Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Autobots!!!

Bumblebee: Still does those 80’s workout videos because they keep him in excellent shape (yes I stole this from an episode).

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Sideswipe: Listens to problematic song artists (we’ve all done it at some point).

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Strongarm: Swimming has become a regular part of their workout routine but she continues to say that it’s only to get stronger and not because she likes it.

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Grimlock: Assumed Energon and gasoline served the same purpose. Got very sick.

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Drift: Sings to himself when alone (He actually has an amazing voice but just doesn’t realize it).

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Slipstream: Enjoys board and card games that involve an unholy amount of strategy.

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Jetstorm: Gets really bad nightmares whenever he watches something scary.

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Fixit: Has been writing in a diary ever since The Alchemor first crashed. (“Dear diary, today someone complimented my disguise hat. My reaction was quite tame-“ ahh writing).

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Decepticons!!!

Steeljaw: Listens to true crime podcasts (sometimes conspiracies). Its calming for him and it’s usually what he listens too before recharge.

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Thunderhoof: Has a hard time spelling and reading .

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Clampdown: Likes the way his claws sparkle in the sun and has a secret routine to keep them from rusting (#selfcare).

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Springload: Likes the feeling of mud and will spend hours rolling around in it.

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Quillfire: Admires the human fashion industry and has tried to tailor his own clothing with giant tarps, scrap fabric waste, and ropes.

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Overload: Compliments his own reflection. He will gaslight you into thinking you imagined seeing him do 

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Bisk: Tends to chew on things that aren’t meant to be chewed on, be it pieces of metal, wood, or plastic. It helps him “focus”.

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Humans!!!

Danny: Used to have a screen door installed in the diner/house but kept running into it so he removed it.

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Russel: Creates and trades fake EX and GX Pokémon cards to kids at his school. Charges 1 dollar for each (he has made 13 dollars)

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Chapter Text

Autobots!!!

Bumblebee:

Gooseberry gin

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Sideswipe:

Red Gatorade

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Strongarm:

Pistachio protein shake

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Grimlock:

Lemonade

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Drift:

Aloe Vera juice

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Slipstream:

Carbonated water

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Jetstorm:

Berry carbonated water

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Fixit:

Orange juice (with pulp)

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Decepticons!!!

Steeljaw:

Martini

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Thunderhoof:

Whiskey (Obviously)

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Clampdown:

Kombucha

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Springload:

Coconut water

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Quillfire:

Root beer

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Overload:

Grapefruit cocktail

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Bisk:

Cream soda

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Humans!!!

Danny:

Bud Light

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Russel:

Blue Gatorade

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Chapter Text

Left to right 

(Top: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)

(Middle: 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ,14, 15, 16)

Bottom: 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24)

Autobots!!!

Bumblebee:

3

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Sideswipe:

4

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Strongarm:

20

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Grimlock:

18

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Drift:

13

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Slipstream:

13

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Jetstorm:

5

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Fixit:

2

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Decepticons!!!

Steeljaw:

12

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Thunderhoof:

17

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Clampdown:

11

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Springload:

23

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Quillfire:

8

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Overload:

14

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Bisk:

16

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Humans!!!

Danny:

1

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Russel:

22

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Chapter Text

Autobots!!!

Bumblebee:

Guitar Hero

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Sideswipe:

Tetris 

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Strongarm:

Monster Hunter

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Grimlock:

Candy Crush

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Drift:

StarCraft

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Slipstream:

Fruit Ninja

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Jetstorm:

Fruit Ninja 2

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Fixit:

Hogwarts Legacy (this mf has definitely seen Harry Potter 😭)

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Decepticons!!!

Steeljaw:

Doesn’t have time for simple luxury’s like video games (Identity V)

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Thunderhoof:

Grand Theft Auto (any game)

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Clampdown:

Overcooked

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Springload:

Terraria

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Quillfire:

Assassins Creed

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Overload:

Velvet Assasin (idk help me)

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Bisk:

Call of Duty

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Humans!!!

Danny:

Galaga ship

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Russel:

Minecraft

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Chapter Text

There was a faint knocking sound on the door of your quarters. Well, less of a quarters and more of a storage room.

The pack's extra equipment and weapons were piled into each corner. I guess that’s what you get for offering to draw straws for rooms. It wasn’t even nice; rustic tanks and piping lined every wall surrounding you, and occasionally a pipe would rattle, groan, and make a loud sputtering sound. Your berth was located in the middle of the room, on the grimy floor.

The rapping came again, breaking you from your trance. You sighed, rising up from your grounded berth to shuffle over to the door (same with the room, less of a door, more of a huge piece of metal you moved in front of the destroyed wall to provide some sort of privacy). You dragged the metal aside. SCREECH-CH…THUMP.

Bisk was standing on the other side. His arms and neck are unmoving. He looked like he was in some genre of immense pain as you examined him more closely. His antennas were intertwined above his helm, making him look a bit silly. They kind of looked like snakes twisted together; maybe they felt like snakes. You held back a sneer at the sight of him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes…”

“Um…?”

“Thanks for asking! My back has been totally K.O.! Last night I was farming my game like usual, and I guess I didn’t notice the way I was sitting and….”

“And…?”

“I need help.”

You were a bit taken aback, but only for a split second. You squinted your optics at him, waiting for him to succumb to his own prank. You laughed; Bisk smiled weakly, still not moving.

“Hah! Oh, that’s a funny one, Bisk! Well, good luck with that! I heard Thunderhoof has been itching to get his servos on something punchable. Maybe he can help you? Bye bye.”

You grabbed the metal sheet and moved it in front of the door. Bisks' pede stopped you from fully closing it.

“H-hey hey hey, wait! Just listen—you're the only one with a berth on the floor! And I can’t really lift my legs right now. I guess I could stay with you until I feel better; you look a bit bored—how’s that sound? Good plan or great plan? Yeah? Or you could just help me out, and I’ll leave! Hm? Hm? What do you say? Help a teammate out? Teamwork?”

He spoke quickly, giving you little time to hear your own thoughts. You looked at him, and then at the berth, and then at him again before sighing tiredly. Bisk smiled gleefully; he already knew the answer.

“Fine… But you owe me one.” You stepped aside so Bisk could enter your quarters. He playfully nudged you as he passed.

Fixing the door with a loud screech, you began trailing behind him, watching him pathetically hobble over to the slab. He kneeled and laid faceplate first. Careful to not move his neck cables the wrong way, he turned his helm to the side and relaxed a bit.

You didn’t waste any time. As soon as he was cured, he would leave, and then you could resume doing nothing. You got on your knees, shuddering as the dirt on the floor worked its way into your armor's seams. Gross!

A little unsure on where to start, you placed both servos flat against his back. Bisk's armor had always been very sturdy, shell-like even. But you’ve never come to notice how smoothly the firm covering linked with his softer midriff. You ran your servos across the conjoined area for a moment. He shivered; your servos must have been cold. You traced the protoform, slowly pressing your digits into the tender area.

“OH…oh owowowowowow! That hurts!” Bisk's helm remained planted against the berth; with his tweaked neck, it was likely he didn’t want to risk turning it the wrong way. As you thought that, one of his eyestalks craned over his shoulder plate to glare at you. You tried to ignore the creepy gaze. Focusing on one area of his back, you placed the palm of your servo against his armor to really work at the knotted mesh underneath.
“No complaints! You wanted this, and technically this is all YOUR fault. You were the one who decided to stay up and…play your little video game or whatever.” He hissed, the stems recoiling as you swatted his staring eye away. Blinking rapidly, he spoke
“Well, I’m SOR-ry! The grind never sleeps, and neither do I! You know this! Ugh... and it’s not just a game! It’s actually a very complex puzzle that requires a lot of strategy and thinking. I’ve got to get that S tier, you know? In order to upgrade! - “CRRRCHCK  “AHHHHH! !- rmph frgnnf!” He gritted his denta, muffling curses. You had positioned your elbow between his shoulder blades and pushed all of your frame's weight into him. You silently prayed nobody nearby heard; your door wasn’t necessarily soundproof.

“Sorry, not sorry. You seemed distracted.” Feeling a tad guilty, you gently rubbed the area you had just cracked. Hoping to soothe any lingering pain.

“Feel any better?”

He looked at a few shallow ex-vents, paused, and shifted his shoulder plates under your servo. He could move them again! Hah! High score!

You smiled; he could be so dramatic sometimes. You glanced at his still intertwined antennas. I wonder…. Before having time to second guess yourself, you reached out to untangle them from their wrapped state. They felt like tough rubber at the base and were the complete opposite of what you expected. As you moved further up, the tissue became easier to manipulate. You toyed with it, curling the flexible, thin ends around your digits.

A sudden warmth struck his core. It tickled but itched, but….also made him feel a bit drowsy? This was so confusing. As you moved your servos to the end of his antenna he quietly sighed. A second passed and his processor seemed to realize the situation. It was quick to scream at his joints to move. 

His reflexes lagged for a moment in one desperate attempt to stay put before he swiftly rolled onto his side, propping himself up with his arm and ripping the antenna away from your…whatever that was.

His faceplate was dusted a light blue; he “coughed,” concealing himself with a giant claw.

“Ah-Ahem! Yes, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Chapter Text

Bisk had gotten sick, or so everybody thought. Nobody in the pack had any sort of real experience in the medical field. So they all mutually agreed that Bisk had just caught an extremely bad case of white rust. He looked impossibly pale, and bits of the thin, glassy film on his midriff had begun to chip away.

Everyone in the pack had been avoiding him, treating him like he was contagious. Except for you. It was, however, your job as Bisks sparkmate to be there for him no matter what. (so cheesy but true!)

You’ve tried every method and recipe in hopes of removing the rust. It had been difficult getting your servos on enough lemons, salt, vinegar, and baking soda to create the concoction. But the thick, pasty liquid had just slipped right off him! Leaving him smelling like cleaning supplies for days. He wasn’t too happy about that.

“Bisk, for the last time you are not coming with us.” Steeljaw said coolly, standing in front of Thunderhoof, Fracture, and Quillfire. They used Steeljaw as a barrier between Bisk and them.

“But it’s been ages since we’ve encountered those scrub Autobots!” Bisk took a step forward, and in sync, Steeljaw and the rest of them all took a step back. “Please let me come with you guys!”

“I’m afraid it is not up for discussion. We cannot have you jeopardize this mission because of your stubbornness to stay put and recover.”

“But I’m not sick!”

“Then what’s yous excuse for actin all funny?” Thunderhoof remarked. Fracture and Quillfire nodded in agreement.

You stood behind Bisk, lightly brushing your servo against him.

“Bisk, listen to him…“

“Just wait—Steeljaw, please! This isn’t fair!”

Steeljaw’s expression hardened. “You have no right to question what I believe is fair or not. I am doing what’s best for the pack.” he said, in a voice of deadly calm  “Now you are to stop acting like a sparkling and stay at the base. That is an order.” He narrowed his bright yellow optics and pointed past. Bisk stiffened, glancing at his outstretched claw briefly but didn’t budge. It certainly wasn’t like Bisk to flip on a dime but he looked seconds away from blasting Steeljaws helm off. You moved your servo to grab Bisk's shoulder plate.

“I’m not done!” He shouted. As he tried to shrug you off, your grip remained firm. The tips of your digits dug under his plates for grip as you gave a hard tug. Half of the shoulder plate broke off.

The silence that enveloped the room became thick and uneasy. Bisk's optics widened in horror as he looked at the chunk of translucent armour, barely clinging to him. Quillfire covered his intake and let out a noise that was a mix between a cough and a gag. Thunderhoof leaned over Steeljaw, squinting at the material.

“What in Primus’s name is dat?!”

Steeljaw retracted his servo to stare while Fracture scrunched up his faceplate in disgust.

“I-… It’s not… That’s not….” Bisk stuttered. He knocked your servo away as he went to cover himself. He turned and dashed out of the room. You stood with your servo still grasping at the air. Now that Bisk had left, all optics were fixed on you. Steeljaw stroked a claw under his chin; watching you closely.

“I’m…going to go.” You drawled, spinning on your heel and scurrying out of the room.

—*—

You had a pretty good idea on where Bisk had run off too. Not even bothering to knock, you jabbed at the pin pad (1111) and the doors to his quarters slid open with a great whoosh. Most of the stuff in the room was either fished out from dumpsters or found abandoned on the side of the road. Faded video game posters in a variety of sizes hung tacked on the wall, a few stacked crates stood beside the berth as a bed stand, and small boxes overflowing with magazines, crinkled manuals, DVD’s, and jewel cases were exposed under the berth.

Usually Bisk kept one of those huge blankets painters used draped over the slab to hide his treasures. Steeljaw had only allowed him to bring in the sheet and posters; he knew nothing of the little hoard. However, the blanket had been torn off from its berth. On the other side of the room you found Bisk cowering under the paint smudged sheet. Bits of “armour” laid outside the blanket. The sheet stirred and you heard a crisp snap come from under the blanket, then, another shard was pushed away.

“Hey.”

“…Hey…” his voice was muffled by the sheet. You bent over, picking up a few pieces of the scattered metal

“You okay?”

“No! They totally ganked me!” SNAP

A data pad laid askew on the floor, it was probably knocked off the crates in a desperate attempt to grab the blanket. You picked it up and switched it on. The pad hummed to life and you started with a quick search (you typed in “why is my lobster acting weird?” on the human research platform and “organic mutations” on the Cybertronian data base. After a few minutes of alternating, you conjured up a believable diagnosis. Just to calm Bisk down a bit.

SNAP

“I think I know what’s going on.”

“Am I dying?” He croaked.

“You’re not dying. You’re…moulting.”

“Moulting.” He repeated  “Doesn’t that only happen to a few earth animals?”

“Yes, but-“ You glanced at the random notes you jotted down “Its possible that your indento-computer has recently come online. It’s either now just realizing the new environment it’s been thrown into or how much damage you’ve been taking from the Autobots. Your system is trying to protect itself. It probably did a wide range scan and picked an earth animal for you with similar characteristics, copied an adaptation schematic, and transcribed it into working upgrades. Genetic mutation possibly,”

Bisk didn’t respond right away. You waited with bated breath, afraid he might question you further on this unreliable info.

“What animal did it pick?”

You let out a relived ex-vent “Is that a question?”

“Oh…right…..Is there any way I can cure it quicker?”

“Well…It says here you can’t. But it takes at least 30 minutes for an earth lobster to fully molt. So, I’m going to give you some space and take this excess armour to the furnace room.”

“Alright.” He muttered.

—*—

It took a while to set up the whole machine, but eventually the small amount of what was once Bisks shell was stuffed into the furnace and oozing out of the caster into the moulds. It’d be best not to tell the pack what the new spare parts were made out of. The molten metal churned a bright yellow. You tentatively watched the process, making sure nothing splattered or dripped. After a bit, you shut the machine off and had just begun to watch the moulds cool when you heard a shaky voice.

“Um…..”

You turned and saw Bisk peeking out from around the corner. “I think it’s done.” He fiddled with his claws for a second before stepping into view, shuffling into the smelting room. As he came closer, the glow from the fiery liquid reflected off of his new, shiny upgrades.

He had only grown about an inch, and his plating hadn’t gained much bulk, still connecting with the same sleekness as before.

Wavy markings adorned his bright orange shoulder plates and claws. They were the same dark carnelian as his midriff. The lines twisted and curled into spirals.

“So…upgrade?”

You didn’t realize you were gawking at him. Feeling a bit stupid, you closed your intake and nodded.

“You look amazing!” You stood up and scurried up to him. As your optics roamed his frame in awe, you noticed the scratched-out Decepticon insignia on his shoulder plate had disappeared.

“Oh—your—“

“I know. I can try and paint it on again later.”

You traced the patterns on his neck guard; the metal felt very pliable under your touch, so you were careful not to press too hard. You followed the pattern with your digits until you stood behind him. His back was covered in the name swirling marks, but there was one that particularly caught your optic. These lines were thicker than the rest and located lower on his back. But instead of curving to a swirly end, these lines crossed paths and formed a shape vaguely representing a…heart?

You gasped , and Bisk panicked. “What? What is it?” He tilted his helm as far as he could and then stretched his eyestalks to see the rest of the way. It was impressive but a bit surreal.

“No…no, no, no, no, no!”

“It’s adorable!” You squealed. His faceplate flushed a deep blue, as he turned his gaze away from the lines.

“Why—why me!?” He whined, “This is awful! Out of all the shapes!-“ he did a quick double take before looking away again. You chuckled, giving the marking a playful poke. He jolted and spun around.

“Do you find this funny?!”

“Very.”

“Well FYI, as soon as I get my claws on some paint, this- this thing is getting disqualified!”

“But it’s so cute!” You attempted to get behind him again, but he mirrored your movements. You tried to fake him out, but he just caught you with the side of his claw and trapped you with his other. You sniggered; Bisk frowned.

You pressed yourself into him. His sour look softened as you leaned forward. Bisk was such a simple, winsome bot. He wasn’t cunning like Steeljaw, nor was he brutish like Thunderhoof. So how the hell was this guy the one to make your spark swoon? Without the insignia, a stranger could easily assume he was some derpy Autobot scout.

Hr leaned forward , bumping his forehelm against yours lovingly before slowly tilting to the side to gingerly seal the gap.

Your dermas clicked perfectly. His eyestalks dropped a little as he closed his optics. He would say the first kiss was always his favourite… But then again, the second was pretty good... and the third... fourth maybe. He pulled away, letting out a deep ex-vent of satisfaction and gulping. Your servo tenderly stroked one of his chin attachments . You were so sweet to him He gave you a light squeeze. The pressure was relaxing. 

Too caught up in the moment, neither of you were aware enough of your surroundings to notice the echoing voice annd pedesteps approaching the furnace room.

“Eyyy, you kids in here?” Thunderhoof turned the corner. He grumbled at what he saw, like what you were doing was the most unconventional thing ever. Both of your optics snapped open, and you peeled away from each other. You kept your arms draped around him. Bisk, his face still a vibrant blue, looked a bit frazzled. His antenna relaxed forward as he lazily looked over at Thunderhoof.

“Eeick... Steeljaw wants yous two to be moven dem crates of energon dhey found. Now. Crates are up front.”

He stared at Bisk. “Nice tattoos, Hearts.” He snorted at his own jibe before ducking out Into the corridor. The weight of what Thunderhoof said hit him harder than a bag of bricks.

“Oh no….”

“Hm, Hearts! Could use a little workshopping but I like the idea. How’s about Heart boy? Hearty? Sweetheart?”

”None.” He groaned