Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Silently, Soundwave stalks the hallways of the Nemesis. To anyone, he seems to hold himself as mysterious and distant as ever. Only someone with a keen optic for observation would notice that his gait is slightly more hurried nowadays, urgent even. Swiftly, he turns a corner, punches in the code to his hab, gets in and closes the door behind him.

For a moment, Soundwave just stands there, assessing his room for anything that might have changed in his absence. An old habit he knows he has to break loose of – he just… doesn’t feel safe without checking for spies in the vents. Recently though, it feels increasingly harder to concentrate on even such mundane tasks. He voices a binary sigh, drags himself to the berth and tries to calm himself. The recent events involving the shattering of his visor, which left it in complete and utter disrepair, even for the likes of Ratchet, are not making it easier for him. The one thing that could keep his outlier ability at bay, the one thing that was able to shield him from noises from a thousand lightyears away, from thoughts that were not his, from emotions he didn’t want to feel.

Now all of those things are back, like in the days before. The days when he was barely able to hold a coherent thought of his own, only being able to stay sane and not slip into madness because Ravage and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw took him in and taught him how to focus, how to filter out things that weren’t important. Then, he met Shockwave, senator Shockwave then, who promised him healing and salvation and silence. If Soundwave agreed to come with him and use those extraordinary abilities of his for the senate, of course. But Shockwave isn’t here to repair his visor or make him a new one and Ravage and Buzzsaw are one with the Allspark now. Only Laserbeak remains at his side, and she has been doing everything in her might to keep Soundwave stable. She tried to remind him of the lessons they taught him.

But that time was so long ago, and he became so used to his visor - too used to his visor; he curses this oversight, this weakness to the Pits now. And despite Laserbeak’s help and him trying to adhere to the teachings, everything has come back crushing down on him, like a tsunami crashing against a lonely lighthouse on a cliffside.

He positions his servos and sits cross-legged like he saw in the holo-vids and on the human internet. He tries to empty his mind, tries to shut off the outside world, only listening to the silent clicking and whirring of his internal mechanisms and the steady pulse of his sparkbeat. It seems to be working – slowly the constant influx of sounds dulls down to white noise in his head, the voices fade to merely indistinct murmurings. Only himself and Laserbeak remain clear focus points in his mind.

Soundwave exhaled – Finally, finally something seems to be working. The constant exercise, the maddening amount of concentration and self-discipline it took to force himself to just function normally during the past few weeks finally amounting to something. He is drifting farther and farther away from this plane of consciousness while slowly being embraced by an overwhelming feeling of peace and tranquillity he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He must admit that it feels a bit disturbing at first. He can barely imagine a world without the constant noises and distractions around him. But then, an overwhelming sense of relief washes over him. For the first time in weeks, he can actually hear his own thoughts again, can see and feel the connection to Laserbeak clearly in his spark. No disturbances, no outside thoughts that want to invade his mind. Soundwave allows himself to relax his body some and tries to vanish deeper into this quiet corner of existence he created for himself.

But then, a sharp noise pierces his consciousness – something, no, someone walks by his room chattering and laughing excitedly. Some Vehicons coming from the mess hall, Brazer, Charlee and Bonnet. They are talking about the race two floors below this one that Knock Out organised for tomorrow. Charlee is less enthusiastic about it than the other two; after all, Ultra Magnus has strictly forbidden this leisure-time activity since the risk of damaging the ship or oneself is far too high. He doesn’t say anything though and just laughs with them, or else they will call him a killjoy, a coward, or worse, a chicken. One of those human terms that many of the Bots and now also the Vehicons incorporated into their vocabulary, mostly to put emphasis on something that is either incredibly good or the absolute worst.

And just like that, Soundwave’s carefully constructed shield against the distractions of this world crumbles like a house of cards in the wind.

He frowns in frustration and sighs, trying to get back into a state of meditation. Then, there is another distraction; he hears the fast, purposeful clicking of metallic heels against the hard floor of the hallways, the slightly agitated flittering of wings – it was Starscream going after the Vehicons, wanting to know exactly what kind of race they were talking about; he’s told Knock Out a million times over that these hallway races were illegal, that everyone had better things to do, that the doctor better got to work…

Soundwave shakes his head, as if that would shake off the unwanted information somehow.

At the end of the hallway an elevator door is opening – Bumblee is on his way to the training hall to spar with Arcee. She is already waiting for him there, impatiently tapping her fingers on a bench beside her. Tap, tap, tap.

A level down, he hears an engine revving - a race? No, just Knock Out flirting with Breakdown again, they have been much more overt these days, now that the war is over. The doctor is pressing Breakdown against an operating table in the med bay, not caring about the instruments that fall to the ground behind him. Ping, clink, clank.

Further up in the command center, Ultra Magnus is discussing with Dreadwing the course that the Nemesis should take in the upcoming star system – they are wondering where Starscream is, his opinion is too important to be left out of the equation. Meanwhile they are tapping data and coordinates into the ship’s navigational system. Clack, clack, clack. Clack, clack, clack.

But Starscream is far too busy, having reached the three Vehicons from before and berating them about illegal car races, his voice shrill and grating like grinding metal on metal.

No! Stop it please, all of you, stop, stop, stop…

Bulkhead is arranging some boxes on the lower levels, and he’s not exactly gentle, throwing them more on top of each other than stacking them. Thud, thump, thud.

Wheeljack is on his way to help him. His joints are still sore from exercise and one of his knee joints is creaking every time he moves his damn leg, and it has been like that for weeks now, and he doesn’t seem to bother to get the fragging thing fixed, and it’s such a deafening, maddening sound every time he moves it like screeeeeeeeeeeeee-

Soundwave grips his head with his servos as hard as he can without hurting and violently shakes his upper body from left to right. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t take this anymore, all this meditation and keeping focus – it’s not enough! He can’t stop the noises, he’s just not strong enough to resist, he-

He… he needs a break.

Chapter Text

A few weeks prior...

After Ratchet posted the announcement on their shared comm frequency, all Cons and Bots gathered in the mess hall, minus all the Vehicons. That would have been a bit too crowded. Everyone was either sitting or standing around, waiting for the two resident medics to show up.

To call the silence that befell the room awkward would be an understatement. After just a week of settling in, everyone was still very much suspicious of the mechs from the other faction, either dancing around one another or avoiding them entirely. Even now the tensions were obvious – the Autobots sitting on one side of the room while the Decepticons drifted to the other, everyone watching the opposite side with wary optics. Except for Optimus and Megatron, who, to everyone’s surprise, made it a point to almost never show up anywhere without the other being around.

Soundwave was standing in the corner at the far end of the Decepticon side and tried to vanish in the shadows as much as he could. He did not want to draw any more unnecessary attention to himself. The fact that he was now walking around bare-faced and literally every single individual on this ship wanted to study his facial features made him feel like a glorified circus attraction, like he could not walk a single step without being side-eyed. Was this how everyone else felt under his surveillance? He would have loved to ponder over this string of thoughts longer but as soon as it came to him, it drowned in the ocean of thoughts and feelings that pierced his consciousness since that fateful day his visor broke.

Having all mechs forced into one room was pure torture on his processor. Soundwave hoped that the others were too busy staring each other down, otherwise they would notice him literally shaking from the effort it took to contain himself and not flee the scene. He received a worried pulse over his bond and looked down at his chest compartment where Laserbeak sat. Knowing her host’s agony, she had rarely left his side during the past days which Soundwave was infinitely grateful for. The one good thing he was getting out of this peace treaty – there was not much need for reconnaissance or gathering intelligence, so Laserbeak only parted with him to go on a flight to stretch her wings.

Soundwave on the other hand was more needed than ever. While the seekers and Magnus were tasked with navigation and plotting their best route through the galaxies, Soundwave was to search for any hints of Cybertronian life close to them and distribute the message of peace. A highly important mission, and Optimus and Megatron deemed only him capable of it. While he was honoured to be entrusted with this task, he was very much concerned that his recent… predicament would hinder him if not prevent him altogether from performing long-range communication signals.

Luckily, the chaotic miasma of thoughts that permeated the room now zeroed in on the shiny red medic that stepped through the door. Knock Out was closely followed by Ratchet, both with a data pad in their hands and focused on the list written on it.

“Alright everyone,” the Aston Martin began, “thank you all for coming on such short notice and yada, yada, yada, let’s skip the awkward introductions, shall we?” He looked up from his pad and assessed the crowd. No one seemed to react much in any way, except maybe for Breakdown who sported a fond-looking smile now.

He continued, “Aaanyways, Ratchet and I have devised a plan for a first medical exam, now that we actually have the time for something like that, you know, without a war going on.” A few of the others, particularly some of the Autobots cringed at the wording. Soundwave had to admit, Knock Out’s direct, and sometimes biting way of speaking could take some getting used to. However, he learned to appreciate the medic for it. The universe would be an easier place if everyone just spoke their mind. But maybe it would also be infinitely more complicated.

At that, Ratchet squeezed himself past the racer and took over. “What Knock Out wants to say,” he started, with a pointed look in the other’s direction, “is that we will do a thorough medical examination of each and every one of you during the next few cycles. I will examine the Cons,” he nodded in one direction of the room, “and Knock Out will take over the Autobots.”

“Former Autobots, if you please,” Starscream perked up with a smug smile on his face.

“Yes of course,” the ambulance answered with a blank expression. “Thank you for reminding me, former Decepticon.”

Starscream, predictably, bristled at the comment. “Tsk. Why do you have to examine us anyway? At least Knock Out knows our frames already and our medical history.”

Ratchet sighed with a weariness that spoke of millions of years of encounters just like this. “Yes, we are aware. We distributed it like that on purpose, so that the diagnoses are as objective as possible.”

“Think of it as a second opinion,” Knock Out chimed in, not deterred at all by the Air Commander’s attitude. He positioned himself next to the other medic. “We arranged the schedule according to your frame types. You can look at it on the main hub, we just uploaded it. Until it’s your turn you can go about your business, we will comm you. Now!” The red mech exclaimed, “Enough with the chit-chat, I’ll start with the big guys. Bulkhead!” He whipped his head in the direction of the Autobot in question, who flinched and looked at him with big blue optics. “With me.”

Hesitantly, Bulkhead stood up, as if he had been called out for eating the whole stock of energon treats. He spared a wary glance at Optimus, who just nodded at him encouragingly.

“Come on, you big lug, we don’t have all day.” And with that, Knock Out went out the door again, an uncertain Bulkhead slowly trotting behind him.

Ratchet sighed once more. “Good. Now that that is sorted, Dreadwing,” he nodded at the seeker, “come with me, please.”

“Of course.” The stern mech stood up at once and followed without protest.

While everyone else slowly got up and left the mess hall, Soundwave frantically checked the examination schedule. If they were going by frame type, then that meant… Yes, just as he feared, Ratchet examined the seekers first, which meant Dreadwing and Starscream… And then the closest mech in frame type was Soundwave.

Oh Primus. Oh no. This was bad. This was really bad. Up until now, he always managed to avoid mandatory exams simply by ordering Knock Out to leave it be. Unless he sustained damage and that one time the Autobots planted a fragging bomb inside Laserbeak, he always saw to it that he maintained his body well enough on his own. The reason for that, of course, was that no one was ever to know of his outlier ability, even if he erased every trace of it in his medical files long ago.

If it was Knock Out who examined him, Soundwave would be less concerned, but Ratchet was, without a doubt, both more experienced and more perceptive than the red race car. And now that Soundwave was in this constantly agitated state without his visor, he didn’t know if the medic would be buying it if he tried to play it cool.

Laserbeak’s chirp on his chest brought Soundwave back to the real world. Almost everyone had already left the room, except for Megatron, who mustered him with a calculating gaze. Quickly, Soundwave moved from his spot in the corner and attempted to hurry out of the room and back to his station, squeezing past the ex-gladiator’s bulk. Megatron let him pass but followed him out of the room, which Soundwave was acutely aware of.

From what he could make out between the infinite and unrelenting sensations invading his mind, Megatron’s field and thoughts projected worry, an emotion so alien to the warlord he had known over the past few millennia, that he almost turned around to face him. Almost.

“Soundwave,” Megatron started calmly, with his gravelly voice, “Is everything alright, old friend? You seem… distracted lately.”

Only millions of years of practiced concentration and discipline prevented Soundwave from projecting the blind panic he felt into his field. He pulled it as tight around his body as he could and answered in two sound files clipped together. “Negative/ Everything is alright.” Even though the war was over, he wasn’t ready to use his own voice again yet, certainly not as long as he was still in this state of mind.

Megatron picked up his pace so that he could walk beside him. Soundwave snuck a short sideways glance at him – the mech was frowning. Unfortunately, the short response did not satisfy him. Then, the frown was replaced with a look of uncertainty. “You know that- If there is anything on your mind, that bothers you, you- you can always…” To anyone else, it would probably be amusing that the great Megatronus, leader of the Decepticon army and skilled rhetorician, was struggling to express himself. To Soundwave, it was utterly endearing, even though he was loath to admit that he could get used to this sentimental talk that the Autobots so valued.

Megatron didn’t have to end the sentence, Soundwave already knew what he wanted to say. “This/ new situation/ it takes some gettin’ used to”, he answered. It wasn’t a complete lie. All of them were on edge and the complete shift in dynamics demanded a lot of patience and acceptance from everyone.

Luckily this seemed to placate his friend, at least for the moment. Megatron nodded. “I understand that the situation is not ideal, and it is taking a toll on all of us. But trust, that it will be worth it in the end.” He moved to put a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder, which Soundwave narrowly avoided by side-stepping. He knew the gesture was meant to calm him, but it would have the exact opposite effect. Soundwave simply couldn’t deal with touching at the moment, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he made a physical connection with a mech around him.

The action brought both of them to a halt. Megatron schooled him with an unreadable expression, hand still hovering in the air between them. To Soundwave’s surprise, Megatron was not disappointed, or worse, angry at him. No, there was only this lingering sense of worry for the spy.

After a short moment of them just looking at each other, Megatron lowered his hand, clasped them behind his back and reset his vocalizer. Back to business then. “Anyways. You know where to find me. My door is always open for you.” Soundwave nodded and, after a beat, continued his way to the command centre, leaving Megatron behind in the hallway. His friend’s concern accompanied him for the next few days.

“Knock Out?” Ratchet asked, coming from the adjacent examination room, wiping off a servo with a rag.

“Mhm?” He just finished checking on Wheeljack – that mech did not have a sense of self-preservation, seeing as he had such an impressive amount of minor injuries and attrition in all his mechanisms. Maybe it was a Wrecker thing, he remembered that he had to practically beat the basics of self-care into Breakdown when they met each other.

“Do you know where Soundwave is? He doesn’t seem to answer his comms, I can’t reach him.”

“Have you tried asking on the bridge or the command centre? He can get quite caught up in his work sometimes,” Knock Out suggested, checking some data on the console next to him.

“Yes, I did that, his shift ended an hour ago. He’s not with Megatron and Bumblebee said, he saw him walking in the direction of his hab-suite.”

At that, Knock Out perked up from the monitors. “Huh. Weird. That’s unlike him. He’s usually very punctual with everything else.”

Ratchet frowned at the statement. “Has he ever missed a previous exam?”

The Aston Martin shrugged. “How would I know, he never had one under my care.”

“What? Even you must have done some regular health check-ups with your crew, Knock Out!”

Now, Knock Out turned around, facing the Autobot medic fully. “Of course I've done check ups on the others regularly, I’m not an amateur, okay? Just- every time the request for an exam came up, Soundwave declined.”

“What do you mean he declined?” Ratchet asked, bewildered. “A crew member can’t just decline a mandatory health exam from the resident chief medical officer.”

“Well, when said crew member is your superior, has the means to blackmail you and is also fragging Soundwave himself, I kindly accepted his declination!”

Ratchet huffed indignantly. “Well, all those things don’t apply here anymore. Do you know where his hab is? He is going to have this examination and if I have to bodily drag him to the med bay myself.”

Knock Out chuckled. “Oh well, it’s your funeral. But sure, I can show you. Ultra Magnus isn’t scheduled for yet another half an hour anyways. Follow me.” And with that, both of them left the med bay and headed to the elevator down the hallway.

“So, here we are. Last chance to turn around,” Knock Out joked as he gestured to the hab door of the mech in question.

Rachtet, meanwhile, ignored the sarcasm completely, purposefully walked to the door and pinged an entrance request at the panel. A few seconds passed in silence, but nothing happened.

Knock Out shrugged, “Well, seems like he’s not here, let’s get going and take care of the rest of-“ He was interrupted by sharp knocking.

“Soundwave? Are you in there? I think you know why we’re here, open the door.”

“What in the Pits are you doing?” Knock Out cry-whispered, alarmed. “Stop it, what if he’s going to get mad?!”

Ratchet stopped knocking and looked his colleague dead in the eye with a blank stare. “I couldn’t care less if he gets mad.” The knocking resumed. “Soundwave! Open up or, I swear to Primus, I will let myself in!”

Soundwave was sitting on his berth in the corner that was the farthest away from his hab door as possible, listening to the insistent clanging on his door and the older medic's increasingly graphic threats against him. This was an absolute catastrophe. For maybe the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do. Overwhelming panic and confusion had been the only consistent concepts in his processor for the past weeks. He felt so utterly pathetic that he couldn’t even devise an exit strategy to avoid this Primus-forsaken medical exam!

Laserbeak, the poor thing, hovered in front of him and tried to nuzzle his cheek to calm him down. It was no use though. He was practically petrified by his own raging emotions on top of everyone else’s.

Calm yourself. Focus. Focus on your sparkbeat. There is only you and Laserbeak. There is only-

In that moment, the door swung open, revealing a very annoyed-looking Ratchet and a positively terrified-looking Knock Out.

“So, you are in here, after all. Come on, up with you! And don’t even try to resist.”

Soundwave never thought that controlling one’s body reactions could be so wholly excruciating. He sat on the med berth as still as he could, holding his field tight around his body. He didn’t even dare to look up, focusing instead intently on the ground in front of him. Meanwhile, Ratchet went about his business, first taking some energon samples from his fuel line and now preparing the scanner for the medical readout. If he suspected that anything was wrong with Soundwave, he did a fantastic job of not showing it. Even so, Soundwave was too occupied with trying to remain sane and collected and did not have the capabilities to scour Ratchet’s thoughts about him anyway. All he could consciously grasp from the medic’s field was a distressing sense of calm professionalism. At least Knock Out would have been easy to read but Ratchet was an enigma to him.

The Autobot approached him with the scanner in hand and held it up to him. Soundwave would rather Ratchet shot him in the fuel tank. Without moving his head, he carefully glanced up to the ceiling, where Laserbeak kept watch over them from a pipe.

“No need for your minion to shoot me in the back, this is not gonna hurt,” the medic mumbled casually as he flipped on the scanner.

Even though it was only a few kliks, waiting on Ratchet to assess the readings was torment for Soundwave. He had come to the point where he just wanted to jump off the ship and end his suffering. When the medic let out a thoughtful hum and his field minutely changed from calm to concerned, Soundwave feared the worst.

“Say Soundwave, have you been under a lot of stress lately?”

Ratchet’s voice – like everyone else’s – was hard to discern under all the noise. Laserbeak helped communicating other’s intentions over their bond as if she was translating a foreign language for him. Soundwave kept quiet and stared the medic down.

Ratchet seemed undeterred but held up his hands in a placating manner. “I’m just asking because your spark rate is somewhat elevated.” He showed him the readout of the scanner. “I know Optimus and Megatron expect a lot from you, and I imagine it isn’t easy working around Starscream all day.”

Even if Soundwave knew how to answer this question, he still kept quiet. He didn’t trust himself to procure the right sound samples; at this rate, it would probably be just warped static.

Ratchet made that exasperated sigh again. “It’s not just that but your spark signature is also not as strong as it should be, not for a mech of your size and frame type. My theory is that the shattered bonds of your deceased minicons weakened your spark significantly. I would recommend forging new bonds, but… seeing as that is easier said than done and the… current selection is rather sparse… I will prescribe you some supplements to put in your energon, so the strain on your spark is not as high and your spark rate can normalize.” While explaining, he punched the info into the console next to the med berth. “I give you the medication tomorrow after the exams are over. You’re dismissed for now, but I want to check up on you once every deca-cycle. Understood?”

Soundwave stared at him, completely frozen. The medic’s words only recognized in garbled parts. Wait, he was… dismissed? Just like that? From above, Laserbeak gave him an affirmative pulse.

Soundwave nodded mechanically, stood up stiffly, and left the med bay, Laserbeak flying closely behind him. Ratchet looked after the spindly mech with a suspicious gaze. Something wasn’t quite right here. Sure, Soundwave had always been… peculiar, but this apathetic, almost paralysed behaviour was concerning, even for the communication’s officer. He would make sure to inform Optimus and Megatron to lessen the pressure on Soundwave and keep an optic on him. He did not have a good feeling about this.

Chapter Text

Soundwave didn’t consider himself a religious mech by any means. He never prayed to Primus or any other god; any failure or misery that had befallen him he could always trace back to purely logical real-world happenings. Yet, when Bumblebee announced at one of the regularly scheduled meetings that the ship would be having a party “to celebrate everyone’s joint efforts and forget the stress for a few hours”, the communications officer wondered if this was a punishment by Primus for all the misdeeds of his past. Honestly, some cruel deity must have been playing a sick joke on him. This definitely was not the break he was asking for.

He wouldn’t say that his condition had gotten better over the course of the last weeks – it will never get better – but he was able to cope marginally better with its effects and with filtering out what was important; in no small part thanks to Laserbeak.

Nevertheless, he still dreaded having to be in the same room as literally everyone on this Primus-forsaken ship. He already convinced Optimus and Megatron to let him work during the off-cycle when most of the others recharged. It didn’t do much to ease his struggle, but it was a start. Although the thoughts and emotions of dreaming mechs were even more chaotic and vexing than when they were awake, they were muted in a way, dampened, like sound underwater. It was hard to describe.

With all of that, Soundwave was at least managing. But now, Bumblebee, sweet, innocent, insufferable Bumblebee, who apparently would not rest until every single living being in the universe was happy, just had to increase his suffering a little more.

But it was unfair to put all the blame on the scout. After all, everyone who agreed with the yellow menace was just as guilty. For the Vehicons, it was a no-brainer. Now that the fighting was done, all of them jumped at the chance of doing anything remotely exciting. Smokescreen and Knock Out were always down to party. The rest was cautiously optimistic and looking forward to an evening of fun and relaxation. Even Starscream – that traitorous glitch – supported the idea and even offered to help organize this horrible gathering.

And so it began. The whole mess hall was rearranged, Wheeljack even made a plan to put up a bar there so that it didn’t look so ‘military’ anymore. He and Bulkhead had been working on it for a week, sometimes Breakdown even joined in to help. He told them it was “because the bosses said so” but, truth be told, he just found it nice to do some actual handiwork again and not just play nurse in the med bay.

Knock Out offered to show how to distil high-grade to Bumblebee and Smokescreen. When Ratchet became suspicious and voiced his misgivings, the red racer just waved them aside. “Please, I’ve done this like a million times back at the academy.” Which did nothing to placate the older medic. In the end, Ratchet joined them. Maybe there was still some party ambulance left in him after all.

Starscream was practically beaming (only on the inside, of course) because, finally, he could demonstrate his impeccable leadership skills. Soundwave noticed that the seeker had experienced a bout of depression lately as he didn’t find there was anything meaningful to do for him now that the war was over. He had managed to hide it well but, since the two of them continued to work very closely together, Soundwave had been subjected to all the destructive thoughts from the seeker during that time.

To sum it up, there was even more mindless babbling going around the ship now plus the ear-piercing hammering and welding coming from the mess hall. Although, Soundwave had to admit that it was kind of nice to feel everyone’s excitement at the prospect of the celebration, instead of the usual poisonous mixture of uncertainty, distrust and anger that seemed to linger in their minds. Still, his dread at the prospect of a party overshadowed all the positivity.

A few cycles before the event, Soundwave noticed Bumblebee coming down the hallway. He seemed… Excited? A bit nervous as well. The bot stood in front of his hab suite and hesitated. Just before he could ping the door panel for access, Soundwave opened it. The yellow scout startled when the door suddenly opened and he was face to face with the tall spy, or rather face to chest.

“Ah! Hey, Soundwave! Funny, I was just about to-“

“What does/ Bumblebee/ want?” he interrupted. He did not have time for stammering excuses, he just wanted this conversation to be over as quickly as possible. There was enough going on in his processor already and he did not need for the scout to make his misery even worse by speaking to him.

He felt the excitement drain from Bumblebee’s field, so only the nervousness remained. One didn’t need to be an outlier to figure that out - it was clearly written all over his faceplates. And, to Soundwave’s dismay, it did nothing to speed up the conversation.

“Uhm- so, I was just talking to, uh, Knock Out and, and Starscream, you know? And uh-“

Soundwave felt the urge to bash his own head into a wall.

Bumblebee was getting more and more anxious by the nano-klik, his optics darting left and right, looking anywhere except Soundwave. His thoughts were racing a million lightyears per cycle. “And we were, like, talking about the party and were discussing the music and stuff, and Megatron came by and he, like, mentioned that you were kind of into mixing music and remixing songs as a pastime when the two of you where gladiators and-“

Wait, where was this useless exposition going? And why would Megatron just casually tell them something like this?

“So, long story short,” Bumblebee exhaled deeply as if to prepare for something difficult. “I wanted to ask you if you- if you would like to DJ for the party?” He smiled up at Soundwave, waiting for an answer.

Soundwave just stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he understanding this right? A short affirmation from Laserbeak confirmed that yes, Bumblebee did indeed ask him to play music for the party.

Again, Bumblebee’s smile was slowly melting off his faceplates at the silence he was met with. “Megatron said your songs and mixtapes where, like, super rad and that even Jazz liked to dance to them, so, uhm…” He held up his hands in a placating manner, “it was Megatron who suggested I ask you and-”

“No!” Soundwave boomed using Megatron’s voice, “I will not take part in/ this.” He specifically chose sound files from Megatron and Starscream to really get his point across. Just hearing that designation still made him furious.

Bumblebee flinched at the sudden outburst and Soundwave could sense a tinge of fear in his field. He immediately felt Laserbeak’s displeasure at his response. She was right of course; the yellow bot couldn’t possibly know what went down between him and the Autobot commander. Megatron, however, did. No matter if the war was over or not, maybe he should have a talk about the value of privacy with him.

Bumblebee took a step back, put a servo on the back of his neck and looked to the side. “Hey, if you don’t want to then no pressure, ha. Thought it was worth a shot. We’ll find someone else or think of… something, don’t worry.”

Soundwave could feel the scout’s dejection and disappointment. “Anyways, uh, see ya!” And with that, Bumblebee hurried down the hallway. Soundwave looked after him for a few nano-kliks, before closing the door again. He felt conflicted about the encounter – He wanted to make it clear that he was not in the least bit interested in any such endeavour. He had enough stuff to deal with as it was. But he didn’t mean to scare the mech.

An emotion he has not felt in a long time swelled up in him. It’s called remorse, Laserbeak oh-so thankfully reminded him. He wouldn’t go that far. However, Bumblebee’s lingering despondence in his mind said otherwise.

Soundwave made a resigned noise and sat at his desk. Scrap that stupid cheery Autobot and his stupid innocent smile, he thought as he searched through some old files on his personal console. That blasted Bumblebee and his big blue optics and his childish-looking pout. He fetched a blank data disc from a shelf with one of his cables and inserted it into the console. Honestly, such an annoyance…

On the next cycle, after his shift, Bumblebee would find three discs full of original songs and remixes with the title ‘Super Rad Party Music’ on his desk.

It was weird hearing his own music like this, blasted out of some mid-quality speakers in a room that was not at all designed to reverberate such acoustics. It was the first time, actually, that his music was transmitted on this scale. Soundwave never intended for his songs to go public if one could call it that. For him, mixing music had been a relaxing past-time during his days in the Pits, a quiet escape from all the death and bloodshed. With the exception of his mini-cons, only three mechs were privy to his hobby; two of which were in this room with him just now and gave him a knowing (and appreciative?) smile once the music came on, and the other was Primus-knows-where, if he was even still alive.

Thinking about Jazz made Soundwave even more miserable than he already was. The room was full of mechs whose cheerful excitement filled the room and yet here he was, stressed and on edge and barely holding it together, gripping his cube of self-made engex, that had been handed to him upon entering the mess hall, and standing at the far end of the recently finished bar.

He did not have to look around the room to know that everyone was in good spirits; Bots and Cons were chatting amongst each other, clinking their cubes together, recounting stories from old times and some were dancing. Starscream was among the dancers, and he basked in the attention of the Vehicons – this really was the ego-boost that he needed. Megatron and Optimus were chatting amicably with everyone they came across – even Ultra Magnus and Dreadwing seemed to enjoy themselves for once, the former had taken a liking to the high grade and became more talkative with every drop, and the latter was swinging to the music hoping nobody would notice him.

Soundwave’s eyes darted around the room. There were so many different impressions, so many words mashed together and chaotic noise reaching his sensors that he could feel his sparkrate rising by the klik. He didn’t want to be here. Why was he forced to do this? First, Bumblebee was guilting him into mixing him music and then Megatron pressured him into attending this awful gathering. “You have been working ceaselessly since we’ve started this journey” Megatron had said to him as if he hadn’t done so before. “Even you need to take a break from time to time, old friend. Besides, a bit of socializing won’t hurt you”. Oh, he had no idea how wrong he was.

Soundwave was so distracted by everything that he barely noticed Knock Out and Breakdown, who were just happily dancing together, now standing off to the side, quietly talking to each other. The spy threw a clandestine glance in their direction. Through all the noise, he couldn’t make out what they were saying but Breakdown seemed nervous and concerned. He could also make out that Knock Out felt uncharacteristically anxious but tried to appear confident, stroking Breakdown’s cheek with a reassuring smile before turning to the room again.

The red racer held his cube of engex high in the air and clinked on it with his digits. “Everyone,” and once again all attention was directed at the red medic who stepped into the middle of the room, Breakdown close behind him, while everyone slowly ceased whatever they were doing. “Breakdown and I have an announcement to make.”

Confused curiosity permeated the mess hall with the exceptions of Ratchet and Starscream who rolled their eyes at Knock Out’s never-ending dramatics.

Once he was certain he had everyone’s attention, Knock Out continued. “So, now that that stupid war is finally over and we all have settled down quite well here,” he took Breakdown’s hand in his, who still eyed everyone nervously, “Breakdown and I have been thinking, and we have decided that… we want to bond. We’re going to be conjunx!”

There was a brief nano-klik of complete nothingness in everyone’s minds. Then the whole room erupted into cheers. The Vehicons were all clapping and wooing, Bumblebee and Smokescreen were excitedly hugging Knock Out, Starscream was shaking his head with a smile on his face, saying something along the lines of “about fragging time”, even Bulkhead gave Breakdown a congratulatory pat on the back.

It was hell. Soundwave wanted to feel happy like the others, wanted to look the two mechs in the optics and gave an appreciative nod, they deserved their happiness, they deserved all of that. But for him, it was as if Unicron himself had just entered the room. He felt his body beginning to shake, Laserbeaks attempts to soothe him over their bond were fruitless at this point. His sparkrate increased tenfold and he gripped his cube so tightly that he felt it cracking already.

“Soundwave, is everything alright?” It was Megatron, coming up in front of him and eyeing him with that worried look again.

He had no time to answer, because his cube finally cracked under the pressure, spilling engex on the ground in front of him while the rest of the glass shards also fell to the ground with a sharp clink. It attracted the attention of a few mechs around them. He felt Ratchet and Optimus eyeing him cautiously. Soundwave, however, barely registered anything anymore. Starting to hyperventilate, he gripped his head, his face scrunched up in pain.

“Soundwave!” Megatron exclaimed, alarmed. He rested a hand of Soundwave’s shoulder. The rest of the mechs in the room finally noticed the commotion, all staring at them.

“Ah!” A sharp pain ran through his processor, when Megatron touched him, and suddenly every mech in the room was holding their heads in pain. Even Megatron flinched, releasing Soundwave’s shoulder to reflexively touch his temples.

Soundwave stumbled back and looked around while everyone tried to process what had just happened.

“What the frag was that?!”

“Urg, I didn’t drink that much!”

“What is going on here?”

“Was everyone feeling that?”

“Scrap, I feel like someone bashed my head with a hammer.”

“Was that Soundwave’s doing?”

“What in Primus name did that creepy fragger do to us?”

“What in the world is wrong with Soundwave?”

The voices, the judgement was crashing down on him and he could do nothing to stop it. He watched in horror as everyone slowly recovered and was staring at him as if he had grown a second head.

And then, Soundwave ran.