man isn’t going to be too happy if I return without one.”

Annoyed, the mech finally stopped typing to glare down at Swerve. He gestured for Swerve to hand over the data pad. Confused, Swerve gave it over, and then watched in horror as the mech signed it.

“There, that should make your boss happy. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

“B-but!” Swerve tried to protest but the mech was shoving the tablet back into his arms.

The minibot glanced down to see the forged signature proudly displayed on his screen. He swallowed down the nervous lump now forming in his intake. This was going belly up fast.

“I’m sorry but I need his real signature! If you could just point me in the direction…”

“Only authorized personnel past this point. Either take the one I gave you or leave. I do not care.”

Swerve stood there unsure what to do next. He could risk making a break for it, but those massive mechs with blasters made him hesitate. They could easily put a laser in his helm before he could even vent.

Maybe, he should just ditch this plan and search for a better photo idea. Cybertron was a big place afterall, and he really enjoyed having his helm attached to his frame. He already experienced a blaster to the face once, thank you very much, and he didn’t want a repeat.

Accepting his defeat, Swerve turned around to leave the building but he smacked into something. The tablet he’d been carrying when clacking against the floor. Swerve grunted before looking up to see a red mech with a sleek frame, and aerodynamic kibble glaring down at him.

“Hey! Watch the finish” he bit out.

Now flustered, Swerve scrambled back to get out of the mech's space. He fumbled out an apology as he dove down to gather the tablet. As he reached for the slab his servo made contact with somebody else’s. He paused, and looked up to see a familiar face. Their optics met, and his visor brightened in surprise.

He could feel his spark skip a rotation in his chamber as their optics locked. The bartender couldn’t believe his luck. Out of all the millions of bots on Cybertron, what were the chances of running into the racer that Swerve had a one night stand with?

All that time trying to forget the racer was ruined as memories of that night flooded his processor leaving him dizzy. He could feel the ghost sensation of Blurr caressing his frame as pleasure tingles climbed up his spinal strut.

Swerve stalled, taking aback by how gorgeous Blurr looked. Last time they met Swerve only got to enjoy his features in the lowlight of his bar, and then habsuite. Now, inside the Spires, Swerve could see every detail of the speedster. Blurr’s blue paint glistened, and hugged every curve of his frame, like he was a masterpiece. It made his spark spin. Oh, what he would do to see that devilish smirk on his faceplate in this lighting.

If Blurr was surprised by their chance meeting he didn’t show it. The racer flashed him a polite smile before handing the tablet over.

His spark dropped, recognizing that smile. For a moment, he was taken back to before the war. He was some loser minibot harassing a celebrity for a commlink number. Blurr flashed him that same look all those years ago. Ow, this was awful.

“Oh, it's you…” he paused. “What are you doing here?”

“uh- I was…” Swerve could feel his mouth moving but words weren’t coming out correctly.

The racer seemed to at least recognize Swerve, but it was obvious he couldn’t recall the minibot’s name. It was written all over his polite smile. Swerve felt a bit foolish for thinking that Blurr might treat him as someone other than a fan. Yeah, sleeping together wasn’t anything special. He’s sure Blurr does it all the time… But a part of him had hoped that maybe he left enough of an impact for Blurr to remember his name.

The words swirled around in his processor as he tried to figure out how to act. He didn’t want to put the racer in an uncomfortable position. He still cringes thinking about that meet-and-greet all those years ago. This time he was determined not to be a creep!

But, How was he going to explain this? He was trying to do a fake delivery to win a bet. That was a totally normal and reasonable thing bots did, right? He didn’t want to tell Blurr the truth, but he couldn’t just keep standing there.

“I uh- got you some crystal flowers,” he blurted out.

He was quick to shove the bouquet in the racer’s arms. The surprised look on the Blurr’s face would have been comical if Swerve wasn’t so humiliated by his own mouth. Already, he failed his one goal. Great! That didn’t stop him from talking though.

“Yeah! Thought they matched your plating! I know you probably get them all the time, since you’re awesome and all, but I thought you deserve a pick-me-up! I heard what happened to your bar, which is a shame, because I really wanted to check it out!”

Yes, bring up his ruined bar! That’s going to make this conversation less awkward. Swerve wanted to take the tape out of his subspace and slap it against his own intake.

Blurr glanced at the flowers, “Thanks, they are great.”

Maybe Swerve was reading too much into it, thanks anxiety, but his smile seemed more strained than normal. It was time to leave before he ruined any more good will Blurr had for him. He cleared his intake before glancing at the two mechs.

“Since that is done- I’m just gonna head out! Gotta go do inventory and junk. You know how it is- Well, knew… Cuz your bar is destroyed…” He cringed before pointing to the exit, “ I’m just gonna leave...”

Before the minibot bot could walk out, the red mech that he had crashed into blocked his path. Surprised, Swerve glanced at his terribly handsome face. Only to realize that the mech was studying him. Swerve felt exposed as those optics traveled across his frame. It was sort of intimidating having a mech so pretty start scrutinized Swerve from helm to pede.

“Thick plating, vertical vents on the chassis, and tire kibble on the shoulders. Oh, and that cowl~ Very interesting…”, the mech leaned closer to get a better look at his faceplate

“Um…?”

Swerve tried his best not to flinch over the intense stare of those ruby red optics. He really didn’t enjoy being looked at. When the red speedster was done he held out a perfectly manicured clawed servo to shake.

“My name is Knockout” he practically purred out, “your name is…?”

“Swerve”, he said, feeling put on the spot.

The bartender, unsure on how to respond, decided to take the offer hand and to shake it. The back of his neck prickled, feeling the way those claws ghosted against his protoform. This mech screamed danger, but he didn’t look like a typical decepticon. Who was he?

“I think you’d be the perfect candidate for my next grand reveal, here’s my card.”

Swerve took the piece of paper between three of his digits before staring at it. Just like Knockout the card was eloquent with a sharp font that wrote out his name, comm. frequency number, and title. It took his processor a second to realize what business Knockout had. He was a surgeon- One specialized in frame alternation and weight loss.

Red hot embarrassment flowed through his lines as he glanced down at his rather chunky frame. Yeah, his thighs were a bit on the thicker side, and his chassis armor did stick out more than other bots, but Swerve never considered it to be that bad. There were a lot of things Swerve didn’t like about himself. His frame suddenly skyrocketed to the top.

“Please do consider it, I’m sure we can make that frame of yours sleeker than even the fastest Cybertronian. Isn’t that right Blurr?”, Knockout turned to smirk at the racer.

The speedster glanced at the card then to Swerve. His face was unreadable, but the minibot got the distinct impression that he too was staring at his frame. His spark dropped.

Oh, Blurr must be mortified that he even shared a room, much less a night, with the chunky minibot. Swerve moved the tablet to cover up his midsection the best that he could. It didn’t make him feel any better.

Blurr crossed his arms, an air of indifference flowing freely from his field. “You’re the doctor. You tell me.”

Questions about their night together started to invade his processor. Did Blurr actually find his frame attractive, like he had implied, or had he just settled for Swerve that night? That felt like a gut punch to the tanks.

It really shouldn’t bother him, since Blurr was way out of his league, but the thought that the racer forced himself to sleep with Swerve left him dizzy with guilt. He was the one that offered another round of drinks. Did he really get Blurr so wasted that he settled for his ugly frame?

His insides twist. Yeah, of course it was the nightmare fuel, Swerve! There was no way that Blurr would ever want to hook up with him sober. He probably woke up the next morning with one pit of a hangover, rolled over to see who he slept with, and ran out the room before anyone would notice what habsuite he was in. Swerve felt like an idiot for thinking Blurr might even be semi attracted to him.

It made him wonder what Blurr actually thought about his frame…

Swerve flashed the red mech a grin. “Me, sleek? Keep talking sweet to me Doc! I always wondered what it would be like to go up stairs without my vents blaring. Heh, maybe I’ll give you a call. Though, it would be a shame if my regulars can’t tell who I am anymore. It’s half the charm of my bar. So maybe I won’t… How about you Blurr…?”

Blurr put on a pleasant smile, “I like my frame the way it is. No, me and Knockout were discussing Velocitron. Don’t let him fool you, he’s a delegate first, and a surgeon second.”

Oh, he’s from one of the colony planets. That made sense. Swerve snuck a quick look at Knockout’s perfect figure. He was definitely Cybertronian, but his style was very different from anyone here. Well, maybe the exception of bots like Sunstreaker and Mirage. Most bots opted to care less about their finish with a war going on. Swerve was definitely someone in that category.

“I treat my professions equally, Blurr. I’m sure the same goes with you. Considering your history- Racer, bartender, and ex-wrecker?”

There was a weird tension between the two speedsters. Swerve didn’t quite understand what was going on, but the venom in Knockout’s optics when he said that made it clear they weren’t friends.

Blurr smiled, “Technically, I’m none of those things now.”

“Ah, yes. Right now, you’re playing a politician for Windblade. My, so many functions, yet none of them seem to fit. I do hope you find one that you can actually stick to.”

Swerve’s jaw hit the floor when he heard that jab. Yeah, Blurr had done a lot of things, but who cares? It just means he’s experienced!

It really was none of Swerve’s business, but as a super fan, he couldn’t help butting in. “Yeah, well he’s been great at everything he’s done. Who cares if you change functions a few times? I used to be a metallurgist. Now look at me! I own a bar.”

Knockout raised an optical ridge, “You were? I didn’t peg you as a doctor, My~ Cybertron is just full of surprises.”

Swerve made a face, “Doctor makes it sound important. It was mostly carbon dating objects and advising tower mechs on what additives to have in their fuel for glossy finishes. It was practically worthless during the war. I much prefer being a bartender.”

Yeah, worthless was an understatement. It was never said, but Swerve knew they basically shipped him off to Kimia to keep him out of the way. What’s the point of having a soldier that can’t even shoot straight? At least there he pretended to be useful.

Knockout smirked, “Well, if I ever want a drink that can make my protoform softer I’ll make sure to stop by.”

“Copper shavings.” Swerve blurted out before realizing what he said. He looked away, embarrassed at his own encroaching. “I uh- got a readout when we shook hands. You’re deficient in it. ” Swerve lifted up one of his servos to show off his digits. Aligned up and down the appendage were a cluster of tiny sensors.

Swerve froze when the racer took a hold of his wrist, and brought it closer to his face for a better look. Knockout goes over one of his sensors with the tip of his claw causing Swerve to twitch. Knockout didn’t give him enough time to turn them off. It felt weird getting a data readout while someone was actually touching it. It’s why he didn’t mention them often, he didn’t enjoy the sensation.

Ice filled his lines when the tip of that claw moved from his sensors to the fake commlink number inscribed on his palm. Knockout very slowly traced each number with interest leaving Swerve panicked. Blurr was literally right there! He hoped that the racer wouldn’t notice.

“Fascinating” Knockout muttered, “Why did you get this?”

It occurred to Swerve that the surgeon must have known getting an engraving so close to a clustered data rich sensors must have hurt. It’s why most bots avoid it. Swerve did not want them to know that he was such an embarrassing groopie that he ignored the pain just to have the chance of getting to know Blurr.

Swerve faked ignorance, “Forged with these sensors! Yep, online with these babies. Cool, am I right?”

Knockout glanced at his palm before smiling, “Cool, indeed.”

Blurr cleared his intake, “Didn’t you have an appointment with Moonracer?”

Knockout waved him away, “I do, but she can wait. She knows I enjoy being fashionably late. Now Swerve, have you ever considered taking on some metallurgy jobs? The things we could accomplish with these…”

Swerve put on a strained smile as he pulled his hand back from his grip. “Uh- I only really do it when quests require it. Bartending is more of my thing now, sorry.”

Knockout huffed, “How unfortunate. Well, please think about my offer. We can get your frame dazzling when I’m done- and I’ll even throw in a discount for your services.”

“Uh…thanks? I guess…” Swerve said, eyeing the exit.

Blurr crossed his arms with a forced smile, “Knockout, Moonracer just called me. She seems frazzled. Go to your meeting. Look, I’ll talk to you later about the details, But right now I’d like to catch up with Swerve here.”

Annoyed, Knockout finally stepped out of Swerve’s way, “Fine, but you better believe that you and Windblade haven’t even heard half of our demands yet. Be prepared for a thrashing Blurr.” He said darkly before turning to the minibot, “And Swerve, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

The pleasant sweetness in his voice made Swerve flinch. Swerve played it off as him needing to stretch before giving a tiny wave to Knockout.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too!” he lied.

A wave of relief hit Swerve as the colony mech made his way towards the opposite side of the building. Swerve was glad when he left. He felt a thousand times worse about himself.

“What was his deal?” Swerve wondered out loud.

“Knockout’s just upset that Starscream got his way. Cybertron will be hosting the first Ibex Cup in years. He’s using that as an opportunity to try and pass some policies between the two planets. Knockout isn’t happy that I’m participating, and representing Windblade again. He’s still sore that I won back on Velocitron. “

The Ibex Cup?!? All ick about his frame was pushed to the back burner as his spark jump for joy. He bounces on the tip of his pedes in excitement. This was huge! This was awesome!! Blurr was going to race again?

“Please tell me it’s going to be broadcasted!”

Blurr smirked down at him, “Naturally, Starscream thinks it’s a way to ‘Bring Cybertron back to its glory’. I think he just wants to make a show of beating all of the Velocitronian delegates.”

“The bots back on the ship aren’t going to believe this. Oh, I gotta design some drinks to celebrate, and decorate the bar, and- there’s so much to do! It’s going to be amazing to see you back on the track!”

The speedster huffed out a laugh, “Well, you got plenty of time, it won’t be for a while. They still need to iron out the details. It’s why I was talking to Knockout. He’s the main liaison between the two planets. Windblade is out dealing with some issues on Caminus. She asked me to take over since I’m the most familiar with racing culture.”

“Sounds like a nightmare. I’m kind of glad I’ve been on a quest. The knights of cybertron sound like an energon goodie in comparison.”

Blurr wrinkled his nasal ridge, “Politics was never my favorite. I don’t see how Crosscut could stand it.”

“He probably couldn't, considering he’s on the Lost Light now.”

“Fair point.”

The two of them didn’t say anything for a moment. They just stood there in silence. Swerve considered trying another escape attempt before things could get unpleasant again. Right when he was about to excuse himself Blurr glanced at him then the flowers.

“They aren’t really for me, are they?”

Busted. All color drained from Swerve’s face as he tried to come up with an excuse. Frazzled, Swerve started to wildly move his hands.

“No, well yes! I mean they are now. Primus, please just strike me down. How do you know?” he muttered as he hid his face behind the datapad.

“There’s no way for you to know that I’d be at the Spire’s today. Windblade asked me to smooth things over with the Velocitron delegates last night. And the card attached says they are from Chromedome,” he lifted it up to show the minibot, “Now, what’s the real reason you are here, Swerve?”

Caught, there really wasn’t any other option but to tell the truth. Swerve took a deep in vent to settle his nerves. Whatever he said couldn’t make him look any worse.

“Okay okay, these flowers weren’t originally planned for you- but you can totally keep them! I uh- don’t want them anymore. That…doesn’t matter. Okay, look, I may or may have come here because of a bet. Me, Crosscut, and Riptide are trying to put our audition flyers in the funniest spots possible,” he fished one out of his subspace to show the racer. ”I thought Prowl’s flipped desk would be perfect! It’s why the flowers have a card that says ‘from Chromedome’.That would totally get him so mad. Just imagine it, comics sans taped to the desk, Prowl glitching in the background, and it creates the best picture ever taken. Everyone likes making fun of Prowl! Anyway…I thought the best way to get to his office would be to come here disguised as a courier bot. Since, you know, high rank bots get deliveries all the time. But- uh…that plan didn’t pan out. That front desk bot said I needed clearance.”

During his explanation Blurr raised his optical ridges as the words flew out of Swerve’s mouth. That’s when it occurred to him that he was rambling. Swerve shut his intake as energon bloomed in his cheeks. It would be a miracle if the racer could even follow his insane story.

“So, you came here to prank Prowl, in order to beat Crosscut?” Blurr asked calmly.

Swerve fidgeted with his digits, and nodded. It sounded so dumb when said out loud. He couldn’t believe he just told Blurr all that.

Blurr glanced at the flowers he was now in possession of then to Swerve before smirking, “Tell you what, as a good friend to Crosscut, let me help you win this bet. I love seeing that dumb aft lose.”

Swerve blinked, “What?”

That was certainly unexpected. Swerve thought for sure that Blurr wanted to get away from him as fast as possible… After all, he was just a fan. A fan that he slept with… but still a fan.

“Yeah, why not? My afternoon is free, and this sounds a lot more fun than anything else going on around here.”

Blurr, the best racer that had ever come online, wanted to spend time with him? Swerve was torn. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity! After his long standing parasocial relationship with the racer- Swerve wanted to know the real him.

The drawback was the longer Swerve looked at the racer the more those naughty memories kept pushing to the forefront of his processor. He was terrified of saying anything inappropriate. Oh, and he would definitely say the wrong thing!

Still, he gathered his courage and mumbled out, “O-oh. Sure! That would be fun!”

“Great! Now, all we need to do is get past the front desk. Don’t worry, I have it handled. Hold these please.” Blurr said, passing him the crystal flowers.

Swerve stood there, and watched Blurr approach the attendant with the confidence of an Ibex Cup winner. The two chatted for a bit, the mech manning the front desk even giggled, before nodding.

He couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but the way the receptionist was checking Blurr out was obvious. His optics were roaming all over Blurr’s frame, lingering mostly on his snatched waist, and sleek chassis. The receptionist even ‘knocked over’ a datapad just to watch Blurr pick it up.

Unfortunately, when Blurr bent over Swerve got the perfect shot of his aft. Once again, their night together started to swarm in his processor. He quickly forced his gaze onto the bouquet of crystal flowers instead. The last thing he needed was to think of Blurr that way!

He heard the racer laugh over something. Swerve looked up to see in time him winking at the attendant before walking back over to Swerve.

“Alrighty, we are good to go.”

“Hey, are you ready buddy?”

Usually, when a bot called him buddy, Swerve would have been delighted. It was rare for a bot to be that friendly with him. Yet, when Blurr did it, it made his chest feel tight.

Swerve mutely nodded before noticing that Blurr was holding something. Blurr followed his gaze then gave a friendly smile. “Oh, it’s something the receptionist gave me. It’s nothing,” he said before shoving it in his subspace.

It was something though. Swerve recognized it as a comm link number. The receptionist had asked Blurr out.

His processor went into overdrive.The bartender couldn’t help but compare his bulk frame to that of the beautifully sleek receptionist. The mech behind the desk had a slender frame, full hips perfect for holding, and delicate kibble that reminded Swerve of a high tower mech. He bet Knockout didn’t offer them surgery. He was already a perfect match for someone like Blurr.

There was no reason why Blurr wouldn’t contact them and maybe spend a night together. It would probably be a better night than his time with Swerve. He bet Blurr would remember their name afterwards….

Swerve swallowed then gave the racer a thumbs up, “Yep, ready to ruin Prowl’s day.”

Blurr laughed leading them to the elevator, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face. So, what are these flyers even for?”

Swerve blinked, “Oh- Well the ship I’m on, the Lost Light, is sort of having a mass exodus after the Overlord incident. Can’t say I blame them, who wants to be around that much danger…” Not to mention losing some close friends hurt, but he left that out.

“So, me and the guys decided to have some audition tryouts! It’s a chance to meet some new bots, pull some pranks, and feel out the crowd. Think of it as a…. Friend quest!”

Blurr slowed his steps, “ Overlord, huh? Crosscut mentioned something about that. I thought stuff back on Cybertron was bad.”

“Well, that’s up to debate. What is worse? Starscream as president of cybertron during a titan fight? Or being stuck in close quarters with one of the worst decepticons to ever come online? Personally, the Titan sounded better.”

“Then why are you going back?”

Swerve opened his mouth to answer, but decided against it. There was no real point in telling Blurr that Cybertron had nothing to offer him. He had no friends, or connections back on their home planet. All he had left in life was his sad little bar. Well, that and a few regulars. He’s glad Skids like to stick around.

“The call of adventure! You would not believe half the stuff we’ve seen. Kill switches, sparkeaters, titan thumbs…The list just goes on! There’s never a boring day on that ship- Well, unless you get caught by Ultra Magnus. Then you might be lectured to death.”

“That sounds better than the slag going on here.” Blurr confessed, “Sort of hard to rebuild when everything you fix gets destroyed in a span of a week.”

“Yeah? Is it really that bad? I mean, we just recently got in contact with Cybertron. We’ve been sort of in the dark about what’s going on,” Swerve said, trying not to think about the time he tried to contact Blurr.

Blurr sighed, “You aren’t missing much,” he paused to glance at Swerve. “Autobots, Decepticons, and Neutrals are still fighting one another. Now with the colony bots in the mixed things just involve a lot of yelling. It’s annoying.”

“I can only imagine… Yeah, I’ll stick to the Lost Light. The most annoying thing on that ship is me, so I got nothing to lose,” he joked.

“Swerve, you said cute wrong,” he said, smirking down at the minibot.

There goes his spark again, spinning in his chassis like it's a trapped turbo fox. For a brief moment he believed those words till he remembered Knockout’s appraisal. He was a chunky, round minibot, with no good qualities. Even Blurr didn’t dismiss the idea that he should get work done. Swerve reminded himself that the racer probably just liked to play flirt. He certainly did with the receptionist.

“Ha, me? Cute? Man! I thought that I was good at jokes,” Swerve playfully elbowed the racer, “Good one. Now let’s focus on the goal. Prowl ain’t gonna glitch by himself.”

Blurr furrowed his brows together, “That wasn’t a jok-”

The elevator door finally opened with a bing and Swerve was stepping out of it before the racer could say anything. He glanced around the narrow corridors of the basement, confirming it was as creepy as he had envisioned. This totally fits a bot like Prowl. The walls were white, sterile, and illuminated by a fluorescent light that kind of hurt the optics.

“Geez, leave it to Prowl to make going to his office feel like a horror movie,” Swerve muttered.

They lapsed into silence as they made their way through the basement. There were a few empty offices they passed, it looked like most of them were used for storage instead of being occupied by a bot.

The hallway seemed to go on forever. Swerve’s pedes were even starting to ache. That’s when they caught the sight of five bots guarding a door.

All energon drained from Swerve’s face recognizing the group of bots standinding in the way. Their famous green and purple paint job filled the nightmares of every autobot minibot. It was the constructicons!

The big scary one, which honestly was all of them, glared down at them.“What do you want with the boss, roadkill?”

“Roadkill?” Swerve asked bewildered.

“Yeah, Roadkill, because that’s what you’re gonna be if you don’t take a hike,” the mech said, cracking his knuckles together causing Swerve to take a step back.

“Haha, whoops. Guess we took a right turn instead of a left. Our bad! Let’s go Blurr,” Swerve said, grabbing a hold of the racer’s arm in an attempt to pull him in the opposite direction of danger.

Blurr held his ground as he stared at the gestalt. “There was a rumor Prowl was hanging around cons. Can’t say I’m surprised it was true. Now move out of the way, Bonecrusher, we need to talk to Prowl.”

“No can do. See, the boss asked for some privacy. That means no visitors. So get lost.”

Blurr crossed his arms making it clear he wasn’t going to move. Swerve swallowed, feeling the constructicons’ hostile fields swelling up against them. It was clear they were just itching for a fight. That didn’t bode well for Swerve. He doubts that the ‘my first blaster’ Brainstorm gave him could take on Devastator.

“Blurr, you’re such a jokester! Ha! Really funny, just ignore him guys. We’ll be leaving. Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, tugging on Blurr’s arm again.

Swerve swallowed, staring up at Blurr hoping that he’d listen. Then their optics locked. Blurr sighed, uncrossed his arms, and looked like he was going to do what Swerve was begging of him.

That’s when one of those idiots spoke. “Get your lemon out of here before I smash him against my pede.”

It was clear that they meant him. There was no way Blurr could be considered a lemon. A lemon was a bot with serious defects. This wasn’t the first time Swerve had been called a lemon. Mechs would say his mouth was clearly malfunctioning with how it rambled or his frame was too ugly to consider courting. Many bots at the science academy used to taunt him with that word.

“Who are you calling a lemon?” Blurr hissed.

He looked ready to step into the constructicons space, so Swerve blocked him with his frame. Blurr might have been a wrecker, and no stranger to fights, but Swerve sucked in battle. If he could avoid death by Devastator, he would. He raised up his servo in a pacifying gesture.

Swerve plastered on a smile, “Ha! Yeah, can’t argue with the truth, but hey! This lemon knows something that you don’t know.”

Long Haul scoffed, “Yeah, like what?”

Swerve lifted up the bouquet of flowers, “That these bad boys are the ticket to winning Prowl over.”

“Frag off!”

“No, I mean it.They are incredibly rare. The art was long thought to be lost, because of the bombing of Praxus.”

“Well, our Prowl isn’t even from Praxus. We’ve been in his head, and we know our boss is from Petrex. They mean slag. Now frag off.”

Swerve shook his helm before gently traced a petal with his digits, “That isn’t true. Ask any Adaptusian, and they can tell you the significance of these flowers. Legend has it that any mech with door-wing's spark can resonate with the crystals. It was a gift bestowed onto Adaptus, to celebrate those that may look different. It doesn’t matter if they are forged or cold constructed. Born from Praxus, or not. They are still a part of his culture.”

“Yeah, and how do you know all of this?”

“I’m from Helex, our main deity is Adaptus. We were taught the legends and to celebrate our ability to transform. It wasn’t uncommon for Helex to import these flowers as a form of worship.”

For a moment, he thought back to the beautiful blue and yellow set that he left long behind on Kimia. He didn’t have time to go back for it when the station was attacked. If only he had kept it in his subspace. Then maybe it wouldn’t have been destroyed alongside the station.

The gestalt looked at the crystals with more interest, “So, why do you have it?”

Swerve laughed, “Well! I was going to use it as a bribe to get my liquor license,” he lied, “Ultra Magnus is breathing down my neck, and I thought it would be quicker to go through Prowl. If anything, he is efficient!”

“Frag yeah, Boss man is,” one of them spouted.

Swerve grinned, “Yeah, so how about this. I give you the flowers, and you guys let us see Prowl.”

“Or we can break your digits and take it from you.”

Blurr steps forward looking ready to take on the green brute. Swerve swallowed, but kept smiling, “Well you could. But then you won’t know how to properly present them. Crystal flowers are all about tradition. One wrong move and you could insult Prowl. That would be a shame considering they are such an expensive gift.”

“You’re full of slag.”

“No, really! I once saw a couple break up over it because he misspoke the traditional chant. It was crazy! So much shouting and-” Swerve paused to shiver, “I didn’t think flowers could fit up there…”

Hook, who had been quiet up to this point, made an annoyed grunt. “He’s telling the truth. Just searched it over the net.”

Mix-Master frowned, “Then there’s tutorials, right? We don’t need this soon to be smear-stain.”

The big con took a step while cracking his knuckles. All moisture left Swerve’s intake as he ready himself for a possible punch. Luckily, Hook stopped his gestalt-mate before it could happen. The green and purple doctor yanked Mixmaster back.

“Wrong, I searched everywhere, and fragging no one is sharing the steps. We do need him.”

The gestalt shared a look before two burning red optics pinned him in place. Swerve stayed ram-rod still when one of the cons approached him, fearful that the mech might decide to harm him anyway. Mix-Master snatched the flowers out of Swerve’s servos.

Swerve cleared his intake, “Here, let’s settle down. I’ll explain it to you. But you gotta take me to Prowl. My license is important, you know? Okay, first what you need to do is get down on one knee. It’s very important that you all do this! Even one mech standing when presenting crystal flowers can be seen as an insult. Next you must repeat this Primal Vernacular. ‘illway ouyay arrymay emay ? ymay igbay eautifulbay emonlay’. That is the traditional chant that will express your feelings to Prowl”

The look on their face told Swerve they had no intention of taking him to Prowl. That’s why he came up with a plan. “And did I mention that you would need a witness? It has to be a practicing Adaptian, which luckily I am! I’ll gladly help, all I ask is you let me chat with the boss man after.”

Blurr stepped forward, “And he isn’t going in there without me.”

Long Haul grumbled under his breath. The group went quiet, and Swerve wondered if they were talking through their bond or not.

“Fine, but if you open that mouth during it when I’m going to crush your helm between my servos.” Bonecrusher warned while grabbing a hold of Swerve’s shoulder.

There was an ominous creak that made Swerve wince. The fake smile he had been holding almost dropped as he was pushed into Prowl’s office. Of course they had to grab the shoulder that had been acting up.

As he was pushed through the door the first thing Swerve noticed was the smell of hot oil. There was a steaming cup of it sitting on the corner of the desk Prowl occupied. Swerve wondered where he got it considering there wasn’t an oil press nearby. Did the cons get it for him?

The idea that Devastator was doing coffee runs for Prowl was absurd. He could feel the corner of his lip twitch with the need to ask if it was true. Yet he somehow fought back the suicidal question.

“Hey boss, sorry to bother ya! But we got some juicy information for you,” Mixmaster announced.

Prowl, who was reading a report, glared at the group entering his office. Swerve swore he could see his battle computer calculating different ways to dispose of their frames for invading his space. The constricons didn’t seem to notice or care as they all started to pile in.

The autobot tactician pinched his nasal ridge, “Whatever this is, I don’t have time for it. Get out.”

Long Haul pointed, “Aw Boss, you don’t even know why we are in here!”

Prowl pursed his lip components together, “I have no use for a retired racer or a minibot.”

Mixmaster grunted, putting more pressure on Swerve’s aching shoulder. “They’re not important. We have something else for you”

The annoyed scowl on Prowl’s face deepened as he set his datapad to the side. He folded his servos together waiting for whatever nonsense his gestalt had brought. Swerve swallowed as all the constructicons got into position.

Swerve was still stuck between two constructicons. There was no way he was going to get a flyer on the desk before Prowl flipped out. That’s when a gust of air suddenly hit Swerve’s face. Right in the center laid one of his multicolored flyers.

He glanced back to see Blurr giving him a thumbs up in the doorway. Oh, the flyer he handed to him earlier! Blurr never did give it back. Thank Adeptus!

All together the gestalt took a knee, and repeated “ ‘illway ouyay arrymay emay ? ymay igbay eautifulbay emonlay’.”

Bonecrusher presented the flowers, passing them on to the Prowl like they were more important than their last ration during the war. Prowl took the flowers into his servo and studied them. Swerve was kind of surprised he hadn’t snapped yet. Then Prowl noticed the card attached to them.

Prowl's face was unreadable as he picked up the delicate white card placed between the flowers. Then one of his optics began to twitch in a way that made Swerve think his processor might have broken. Prowl threw the bouquet on the ground. His icy blue optics turned murderous as he grabbed the corners of his desk. Pens, datapads, and even his mug of hot oil went flying in the air. The loud crash that followed made Swerve flinch.

Prowl stood, vents blaring, as his frame shook with rage. Everybody in the room took a step back as Prowl started to grab anything he could, and started smashing it on the ground. Yet the card remained in his death grip as he

“Boss, what's the matter?”

“Did we not do it right?” one of them muttered.

Then, as if all at once, they remembered who suggested giving Prowl the flowers. All their attention turned to Swerve. That was their cue to get the frag out of there. Then the corner of his optics saw the petal of a crystal flower glitter. He glanced at Blurr, who was standing near the exit, then back to the bouquet. It was stupid, but before he could even think about it Swerve was diving for those flowers.

He scooped them up against his chassis right when Mixmaster grabbed a hold of his arm. The green mech yanked him up high to the point he felt the joint in his shoulder spasm. Swerve flailed around trying to get away.

Red hot pain bloomed through his neuronetwork as the con applied more pressure. He wheezed out as he was brought optic level with the angry construction equipment. Too bad when Swerve was scared or in pain his coping mechanism was to crack jokes.

“You guys wanna hear a construction joke? Hold on, I'm working on it. It goes something a little like this- Why did Devastator's leader pick to be the head?” He grinned up at the con dangling him like turbo hound bait. “ Because it’s the closest he’ll get to Chromedome! Get it?? It’s because he’s the dome head thingy of Devastator! And Chromedome name is related to-”

The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions. Before he could finish rambling he felt his frame get jerked back. Then the next thing Swerve knew was a sudden shift in gravity. He was being hurled towards a wall. He clung to the flowers, offline his visor, and braced for impact.

He grunted as his body collided with something. He opened his optics confused. It felt way softer than a wall. He should know, bots used to play toss the mini all the time around him.

Once he gathered the courage to online his visor Swerve found himself in Blurr’s arms. The racer caught his frame midair like he was some kind of lob ball. That’s why the impact felt softer. The impact of his frame hitting Blurr’s chassis.

The racer rearranges his frame in a better position to carry. Swerve tried to keep himself still wanting to make it easier for Blurr. It was hard to do since the last time those servos were on his frame they…they…

Right under his knee joint he could feel Blurr’s servo supporting his weight while his other one was placed on the swell of his back. It took Swerve a minute to recognize the position as what humans would call bridal style. He flushed as his spark leapt into his throat. He had to remind himself that this was probably the most comfortable position to carry him. That was all!

Blurr leaned in close to Swerve’s audio receptors, “Hold on tight,” he whispered.

Blurr grinned at the array of angry bots in the office. “Well, this cute courier bot has some other deliveries to do. Please give us a high rating on the net! We love to leave our customers satisfied”

The gestalt went to block their exit, but Blurr was too fast for them. He easily sidesteps Mixmaster who tried to tackle the two. There was a loud thud as he hit the hard ground. Blurr didn’t stop to watch, he was already out of the door. Swerve, however, looked back. faceplates of pure rage were following after them. He swallowed, slightly regretting his decision to do this prank. They were going to offline him if they could ever have their servos on them.

“Yeah, I don't think they are going to give us a good rating…”

The speedster snorted as they hauled aft through the basement hallways. When Blurr suddenly stopped, Swerve felt his entire frame jolt forward from the force. They stood in front of the elevator they came from earlier. The speedster pressed the elevator button a bunch of times, impatiently tapping his pede, before glancing back from the direction they came from. Swerve could see a mass of purple and green frames running towards them.

“Uh Blurr, not to rush you or anything, but I don’t think the elevator is going to come in time,” he said, clinging to the racer.

The elevator opened, and Blurr wasted no time skidding inside. Swerve wanted to cry out in joy. They were going to make it! But that’s when he realized the constructicons were closer than he thought.

Bonecrush was almost to the door, his servo reaching out, ready to crush Swerve’s arm. Blurr kicked him square in the chassis. The bulldozer grunted from the impact, knocking him back into his teammates. That gave Swerve enough time to smash the close button.

Their victory was short-lived. All at once Swerve could hear the sounds of fist smashing against metal. The elevator door began to buckle under their collective strength. Swerve swallowed, thinking to himself that this was it. They were going to offline over a photo. A fantastic photo, but still a photo.

Swerve swallowed. “Blurr, did I ever tell you I’m allergic to dying? Like super allergic. My doctor would tell you that I should avoid it at all costs. Which is funny since he throws wrenches at people. A little counterintuitive, right? But yeah, uh, is there any way we can avoid triggering it?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. There should be a panel above us, slide it out of the way and we can avoid a nasty case of death,” Blurr said, rearranging Swerve so he could host him upwards.

Swerve swallowed, “Yep, okay awesome. Don’t want Ratchet to yell at me for not listening to his medical advice!” he said before putting the flowers in his subspace so he could stand on the racer’s shoulders.

His own pedes shook as he tried to search the flat surface. One of the panels should lead to the elevator shaft. The only problem was he was having trouble finding it!

Swerve wanted to say it was from the looming threat of being murdered combined with his general anxiety that was causing him to freak out. In reality, the warm venting tickling between his legs sent shivers down his spinal strut. He swallowed, struck with how insane that this was the second time Blurr was between his thighs. His processor swam and pushed on each section of the roof in hopes that one of them would open.

“Try the one on the left”, Blurr suggested looking upwards.

“I got it!” he cried out in victory.

There was no way his arms could carry the weight of his frame. How was he going to get up there? He swallowed, trying it anyway. He grabbed a hold of the ledge, and started to pull up. He made an embarrassing string of sounds as his joints locked up. The bartender lifted himself up an inch before his arms gave out.

The door of the elevator began to pull apart. The sight of purple servos was forcing it to open. Swerve swallowed, trying to lift himself again.

“I got ya,” Blurr said before heaving Swerve’s bulky frame up.

The sound of his frame hitting the roof was audible, but he made it up! He turned around to offer Blurr the same help, only to watch Blurr come up with no problem. He did it with such grace that it made Swerve feel embarrassed for struggling so badly with it.

“That was so cool,” he mumbled. So much unlike himself.

Blurr gave him a polite smile. “That was nothing, now come on,” Blurr took a knee, “Climb onto my back. We’re getting out of here”.

Swerve was confused before it dawned on him. They needed to climb out of the shaft to escape.. Blurr didn’t think he could do it. And he was right…

Swerve hid the frown that wanted to come out, and instead climb onto his broad back. The racer grunted as he stood up. Swerve flinched, thinking about how heavy he must be to Blurr.

It didn’t help that Blurr wasn’t complaining about it. Swerve knew the way his protruding chassis wasn’t comfortable pressing against his back. Then there were his massive thighs that must feel like training weights glued to Blurr’s sides. If he didn’t regret sleeping with Swerve before then he definitely was now.

His thoughts were interrupted by loud shouting from below. He could see the gestalt team starting to shove each other.

“You climb it!” one of them shouted below.

“Frag off, You’re the one who wanted the flowers!”

“Dumb afts” Blurr muttered as he grabbed ahold of another pipe. “Guess it’s a good thing they are too big to catch us.”

“H-ha, yeah. Guys need to stay off the energon goodies,” he blurted out.

Nevermind the fact Swerve had been recently experimenting with making goodies himself. That comment totally wasn’t a self dig redirect at them. Nope, not at all. Swerve wasn’t at all feeling pretty terrible about his own frame.

Blurr wiped some coolant off his face, “I don’t know. An energon goodie sounds pretty good right now.”

“Yeah? Well, if we make it out then Blurr, I promise to whip anything you’d like.”

Blurr grinned, “I like the sound of that. It’s a date then.”

A…date? Swerve knew for a fact that Blurr didn’t mean anything when he said that. He was just being polite! Right..?

That didn’t stop the well of feelings that seemed to suffocate him. Oh, he really wished that Blurr meant it. Maybe if it had a pretty frame like that receptionist… But no, he was just some fat lonely minibot.

Swerve forced a smile, “It’s a date.”

Once they reached the first floor, Blurr pried open the elevator door that led to the lobby. He climbed out, with Swerve still on his back, and ran towards the exit of the spires. Bots stared at them as they passed, not that Swerve could blame them, their frames were covered in dust.

One face stood out more than the others. The sleek form of the receptionists glared daggers at Swerve from his desk. Their jealousy was unwarranted considering Blurr had zero interest in him. It just left Swerve confused.

Once they made it outside the spires Blurr kept carrying Swerve all the way down the steps, passed the pop-up market, and to the loading dock the Lost Light was homed. Blurr stopped nearby the ship before finally stopping.

“Okay, I think we’re safe,” he said while putting Swerve down.

The minibot stood on shaky pedes. Solid ground felt odd after being carried half way through Iacon. He glanced in the direction of the spires for a second before everything that happened finally hit him.

Laughter came bubbling out of his intakes before he could control it, “Oh my frag. They actually did it!”

Swerve was laughing so hard he had to wipe away tears from his visor, “And Prowl! Oh my god Prowl! He definitely wants to murder us now!”

“Yeah, good thing the Lost Light is taking off soon. Can’t kill you if you're off planet.”

Swerve made a face, “I don’t know. Prowl did a good job doing that with Overlord.”

The racer laughed, “Fair enough. But I think you are low on his priority list.”

“Good point, I really gotta step up my pranking game if I want Prowl to get me.”

Blurr grinned, “Count me in on the next prank. Oh, I can recharge easily tonight after ruining Prowl’s day. Now, I gotta ask. That wasn’t primal vernacular, what was it?”

“Oh, Blurr, I'm wounded. You question my ability to speak Primal vernacular? My mentor would be mortified to hear!” Swerve put his servo on his chassis as gasped, before laughing “Okay fine, It’s a language human children use. It’s called pig latin.”

Blurr furrows his brows together, “That answers that, but what did you get them to say?”

Swerve chuckled, “It might have been a taaaaaaad petty buuuuuuut…..It was-’Will you marry me? My big beautiful lemon’.”

Blurr gawked before bursting into laughter, “Swerve, you didn’t!”

Swerve grinned, “Hey, they called me a lemon first. It’s only fair.”

Blurr knitted his brows together,“It’s rich coming from a group with a green and purple color scheme. They are full of slag.”

Swerve didn’t say anything. He shrugged knowing well most bots would disagree. He was far from the cybertronian beauty standards. His mouth was just the icing on the cake.

The two of them lapse in silence before Blurr clears his intake, “Hey Swerve, I was wondering…”

“Canihaveyourcomm.linknumber??”Blurr blurted out so fast it took Swerve a moment to process it.

“My…number?” Swerve asked unsure.

The bartender stood there, dumbfounded, as he watched Blurr cover his face, before breathing out slowly. “What I meant to say is. Swerve, can I have your comm number? I’d like to chat some time.”

The first thing that Swerve thought was Blurr somehow developed stockholm syndrome. That, or the Constricticons must've struck him in the helm when they were escaping.

“youdon’thavetoifyoudontwanttoSwerve.” the racer blurted.

Swerve furrowed his brows together while studying Blurr. The speedster was trying to stay still, but the way his pedes tapped on the ground was hard to ignore. Honestly, to Swerve, it looked like someone was forcing Blurr to do this.

Then it hit him, the one thing Swerve had, the picture! Of course, Blurr wanted to have a copy of it. That made sense. It was just unfortunate he’d have to go through Swerve to get it.

“Yeah, of course! Here, gimme a second.” Swerve said, fishing out his tablet. He brought up his contact information then passed the device over to Blurr. The racer took it and flashed him a dazzling grin.

It was so bright Blurr’s smile almost blinded Swerve. While Blurr added the information to his communication hub, Swerve couldn’t help but stare at his handsome face. It was silly, and Swerve knew that Blurr just wanted the picture, but he couldn’t help but feel happy that he made Blurr smile.

Once the racer was done, he handed the tablet back to Swerve. While putting it back into his subspace Swerve brushed against the crystal flowers he had forgotten about. He grinned, taking them out.

“Hey Blurr, Don’t forget these! A little reminder of our successful quest. I did say they were for you,” he said, passing them over.

Blurr didn’t seem hesitant about accepting them this time. In fact, he laughed while grabbing a hold of the bouquet. “Oh, these are more priceless than nucleon. Thanks Swerve, I’ll treasure them.”

It felt great knowing Blurr no longer saw them as a gift from a creepy fan. Even if he didn’t see Swerve as a friend, maybe he could look at them and think of at least a fun afternoon he had with a stranger. That was more than Swerve could ask for.

That beautiful smile left the racer’s face. For a brief second Swerve wondered if it had messed up. Maybe he did something wrong? But Blurr eased his fears by grabbing a hold of his servo.

“Hey Swerve, I have to go. Windblade is messaging me, and there’s an issue involving the race. I have to go, but I’ll comm. you later, alright?”

Swerve nodded with a grin, despite knowing that Blurr would never actually call him. He’d get the photo and delete his contact off his hub like a sane bot. But that’s okay! Even if it was for a day, Blurr saw him as more than a creep.

The minibot had expected Blurr to let go and leave. Whatever the issue was, it sounded important. Yet, he didn’t move. Blurr held his servo while staring directly into Swerve’s visor. It was like the racer wanted to do something, but Swerve wasn’t sure what.

“..is…there something on my faceplate?” he asked while using his free servo to rub his cheek.

Blurr blinked before pulling back with a smile, “No. I just got distracted is all. I’ll see you later, Swerve, good luck on your bet.”

The racer finally let go of Swerve, turning back to the direction of Iacon. He waved goodbye to the minibot before zipping away in a flash. Swerve waved back wondering what in the world could have distracted Blurr. Whatever it was, it must have been important. Still, it wasn’t any of his business, and he had a bet to win. He turned to head back to the ship, ready to present the best picture in the galaxy to everyone.