Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something did not feel right.

Mirage was in the last laps of Rivets Field Speedway, along one of the vehicle-mode segments, the thrusters of that younger blue racer, Blurr, were just ahead. They were so close. Should they win this race, Team RoboCo would have enough points to qualify for the Iacon 5000 this season. Second would set them up well, but not everyone would be satisfied with that.

As if summoned, a gruff voice called over comms. :You're lagging, Mirage!:

:Something feels off.:

:We got optics on you through the drone feed. Tires, wings, and shell panels intact. You're close. Push! Pass that upstart!:

:Check internal diagnost-ics sync.: Mirage's vocalizer was more glitched than usual.

Blurr zipped through the magnetic vortex tunnel.

Mirage was right behind him.

Pain flared in their core.

Mirage landed on their tires the other side of the tunnel, swerving back and forth to try to increase traction and block racers behind from a pass.

They hurt.

Mirage accelerated along a straightaway, forward wing outside of Blurr's rear thrusters.

:Power systems are good.:

True, the acceleration was there.

But the pain was down in his undercarriage where...

Blurr drifted around the curve.

Mirage tried to tighten their own turn.

It felt like they'd purge if they held their form. Mirage's front right tire bounced over the striped curb.

The pain was sharp, stabbing, in Mirage's cog.

They converted; momentum was dissipated as their frame rolled over the weathered mesh-copper along the track.

The announcer drone's clipped report was broadcast via speakers and all-comms: "MIRAGE OF TEAM ROBOCO TAKES A ROLL INTO THE CARPET. STOP"

The other racers buzzed past.

---

It hurt.

It just hurt so much.

Their plating was scrap.

They'd earn no points for this race.

But none of that mattered.

Mirage just needed this pain to stop.

They attempted slowly to stretch their chassis and extend limbs.

It hurt.

Curling chassis and frame inward.

It hurt.

It just hurt.

---

A crash tender, and cycle rolled up. Beyond, Mirage was dimly aware of the drones and holo-screens confirming Blurr's win.

The cycle converted to bot mode. Even in pain, Mirage's systems prioritized identification of visual details: short, slender frame with gray base alloys and red and white plating bearing a collection of gladiatorial and racing association emblems marking them as one of the rotating event medics. They were safe enough with this bot. "Mirage, I'm Backfire, He, track medi-tech. Can you tell me how you are?" Tarnish accent, but not unusual for the seasonal staff.

Before Mirage could focus on an answer, a familiar monster truck rolled up with deco like a day-glo oxide shark. Dirt Boss unfolded from his alt-form, optical mod rotating as he scanned Mirage. "How's Mirage? Can they race?" The most important thing, naturally.

Mirage slowly cycled air through ventilation systems attempting to manage some of the pain.

"I'm trying to determine that now," Backfire said. There was a glance over to the silver crash tender, who then converted.

Mirage recognized the bot, though he hadn't previously viewed her alt-form. Megaempress was also from the gladiator circuit, but collusion between the big sports meant it was their off-season; she may be falling back on her previous assigned function. "Boss," tone so calm, "Standby and let us tend to Mirage."

"You should both tend to Mirage," Boss agreed.

"Mirage?" Backfire called. Leaning in close, and engaging a mask as they lowered a yellow visor over blue optics. Perhaps observing Mirage's optics?

Mirage nodded once then reported symptoms. "I can move, but I'm in pain. Internal. Sharp. Stabbing at my midsection, behind my forward wing. Radiating along midriff, back and thighs. I think it's my cog."

"Don't try to move or convert, in that case. Do you want something for the pain?"

"No!" Dirt Boss called, though he stayed put where he was.

"I do," Mirage insisted, "But, not boosters, or anything stronger. I wish to stay race-legal."

"I'll get you some circuit blockers," Backfire said. "I'd like to move you to the pits for further evaluation. We should be able to confirm if your t-cog is affected and arrange for any transfer if needed."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Relax now, we got you," Megaempress told them.

Mirage faded into sleep mode, trying to will the pain away, but confident they were cared for.

Chapter Text

The pain was the first thing Mirage was aware of. It wasn't so sharp as before, but still strong. They were next aware of the regular beep of a spark monitor and the familiar heady race track scents of warmed oil and burnt rubber. They could feel digits, maybe tools, along their right arm.

Was that a wireframe schematic on a monitor?

"They're coming back online." Pleasant, vaguely eastern accent. Megaempress?

"Mirage?"

"Mirage! Wake up. Say you're all right!" That was Dirt Boss.

Mirage unshuttered their optics. Megaempress on the right. Dirt Boss close to Mirage's left. The med-tech, Backfire, toward the left, closer to the foot of the repair cradle Mirage lay on. They'd connected him to the team's diagnostic equipment, so that was secure. Dirt Boss was Team RoboCo manager this season, so he was authorized to make medical decisions on the track should Mirage be incapacitated.

Mirage was not, now, incapacitated. Still in pain, but just managing to focus. "What's my status?"

"We assumed a directive to assess and repair, confirmed by your team's manager," Backfire reported. It was the kind of jargon medibots and techs tended to use and appropriate enough.

"Your plating was damaged in the roll," Megaempress reported, "I've made some minor welds and patches, which self-repair systems should reinforce, and Dirt Boss pulled shell panels for your arms."

"Thank you." They'd have to replace the stock of arm panels against future race accidents, but that was a task for future Mirage who wasn't barely managing to focus. That list was also going to have to include deco work, but first things first. "It is my cog? Inflamed, or infected?"

Backfire swiveled a monitor on its extension arm to show Mirage the wireframe schematic. Yes, that was what Mirage had thought they'd seen. "No weird energy readings or foreign particles detected. It doesn't look like an infection."

But the cog had expanded and was affecting the alignment of other internal systems.

Mirage sighed. "It's just cog cramps. You may turn that off." No need for all of them to continue viewing Mirage's internal schematics.

"Your within your rights to see a medibot, maybe you have a primary provider?"

"There are several I might call," Mirage said. "I've suffered this before."

"It's a common ailment," Megaempress noted.

"I once had cog cramps so bad I converted to v-mode in a stairwell," Dirt Boss said.

"Of course," Mirage agreed. Most bot had cogs and any bot with a t-cog could suffer irritation once in a while. "But this time the pain was quite severe."

"We're not going to question you on that," Backfire said, "Cog issues are common, but bots' systems are different. And some stressors can worsen pain. Chronic or recurring pain is no joke. We see it a lot in the gladiatorial circuit."

Mirage nodded and turned to view one side of their cradle and then the other. Dirt Boss had run the gamut of truck shows, rally races, and track races, and recently expanded into gladiatorial matches. So far as Mirage knew, Megaempress was a veteran of their war with the Quintessons who had chosen to become a gladiator. Backfire's accent and markings made some experience with the arena certain.

Backfire continued, "If you do wish transfer to another medical facility, I can arrange that, otherwise, I recommend you seek pain treatment." He reached to a toolbox within the repair bay. An anti-static packet was lifted and then offered to Mirage. "Consumer-grade circuit blockers. We gave you one when arrived, so wait about 4 megacycles before applying the next."

Mirage took the packet in their dark digits, very aware of the scuffed and off-color appearance of their arm. They really needed that deco work. "I'll waive the offer for transfer," Mirage said, having dealt with emergency services before.

"Understood."

Ordinarily, Mirage would have gratefully passed the medi-tech some physical currency as a gift, but part of their race prep involved emptying all storage compartments. "Dirt Boss, would you please see Backfire out? The team is appreciative of his service."

"Gotcha," Boss said, and tipped his head in the direction of the exit.

---

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Alone with Megaempress. Mirage smiled. They couldn't look very pretty right now, but some bots appreciated a few scrapes, as long as it wasn't that dry-brushed faux damage. Megaempress did hang around with gladiators, after all. And Mirage was not at all opposed to getting close with big, strong bots. But, they understood what their cog issue meant. A good 'face might fix some bots, but would be an added stressor for their particular problem.

"Or, anybot I can call for you? Partner? Friend? Clan?"

Mirage looked up at her a little more directly, automatically recording details for any necessary future illusions. The rather handsome combo of chevron helm ornamentation and angular red optics was softened by the barely there shade of pink paint across her silver lips. They didn't know each other well at all. Mirage had had a clan, once, before the eQuintessons, but Megaempress didn't need to know about that. When their paths had crossed in the past, Megaempress had likely seen him with a specific partner and was wondering how close Mirage was with him. "There are a number of friends and partners, actually," Mirage said trythfully, "I don't tend to be exclusive. But I very publically rolled off the track onto carpet in the last lengths of a race. I'm sure the word is out." Mirage sighed, imagining the bots who might suddenly appear or gain entry to his home before he could even arrive. "What I really want is to find transport home and some safe way to manage this pain."

Megaempress' nearly bare lips smiled. "I know a bot who can help you with both."

---

Dirt Boss returned just as Megaempress was leaving to find her friend.

"We didn't win," he said, once they were alone.

"No," Mirage agreed on that.

"I really like winning."

"I know. It's a strength for our team."

Dirt Boss stepped in close to the repair cradle Mirage reclined within. "But I know the team doesn't win if our lead racer is out of sorts. So, we gotta take care of you."

Mirage smiled, a little. "Yes."

"Is it a chronic problem? The cog?"

"Everybot can get cog cramps." Mirage sighed. "But I am a light/ground frame-type with a high-performance alt-mode who also had the privilege of selecting several upgrades for my systems."

"You do have some nice upgrades." Dirt Boss leaned over Mirage, regarding the length of their frame with his asymmetrical red optic and mod.

"It's a tight package," Mirage said slipping their own digits between white forward wing and the sheltered dermal plating beneath. "I'm a little more high maintenance than most. If one system or part is out of alignment, then everything can feel out of sorts."

"You been neglecting maintenance, Mirage?"

"No." Mirage paused to gauge Boss' conviction. "I haven't. I traveled, but I had checks along the way. I got air transport to avoid long-distance drives as much as possible."

"And you keep fueled? Coolant, too?"

"Of course."

"Not letting bots get too rough with you?" Boss' thick, purple digits touched the wing across Mirage's chassis.

Mirage smiled. "No more than I'd let you."

Dirt Boss hissed wordlessly. "That tech said 'stressors'. You need to relax more? "

"I need a few days of rest." Rest and relaxation not necessarily the same in all respects. "Proper rest with no training or parties or...politics."

"Can't do much about politics," Dirt Boss grumbled. "You want me to take you home and give you a wash?"

Mirage loved Wash Me sessions with Boss, but that wasn't what they needed right now. "Rest, Boss. Proper systems downtime. No converting and no 'facing, either." Mirage did not like that this was true. "But maybe in a day or so, with enough blockers kicked in, I'll be up for some high-pressure play. Two days and I might be begging for more."

"We could do it slow, if you need."

"Never. I got bots who can go slow. You're my go-to for big and fast."

"Yeah? You like that?" That tone. It was too taunting. Too assuming.

Mirage fixed their optics on Dirt Boss and moved their right hand from their midriff to grasp Boss' quarter-panel sleeve. "Everything we do on or off track is because I wish it."

"Of course, Mirage!" Dirt Boss bowed his head.

Mirage released Boss' arm. "Leave me. I can't do this now. It hurts. I can't think. I have a helo coming to take me home."

---

Her name was Moonheart; Mirage was pretty sure they had met her in passing, perhaps at a spa. But, she still politely introduced herself when Megaempress returned with the marginally smaller rotary-type bot. She made a brief bow. "Hello, I'm Moonheart. She. Based out of Slaughter & Blaster Cities. I'm a medic on the Gladiator circuit." Overall blue with black color blocking along chassis, shins and gantlets, a rotor visible over her shoulders.

Sometimes, Mirage was polite like that. But not now. They knew their vocalizer was strained by attempt to mask pain. "Forgive me, I'm still in some pain and not feeling or looking my best. I am Mirage." A pause to focus. "I accept a range of terms. Slight preference for They just now."

"I understand. I won't ask you to talk more than is necessary. Can you tell or show me where you have the most pain?"

Mirage tried showing it by slipping their digits beneath their forward wing again. They felt their dermal plating warm to the touch. "Most here. But it goes through to my back and sometimes down along my thighs."

"May I touch?" Moonheart asked, stepping in right up against the bars of the repair cradle. Her faceplate was white, either from paint or natural alloys, and with her optics a magenta-red and her lips darkly painted she reminded Mirage of Skywarp.

"Yes."

Her digits were slender, but not sharp, and felt cool against his plating. "And you think it's your cog?"

"I'm fairly cert-" Mirage broke off and hissed as Monheart's digits slid over the place where their cog was.

"Right there? It hurts most?"

Mirage nodded, not trusting their vocalizer.

Megaempress stepped in to explain. "The scan showed Mirage's frame doesn't allow for a lot of internal space between systems and the cog itself was cramping and expanded."

"Cramps are common, but they can definitely be worse for some bots," Moonheart noted. It was much as Backfire had said. Mirage could feel a cool presence without contact; her digits were hovering just shy of touching. "Thermal therapy could be good for you. If we can get some cold in close to your cog to contract the metal and keep your exterior plating warm - not hot - it should make room for your parts to settle.

Mirage nodded, again.

"Would you prefer to do a session here, before transport?" Moonheart asked.

Mirage took near a klik to consider. "Could you explain or show me here, so I know what to expect?"

Moonheart nodded. "Of course."

"And then, apply again when we're at my home?" Mirage inquired.

"Yes. But you may want privacy if anyone's there to welcome you, it can appear intimate."

That term was worrying. "How so?"

Moonheart wobbled her head, perhaps considering how to answer. "My cryo-healing is not a capsule I can prescribe for a bot. It...comes from me. I have to get close to do it."

"So, not the sword?" Mirage thought they'd seen Moonheart with a sword.

Megaempress vocalized clicking laughter behind Moonheart.

"The sword is special. It's my sword. I can focus with or through it. But the healing application is from me."

"But you think it will help with my pain?"

"Yes." Moonheart nodded emphatically.

"Show me. I accept."

"Just relax," Moonheart whispered, "You'll start to feel cool. My digits will touch you where you hurt."

"Yes." Mirage's vocalizer rasped. Those magenta-red optics did remind Mirage of Skywarp. The bit of optic liner. The darkly painted lips. Had Moonheart's rotor begun to turn? It was turning, wasn't it? Mirage had an optic for visual detail. That rotor was turning very slowly.

Mirage felt cool, with cooler digits lightly stroking the dermal plating along their sides.

The air took on the tang of coolants and mild solvent, medicinal but pleasant.

Moonheart's touch became firmer. It felt like she traced the seams and edges of plating layers, particularly along the junction of hip and thigh.

"It's not hurting?" It was barely a question.

"No." It felt nice. In another circumstance, this would have been undoubtedly intimate and very personal.

"You're all right? You want me to get the cryo-treatment as close to your pain as possible?"

Mirage might have nodded or blinked.

"You'll feel a little pressure. Lie still."

Something cool slid beneath Mirage's plating. Moonheart. Her digits were in the gap of his joint. That necessary clearance for movement that was protected from most angles by layers of dermal or armor plating. Accessible at close range to a narrow enough tool, or digit. A vulnerability.

Mirage's vocalizer crackled.

"Moonheart." Megaempress' voice. "That's enough for now."

"We've done enough for now," Moonheart said, still leaning in close, though not apparently making contact. "How do you feel?"

"I think I almost drifted into stasis."

"But no pain?"

Weirdly, no. "I don't feel it right now," Mirage told them.

Moonheart straightened, putting a short distance between herself and Mirage. "I've just temporarily numbed you so you're stable for transport and can get some rest. You still need to take care of yourself and your cog for a while. Do you have someone at home to meet you?"

"We shouldn't leave you alone," Megaempress said, "Not if you are drowsy and medicated."

Right. If Mirage was drowsy or medicated, he should not be...alone...

"Somebot will be there," Mirage said, feeling more certain. "Maybe more than one." They looked up, focusing on Moonheart. Her rotor had gone still. "I can show you inside, for a little while. I should show you proper gratitude for your efforts."

"If you feel ready to move, Megaempress can help load you into my crewspace."

"Yes," Mirage accepted.

Chapter Text

Mirage's home was easy to find. It was the most prestigious, luxurious, and centrally located real estate within the dome of Iacon City proper. The Celestial Spires rose to the transparent lens of the Great Dome, upon foundation levels rooted, well below the natural surface, on the streets of Under Iacon. The proximity of high-level government and religious offices meant it was controlled airspace, but a simple confirmation that Moonheart was carrying a resident of one of the towers quickly got clearance and directions to an appropriate helipad.

Mirage dozed most of the ride, in a low-power state, cradled securely in Megaempress' arms and grateful for the temporary abatement of intense cramping, while both localized circuit blockers and cryo-healing treatment remained in effect.

They stirred to function within Moonheart's crewspace as they felt the change in movement from descent to stillness. Maybe it was some part of being a ground-frame at spark, but for all the airlifts and parafoil jumps Mirage had found thrill in, they still felt well settled upon landing.

Moonheart's doors slid open, giving Mirage a view of the surrounding towers in pale blue and gold-toned alloys, all warmer for the late-day golden light coming through the great window above. They must be on one of several landing areas on or around the Spires.

"Are these your friends arriving?" Moonheart asked, an indicator flashing from her empty cockpit.

Mirage tried to leverage themself against Megaempress' chassis to get a better view, but was held securely.

"Let me help." Megaempress shifted Mirage in her arms.

Their head in the crook of her left arm was elevated and Mirage saw the surface of the helipad Moonheart had landed upon and the connected skywalk, railings, and lamp-topped signposts. There were clearly two figures approaching from Mirage's tower, one taller and bipedal and the other on four legs.

Hound was expected. The familiar green-plated bot, rugged and wary in public, strode towards them, head as if on a swivel, and the projector, currently on his right shoulder mount, literally so as it scanned.

Mirage had not entirely expected to see Howlback, yet. She kept pace at Hound's rear stabilizers, not quite needing to trot but moving in her direct and stealthy fashion that retrod her own footfalls. Her long, stringed and segmented tail twitched high behind her.

"Yes," Mirage said finally. "Hound and Howlback are among my most trusted companions."

"Hound," Megaempress said. There was something there, like recognition.

Evidently, Hound had it too. "Ma'am?" Mirage did not miss the clenched fists and slack arms of Hound uncertain whether to salute or something else.

"Hound," she now said it with friendly, upward pitch. "Be at ease. There is no need to ma'am me. We're none of us fighting Quintessons anymore."

But Hound did not fall into a posture of ease. "In space we are."

"But not here," Megaempress said.

She was not going to put Hound at ease. Mentioning Quintessons would not put any of them at ease. Mirage extended their left arm, easily able now to slip it past Megaempress' own left. "Here, Hound."

Hound stepped right up against Moonheart's helo form and extended his own left arm to clasp Mirage's. He gave a tug and Mirage felt Megaempress release him and even push him towards Hound.

Mirage came to balance on their front stabilizers between Hound's larger feet, with the length of their chassis pressed up against Hound's green plating. Their hands slipped apart with a sliding of digits, to allow them to embrace each other fully.

"You've looked better," Hound said, vocalizer slipping into a quiet, low register grumble, his mouth close to Mirage's receptor. "How bad is it?"

Up on their stabilizers, Mirage stood just taller than Hound, who was compact, though broader than Mirage. Mirage traced digits over the angular grill and hood segments of Hound's chest, aware also of Hound squeezing the tires at Mirage's back and of Howlback rubbing along their entangled legs. "The plating is an easy fix, but, it's my cog. The cramping was so intense I couldn't hold form to finish the race."

Hound's hands slid from Mirage's tires down toward their lower back. "Ow, that's got to smart, Mirage." Hound's vocalization became higher and clear, attentive. "Let's get you inside. You want me to get you anything?"

The strong digits rubbing Mirage's back felt good. "For now, just stay near me," Mirage whispered. They pressed their lips to Hound's faceplate, sensing the wiry scruff on Hound's chin against their own. Mirage spoke somewhat louder then. "I invited Megaempress and Moonheart in for a while."

Ki-Ko-Ka-Ko-Ko

Mirage tensed at the sound. Just thinking about conversion made their cog hurt.

Moonheart unfolded to stand at Mirage's left; there might have been some mass-shifting in there, that volume of empty crewspace didn't carry through to bot-mode. She made a slight bow to Hound. "I'm Moonheart, She, from Slaughter & Blaster. I work with Megaempress now."

Hound took their right arm from Mirage and extended it. "Good to meet you, Moonheart, I'm Hound. Sergeant Hound. He. I'm based in Iacon now."

Moonheart looked at Hound's hand as if uncertain whether she should grasp it, though she eventually did.

"And this here is Howlback. She's a String-Cat of Mirage's acquaintance."

Moonheart stooped to regard Howlback as Mirage clung to Hound's left side. "But we've seen each other around, haven't we?" Moonheart asked. "You were traveling with some of those Seekers."

"I was," Howlback admitted without naming any.

---

Their small group traveled from the landing platform along the skywalk to one of the upper level entrances to the tower where Mirage lived. Without a prompt, Howlback took point to scout ahead as Hound stuck to Mirage's side.

Megaempress and Moonheart followed not far behind.

"It goes further down than I thought," Megaempress noted as they moved along the Skywalker where it wrapped on tower in proximity to another.

"You are not afraid of falling, My Lady?"

Megaempress clicked mild annoyance. "Are you Lunaclub now to tease me? You do not need to call me that."

"'Boss' will not do, and it does not seem right to say 'Your Magesty' outside the arena. These Iacon bots might decide we're a threat."

"Sergeant," Megaempress called, "what service did you go into, if we may ask? Is that the Senate insignia?"

"Yep, Senate Guard. Protection detail for Senators, mostly, though I'm not at liberty to give specifics."

"That's useful," Moonheart said.

"Yes," Megaempress agreed, "For the Senators at very least."

"Recruitment's up in all the forces since that attack on Senator Momus," Hound admitted as they reached the exterior doors, which slid open and showed green indicators upon detecting the presence of residents.

The political situation was not an ideal topic of conversation, especially not here in the capitol. "Let's not talk about all that now," Mirage said, "I really need to rest."

Steps quickened behind and Moonheart came to Mirage's unguarded left side. "You wish me to give you another treatment?"

Howlback stopped within the interior hall as Crisscross exited the apartment across from Mirage's.

"Senator," Hound said, raising a hand to the blocky bot with somewhat dated off-white and orange deco.

"Hound, hello." Crisscross lowered the gaze of his blue optics to Howlback. "And Howlback, I did not realize you were back." The Senator's vocalizations had the slight reverb shared by many bots accustomed to masking their faceplates.

"Visiting," Howlback said vaguely.

Crisscross' optics rose again to Mirage, they looked brighter against the warm tones of his deco, the way Mirage's own amber optics were said to pop against the cool tones of their deco. "Of course. We've all seen the playback of that race. Still some chance to earn points for the big race, if you can take a First Place. Do you expect to be back soon?"

"Senator, I am really not feeling well," Mirage said. They did try to keep on good terms with their neighbors, but this was too much. Fishing for Team RoboCo intel that could inform wagers? "I must ask you to excuse me."

"And guests?"

It was no business of Crisscross who Mirage invited to their own home.

But from behind, Megaempress said, "Mirage needs rest. You must excuse them. Do allow me to introduce myself."

"Of course. Terrible accident. Mirage should rest comfortably at home. I am Senator Crisscross, originally of Crystal City. You look somehow familiar, have we met?"

"I'm called Megaempress. You may remember a wartime project to construct a warrior to fight the Quintessons."

"You!"

With the Senator distracted, Mirage allowed Hound and Moonheart to escort them to the door to their apartment farther along the hall.

---

"Help me to one of the benches for now," Mirage said.

"I think this whole room is made of benches," Moonheart observed. She was not wrong.

"We call this one 'the den'," Hound said. "I can support Mirage from here."

"Hound," Mirage called softly, "Let Moonheart tend to me. I need you to show Megaempress to the dispensary and get her whatever she and Moonheart need for their travel." Mirage lowered their voice further, "Standard fare for transport and house call."

"As you wish," Hound said, though he lingered, left arm still across Mirage's back.

"Please. I can't manage right now. And we won't be along. Howlback's here."

"I'll come back to check on ya," Hound said. He turned towards Mirage as he slipped his arm from them, and pressed a kiss to the brow of Mirage's helm.

Moonheart slid in close to Mirage's right side as Hound left them.

"Up near the windows?" Mirage asked.

"Sure."

Howlback led the way as they climbed the level of shifting floor elevation. To Mirage this was just home, but they sensed Moonheart's hesitation and shifting attention. This room was larger than some bots' entire living spaces. Mirage was not so out of touch to deny it. They were privileged to have a large room for entertaining many bots of differing sizes with comfortable benches and collection of throw tires to rest upon and a wide view of Iacon City.

But, as Mirage saw it, they had earned their luxury with an age's worth of use, abuse, and servitude under bots and Quints both. A bot was often more than they seemed and damage didn't always show on the outside. Especially if Mirage could prevent it.

Right now, the scraped and scuffed deco from the roll suited their feelings.

"Here," Mirage said, reaching out towards a banquette following the contour of a change in floor level that ringed a conversation pit. "You can make me numb, again, for a little while. So I can rest."

"Exactly," Moonheart promised.

"I'm right here," Howlback said. She was not going to judge or advise Mirage against this treatment. But, Howlback would stay.

Mirage flopped sideways onto the bench, shuttering their optics.

Howlback nudged Mirage's right hand. It was her; the field interaction was so familiar. Mirage felt for her with their digits, locating ears and then petting the top of her head. Mirage felt for the strings along her back.

"You ready? Same as last time?" Moonheart asked. The cushioned surface of the bench shifted with the addition of some part of her weight upon it.

"Yes," Mirage agreed.

The air went cool.

"Just relax," Moonheart whispered. "I'm going to touch you now. Same areas?"

"Yes."

Mirage felt the cool touch of slender digits slide along his forward wing, and then beneath it.

Their own righthand digits ran along Howlback's strings.

"Just lay still. I'll make you feel better." Moonheart's digits sought the edges and gaps of Mirage's pelvic plating.

The tip of Mirage's index digit plucked Howlback's strings. plink, pling, plin

"I didn't know you could do that to string-cats," Moonheart said with some awe.

"Try it without consent and see what happens," Howlback growled.

"Consent is so important," Moonheart said, and plunged her cool digits beneath Mirage's plating.

They moaned.

---

"Mirage."

Hound.

Hound was calling them.

Mirage unshuttered their optics. Hound was there, blue optics close and glowing in dim light, the steely faceplate with scruff of wire, and the neatly bound topknot of cables that in public would have been hidden beneath his green helm.

He smiled. "Mirage. There you are."

"I was just resting."

"You were," Hound said, attentive, but then his voice dropped to nearly a growl. "I saw the ladies out."

"I'm still here," Howlback said flatly. She was just where she'd been, no doubt watching Mirage sleep.

"Fairly compensated?"

"Of course. Her Majesty tried to refuse, but she didn't protest too much." The disdain was overwhelmingly clear.

Mirage smiled and lifted their left hand to touch Hound's faceplate. They so loved this rugged bot. Undoubtedly a loyal friend. He had been tested. But Mirage feared some of those Senators and fellow guards were an influence over him these days. Hound didn't like the work. but, his position was useful. It was a different sort of recon. "She was just being polite. It is fair their efforts are compensated. Megaempress only claims to rule in the arena. She was built to fight, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. She was. A good leader, too. No bot inspired troops like she did."

Yes. That.

"Enough about her." Mirage rubbed their opposer over Hound's faceplate, gently, so as not to leave black transfer.

"How are you, really?"

"I don't want to think about it, yet." It. Not thinking. The racing.

"The downtime will do you good, but you need to recharge or refuel." Hound twisted and reached for the canteen at his hip. "Here."

Mirage managed to get their right elbow under them, to prop themselves up to drink. They accepted the rectangular canteen. Mirage put their lips to the opening and took a swig. They licked their lips. The energon always got a tang when it was canned like that. "Thanks."

"No problem." Hound took the canteen back. "You need anything from me? I could help you wash or-"

"No. I mean, that's an offer I'll take you up on sometime, but I think I'll have someone come over and help me with that, when I'm ready. Actually, I'd like to recharge in the safe room tonight."

"Understood." Mirage did not doubt Hound meant that.

"I feel safer just having you in the house."

"That's what I'm here for," Hound said brightly.

Mirage shifted weight on the bench, removing their left hand from Hound to support themself. Mirage then tapped at the outside of their right thigh. A compartment opened.

They removed the anti-static pouch of circuit blockers. "We should put these somewhere safe. No more than every four megacycles."

"I'll take care of it." Hound peered at the packet, shutters seeming to make his optics squint. "You want me to load these in a cy-gar for you?"

"No need. They're topical. Just slap them, like a patch."

"Aa. Like boosters."

Mirage nodded.

Hound pushed himself up from the bench and stood. "You want me to carry you to the safe room?"

Mirage smiled up at him. "Yes, please."

Ki-Ko-Ka-Ko-Ko Hound was a rugged green outrider with gold insignia and stripes. "Hop in."

Mirage hesitated. Just a nano-klik, but they did.

"Sorry. I didn't think," Hound appologized.

"I can't drive myself right now. And you are better able to carry me in this form." Mirage pushed from the bench and climbed up onto Hound's bed, using the weapons mount as a handhold.

Howlback stretched her limbs at their side.

"Oh, you wanna race?" Hound asked.

Howlback lifted her head and looked to Mirage.

"The sooner one is back on track the better."

---

Hound and Howlback raced through Mirage's home, bouncing and bounding over elevation changes in the flooring, Howlback using the wall as a launching pad when Hound fishtailed through a turn, passing washrooms and recharge suites, office and gym.

It was good to see them happy with their competition and rivalry. And, Mirage was suitably numbed that the drive didn't hurt.

So far as Mirage could tell it was a tie. Howlback could run down a turbofox if pressed, but she wasn't going to have Hound's endurance for long-distance travel. But indoors, the terrain didn't really favor either.

"We should go away somewhere," Mirage said. They climbed down from Hound and put a hand to the wall for support. "Away from the city."

"You mean it?" Ki-ko-Ka-Ko-Ko Hound converted back to bot-form.

Mirage nodded, smiling. Hound looked so happy. "Yes. I don't know when, but I would like to do that, again, with you."

"You know, I'd love that, Mirage, but let's get you well, first."

Mirage pushed themselves from the wall and stepped up to Hound. Feet spread and flat on the floor Mirage stood a wire's width shorter than Hound. They slipped their arms up about Hound's neck, feeling for the thick-treaded off-road tires tucked between Hound's shoulders.

"Tease." Accusation, yet Hound's hands grasped Mirage's hips.

Mirage smirked, leaning closer till their chests bumped. "You don't want me to send you off with warm thoughts?"

"I want us both to be able to get some recharge." But Hound's right hand slid to Mirage's aft while the left supported their lower back. "Besides, we tried heating things up and it didn't help your cog."

It had seemed wise, once, to think that if one's insides were poorly arranged then getting hot and rearranging one's insides would fix everything, but it hadn't proven necessarily true. Even if the overload had felt good in the moment, the increased cramping in their cog after generating forms had felt so bad.

Mirage was aware of Howlback rubbing against the backs of their legs. The possibility that the two of them could take Mirage down presented itself. A slight push, and Mirage would fall over Howlback and hit the floor with both of them quickly on top and leveraging Mirage's legs to pin them.

But that wasn't happening. Mirage shook their head as if to clear the imaginings.

Then Hound did the opposite of what Mirage expected and lifted them as he willingly fell back. The tires at Hound's back acted as a stop, putting Hound's frame at a curious angle to floor and wall, but seating Mirage atop his midsection, so the more slender portion of Mirage's chassis cleared the more ample curve of Hound's chest. If Mirage just bowed and Hound lifted his face they could kiss.

They did, sometimes. Mirage wasn't sure this was the moment for it.

"We can, if you want."

Mirage nodded once, only to acknowledge understanding.

Hound and them: it was intimate and physical and bound up with dedication and loyalty, but it wasn't highly romantic the way other bots depicted that. Mirage didn't think they wanted it to be what other bots had. Their thing worked.

Mirage opted to touch Hound's face with their digits. They pet the dark cables that ran up from Hound's steely processor pan up into the bound topknot. Suck detail, all these individual cables and the terminal connectors. Some were functional.

"You have a work shift tomorrow."

"Yeah, but I'll check in on you. Howlback's here."

How Howlback had gotten there was Mirage's concern and they hadn't wanted to ask Hound about it.

"Maybe, when you're home, we could have some hologram time?"

"Love to."

Mirage smiled. "Can you put me down? I don't think this position is best for my cog, actually."

"Not sure that I can," Hound admitted. "Can you slid off me?"

Mirage managed it, possibly leaving some noticeable white scuffs on Hound's finish.

Free of Mirage's weight and mass, Hound unlocked his wheels, walked his feet back towards the wall and righted his frame.

"I can use some alone time in the safe room," Mirage said.

Hound glanced down at Howlback, seated at Mirage's foot.

They all knew it. They all knew Mirage's 'alone time' was inclusive of Howlback.

"You know where to find me," Hound said.

Mirage nodded; Hound's room was just up the hall, across from Mirage's recharge suite. "Goodnight."

Hound turned to go, but then turned back, tapping digits to a circular receptor aside his head. "Comm if you need anything."

Mirage's other side, the bench at the end of the hall pused with mechanical noise as it folded into the floor, revealing a low, roll-up door just tall enough for a racecar to drive into. Mirage hadn't sent that command, so obviously Howlback had.

Mirage turned from Hound and bent carefully from their knees to lift the door.

Howlback walked into the small chamber beyond.

Mirage then dropped and crawled inside on hands and knees.

Chapter Text

Mirage was not in the safe room long before they were crying. But that was one of the functions of the safe room. It was secret storage, a storm shelter, a bomb bunker, and sometimes a crying closet. It was a tiny space just large enough for Mirage to drive or crawl into but lined with layers of padding, insulation, and heavy shielding. A wired relay controlled from the inside determined whether comms and other electromagnetic signals could get in or out. And a bank of capacitors meant they could stay for an extended time without external fuel supplies.

It was safe.

It was just for Mirage. But also for Howlback.

It was the place Mirage could absolutely unmask. No illusions. No demand for controlled somatics. No field suppression. No contrived politeness of Iaconian Society. No populist political takes. No expectation of witty banter. No Team RoboCo management. No need to pretend Mirage didn't own the team. No fencing rivals. No old hunting chums. No fans. No facing partners.

Mirage could just be Mirage.

Not all the Mirages bots thought they were.

Just Mirage.

Who sometimes wasn't smartest, or cleverest, or fastest, or prettiest, or richest.

Who was still quite damaged, really.

"Get it out now. That's what we're here for. Don't hold it in and waste all Moonheart's terribly invasive work. Get some actual rest while you're frame is numb."

Howlback's voice in the dark.

How many times during the occupation or war had Howlback's voice in the dark - threat or enticement - been that last frayed wire that kept Mirage functional enough to throw up whatever mask was needed to survive?

Too many times. All the times.

Mid-to-high register with some rasp and waver to it. A voice that over time Mirage had come to consider feminine as much as defensive or demanding.

Mirage kicked at the wall. Their foot bounced harmlessly off the thick rubber mat, as the kickback from the impact drove Mirage down into the shredded rubber bedding. Howlback, stretched out atop Mirage's chassis provided a constant pressure and warm presence near their spark.

"You must let it out, like Warp says. Your field, your words. All of it."

In the dark, with only their glow of their frames, the red from Mirage's chest highlighted Howlback's dagger-sharp dental ridges. But the dark was better sometimes, so as to not see how they matched. To not remember their master had specifically ordered Howlback constructed and decorated as Mirage's counterpart and keeper. Mirage hadn't worn white racing livery then. Mirage had been the same blue as Howlback, with plating etched and engraved Quintesson Decorative Arts style, with gold embellishment.

"Just let it go," Howlback told Mirage. Gently, like a desperate wish.

But he'd been trained to hold it all in! He. Mirage had though of himself like that, then. He should notice flaws in others, use what he learned to advantage, but never show his own flaws. Cover it up. Cover everything up.

Bad things happened if a bot stood out too much.

Gaslighting was just the start.

Mirage knew the Quintessons were gone. They knew it.

But what if bots just started doing the same scrap to other bots? Mirage should be careful. Mirage should be prepared. Mirage should stay safe.

"I was so close," Mirage cried, vocalizer crackling as it rose in pitch. The internal pressure was too much; washer fluid wept from their optics. "I was so close to passing Blurr and my cog cramped so hard. I felt like I would purge if I held my form even one more nano-klik."

"It was just a race."

"It's not only losing to Blurr. I didn't even finish!"

Howlback repeated herself, optics fixed on Mirage. "It was just a race." They had the same amber glow to their optics, too.

"Howlback-!"

"No bot died! No bot gets punished for losing the race. It was just a race, Mirage."

"But, I-"

"You removed yourself from the field before you could permanently damage yourself. You survived. That's what we do."

"We survive," Mirage said, vocalization comfortably in the lower register.

"We survive," Howlback repeated.

"It's important," Mirage said.

"To live freely," Howlback said.

Mirage lifted their arms and draped them over Howlback. "I didn't want you to have to come back here."

"I chose to."

"Ravage had a point. About us."

"I am not Ravage." In the dark, her twitching tail whipped briefly against Mirage's leg. "I have considered his opinion."

"He wasn't wrong."

Howlback growled. "I'm so glad his companions are seeking therapy, but Ravage does not get to diagnose me. He doesn't own me. He doesn't even command me anymore."

"But now you aren't in the same unit, he's an acceptable diversion."

"He's attractive in his way," Howlback admitted.

Mirage rubbed their digits over Howlback's head. "Nice voice, too."

"Don't start." But whether the petting or recalling Ravage's commanding tone, her systems hummed in contentment.

Mirage was able to drop efforts to restrain their own energy field.

"It was not a bad idea for us to have time apart. To travel separately, try other relationships. But don't tell me I can't come back when you need me!" Howlback wriggled to get closer, paws at Mirage's collar and the underside of her jaw lain along Mirage's neck.

"The problem is I would never say no to that."

"I'll leave again, if you say I can always come back."

Mirage squeezed Howlback between their arms. "You can come back. You can always come back. You can be with me whenever you want." The fluid leaked from Mirage's optics again.

"I'll only stay for a little while, because you're hurt. We can have time apart again, after."

"It could be good to try that, again."

"No one else understands," Howlback said, maw close to Mirage's neck and receptor.

"I know." Other bots understood surviving Quintessons occupation or the war that drove them from Cybertron. Other bots had been through those things. But they didn't understand this. They didn't understand how bots forced into a relationship of ownership, control, and reporting on each other could choose to maintain any form of relationship when freed of their alien masters. Or, if they understood, they didn't judge it acceptible.

Maybe it seemed unhealthy, to others, but Mirage didn't know what could be healthier than two bots learning to protect each other in a difficult situation.

Nobot else knew and understood them as they did each other.

Those bots didn't understand the euphoria that came from consent after lacking agency for so long.

The choice felt good, whether others deemed the choice acceptable or not.

They could do whatever they botdamn wanted to, even if it was a really bad idea.

They were free. Mirage was rich. And Mirage had more evidence of other bots' bad choices than they would ever find on Mirage.

Mirage was damaged, but they would survive. They were very good at it.

"You feel good right now," Howlback said.

"I'm glad you're back." Mirage reasoned they had been anxious about Howlback's means of travel here and what returning meant, but here, in their safe room, they were glad for a familiar companion.

Howlback sniffed and lapped at Mirage's jaw.

Mirage gently plucked her strings.

They should get some recharge while still comfortably numb.

Chapter Text

It was the pain that brought Mirage fully online. They had a hazy sense they'd been half-alert for some time: neither fully in stasis nor online, but in a low-power state as discomfort increased in their cog.

Now, the pain was sharp, near as intense as it had been on the track, forcing alertness. And Mirage finally noticed the their internal chronometer.

They'd been in stasis some megacycles. With the time passed at the track, in transit, and at home, Mirage was well past the recommended four megacycles between doses.

Conscious and alert, Mirage tried focusing on something other than the pain.

Safe room.

Near-enveloped in rubbery padding.

Dark.

Howlback's felinoid frame now curled and weighing heavily on Mirage's chest.

The manual, mechanical safe-room door release should be to Mirage's right.

They reached out, groping for the handle.

"Howlback." Mirage pinged her over comms as they called her name.

Howlback's head quickly rose, angular amber optics unshuttered and bright. "You're in pain!"

It was sharp enough it was probably evident in their field. Mirage wasn't suppressing it here. "Missed a dose."

Howlback rolled off Mirage into the rubber bedding.

The literal removal of weight from Mirage's chest helped a lot. Their frame could stretch and twist, which had the effect of shifting struts and motor strands in proximity to their t-cog, dulling the pain somewhat. It still hurt, but Mirage was able to focus on grasping and turning the handle to retract the bars securing the roll-up door.

Mirage didn't think about anything else but getting out and finding where Hound had put the circuit blockers.

The door rolled up. The hall was unlit at this time of night, but this was Iacon and there was traffic at all times and Mirage's home had a lot of glass and well-maintained metallic surfaces.

Something was eclipsing that indirect light.

And the bench that hid the door should have been back up, not retracted.

Something. Somebot who knew where the saferoom was.

Mirage put their left hand to the place over their cog and remained kneeling in the opening to the hall, scrying into the dark.

Somebot waiting outside the saferoom.

The light and shadow shifted with passing traffic.

Howlback walked out ahead.

And then Mirage finally saw the profile and amber glass.

"Warp."

The bot's faceplate angled in Mirage's direction, and the rosy glow of optics illuminated the surrounding dark liner against a steely complexion. "Mirage." It sounded like he smiled. Then, with an attempt at command, "AUNTIE, dim lighting."

Nothing happened.

"You see? It's still not recognizing me!" Skywarp complained.

Mirage did not want to deal with this now. "Warp, please, I am not feeling well."

"I'll get Hound," Howlback announced. Her light disappeared from view.

"Come here," Skywarp said, "I can see you took damage, but not how your color looks."

It suddenly occurred to Mirage that Skywarp and Howlback had probably been using optical modes and processing to compensate for the lack of lighting. Mirage must really not be focusing well to have neglected to do the same. They cycled their optics through modes until Skywarp's frame resolved against the interior. He'd already extended a hand.

Mirage set his right hand atop Skywarp's. Warp's talon-like digits closed gently over his and with a tug and some leaning, Mirage was drawn up onto his feet and into the hall.

"How bad's the pain? How can I safely touch you?" Skywarp's digits withdrew.

Mirage almost felt they would cry again. They attempted to contract their field and mask the pain.

"Don't. Please. I like it so much when you let it out."

"I don't want to be held right now." Usually they would have been doing that already and Mirage would have felt so good about it. "Can I just lean against you, instead? Hound will bring my circuit blockers."

"Whatever you need," Skywarp told them, but then warbled in a lower tone, "Hound could have just told me. I said I'd take the night shift."

Mirage shuffled the distance between them and leaned against Skywarp's right side, as Warp was sitting on the floor with his wings to the wall. They were aware of Skywarp's right arm awkwardly seeking a place to exist without holding Mirage.

But this was nice, as much as it could be with the pain in Mirage's cog.

Skywarp's field was so very Skywarp. It didn't contract the way most bots' did. And it radiated out a relatively impolite distance, by most bots' measures. It could make Skywarp seem rude and overly assertive by his presence. But once Mirage had resigned themself to the experience of being inside Skywarp's 'bubble' just to interact with him, it had stopped feeling overwhelming and become...fun.

There was just an inclusive and conspiratorial sense to being a bot trusted inside Skywarp's personal space.

What they'd been working on was Mirage willfully extending their field inside that space.

Skywarp professed to love it.

Mirage suspected that this level of field interaction could be as intimate and satisfying as 'facing was for a lot of bots.

But, Skywarp might not see it that way, if his field remaining extended and interacting was just typical.

Mirage choosing to let their field out, for Skywarp, when they were the one with the ability to contract it, was probably the attraction.

---

They were still like that when Hound arrived, soon after by internal chronometer.

Just being together not really doing anything else.

A general sense of bubbly bliss interspersed with ache and pain.

"AUNTIE, raise lights!" Hound called.

The lighting through the hall went from off to quite dim.

"AUNTIE, raise lights by 20% of max!" Skywarp commanded.

Nothing.

Mirage could feel Skywarp seething.

"Can I get in there?" Hound asked, stopping a machanometer or so from Mirage, which was probably at polite distance, given Skywarp's field. He opened the packet of circuit blockers.

"You should give them to me. Your digits are thick. And I said I was going to take the night shift."

Hound did, actually, seem to be fumbling a bit with the packet, but that might have been because Skywarp had commented on Hound's digits, which Mirage had always considered quite servicable.

Hound stopped, bright blue optics looking to Mirage, then Skywarp, and back. Skywarp seated was nearly as tall as Hound standing, maybe taller, if wingtips counted. "You know what, have at it, Mech. I wasn't sure how serious you were about all that." Hound offered the packet, then grumbled, "And I know what my digits are good for."

Skywarp twisted to snatch the packet in his left hand. "Yeah? So do I!" He quipped; it was unclear whether Skywarp meant Hound's digits or his own. Warp brought his right arm up over Mirage and deftly retrieved a single circuit blocker. "We had a whole - very mature - conversation about taking turns." Skywarp leaned forward, right wing coming into contact with Mirage's tires. Skywarp turned his head to regard Mirage. "We did."

"I believe you." They'd past settled the fact that Hound and Skywarp were both devoted in their ways to Mirage and welcome in their home, but not especially fond or the slightest bit attracted to each other. It had been obvious Skywarp had delivered Howlback. Ample opportunity for that conversation to have taken place.

Skywarp offered the circuit blocker in the purple-painted tips of his sharp digits.

"You gotta take the old one off first," Hound advised.

"I'll do it," Mirage said. Their hand was already close to the location and they did not actually want Hound and Skywarp fighting over them. A shame these two did not get along, because Mirage could think of places all those digits might fit. They picked the spent blocker from their dermal plating. Mirage twisted, leaning against Skywarp's wing and showing their left side. "Can you get it under my wing?"

"It works lik-" Hound started.

"A booster," Warp finished. "I've seen it done."

Mirage felt the pinch as the blocker's prongs punched through their dermal plating. They'd have marks until self-repair systems patched the tiny holes.

"And, actually, it would be fine if I had done boosters myself, because all bots should have autonomy over their frames, whether they want to mod, or wear weapons, or do all kinds of CANT."

Mirage might have laughed if they hadn't still been in pain. As it was, they nearly whimpered.

"The autonomy cause is about freedom from foreign rule," Hound explained, "We don't want bots abusing and destroying themselves."

"But it's still their right," Skywarp insisted. "Self Determination means the self determines at all levels of society."

They'd reached the Society point; this would not end well. "Warp," Mirage said.

Skywarp fixed his magenta-pink optics on Mirage.

"Can you not, right now? It's the middle of the night. I can get four solid megacycles of rest on this blocker. I need the rest."

"You want to go back in your safe room?"

"You can take me to my slab." Mirage wished he were being suggestive. It might still have seemed so, the way his optics rose.

"Skywarp," Howlback called, "Do you think it would be a good idea for me to put the circuit blockers away?"

The packet was still in Skywarp's left hand. "Sure," he said, opening his fist to show the packet.

"I'll put it somewhere in the dispensary. I'll be staying here until Mirage feels better, so any of you can let me know when it's time for a dose."

Mirage reached to Skywarp's hand and took the packet, then passed it down to Howlback. She took it carefully in her jaw.

When Mirage straightened, they found Skywarp even closer than before, kneeling on the hall floor. "You ready?"

Oh. "Yes."

Skywarp's darkly painted lips smirked, baring a fang. "See ya, Hound!"

VOP!

---

They teleported into Mirage's recharge suite. Mirage extended their arms as if to stop a fall, but found there was no momentum. They were standing atop their recharge slab with the smart window to their left and Skywarp still on his knees. The filter-augmented exterior view provided enough dim-light to see features on or around the slab without additional optical processing.

"You're pretty hurt, aren't you?" Skywarp's sharp digits ghosted along Mirage's chassis without touching.

Mirage really wanted him to touch. "The plating's not so bad. It's my cog."

"What?" Of course, there hadn't been opportunity for anybot to tell Skywarp, yet.

"I'm not so much hurt by the crash, as I put myself in that roll, because I was hurting. I've got cog cramps."

"What's that?" Skywarp seemed to genuinely not know.

"You never had cog cramps?" Mirage asked, curious whether this were true.

Skywarp shook his head. His left hand, having been tracing over Mirage moved to the spot on his midriff above where his own t-cog was located. "I've been injured, but no problems in that area."

"But you know somebot who has?"

Skywarp shrugged.

"It's really common," Mirage said, wondering if this was one of those topics made awkward because Skywarp was a constructed bot and not forged. "It just means the cog itself gets irritated. It can just happen periodically from heat, or use. It expands or contracts when it shouldn't and that makes converting and holding alternate forms difficult or painful."

"You can't transform?" Skywarp's tone made it horrifying, which did not make Mirage feel great.

Mirage hissed, optics averted to the window. "I could try, but then it could make it worse and cause permanent damage. So, no. I can't. No alt-mode, hybrid modes, or generating forms."

"Not even your tires?" Mirage felt Skywarp's hands slide around their legs.

"NO!" Mirage shouted, straining their vocalizer. They glared at Skywarp! "NO, WARP! I can't TrAnSfOrM!" Shrill and then breaking into static.

"No, no, no!" Skywarp showed bare, open hands. He backed away, off the slab. "I didn't want to upset you. I'm sorry. Mirage! I said it all wrong. I shouldn't have made you explain when you're hurting. I don't know things, sometimes, but I shouldn't have kept asking. It sounds rude. One time, Skyjack's plating was binding and she couldn't...convert and...."

Skywarp kept going, but Mirage could not listen right now.

Skywarp shouldn't have kept asking.

Now, Mirage had foolishly hurt their vocalizer as well.

But it was also true Mirage cared for Skywarp and his partner was about to go into a panic spiral.

:Warp,: Mirage called to him over comms as they sat down on the slab. :You're panicking.:

But Skywarp clearly knew. He was already attempting to regulate by practicing his calming technique, which, curiously, was listing other calming techniques. "Cycle ventilation systems, count backwards, listen to music, go out and look at the sky, think of a safe and happy place."

:Warp. I am not angry at you.: Mirage lowered themself to the slab, reclining on their right side, so Skywarp was somewhat in view, though poorly lit.

Skywarp's optics left trails as he paced through the shadows. The fans within the racks on his chest spun up. It was rare Skywarp actually attempted the calming techniques other than listing them. He must be very upset, too.

Mirage put their lefthand digits to their neck, just over their vocalizer, and attempted a series of test tones. Lower pitch range was good, as usual, higher broke with static, which was, unfortunately, also usual. Old damage that wouldn't be fixed.

"Warp." Their typical lower pitch and register.

Skywarp rushed - not teleporting, just fast - to the edge of the slab and knelt beside it. "I would not have forgiven myself if I had damaged your voice."

Mirage did not want to lose patience again. They rolled to lie on their back before speaking. "My voice was damaged. I lost my temper. You just got puzzled and asked questions like you normally do."

"I should have known better. You told me how you were hurting and that it was late. I did hear you. But, I didn't really process it. I just...I can see now it was too much."

"I know." And Mirage did know. So many times with Skywarp were good. But just sometimes, Skywarp got distracted, or Mirage got frustrated, and they needed time to think on their own before making up.

"And, maybe I didn't say it before," Skywarp said, only daring now to meet Mirage's optics again, "But I really do like your tires and how you move them."

"You didn't have to say it. You show me."

Skywarp leaned in, folding his arms along Mirage's side. "Should I make amends to you? I'm nobot's beck and call bot, but I could be your beck and call bot."

Mirage quirked a smile at that. Well, more at the beck & call part. Mirage was less certain about Skywarp's recent fixation on making amends. It might have been the Seeker called Thundercracker who gave Skywarp the idea. Mirage wasn't sure one could just make up for a specific past bad with some specific future good. But, Mirage could see how it helped Skywarp focus, because keeping track of a specific task was easier to conceptualize than the broad abstraction of 'do better'.

"Not, amends, because you didn't really do something wrong, you just acted with poor timing."

"That hurts most. When I accidentally hurt friends." Mirage thought this was probably true for Skywarp. It wasn't the harm or offense itself; it was believing he disappointed those he valued. Maybe, it was true for Mirage, too, only they found themself most self-critical when an action would have once been punished: failure, loss, sloppiness.

Mirage lifted their right hand. "Hold my hand?"

Skywarp immediately took Mirage's hand between their larger ones. He then bowed and pressed his face into his hands, kissing Mirage's digits. "This kind of kissing is all right." Almost but not really a question.

"Maybe there is an amend, if you are willing," Mirage suggested.

Skywarp looked up, smiling.

"Climb up here and kiss me-" Mirage saw Skywarp start to rise. "But! it has to be a comforting sort of kiss. And no weight on my frame."

"I can do it." Warp's tone was absolute certainty.

"Show me."

Skywarp set Mirage's hand down over their chest and then rose to his feet aside the recharge slab. He climbed up and over Mirage on hands and knees, carefully arranging limbs without leaning weight on Mirage. His lefthand digits clicked over the vents on Mirage's helm. The soft clacking so close to their receptor had a weirdly soothing effect. "Mirage." Skywarp's opposer stroked their faceplate.

"Good start," Mirage told him.

"AUNTIE," Skywarp called, "play Mirage's Electro-Chant Playlist."

Mirage sighed when there was no response. "AUNTIE, locate Skywarp."

The smart-house interface responded: "Skywarp is directly above you."

"It knows you're here."

"It knows too much, except how to listen."

"I checked three times. You have permissions."

Skywarp clicked irritation.

"Maybe..." Mirage hesitated to say it. "Maybe, it hasn't learned to parse your accent."

Skywarp's optics rolled. But, he repeated the request in an exaggerated Iaconian accent. "Aan-tee, Play Mih-raadge's Eh-lect-ro-Chaan-t' Playlist, please."

"Playing Mirage's Electro-Chant Playlist."

"I am so sorry," Mirage whispered as the beats and Old Cybertronian vocals came through the overhead speakers.

Skywarp shook his head. "Three, two, one. Soothing music for Mirage. Back to being comforting. Where was I?"

"Kisses?" Mirage wanted the kisses.

Skywarp's lips pursed, but his optics were clearly scanning. "Could you shutter your optics a klik?" He asked.

Mirage focused, looking into Warp's rosy-toned optics. "I trust you." They lowered their shutters.

A series of mechanical noises sounded from close above. Not a full conversion, but parts moving shink click whirr. Warp's field enveloped Mirage in a tingling sense of presence.

He wouldn't actually have bared his spark. Skywarp would ask. There'd be a whole conversation about it. Mirage kept their optics shuttered tight.

"All right?" Skywarp asked, close now to Mirage's right receptor.

"You feel close." But, there was no apparent weight on Mirage's frame.

"I am so close right now." Skywarp followed with a wordless click of annoyance, probably at how flirtatious that had sounded, and corrected. "I mean: I'm here for you."

"May I open my optics?" Mirage asked.

"Yes."

Mirage looked down along their frames. No visible sparklight. But it was as Mirage had begun to suspect: Skywarp had used a step of the Spark Chamber Access Protocol to rotate the convex curve of his canopy into the mass of his frame, and in doing so brought his spark chamber much closer to his front.

There was so little distance between their sparks. And maybe half as much shielding as usual.

But Skywarp was closed.

And this enabled him to lean in a lot closer without his canopy pressing down on Mirage.

"It's all right? Not too much?"

"You're just more than usual." And Skywarp's usual was already more than average. Mirage looked back up at Skywarp's face, almost blurry with proximity. "I'm good."

"More than you know," Warp warbled. But then, whispering at Mirage's receptor, "I got you. I'm here. You can get through this."

He meant it. At this proximity, Skywarp didn't have the ability to lie without Mirage sensing it. "I'm so glad you are here," Mirage said. "My frame needs downtime. Even if I don't like it, I know I need to make myself take the downtime. It's hard. I'm in pain and it's stressful."

Skywarp's lips grazed Mirage's helm. "So hard to be responsible. But, I believe in you." His field felt like love.

"Warp."

"You don't have to talk, unless you want to." Skywarp's lips right between Mirage's optics.

So, Mirage didn't. They let the music, and Warp's field, and the flow of energy from the recharge slab all soothe their processor, spark and frame. It helped that the circuit blockers had kicked in. Mirage let their optics shutter.

Something touched Mirage's lips. A talon-like digit pressing so gently against dermal plating.

"You are competent," Skywarp told them, lips near Mirage's receptor again. "I look at your scuffed plating and I know you are a survivor. It's so hot."

Mirage vaguely wondered where this was going.

"But anybot can need some care now and then." Skywarp's lips touched Mirage's faceplate, just aside their mouth. "And I got you, Mirage."

"Yes."

Skywarp caressed Mirage's helm. "I'll take care of you. Whatever you can't do for yourself. I'll find ways."

"Love you," Mirage whispered. They hoped the truth of it conveyed through their field.

Finally, Skywarp pressed a kiss to Mirage's mouth. It was the perfect most lovely and chaste kiss with the very slightest bit of sensor nodule passing between lips and a hint of static arcing between them. Not chaste like a hesitant first kiss. But a most intentional and mature choice to express comfort over seduction.

Skywarp's choice to quietly withdraw so Mirage could rest was more of the same.

Chapter Text

Mirage was sprawled out on a bench before the tall, wide windows of the den enjoying the view. The bright midday light through the lens of the Great Dome over Iacon City proper glinted off the blue and gold alloys of the Celestial Spires. Bots of High Society promenaded along the skywalks between towers. The portions of the Auto-state converted in and out of existence with the needs of ground-frames farther below. And, above, the occasional roar and whoosh of passing air-frames.

Mirage noted a familiar combination of angular red fuselage and blue and white boosters and wondered where he was going.

The answer presented itself about a cycle later as AUNTIE announced a visitor: "Star Saber is at the side entrance near the den."

Mirage rolled over, away from the window view and questioned whether they wanted to answer the door, which, they tended to think of the main, but less formal entrance. It was, of the possible entrances, the one through which Star Saber would most easily fit.

Mirage pushed themselves up to a sitting position. "AUNTIE, Register Star Saber and his usual components as guest, and then open the door."

Mirage stood as the door opened and began walking down the den's descending and rising floor elevations around the contours of the various conversation pits and seating arrangements.

The sliding doors remained open as Star Saber stood just within the opening, large, red about helm and chest with a battlemask across their faceplate, which slightly filtered their words. "Mirage, I hope you do not mind me dropping by unannounced to pay my respects."

Mirage continued slowly toward the doors, mindful that their plating was still badly scraped and scuffed even after self-repair systems had been at work. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you must forgive my appearance."

"Of course. Do forgive my state of attire. I came here on my way from protecting a sparkfield." Of course he had. Star Saber was very noble in that sense of the word.

Mirage looked up at Star Saber, the size difference between them all the more evident with proximity and the doorway for scale. The tall bot with red, blue, and gold deco on white plating was massive, like Mirage supposed Primes out of legends must be. But, fortunately, Mirage had the privilege of living in a building where tradition, formality, and Primes had all been design considerations. The ceilings were quite high. "Come in."

"I don't want to impose." Star Saber might think he meant that, Mirage supposed, but this was all so much politeness between them. They were not friends, but they had engaged at various fencing tournaments and occasionally served each other as sparring partners. And sometimes sparring lead to other activities.

Showers, rub-downs, more.

They would each impose on the other if it suited their purposes.

"Please. Come inside," Mirage said.

Star Saber stepped in and the doors closed behind him. He looked especially fancy for having come from one of the hot spots in his Circle of Light regalia, with the Rays and Bays Sigil of Primus on his shoulders and a long white cape hanging from his back, which showed transfer of glittery bluish-grey sparkfield substrate along the bottom edge. "I brought you something."

"There was no need." More politeness.

"Of course I saw the holos of your crash. Unfortunate. But, then it happened to reach me that you'd been taken with cog cramps." Star Saber held forward a canister, small in his large, dark hand.

"Yes." What path this information had taken Mirage did not know, but it wasn't secret. Dirt Boss may have reported it to the Racing Federation or Racers Guild. Mirage reached up to catch the canister as Star Saber dropped it to his smaller hand.

"I call it Star Saber's Special Cog Support Coolant Smoothie." Naturally.

Mirage regarded the metal cup in their right hand and then removed the security cap from the straw with lefthand digits. They lifted the smoothie and sipped...and coughed. "Taste's very healthy," Mirage rasped.

"That's all the mineral additives," Star Saber admitted.

Mirage nodded, Terrible aftertaste, too. They took another sip.

"But, it does work," Star Saber promised. "Trust me. I have three t-cogs. The cramps are no jest."

Not the only thing Star Saber had three of. Not that it was a good idea to focus on that right now, but Mirage was bored. "Did you want to sit down?" Mirage asked, "Or, make yourself more comfortable?"

"I didn't plan on staying long, but if you don't mind?"

Mirage made a sweeping gesture toward the den, which was plenty large enough to entertain bots of many sizes.

Star Saber looked around, as if scanning. "I thought you must have other guests to receive."

"AUNTIE is always here," Mirage said, pointing generally upwards with one hand as they carried their coolant smoothie back into the den. "But, I'm the only one in at the moment, other's being at about their work or errands."

"Utility and tactical support." Star Saber gave what seemed an approving nod. "Then, allow me to get myself coordinated."

Mirage took his meaning and put some space between them, stepping over to a functional rail framing one of the pits and putting themself the other side.

Star Saber went through a partial conversion. This was not something Mirage knew to be common to many bots; Star Saber's outer appearance was largely an armor that in his combined vehicular form made-up the boosters for the smaller, core red jet. First his helm and mask retracted, and then with zippy shings and bright clangs and some amount of cydraulic hissing, Star Saber opened at the chest and a smaller frame ejected from within, which converted midair with the typical ki-ko-ka-ko-ko, and then landed on broad red feet.

"Well, Hello, Saber," Mirage said, smiling. They two were the same bot, same spark: the tall one with much more red color blocking and this one, only about large as a Seeker or one of the stronger helos, with the blue helm and chassis, who wore the nose of their jet form along their left arm like a shield. Still, even knowing they were the same, Mirage tended to find this form easier to handle, and it was Saber who most often sparred with them.

Saber smiled back, their faceplate unmasked and now displaying a blue visor. There were things a bot could do with a mouth. First of them being small talk, then maybe a drink or snack.

Saber strode over to the railing, stopping the side opposite Mirage where it curled into a terminal newelpost. "I thought, if you had time, I could help you though some physical therapy. It helped me with my cramps."

"I was advised to take downtime," Mirage said.

"So important, especially when the t-cog is most inflamed, but light activity to maintain your flexibility will be useful when you are able to convert again."

That sounded plausible. "Maybe we could work on some stretches or go through some sword forms. Would you care for any fuel, first? I think there's a whole box of oil cakes in the dispensary."

Saber's lips twitched without quite smiling or fully sneering. It did seem that air-frames generally craved oil less.

"Or, some ener-tea. We do have that."

"That would be lovely, Mirage. Shall I carry you on my back, like that time you stubbed your stabilizer?"

Mirage laughed, trying to remember how long ago that had been. Not when they were young. Mirage didn't think they had met until after the war and both were in their current frames.

---

Saber had carried Mirage on his back, down one of the interior corridors, past drinking hall, and ballroom, and other chambers Mirage barely used. The dispensary was one of the smaller rooms in the house; probably designed for Mini-Cons or Appliancebots, though Mirage just had appliances that existed as peripherals for AUNTIE. There was room enough for a cute Nyonic style cafe table, which Mirage had perched themself atop like they were the snack, rather than use the chairs. It had the effect of encouraging Saber to stand close, rather than sit below Mirage, which put them closer to equal height.

"So, one of the other senators came to speak to Dai Atlas," Saber was saying over a small cup of ener-tea.

"Oh, which?" Mirage asked, really trying to project mildest interest.

"Heretech? Maybe. It was not important."

It could be important, but Mirage let it go, sipping their smoothie.

Saber continued. "They were talking about the business in Helex and that project in Unitrex and it came up that if the separate city-states built up their own military forces or...Titans, that some small rivalry could lead to...civil war."

"Surely we can't be at that stage?" Mirage said it with practiced, politely mild doubt, but genuinely was skeptical they were at any such point.

"Oh, no. Of course not. You must not worry. And Senator Dai Atlas will make sure of that. He's very keen on preserving tradition and culture. War would be devastating. But, this other Senator said: wouldn't it be a good idea if we had games?"

"Games?" This other senator who may or may not have been Heretech?

"As a way to have friendly and peaceful competition. For the best bots of all the city-states to be able to show their skills."

Mirage threw up a quick illusion that schooled their face, against any microexpression they might make. Mirage could see ways games could go poorly, but was uncertain whether it was a good time to mention this to present company.

"Think of it, Mirage," Saber went on, "we could put a word in with Dai Atlas and see to it there's fencing. And surely there would be racing. Maybe a shooting event."

"Other city-states would propose events they believe they have an advantage in." Mirage still feared the whole premise of the games could become a source of division after the war with the Quintessons had given bots a cause to unite around.

"So, someplace like...Vos proposes Jet Judo or...Pole Dancing?" Saber vocalized a short laugh. "I could probably figure out some way to compete at Jet Judo myself." But Saber's head and visor tipped, seeming to scan Mirage's frame.

Was Saber imagining Mirage as his partner in that? Mirage made a gesture waving away a silly thought as they dropped the illusion and put physical effort into appearing amused and entertained. "Why consider so many events? You're already the best swordsmech in the galaxy, whatever your form."

"In the universe, Mirage." Saber grinned.

Mirage nodded, smiling. They did not wish to go that far, but it probably was true Saber, or Star Saber, had been tested against various Quintesson-employed mercenaries from other worlds. "Maybe you'd like to move to the gym and show me some of your skills?" Curious as Mirage was about political dealings, it was not the stress they wanted right now. Better a change of subject and venue.

"As you wish. Thank you for the tea. That oilcake was...filling. Is there a shop nearby that prepares cakes Crystal City style with the quartz layer?"

"Skywarp brought them."

"Skywarp."

"You may have met him." Mirage took a last sip of their coolant smoothie.

"The unaffiliated swordsmech."

"Yes," Mirage said. "He is self-trained, mostly, but he's not terrible. I've been trying to teach him the fencing forms, but he's not quite got the footwork, yet."

"I imagine his kind have programmed skills."

His kind; Mirage noted that. But, what Saber said was not untrue. "I am certain all the batches of constructed bots have a mix of what others assigned them and what they've chosen or learned for themselves."

"I don't know how to think of programmed skills. A bot might download skills and then go compete."

Mirage tilted their head in question. "Saber. You download your whole self into your Brainmaster unit. What the constructs have is no different from what any bot may have. Cyberspace? Sparkswap shell tourism? Physical re-engineering and modding? Technologies allow bots to have autonomy over themselves and their forms. Do you think maybe our concern should be when bots unjustly have others make those choices for them?"

"The V-Star and Brainmaster are me."

"Yes, exactly. What upgrades and changes I've made are me, too. Don't you think it would be more honorable to allow constructed bots to also discover who they are?"

Mirage wasn't sure if Saber heard everything, as he replied, "You changed your terms at some point."

"I did," Mirage admitted.

"Why did you never seek to join the Cyber-Ninja Corps?"

Mirage sighed. Real answer: they'd been considered on the Quintesson's side for too much of their life. Even now, some bots considered Mirage a collaborator. So, they just said, "The timing just wasn't right. But, Saber, why should I need to join an organization when I can have private lessons with you?" Flattery. Flattery might deflect attention from this matter.

Saber's visor visibly brightened as he lifted his face and smiled. He shrugged one shoulder. "You're very lucky I am so amenable."

"I am." It would be much worse to be Star Saber's enemy. "And thank you, too, for the smoothie. It was thoughtful. And I do feel better. I could hardly make myself eat or drink through the pain yesterday."

"I knew it would work!" Saber turned, putting his back to Mirage. "Shall we go?"

Mirage hopped onto Saber's back, putting his arms up about Saber's neck and shoulders. Saber's hands caught Mirage's legs, his digits touching the vulnerable gap in plating behind the knee joints.

They moved back through the corridor, passing the den where the powered-down armor that Saber referred to as V Star stood. "Do you remember?" Mirage asked, "Gym's a little way down on the right."

Saber nodded. "I was just thinking. Maybe you are right. If I talk to Senator Dai Atlas about games, we should make certain all types of Cybertronians can compete. If a particular frame or form wins out, then that's just the way of it. The bot still had to make best use of their abilities within the rules of a game."

"That's a good idea," Mirage said, "But I would want you to think about it and be certain. It would not be appropriate for me, who already has wealth and some social standing, to expect any special treatment. Not more than any citizen of Cybertron should expect."

"Of course not." They had reached the gym and Saber stopped to allow Mirage to slide down. His digits glided over Mirage's thighs as they dropped.

Mirage stood there a moment before manually tapping at the door controls to open it.

Saber made a gesture for Mirage to enter first.

"AUNTIE, Mirage's Sparring Settings, please." Mirage entered the gym, which was another on the windowed north side of the house, with a sparring square drawn out on the floor to the left, a central area with treadmills facing the view and a small collection of weights and resistance devices, then to the right an attached wash area. Overhead lighting increase in brightness and low-volume instrumental string music began to play.

Saber went immediately to the left where the wall was hung with weapons.

Mirage joined him.

"He asks me," Saber said. "Some days, Dai Atlas asks me what I hear from other bots."

"He trusts you." Mirage meant that and hoped it was encouraging, yet at the same time filed this piece of knowledge away as useful confirmation. Information was as much a currency as precious metals or energon.

"Some things you said made sense. The batches of constructs did not choose how they came to be. But if we were to tell them they should have bodies more in keeping with their Primus-given spark, then we are forcing a form upon them as much as Quintessons did. And that is not just."

"Is somebot saying that?" Mirage asked earnestly. "That constructs should be made to change?"

"No. But what else is the implication? When an eloquent bot speaks of the Will of Primus and all of us having some small part of Primus within and that we should return to Primus without defying His Will."

"Reversionists." Mirage whispered the term. Mirage did not have the capacity for this conversation right now. Mirage did like to think that they believed in Primus. Yet, in their life, there was little evidence that Primus interfered directly on any everyday level or timescale. And certainly the Reversionist interpretation of Primus was not the only one. "What do you think, Saber? How can bots say Primus is the god of our people yet not wish for all sorts of change? Change is what we do."

"We do, yes." Saber smiled, briefly. "I suppose they say that some type of change is acceptable."

"Who do we allow to decide what is acceptable?"

"We need wise leadership," Saber answered.

That was not the answer Mirage had hoped for, but it gave them some indication of where Saber's thoughts were at present. "We could all use a little wisdom," Mirage whisered again.

"For now, we can put our faith in Senator Dai Atlas' wish for peace."

---

Mirage favored an épée; the choice of target, thrusting attacks, and risk of counterattack all made bouts envigorating. But today was meant to be relaxing, and with politics repeatedly coming up, it seemed wise to give Saber something else to talk about. So, they were practicing with sabres.

They stood within the sparring square, together at one side and facing the window. It was passing midday and the light of their local star Hadeen was shining from the west and reflecting off the interior of the Great Dome and the Hanging Towers in the northeast bathing Iacon City in golden light. Saber's plating looked warm and off-white in the daylight except where the cooler overhead lighting highlighted his frame

"Then slash, like so." Saber demonstrated the movement at half-speed.

Mirage copied the movement with a slight lag, slashing the saber down from the right

"Better," Saber said, turning his head to observe. "Again. Long, smooth stroke."

Fluid? Mirage should be able to do that. They performed the saber form again, starting from a transitional pose where they turned their wrist to angle the sabre down to the left.

"Good." Saber assumed a starting pose. "Shall we try a combo?"

Mirage nodded. "Yes." They also returned to their starting pose, feet below shoulders and sabre held forward.

Saber coached Mirage through the form as they moved: "Thrust tip toward shoulder. Step. Slash the spark. Turn your blade. Slash. Turn. Cut the cog. Back."

Mirage copied the movement, but this time, threw up a duplicate Mirage as their opponent. Aim for the shoulder. Step. The duplicate's chest flashed as Mirage made the horizontal slash. Turn. Slash. turn. Mirage slashed the sabre across their duplicate's midsection, right where their cog would be. The duplicate flashed and then slumped.

Saber stood watching this. Mirage knew that Saber, whatever his form, was already aware Mirage had some ability to not seem where they were, but Mirage had not used it in this way before, to project a second Mirage as opponent. Not for Saber.

"It looks real. Even in this light," Saber said, his sabre lowered to his side.

"Yes." It was not a hologram. Mirage did not project it. The illusion was simply perceived.

"Can I-?" Saber reached with his left hand.

Mirage slid, putting a duplicate over their position, while invisibly moving into the space of the previous duplicate. It should be seamless. Mirage was quite practiced, having survived the occupation and war.

Saber's hand came into contact with Mirage's right shoulder. "What?"

Mirage smiled at Saber. "This one's me, now." They angled the blade in their hand to tap at Saber's extended arm. "That's the duplicate." The duplicate also smiled, and showed bare hands.

Saber looked to his hand where he touched Mirage without immediately withdrawing it. "It is a pity you did not join the Corps. I cannot sense which is you. And Yoketron trains the Cyber-Ninja in such skills."

Mirage let his field out, just a little.

Saber quickly withdrew his dark digits from Mirage. "I can be difficult to perceive, or not."

"Yes," Saber whispered, "Mirage." His head bowed to gaze at Mirage, though not meeting their optics. Perhaps Saber questioned whether he were really seeing Mirage.

One duplicate remained, standing at ease with their back to the door, while Mirage had theirs toward the window.

"You know...when I saw the holo of the race, I...felt for you. That the accident cost you a race and points. But, maybe..."

Was Saber showing some sympathy or fondness? Of course they sparred and casually 'faced once in a while, but Mirage had presumed them to be rivals foremost.

"I just...wanted to...." Saber trailed off again.

To what? Mirage was not certain.

Saber raised his head, regarding Mirage through his visor. "But then I saw that you were able to get to your feet to go with the emergency techs. And, when I heard you had cramps, I thought: you chose that. You removed yourself from the race to save yourself."

Mirage nodded. Saber was not wrong.

Saber reached for Mirage again, and Mirage allowed the touch, their field just barely at the surface of their frame, probably curious. "I look at you now, with the scuffed plating and I think: You endured."

Was it respect Saber was trying to convey? Or, if not for Mirage, exactly, an admiration for that endurance bordering on envy?

Mirage drew their field in, just below the surface, though Saber may still sense it where they made contact.

"You appear sometimes like one in need of protection, but you are skilled and strong, in a way."

Mirage wasn't quite sure if Saber were trying to communicate what bots called martial attraction. That sense of wanting to fight either with or against a bot. "Not the only one," Mirage said vaguely.

Mirage's ability to manipulate their own field was a bit uncanny, and whether itself a rare outlying ability, or result of living with being Mirage so long they were merely practiced, they knew that when Saber spoke of Yoketron's training, he meant he too had better than average control and ability to sense spark energy.

But Mirage wasn't picking up from field, somatics, or Saber's words, any particular sense of partnership. That willingness to both protect and be protected in return was something Mirage had discovered with some few other partners. Those bots had different skills and frame-types than Mirage did, so they were not equal in a physical sense, but there was an acknowledgment that each was equally willing to use what they had to protect the other, even trusting each partner to be a check against the other if it came to it.

That was such a safe feeling.

Not that Mirage felt unsafe here. They could handle Saber. Any other day and Mirage would have outright offered to 'face him and worked out whatever this was with vigorous coupling.

They were pretty sure Saber knew that.

He stood looking from Mirage to the duplicate and back, idly moving the sabre at his side. "Could you do that again?"

"You want to see?" Mirage asked. The question was rhetorical.

Mirage stepped aside, breaking contact with Saber. The duplicate appeared to aim its missile launcher. Mirage made the zig-zagging slashes at full speed. And this time, when the blade made contact, instead of the flash of virtual contact, they created the illusion of rent plating and spray of pink-violet energon. The duplicate clutched at their midsection, as if to protect a cog, as the amber optics flickered.

"You see it," Saber said quietly. "In a fencing bout there is only contact. But in battle, we cause damage."

Mirage winced slightly at the word and dropped the duplicate. But then, asked, "You want to see what it looks like when you are cut?"

Saber's optics met Mirage's for only a moment. He nodded.

Mirage threw up an illusion of Saber as he looked now, a slack, fascinated expression and blue visor bright with interest.

"Do it. Gut him."

Mirage raised their sabre again and slashed at the duplicated, creating illusory damage, a gleam of light as the chest was slashed, the figure slumped and off balance after the second horizontal slash.

Beside Mirage, Saber commanded, "A thrust to finish. Sheath your blade in him."

Mirage did it.

And then they all stood there a klik, Saber mirroring his duplicate by touching his own midsection as if to assure himself it remained intact.

"Once, when I had cog cramps, I fantasized that I might cut out my own cog just to stop the pain," Saber confessed in a whisper.

Mirage raised their left hand and slid it beneath their forward wing. "I've had moments like that."

"Would you show me more?"

Mirage tipped their head in consideration. A Mirage duplicate appeared aside Saber's duplicate. "What should we have them do?"

Saber's jaw hung slack a moment, his optics tracking toward the duplicates. "Damage each other. No more than they can endure."

Mirage thought they might be starting to get what this was. "You want to see bots with the courage to endure?"

Saber glanced again furtively to Mirage. "You."

Saber wanted to see Mirage endure?

"But I have no wish to damage you," Saber said. It sounded sincere.

Mirage laughed softly. "I'm quite damaged already."

The duplicates began to wrestle.

---

Mirage swayed, losing concentration, and the illusory duplicates of themself and Saber in severely damaged vehicular modes flickered then disappeared. Saber, already at Mirage's side, put one hand to Mirage's right shoulder to steady them. "This is...real? You are in pain?"

"It's just my cog acting up again as the circuit blockers are wearing off," Mirage said. "I can hold out a while longer."

Saber turned fully toward Mirage. "I've seen you endure enough. My intent to visit and aid your cog recovery was sincere." Were they back to polite, again?

"All right," Mirage agreed, "I'm afraid I will need to go rest."

"Of course, but allow me to tend to you before I take my leave. I know how bad cog cramps can feel."

Mirage nodded. "My circuit blockers are in the dispensary."

"If you permit, I have some here in my medkit."

"I would like to see the tech," Mirage said, not in the habit of slapping strange circuit-altering neurotech on their frame.

"As you should," Saber agreed. Their second hand came to Mirage's gauntlet, below their elbow joint, so he could support Mirage by the arm. "Let's have you sit in the washroom."

There was a bench in the adjacent wash area, with open structure of bars and grillework where a bot might sit to drip dry. Mirage walked there, finding their footing steady now, but a dull ache rising in their core.

Mirage lowered to the bench, which was along the same wall as the door to the hall. Saber released his gentle hold and took a step back.

"Allow me to coordinate myself. I will bring out the medkit."

Mirage knew then Saber meant to activate his Brainmaster unit. They put their hands to the edge of the bench to support themself.

Then, as the blue plating across Saber's chest split open, Mirage averted their gaze. No sparklight came, not like in the illusion, as Saber's actual spark and its chamber must be more deeply seated to accommodate his Brainmaster.

The unit had the bipedal mechanoid form that many bots did, but was not itself a bot in the sense of being sentient and sapient, but when Saber downloaded into it, the Brainmaster operated as an avatar and extension of Saber. It was another form, as Star Saber was.

The Brainmaster hopped down from within the larger frame onto the top of the bench; it had a deco combining features of Saber's other forms: the red blocking across chest and hips, like Star Saber, and the blue helm, like Saber's core frame, with gold detailing all forms shared.

"I brought the medkit," he said. Mirage considered this form as 'he', as Saber operated it. The box seemed large in the tiny Brainmaster's two-handed grasp. His frame now was smaller even than Howlback or Rosanna, perhaps as small as the green aliens one might see in Helex or in Hydrax, near the spaceport or spacebridge terminal.

Saber's Brainmaster opened the med kit, which was well-stocked with probes, meshsteel bandages, repair tools, energon patches with Thirteen-themed shapes, and several packets of nuerotech that might alter a bot's sensornet or processor. Those tiny black digits retrieved a circuit blocker as deftly as Seeker talons.

He held the single pronged chip for Mirage to inspect.

Mirage nodded. "It looks right. I'll gratefully accept it."

"Shall I?" The Brainmaster had its own frame and thus a separate vocalizer, so Saber sounded different speaking through it; a little higher in pitch.

"Please." Mirage shifted their left arm back toward the wall, leaving a path for the Brainmaster to access their chassis.

In this form, Saber could easily reach beneath Mirage's forward wing to pick the spent circuit-blocker from their dermal plating.

Mirage vocalized a light hiss at the sensation. This form was so small, it would easily be able to fit inside Mirage could they convert now to alt-mode.

"This should kick-in soon," the Brainmaster said, pushing the circuit blocker's prongs into Mirage.

"Thank you." Mirage sighed, knowing the pain would ebb before it became severe again was itself a relief.

The Brainmaster lingered, one little hand on Mirage's wing. It could have been for support, to steady the frame on the open structure of the bench. But Saber seemed to notice Mirage's attention there. "Forgive me. It is just, my perception of you changes as I change forms."

"I can have that affect." Mirage laughed softly.

The Brainmaster looked up at Mirage through narrow blue visor. "You have not altered form or mode, yet you feel so large and strong right now. You don't seem so challenging when I am Star Saber."

Mirage smiled. They believed this. Star Saber could be a bit much. It was much more often Mirage interacted with Saber; there was some informality between them. Rarely had Mirage interacted this closely with the Brainmaster. So it must also feel novel for Saber. "This form does allow you to reach tight spaces."

"It does." The Brainmaster smiled, conveying Saber's understanding of some euphemism on Mirage's part.

"I wonder what it would feel like for you to be in my cockpit touching my controls."

"We will not learn that today."

Mirage shook their head. No, not today.

"I would offer to let you watch me touch myself, but, it is better I let you rest."

Mirage's interface array pinged them at that and they immediately dismissed it. This was just not the time. "Can you move back now? I just need a klik. Then I'll walk you out."

The Brainmaster pushed away from Mirage. "I will use that time to settle my Brainmaster inside me, again."

---

At the door, Star Saber, with the Brainmaster and Saber forms seated within, but without having donned the red helm and mask that signified highest formality and readiness for battle, went down on one knee to take leave of Mirage. It put them as much at equal height as was possible in these forms. "I enjoyed our visit very much," he said, with the less filtered voice of Saber.

"I did as well," Mirage said, trying to keep things polite in parting, though, honestly there was a strong temptation to flirt.

"I wish you well."

"Me too."

"Would it be acceptable to ask you to meet again?" Star Saber asked. Then, before Mirage might answer, continued, "I will likely be posted often to the hot spots of Greater Iacon over the next few lunar cycles, if not with the senator. But, perhaps, when I'm free, a neutral place. For tea?"

Mirage grasped the clarification. Star Saber was certainly not asking Mirage to visit a sparkfield together, as that would have signalled a romantic interest. But, he did want to see Mirage, and not specifically for sparring or fencing. Mirage still did not know how to name this between them, but Star Saber had just signalled interest that was neither entirely martial rivalry nor romantic intentions.

Considering that, Mirage looked up at him, smiling, "I would be quite interested in that."

Star Saber smiled back, warmly, seeming a little more Saber without the helm and mask. "Contact me when you are feeling better and I will check my schedule for you."

"I will." Mirage meant it, and made a note to check in with Star Saber after the cog cramps had passed.

"Perhaps, if you are amenable, after tea, something more vigorous?"

Mirage was certain they understood the nature of that physical activity, but made a subtle gesture touching a pair of digits to their lower lip to confirm. "I can endure quite a lot of vigorous activity."

Star Saber shuddered before Mirage, plating rattling. He vocalized a wordless click. Then, pausing to bring up red helm and mask answered in the lower, filtered voice, "I want to see it."

Mirage nodded, smiling. Mirage had no problems with physical relationships, they had a number of them. But, this was a change for whatever their relationship was, still having elements of rivalry and social networking. In the past, 'facing had just happened when both got a bit charged up sparring. But, now Star Saber was making a date.

Mirage pinged Star Saber's comm and saw the connection open. :I'm very willing to show you, if I can play with all your forms.:

Star Saber rose, right hand going to the wall aside the door to the exterior hall as if for support. :I want that. There are logistical considerations. I will handle it.:

:Looking forward to it.: Mirage was, now, very much looking forward to whatever this was turning into. Then, aloud, Mirage said, "It was so good of you to visit today. Thank you so much, again, for the smoothie."

"It was my pleasure, Mirage," Star Saber said, bowing. Then, over comms, firmly, :We will be discreet.:

:Of course. I can be very discreet.: Mirage inclined toward Star Saber.

The doors opened with a shoosh and Star Saber looked down at Mirage once more, before turning with a dramatic flourish of his white cape about his red armored form.

Mirage really needed some coolant.

Chapter Text

"Mirage, I'm home!" Hound announced himself brightly, as if AUNTIE didn't do it first.

But, as it had, Mirage was already on their way to meet Hound at the frequently-used side entrance to the house. Hound turned quickly, clearly having detected the direction of Mirage's approach, his helm still held aloft in his left hand as he'd removed it upon entering. It was not as if Mirage were hiding from him, but sometimes Mirage considered that they didn't have the ability to hide where Hound was concerned, as Mirage lacked even the understanding of how scent interacted with his sensornet.

Hound raised his other arm to show a mesh sack in hand, the cans and bottles visible within. "I picked-up some engex and that coolant you asked for."

"Thank you," Mirage said, "I'll pay you back."

"Mirage, I can afford to bring home some coolant."

"Then, I thank you very much." Mirage stepped in close to Hound's right side. "Is the engex to share?" A eight-pack could leave them both very well charged for the evening.

But Hound didn't answer that question. He stood cycling ventilation systems. "How did things go here today?" His tone had gone to that lower grumbling.

"You know I receive guests." Mirage smiled, almost laughing. Sometime's Hound's loyalty and protectiveness bordered on defensive and territorial.

"No problem with that," Hound asserted. Mirage took Hound's word on this. Hound was not quite jealous, more wanting assurance Mirage's visitors were wanted and well-behaved.

"I was well taken care of."

Hound's posture relaxed, the tires on his back unlocking and rolling slowly, as he stepped further into the house. "I know you can take care of yourself."

"I enjoy you watching out for me," Mirage said, following Hound's movement into the house with their optics.

"Escorted a delegation to a sparkfield today," Hound offered. Was the scent of Senate or sparkfield about the house?

"Which? Can you say?"

"Sure can. Senate Delegation was there and gone. Matter of public record, now. Vespertine Blue."

"It's blooming?" Mirage asked.

Hound, who had started to step down into the den, turned back around to view Mirage. "Yep."

That was where Mirage had been forged; Hound knew it as well. "I'd been so focused on preparing for race season, and-" Mirage broke off, considering but not mentioning the amount of political and intelligence-related business that had come up lately. "I had heard the Circle of Light was offering protection services."

"Not just the Circle of Light. I think every temple, shrine, and guild has dispatched acolytes or reps to oversee the recent blooms. All of Cybertron is convinced they're going to be the one to find a Titanspark." Hound turned again, moving farther into the den.

"It couldn't really be helped," Mirage called quietly, following after Hound. They'd followed the recent news and events, as well. The Senate's plans for the Titans had been leaked and gone from rumor a few bots closest to the project site had protested to common knowledge across the planet and into the colonies. In an attempt to distract from criticism, Sentinel Prime had implied bots doing their civic duty to turn over any special sparks might be rewarded and any 'stealing' sparks would be punished. The threat of direct government control over what was a sacred right and public good, for all bots to share in tending newsparks, not long ago won back from Quintessons, was distressing to say the least.

All of that was just going to make all the newsparks and developing protoforms in the fields, including any actual Titansparks, less safe. And, Mirage feared, eventually lead to discourse about what constituted typical and atypical sparks, and then to singling out bots whose sparks had granted them outlying abilities. Mirage cared about the sparks, in general, but also very much cared to hold onto their own hard-won rights and freedoms.

"There had to have been another way to go about it," Hound grumbled.

"We couldn't have changed anything," Mirage said. "There were already too many parties involved."

Hound shrugged, both shoulders and tires shifting. He dropped heavily to one of the nearby benches, setting down his helm and sack of drinks.

"I don't want to argue politics, again." Many days, Mirage felt like this was their job. It wasn't, not necessarily. But they'd been burned and betrayed by being too young and naive to understand Quintesson politics, once, and now did not feel like they had a choice. Survival meant being informed. And, when possible, doing something to influence outcomes. But, right now, there was only so much Mirage themself could do or process. Others had responsibility for current events, as well.

"Had enough of that at work."

"I know," Mirage said, hugging their arms over their chassis. Hound's placement with the Senate Guard and reconnaissance abilities was a very useful combination. There was intel to be had that could help keep them both safe. But, the arrangement was not without multiple types of risk.

"Hey, you wanna come sit?"

Mirage nodded and went to sit beside Hound. "It was me, once: those sparks," Mirage said. "Vespertine Blue. Northern Spring-to-Summer. Sign of The Hunter in the sky."

"Bulletbike's Clan," Hound said.

Mirage smiled, but it didn't feel like a happy smile, more a kind of acceptance. "Yes. Claimed by Bulletbike's Clan."

"It does make it kind of an anniversary for you," Hound said, tone clear and upbeat.

Mirage's smile became happy then. They tipped their head and looked over at Hound. "Yes."

"Sounds like a cause for celebration. Surviving another stellar-cycle." Hound reached to the sack to draw out the 8-pack.

"Some days are difficult, but yes, I am quite happy to still be here."

Hound twisted a can from the sprue and passed it to Mirage. "Drink to it?"

Mirage took the can, reading the label: Black Zarak. The logo looked like some kind of sharp-tailed arachnicon. Mirage tried the pull tab, but it stuck.

Hound, in process of twisting off a second can, set that one aside. "Let me see it?"

Mirage handed over the can, laughing. They did not drink canned beverages very often, mostly when sharing with Hound.

Hound pulled a red-handled multi-tool from his hip and flipped out a pointy tool. punch punch. Hound lifted the punctured can and drank from one of the holes. "Tastes all right," he said, licking his lips afterward.

"I could get glasses," Mirage offered.

Hound shook his head. "I got you." He set the first can down at his feet, lifted the second can, quickly popped the top, and passed it to Mirage.

"Thank you." Mirage took this can and lifted it to their mouth to sip the engex. "Bit of a sting to it."

"I like it," Hound said, taking up his can of Black Zarak. "Reminds me of trips to the Acid Wastes. Radioactive critters to deal with, but great views of Hadeen setting."

"Romantic?" Mirage asked.

Hound reached with his near, right hand, still holding the can of engex, and shoved at Mirage's shoulder.

It didn't hurt, but Mirage feigned offense. "Ow! You nearly sloshed that engex on me."

Hound chuckled, engine rumbling. "Mech can just feel his place in the universe looking up at the sky and stars."

"It's true," Mirage said, then sensing this could get melancholy said, "What were we going to drink to? Another stellar-cycle?"

Hound raised his can. "Another stellar-cycle survived."

"To surviving!" Mirage raised their engex, and then tipped the can to drink as Hound did the same.

After that gulp, Hound asked, "Happiness?"

Mirage nodded. "Happiness and freedom."

"To happiness and freedom!"

"I will certainly drink to that!" Mirage did so.

"And to you getting well."

Mirage smiled wide and raised their can high. "To me getting over these fraggin' cog cramps!"

---

After a few cans, Mirage felt pleasantly charged with power levels in the higher range. Sometimes, when Hound talked about survival outside of Cybertron's settled city-states, he'd emphasized the importance of taking care of high-energy-output tasks while one had the power, because, later one would struggle to find fuel or establish shelter when they were nearing empty. And Mirage would point out that one could be a so-called empty and struggle to meet requirements within a city-state.

So, survival was smart resource management.

But, thankfully, now, their shelter was surplus to requirements, and they didn't want for fuel, and Mirage was invested in diverse currencies and assets.

"Mirage?"

Mirage lifted their head. "I was just thinking."

Hound's near hand crossed the small distance between them and touched Mirage's faceplate. "You good? Pain level?"

"I'm good. I intend to wait on the next dose to see how bad the pain gets or whether the swelling may be coming down."

Hound stroked Mirage's face with his knuckles. "You wanna head to my room?"

Mirage leaned into the touch. "Yes."

Hound stood first, then offered Mirage a hand to help them up from the bench. Mirage could have stood unaided, but accepted the assistance with the same sweetness with which it was offered. Mirage then held fast to Hound's right hand, leaving the spent cans to clean-up later, and lifted Hound's green helm, as Hound took up the sack of remaining engex and coolant.

It was all Mirage's house, but it seemed to suit them both that Hound lived here, and so he did, having a room across the hall from Mirage. Howlback still kept a room here as well, which Mirage supposed she was in now, though she had been off traveling with Seekers in recent times.

Hound's room was not much smaller than Mirage's suite, but differently arranged, with an open floorplan and a broad empty space in the center, leaving the periphery for such functional elements as wash station, recharge slab, desk, storage lockers, and fire feature. There were no windows on this side of the house, but Hound had said he preferred it this way; rather than a view of the city, the room housed landscape art in various media.

Some of the natural landmarks Mirage had visited in person, and others they knew mainly from these vids and holos. The cracked expanse of the Acid Wastes, the tire-marked silvery tracts of the Lithium Flats, the thick, upthrust laminated plating of Tagan Heights, the thin, brecciated plating and exposed planetary superstructure of the southern polar region, the cave-marked slopes of the Manganese Mountains, the glowing deapths of the Sonic Canyons.

Gas ganders in formation over the Argon Sea, a herd of wary-antlered dieselle stepping out from the Crystal Forest near the Mythril Sea, a shiver of oxide sharks cutting through Rust Sea flux.

With a gentle tug, Hound took his hand from Mirage. "Gonna feed Steen; make yourself comfortable."

Mirage watched Hound move through the room to a large, glass tank near his desk. Hound had a petro-rabbit there, but whenever Mirage approached on their own, they could only see what looked like a fuzzy gray-brown rock. Mirage went instead to the metal storage lockers up against the wall to the left and put Hound's helm on its shelf. To the right, Hound set the drinks on his desktop and then took up a packet of crushed crystals. He leaned over the tank, sprinkling the crystals inside.

Mirage went then to the rectangular recharge slab with its longer side against the right wall. It wasn't as big as the one in Mirage's suite, but large enough that two average-sized ground-frames such as Hound and Mirage could lie side-by-side. Mirage sat along the slab's edge.

Hound turned from the tank. "You mind if I get a quick rinse? Wash the sparkfield off me?"

"Don't mind." Mirage smiled. "Would you mind passing me one of those coolants?"

Hound turned once more to fetch the bottled coolant. He crossed the room and handed it to Mirage.

"Thanks." Mirage took the bottle and then twisted off its cap.

"You want to get in with me?" Hound tipped his head to the back of the room where there was a small corner wash facility.

"Thanks. Not this time." Mirage took a sip from the bottle. "You don't mind if I watch?"

Hound shrugged. "Whatever revs your engine, Mirage."

Mirage laughed, drinking down a few gulps of coolant as Hound made his way to the wash area. He called for AUNTIE to call up his solitary shower settings.

Mirage scooted back, across the slab, letting their tires rest against the wall. They turned their head to observe Hound as he stood under to solvent spray. Hound lifted his hands to unbind his topknot, so the dark cables fell loosely about his head. The terminals fell to a level just below Hound's jaw.

Hound was quite handsome really, but sometimes Mirage didn't think Hound believed it. Or, maybe he believed he had a kind of attractiveness, but not the kind that was most popularly advertised as such. Hound's angular and compact frame with deeply treaded tires, drab armor plating, and collection of survival gear hung from his hips definitely fit an aesthetic some bots called 'proper rugged'. Hound wasn't quite large enough to be considered 'heavy duty', but there was a pleasant thickness to his limbs that indicated powerful motor strands. And, the wiry scruff on his chin and the head of cables so often neatly bound suited Hound's nature, like something wild and roving held under disciplined restraint. Plus, his drab deco allowed Hound's otherwise unremarkable blue optics to pop brightly.

Under the shower, Hound turned, showing his back. A klik later, his head turned, watching to see if Mirage looked.

Mirage was still looking. "More bots should tell you how attractive you are."

"I get enough attention," Hound said. Mirage was not Hound's only partner, either, though Mirage suspected they were mutually each other's closest friend. "Besides, I do some of my best work when optics are on something else."

"I know how that is," Mirage said, laughing. Their methods differed somewhat, but both understood how to work with attention and diversion.

Hound switched from the solvent spray to air jets to dry, turning about again to dry all his parts.

Mirage took another gulp of coolant.

They felt sorry they wouldn't be 'facing this evening. When Hound and Mirage did, sometimes it was just a casual bonus to their friendship, but then sometimes, it was because one of them needed the other to play out a rather specific role and scenario, which different partners hadn't encouraged, or understand, at least not in the same way. Mirage could have used that, considering the anniversary. But they'd gladly accept cozy hologram time.

Hound strode from the shower, arms lifted to wire his cables into a neat topknot again. "AUNTIE, start my fire feature. Color: orange."

"Starting Hound's Fire Feature. Flame color set to orange," the system reported.

Mirage took this as their cue to move from the recharge slab to the middle of the room, closer to the fire feature which was not far from Hound's desk. Here, Hound had arranged tarp and mats and some throw tires to function as an indoor mock campsite. There was also a small projector, not part of Hound's integrated and more complex hologram tech, which cast light through a perforated sphere such that the ceiling appeared lit with stars.

Most times Hound invited Mirage to his room, this was their goal.

Mirage screwed tight the lid on their coolant and sat down upon the mats. Hound soon joined them there and reclined on his back, resting against his own tires fixed to his back and those stacked on the floor. Mirage scooted closer, reclinging on their side with a small space between them. Mirage extended his right arm across that space and sent a command to open a gauntlet panel which revealed one of their data ports.

"Hook up?" Mirage asked.

"Sure would." Hound turned his head slightly, glancing at Mirage. Hound's left arm rose and revealed a similar data port "You want to plug in?"

Mirage nodded, it didn't matter to them whose cable plugged whom, as the resulting connection would be two-way by default. Mirage reached between their two chassis with their left hand to unspool a length of cable from the open input/output port on their right arm. They held the terminal connector between the tips of their digits and drew it out toward Hound's port. Mirage pushed the connector, consisting of inner pin, insulater, and outer collar, down onto the corresponding socketed post, like a skinny, miniature approximation of a bot's powerlinx port.

"Yeah, got ya now," Hound said.

"Connected," Mirage confirmed. It didn't physically feel like anything, but they had an internal sense of connection and expansion of available resources. Even using the unmodded data port in Mirage's right arm, there were still standard layers of firewall and quarantine partition. Mirage swiftly selected permissions, opening access to their visual processing to Hound.

This was their thing. Hologram time. When they physically connected, Hound wasn't restricted to projecting holograms of things he'd scanned or collected in datatrax. Hound could make use of Mirage's ability to generate imagined environments and objects in real time. Similarly, Mirage could access Hound's datatrax and alter perception to match any of those environments even not having scanned the details and textures themself.

They could make beautiful things, better than reality, edit and stitch together images either one had seen in real time, and fill the room.

Practicing together like this improved Hound's holograms for when he needed to use them on his own, and gave Mirage understanding of many more visual details for when they needed to make themselves disappear.

It also just felt...nice, having somebot Mirage trusted sharing systems with them.

Hound's systems were very Hound. A wide expanse of interests and abilities, but within a disciplined file hierarchy with consistent naming conventions.

Mirage was, by Hound's past estimation, downright esoteric in organizing internal data.

"Where should we go?" Hound asked.

"Space? Can we go to space, first?" Mirage asked.

"All right." It wasn't Hound's favorite, they knew, but Hound had some sky views and orbital telescope image packages Mirage had seen before. "I did get a new holo file from Eshem's Nebula. It was taken from a cruise ship."

Mirage could perceive both their HUDs overlaid as the settings were selected. Then, the room about them faded. It was replaced first with a thick darkness, and then filled again with so many seemingly distant points of light. Luminescent clouds formed around them.

Mirage lifted their left hand and particles seemed to swirl about their digits.

It looked so real.

"It's beautiful," Mirage said.

"Sure is."

"Reminds me of some images I've seen of sparkfields, especially ones out near one of the seas or where there's storms."

"They're both nurseries of a sort, I suppose, for stars or for newsparks."

"We're like stars."

"When the Devastator Winds pick up they can endanger the fields at Alyon with acidic duststorms, so bots have to rush to harvest the sparks for containment until they can be joined to living metal later."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just something I picked up. A lot of talk of sparkfields going around the Senate right now."

They hadn't wanted to keep discussing politics, so Mirage filed that bit of information away.

"Was that interesting?" Hound asked.

"Yes." They should change the subject. "Do you have any other new holo files?"

"I don't think I showed you Biosphera, yet."

"I still haven't been through the space bridge. I've thought of going to Velocitron or Biosphera. Howlback visited."

"I heard about that," Hound said. "Are there Seekers within the Space Bridge Corps and on all the colony worlds?"

That was perhaps a loaded question. When bots in Iacon said 'Seekers' did a thing, there was often an undertone of conspiracy theory about their military programming causing some nefarious action or other. "There's at least one current Space Bridge Corps exploration team that has a Seeker member," Mirage said. That was just public knowledge. "I'm not sure if Skywarp or others I've met have said much about the colony worlds, but I suspect there are Seekers on Velocitron and Biosphera at least, given what I have heard about their travels. There's

kinds of bots who chose to go through the bridge."

"Imagine when there's Titans and we can go to worlds that don't even have bridges. And, they can generate newsparks."

Since the plans had been leaked, Mirage had access to several Titan design schematics. They navigated Hound's systems, altering the projection to add the city-sized mechanisms to the stellar view. Some moved in their ship mode if they had it, and others had the shape of massive bipedal bots or great beasts. Mirage guessed on the outer colors, as those details hadn't been in the schematics.

"Whoa, those are really something when you render them."

"They are."

"Would you go, Mirage? If you had a choice?"

"I have an idea the voyages may be one way, or, at least, one wouldn't likely return to Cybertron for a long time. I'm comfortable here. We fought to keep this planet, in our own ways. I don't see why some bots are so keep for us to expand outward."

"Maybe for security," Hound suggested. "We did almost lose Cybertron. It makes one appreciate what we have, sure. But, maybe there's something to be said for diversification?"

Mirage laughed, having likely been the one to impress the importance of such upon Hound. Now it came back against them.

"Yes, but, wouldn't we become like the Quintessons, if we just move onto a world where beings already live?" So far as Mirage understood it, the current worlds accessible by Space bridge had not had native sapient life. Velocitron had been inside the golden zone of its star and thus deemed uninhabitable for most organic life to have developed. Gigantion had similarly been outside it's stars golden zone and considered barren. But Biosphera did have organic-based lifeforms. Apparently there had been plans to open access to a fourth planet, but something had happened to a team there and the Corps did not publicly divulge those events.

"Surely, we wouldn't colonize those worlds," Hound said. He quietly went about transitioning the stellar scene to his Biosphera data.

Mirage had never seen the planet, only heard about it. A recent rumor was that one of the Titans had either been designed for Biosphera, or that bots on Biosphera greatly wanted one of the Titans for their world. Some bots on Cybertron agreed with them, while others were lately pointing out it might be possible to make a colony world too self-sufficient, and Cybertron would have reduced access to that planet's resources.

Mirage shifted, trying to get more comfortable against the mats and tires. "What are those spire things?"

"I believe those are trees."

"I've seen trees," Mirage said, rolling onto their back. "Helex has specimens of alien flora. But they were not like these. Are they to scale?"

"Yeah." Hound's tone was like disbelief-of-disbelief, as Mirage also presently had access to the projection settings. "Actual size."

"They just keep going up!" These trees were like slender spires growing up and then branching into an intricate web-like canopy that broke the sky into beams of dappled light. Mirage wriggled, feeling discomfort, while still marveling at the sight. They struggled to think of something similar on Cyberton. Maybe the umbilical of Kolkular in Kaon, or the great columns of Under Iacon, or the arches of Vos.

There was a crystal forest on Cybertron, Hound had photos, but it was much more reflective and densely branching.

"They have seas of dihydrogen oxide!"

"It must rain universal solvent," Mirage said. Cybertron had seas, rivers, and rains, but the composition varied greatly from one region to the next. There might be water near Rodion in the north polar region. Pious Pools was somewhere out that way.

"In torrents," Hound said. "The environment is suited to hydro-electric generation. They have some kind of thermal energy from within the planet, too."

"Yeah." Hound probably heard reports from colony worlds at work, but Mirage was losing focus, distracted by a developing pain in their back.

"Mirage? You sure you want to wait on circuit blockers?"

They weren't so sure, now. "It's not the stabbing pain, anymore, which is a good sign, but there's a strong ache toward my lower back."

"The cog inflammation is probably affecting adjacent motor strands."

"I think so."

"You want me to rub it?" Hound offered.

Mirage turned their head to look on Hound. "Would you? I think it might help."

"Sure." But, they were connected by cables running between Mirage's right arm and Hound's left. Hound rose up slightly, seeming to scan their positions. "Maybe if we move our arms up out of the way and lie closer I can reach?"

Mirage nodded. They rolled, putting the front of their frame towards Hound, again. Mirage watched for Hound's movement and they moved their arms together to fold near their heads. Hound then also moved in closer, laying his right arm over Mirage to reach their back. The first touch was tentative, just the tips of Hound's digits making contact.

"Is there a certain spot?" Hound asked.

"No. All across, but worst near my backstrut."

The next touch was firm and right along Mirage's backstrut. "Better?" Hound asked.

"Not sure yet. But it feels good."

Hound's full, rounded digits pressed experimentally against Mirage's dermal plating. Laterally, vertically, testing alignment with and across their central backstrut. Around them, the holograms shifted, showing the purple haze of the volatile surface layer of the Argon Sea. Mirage felt themself relax, their left arm folding loosely between their frames, with their hand lain over Hound's grill.

"AUNTIE," Hound called, "Play...that ambience that Mirage likes."

"Mirage has liked 26 audio datatrax meta-tagged 'ambience'. Shall I play all?"

Mirage smiled.

"No. AUNTIE, which trax helps Mirage relax?"

A pause. "Are you still referring to audio datatrax?"

Mirage laughed.

"Frag," Hound cursed.

"AUNTIE, play Translucentica Night Ambience - With Rain," Mirage said.

"Playing Translucentica Night Ambience - With Rain." The audio consisted of distant dance club beats, sounds of vehicles stopping and starting as if along a curb, occasional conversion between modes, muffled vocalizations, and rain patter on glass and metal surfaces.

"You may need to adjust its privacy settings," Hound said in a low rumble.

Mirage still couldn't help smiling. "You help me relax, too."

"I do my best," Hound said, still rubbing Mirage's back.

"You are. Like that. Hard and slow along my strut."

Hound pressed even harder.

"Can I stay here? Tonight? With you?" Mirage asked.

Hound didn't answer right away, but continued massaging Mirage's backstrut. "What's your night nurse going to say?"

"I'll explain in a way he understands. It won't be on you. It's never on you. My choice. If you accept?"

"Yeah, I'd like if you stay. But, agree you'll rub my back, if you do?"

"I'll rub anywhere you like."

"That's tempting," Hound said, but so matter-of-factly he did not currently seem tempted. "I'll need some me time before work, so you'll need to be prepared to cross the hall at some early cycle."

"You don't want to drive me across the hall to my own slab?" Mirage was just teasing, now.

Hound seemed to know it. "Nope. You can rub and snuggle me as much as you want, but when I need to start my routine, you can wish me a good day and walk to your own room."

"That's fair." Hound should have his own space and routines. "I accept. Just, a little more of this, please, then I'll happily snuggle up against your back."

"Deal," said Hound, and gave Mirage's aft a quick pat, before returning attention to their strut.

Chapter Text

Mirage leaned toward the well-waxed wall of their private wash area, flat of their hands supporting a portion of their weight, as solvents and flakes of loose paint flowed down their frame onto the anti-slip mat at their feet. Their plating stung from the use of high-pressure streams, and with a sensornet tweaked for tactile stimulation, Mirage was feeling raw in the best way.

"Mirage."

"I said, I need a klik," Mirage repeated with so much vehemence.

They cycled ventilation systems, the atmosphere of the washroom hot and wet.

Close to how Mirage was starting to feel internally. And they did not want that, now.

Mirage just needed a klik to be in this moment where the physical and tactile pressure ebbed without, yet, taking on the mental pressure to decide anything.

This moment where ablution became absolution and Mirage could imagine the punishing streams stripped away not only the dust and damaged deco but the darkness in their spark. They could imagine that past damage they had wrought or suffered could be washed away so easily as a spatter of sloshed engex.

Mirage turned and Dirt Boss was waiting there in his loud purple and green deco, holding the spray nozzle end of a hose. Mirage made their manner perky and mildly defiant. "You gonna use the brushes on me now?!"

Dirt Boss pinged Mirage on comms. :Brush scene, now?:

Mirage replied, :Affirmative. I need to skip ahead to the brushes. Minimal resistance.:

"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you?" Dirt Boss demanded, while over comms asking, :Can I call out your tires?:

:Affirmative. I will test if I can move them, yet. If not, do what you can to work around cog issues.: Mirage then lifted their chin and fixed their gaze on Boss with even more acted defiance. "You hosed me down so hard I barely have paint left!"

"Those wets on your legs are still filthy, but I can take care of that with a very firm scrub brush. Assume the position."

Mirage did not move.

Dirt Boss kept red optic and mod on Mirage while hanging up the hose. Buckets of detergent solution and brushes were already prepared nearby. "Do I have to carry you there? You know what I expect of racers. Assume your position."

Mirage tossed their head and skulked around the central tub to a set of metal rails fixed to the wall to form a rack which might brace a bot for another to wash. Mirage put their back to Dirt Boss and lifted their arms to grasp an overhead horizontal bar. "Satisfied?"

"Oh, not yet." Dirt Boss lifted the pair of buckets and moved around the other side of the tub to stand behind Mirage.

Mirage attempted to move the tires out from their upper back and from the rear of each leg. They felt their transformation cog engage, though with a stiffness and soreness; the tires deployed outward on their independent mounts. It was a partial conversion only and Mirage focused on their cycling ventilation systems again, waiting to see if holding the hybrid form would cause a reaction.

No sharp cramping came, but there was still an uneasy and vaguely queasy feeling along with the stiffness. Their frame was still recovering, from the worst cramping and adjacent systems were still affected. Mirage sent a comm to Dirt Boss, :Some discomfort holding the form. Get to the tires sooner than later.:

:Acknowledged.: Mirage could hear the shifting and sloshing of brushes and buckets from behind. "Now, hold still, or I'll have to hold your tires in place."

Mirage slowly lifted their right leg, kicking their heel and the attached tire back toward Dirt Boss.

Dirt Boss pushed it back down, leaning heavily on the tire with one hand. And then a firm brush scrubbed at it.

It had been days since Mirage had last driven in the race he'd been forced to drop out of. Right now that pressure felt so good. Just an approximation of the pressure and traction they'd feel if actually racing, but enough to satisfy some of the urge to do so. :Please, lean hard. I need it.:

:Acknowledged.: Dirt Boss knew. He had four monster-sized tires and a cydraulic suspension that allowed him to ride low or extra high. Mirage was sure Boss understood this need very well.

Dirt Boss was quick to scrub all four tires, as Mirage had requested, and made sure to viciously squeeze and press against each one.

Then he moved onto Mirage's plating, and the brass or steel wire brushes came out for that, scraping at Mirage's plating, which was already tingling from the pressure washing.

And the scolding. Mirage needed the scolding.

This time it was about how much Mirage had been traipsing all over Cybertron going to parties instead of focusing on his training and race preparations. There was a core of truth to that; Mirage had traveled, but a lot of it was made-up. Didn't matter. Mirage just needed to control and externalize the scolding, so they weren't just reacting to Clan Leader or Quintessons telling them what to do and who to be, and they weren't uncontrollably scolding themself for every little miscalculation, at least not without this.

The scolding and the hard scrubbing over every bit of Mirage's plating. Enough to hurt, but not enough to do lasting damage. Mirage would come out of this clean and prepared for a fresh deco. But it was as much about their spark coming clean. At some point it was enough.

Dirt Boss scrubbed and scrubbed so hard and it became enough and Mirage cried out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Boss. I'll do better."

The scrubbing stopped. Dirt Boss reached around Mirage and caught their narrower frame in his arms. "That's it. There's my champion. Let it all out."

"I'm sorry," Mirage sobbed. And they were, but not to Dirt Boss, as there was no real slight here. Mirage was sorry to Cybertron, and bots in general, and bots like Hound and Howlback who had themselves been caught up in Mirage's problems, and finally to themself.

And if Mirage could be sorry for Mirage, then Mirage could forgive Mirage.

"It's all right," Dirt Boss said, directive to scold quickly superseded by directive to comfort. "Come over here, my brave champion; we can finish up with some nice, soft, sponges. We can wash each other. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Mirage said softly, and they meant it. Now, being reminded they had to forgive themself, Mirage felt worthy of partnership and wanted very much to stand equal to another bot.

:Status?: Dirt Boss queried over coms.

:Good. I would like us to wash each other with the sponges.:

Dirt Boss then lifted Mirage who had slumped within the rack beneath the vigorous scrubbing. "C'mon, Champ, we'll go together. We can each carry a bucket."

Mirage leaned their right side against Boss as they walked, allowing each of them a free hand to carry the buckets. They walked the short distance around the tub, where sponges had previously been laid out on the bench.

"Which one for you?" Mirage asked.

Dirt Boss took some time to look over the sponges then pointed to one in particular. "This one. Big and fluffy! I want lots of suds!"

Mirage moved slowly from Boss's side and took up the big sponge. "I can help you with that. I'd like to." It wasn't pretend. Much of Dirt Boss's outer plating was a lovely deep purple that cleaned up quite well. He was a fancy truck in some ways; competitive in feats of strength, speed, and flashiness.

"What do you feel like?" Boss asked.

"Pick a sponge that feels good in your hand, just make it wet and sloppy."

Dirt Boss mumbled, "I'll give you wet and sloppy."

"A couple more days for that," Mirage said, quietly.

---

A sudsy hand-washing always put Dirt Boss in a sedate mood. Now, clean, dry and well waxed, he sat on one of the benches in the den with Mirage turned toward him to operate the rotary buffer in their right hand. The chromed sports bar and lamps across Boss's chest gleamed and his purple plating shone with vivid color.

"You really should think about more training time," Dirt boss said, calmly.

"I know," Mirage acknowledged. "I want us to win. But can you consider that winning doesn't have to be about winning a specific race. It can also be about points for the season or, customer confidence in RoboCo products, or showing a senator a good time at the track so they consider a political move we favor."

Dirt Boss shook his head. "I want to win, Mirage! That slag feels hollow. Like, that match in Tarn where Queen Esmeral declared me vector, but the crowd adored Megatronus."

Mirage considered that as they moved the buffer over Boss' thigh. They only followed the gladiatorial sports in passing. "Megatronus of Tarn absolutely has local significance, but will bots feel the same if he goes up against Megaempress, Clench's Kaon Krusher, or Cy-Kill?"

Dirt Boss honked derisively, then said, "I don't know, Megatronus is managed by that Knights of Nemesis crewe and they seem pretty savvy; making friends with the Seeker batch, too."

Mirage was vaguely aware of Skywarp having contacts in Tarn.

"And whenever you start talking business and politics," Dirt Boss continued, "I think about Daytrader. Mech lost everything. He's not been the same."

Mirage lifted the buffer. Daytrader had not been so different from Mirage, but hadn't endured the transitions from occupation to war and post-war quite as well. "I saw him, not very long ago, near Darkmount. There are bots there who would take care of him, if he could let them."

"He won't. He can't let himself have nice things anymore. I want to have nice things, Mirage!" It was possible Dirt Boss had significant social contact with Daytrader in the past; their similar truck alt-modes would have caused Quintessons to categorize them both into trade and transport functions.

"You take care of me and I'll take care of you, Boss."

Boss' optical mod slowly rotated as he glanced at Mirage.

"What if Blurr raced for us?" Mirage suggested.

"Or, we found Blurr anything else to do?" Dirt Boss offered.

Mirage touched the buffer back to Boss' leg and repeated, "But, what if Blurr raced for us?"

"Can you-?" Dirt Boss started

But AUNTIE interrupted, "Visitors at den entrance: Tracks, Rosanna, plus two unidentified."

"I was expecting Tracks to help with my finish," Mirage said quietly, powering down the buffer. "Rosanna is not really a surprise, though." Mirage had no idea who the others may be, though they might have asked AUNTIE to display a visual.

"Rosanna had a box in the grandstands near the pit lane," Dirt Boss said.

"She often does," Mirage agreed, then stood.

"Should I head out?"

Mirage smiled, looking to Dirt Boss. "You are welcome to stay here, but there will likely be a lot of fussing over me and paint spraying."

"And I just got buffed," Boss said, nodding.

"I'll walk you out."

---

When the doors opened, Mirage recognized Tracks immediately, with his curvaceous blue amor plating, and faceplate that marked him as a surviving member of the Red Plates. Rosanna's pink frame at his side was not quite half as tall. Mirage was a little surprised to see Karmen, and he didn't recognize the cybercat at all.

Rosanna reached up with open arms and Mirage bent to greet her with customary air-kisses. "Oh, Mirage! Dearspark, you look awful! Are you still in so much pain?"

"I am managing," Mirage said vaguely, straightening to allow Tracks a similar greeting.

"I do hope we're not too early," he said, leaning in toward Mirage.

"No. Dirt Boss was just leaving."

Tracks pushed past Mirage to offer Boss his hand. "Hullo, I'm sure we met before at The Circle," Tracks said.

"The mods model," Dirt Boss said.

"And deco designer."

Mirage, meanwhile, focused on Karmen. "How are you?" they asked.

She was taller than Rosanna, but even more spindly in her lower limbs given the nature of her stand setter alt-mode, with a boxy chassis that flared out in a curvy skirt and was presently decoed in red and black. Karmen cocked her head, her headdress of casters spinning as she smiled up at Mirage. Her dark, slender digits reached for their hands. "I'm better, but how are you? A crash and cramps?"

"Recovering," Mirage said, holding Karmen's hands.

"Aren't we all, Sparkling? Don't worry. We'll fix you up."

"Thank you," Mirage said earnestly. They withdrew their hands from her to gesture towards the interior. "Come in, please." Mirage raised their voice, "AUNTIE, this bot is my guest Karmen."

"Welcome, Karmen," the smart house interface said.

"Rosanna is this...?" Mirage asked, uncertain about the cybercat.

"Oh! This mech is Steeljaw, he was staying at The Sanctuary. I've been showing him around the city."

Aloud, Mirage said, "AUNTIE, this bot, the gold mech accompanying Rosanna, is my guest Steeljaw." But quickly, Mirage opened a comm channel to Rosanna. :Howlback is staying here again, while I recover, is Steeljaw going to be all right if he sees her? And why, for Primus' sake, does he have the same name as your ex?:

"Welcome Steeljaw," AUNTIE greeted.

Rosanna laughed, but replied to Mirage over comms, :Well, I was a volunteer during his rehabilitation and you know some bots there lacked their own Cybertronian names. Don't worry about Steeljaw, he's had exposure to bots recovering from domestication, as well as constructs, reengineered mechanimals, and other types of survivors at The Sanctuary.: Rosanna lay one hand atop Steeljaw's mane as they entered the house. :He can be selectively mute in some situations; continue to address him as normal.:

Mirage lifted their right hand over their vocalizer. The worst of the Quintessons experiments in productization had not been fully revealed until late in the war when they were forced to quickly retreat from strongholds and could not destroy their evidence or results. Mirage considered what he had survived bad. Certainly, constructed bots like Howlback and Skywarp had some challenges. But there were bots who had been greatly abused and tortured and survived attempts to remove their personhood.

"Excuse me," Mirage said, "I'll just see Dirt Boss out. Please, make yourselves comfortable in the den."

Mirage realized where their hand was and lowered it, making a fist. Maybe Steeljaw would be fine, but Howlback might not be. They opened a comm channel to her as Dirt Boss joined Mirage in the open doorway.

:Howlback. We've guests and one of them seems recently to have come from The Sanctuary.:

Her familiar voice replied, :Are you finished with Dirt Boss?:

:Seeing him out right now. But Tracks has arrived, with Rosanna, Karmen, and...:

:AUNTIE displayed the arrival for me. I'll come greet our guests.:

"You good?" Dirt Boss asked, quietly.

"Yes, it was good to see you today," Mirage said a little loudly, "thanks for assisting me with paint prep."

Dirt Boss smiled. "It was my pleasure."

Then, aloud, but softly, Mirage said, "I'll consider what Blurr might want and what we can offer."

"Sounds good." Dirt Boss stepped out into the building's hall between Mirage's house and Crisscross'. He tapped his helm, making the comm me gesture.

---

Howlback was already in the den with their guests when Mirage turned from the door to join them. Tracks, a not infrequent guest, had already made himself comfortable reclining on a bench, but Rosnanna stood close to Steeljaw's side, and Karmen stood with hands clasped looking up as if to question the height or size of the space.

Steeljaw approached Howlback, who still stood warily on four legs. His ventilation systems made a snuffing sound.

"Stripes," Steeljaw voiced.

Mirage themself tensed at the name, watching as Howlback made no response for at least a full klik.

"I'm Howlback. She. Stripes is a member of my batch and former squad," Howlback said levelly. "We have the same frame-type. You know Stripes, also?"

Steeljaw nodded.

There was another long silence, then Howlback said. "Stripes is well cared for. He lives with another bot now."

"Are they talking about Blaster's Stripes?" Karmen asked, in rasping whisper to Tracks, though, evidently, others heard.

"The same," Howlback replied.

"He has some kind of war injury," Karmen said.

"Stripes has processor damage," Howlback said, focus still on Steeljaw. "He was active with our squad during the war, until the injury. And he spent time at The Sanctuary. There was a time, before that, when we had owners but we dealt with those claims. You could have met Stripes during one of those times."

"More than one...time," Steeljaw said.

"Friendly meetings?" Karmen asked.

Steeljaw did not answer, but after a moment, Howlback and Rosanna both said: "Yes." It occurred to Mirage the two were close enough to Steeljaw to be reading his field. Howlback was particularly good with that. But it was possible Rosanna had some format of comms ongoing with Steeljaw, as well.

"It can be difficult for us, because we remember how Stripes was," Howlback said, sitting back on her haunches in a more relaxed pose, "but, Stripes is happy when we visit."

"Should we arrange a visit?" Tracks asked. "Blaster and I are quite chummy. He's in broadcasting, did you know? Works with Iacon News Service, but his passion is for music."

"Blaster's cool." Karmen vocalized airy laughter. "He's my brother."

"We don't have to fix any dates, yet," Rosanna said. "I'm still showing Steeljaw around Iacon. We should all go out together, when we're all of us feeling better. Shouldn't we, Mirage?"

That was a prompt for rescue, and Rosanna was not the only one who would appreciate a change in subject. "We should. I might even host a party," Mirage said, "after I'm feeling better and, hopefully, have accrued some points this season to be celebrated."

"A party's a fabulous idea," Tracks agreed. "Karmen, you must stay in town until then."

"I had planned on visiting Blaster for a little while."

"I have room," Tracks said.

"Translucentica is trendy real estate right now," Rosanna admitted, "But, you must come and stay with me in the city at least a few days."

"Does anybot need a drink?" Mirage asked.

Their attention turned to Mirage, but for Steeljaw, who seemed to still be focused on Howlback. "Steeljaw, have you ever played with a petro-rabbit?" She asked.

"What's a petro-rabbit?"

"It's fauna. I'll show you, if you like. I know where Hound keeps some emergency flasks and canteens, too. They are just going to keep being noisy and getting pain fumes everywhere in a cycle."

Tracks, not paying attention to the cat-bots, rose from the bench. "You shouldn't trouble yourself, Mirage. I know where you keep your energon. I'll make drinks."

"A single petro-rabbit is safe," Rosanna told Steeljaw, "one has to watch out when they are in numbers. You might like Hound's room. He's got a whole collection of landscapes."

"And if your frame benefits from basking, I know the best rooms for that, too," Howlback offered.

"I'll go," Steeljaw said, moving alongside Howlback.

"Hound?" Karmen asked, as Howlback led Steeljaw away.

"You might like him," Mirage told her.

"Mirage's dearest friend," Rosanna explained. "Proper rugged mech, but technically not amica because Mirage doesn't believe in labeling relationships."

"But, Mirage does have a partner, right?" Karmen asked.

"I do. But we don't usually specify what sort."

"We talking about Skywarp?" Rosanna asked, sidling up at Mirage's left.

"Yes." Karmen nodded, casters rolling.

"I've been inside him. You know?" Rosanna asked, tone overtly suggestive.

"Sparkling, he told everybot. Told the whole story in that same tone at one of his shows."

Rosanna laughed. "Been inside Mirage, too, right?"

"Many times," Mirage said plainly, as she had. "But, I drive."

"I do like a bot who helps me get around. Tracks is good that way." Karmen turned her head, probably looking for Tracks.

"Hound seems good for a ride," Rosanna said, leaning against Mirage's leg, with her digits along the inside of their thigh.

Mirage laughed. "Oh, I know outrider is your type, but I doubt you are Hound's."

"Shush," Rosanna said, her free hand rising to her masked faceplate. "Everybot knows you and I are an item Mirage."

Karmen voiced a wordless, airy huff.

Rosanna laughed. "We're practically consorts, if you follow newsfeeds."

"Can bots be consorts these days?" Karmen's tone was doubtful.

"Who's to judge?" Mirage posed rhetorically. They'd gotten rid of judges. "Bots can give each other whatever titles they like."

"I suppose in some circles, entertainers and athletes hold sway as much as a baron or senator," Karmen said. "And the lot are noble as much as any ancient kings or warlords ever were.

"Likely more influential," Rosanna said, "If they're popular enough."

"Or wealthy," Mirage added.

"I hadn't heard of 'MiraRosa' until I reached Kaon. In Vos, bots just assume Mirage is Skywarp's...lover or such." Karmen shrugged, as if uncertain what term bots in Vos actually used.

"I mixed drinks!" Tracks called out as he reentered the den from the east wing of the house. He carried a tray of brightly colored beverages from oily amber to cool blue and vivid energon-pink bordering on purple.

"AUNTIE, raise the nearest table," Mirage called.

A beep sounded and a section of flooring rose to form a low table along the bench Tracks had recently vacated.

---

A couple drinks in, Mirage wasn't thinking of anything at all related to Quintessons or warbands or politics or even finances. They weren't thinking of anything much at all, but hanging onto the feeling of sitting with friends and laughing over frivolous gossip. Mirage was vaguely aware of not looking their best and the fact that most of their frame was stripped down to bare metal, but Mirage didn't attempt illusion to hide it, and it didn't matter. It might have elsewhere, but at home with these friends, it really didn't. Tracks kept running his digits over the steely patches and Rosanna remained snuggled up to Mirage's side.

Karmen was just the other side of Tracks, her slender legs crooked over one of his as she shared anecdotes of her travels to Vos and Kaon, where her brother Toaster lived. When she named a bot, sometimes Tracks would add something he'd learned about them. Did they know Lancer goes for femmes, or Jazz has nunchaku skills rivaling Leozack, or Clench had been crowned at a truck show?

Mirage detailed the regional differences in oil cakes. The ones from Tarn are triangular and have little gears, nuts and bolts pressed into them, ones from Helex have layers, Kaon style was drizzled with condensed energon.

Rosanna, who was Iacon, reportedly, knew ferrics and cryo-condors could both be wild near Kaon. "And they eat the rust worms, there!"

Another drink and Mirage was sharing glossy open-mouthed kisses with Tracks.

"Oh, were you gonna need the room?" Karmen asked. Level of seriousness uncertain.

"This is just party games," Rosanna said.

Mirage withdrew smiling.

"I thought Mirage could use a kiss," Tracks said.

Mirage nodded. "I might have needed cheering up, but not warming up, so- That was fun."

"Oh, I get kissing bots at the club," Karmen said, "but that-"

"It's so they don't mar their finish," Rosanna explained.

"Of course it was!" Karmen shoved a small hand against Track's nearest arm.

"Hey, now!"

"Mirage doesn't have much finish left; that was all you being vain."

"It's work, Karmen. It's work to look this good."

"Looked like you were performing binomial data transfer."

Mirage laughed. "Would you like a kiss, Karmen?"

"From one of you? No. Our social circles intersect, including mechs I'm sure you've kissed." Her accompanying gesture included Tracks as well as Mirage. "And they would not all be comfortable sharing."

"That was not an invitation from me, Karmen," Tracks protested, "I intend to stay on good terms with your whole family."

Rosanna changed the subject, "Tracks, what would the first step be in giving Mirage his finish back?"

"Usually, prepping the plating so that it is clean, dry, and free of loose material, but I can tell that's been taken care of." Tracks ran a digit over a bare spot on Mirage's chest in making his point.

"Boss helped," Mirage admitted, though that had probably been obvious already.

"After that - don't tell - just a skim of filler in a few spots to smooth surfaces."

Mirage laughed lightly, very aware an active bot their age was going to show some minor dings and scrapes. Self-repair systems worked to restore function and structural integrity, but could leave traces. Tracks must, secretly, have wear, too. Mirage smiled, touching Tracks' pristine-looking hardtop chest. "I know you'll do good work."

---

It was a lengthy process: being refinished. But it took much less time than it would if a bot relied on their own repair systems to slowly rebuild layers of spark-infused metallic alloys and pigmentation. And, in that case, the deco tended to come through as an interpolation of a bots CNA coding from their spark and available pigments delivered through diet. Mirage knew bots who who couldn't bear to take care or allow themselves nice things who went about with dull, faded plating, and it was not pretty. No. If they wanted their custom racing livery and didn't want to go on a special diet of cobalt, aluminum, and copper with various other mineral supplements, then using manufactured paint was the way to go. The pigment would be infused with their individual energy signature and field and become a part of them. And, then, if it started to fade that was a sign of potential spark issues.

Thankfully, gratefully, Mirage had not suffered spark injury or strain. Sometimes Mirage felt their spark was dark, but that was really emotional subroutines talking. Mirage knew that, even if their emotions were affected. The paint would take.

Mirage could trust Tracks with this.

Sometimes, a few times, if Tracks had the right cocktail of oil and energon and was in private quarters, he'd admit he learned his trade from Knock Out and almost make it sound as if he liked the mech. For all that Tracks namedropped and gossiped, he rarely mentioned Breakdown's partner at all. If he was pressed to say something about Breakdown, that was always past tense: "Breakdown used to look out for us", "Breakdown taught us how to fight."

The refinishing started with a whole lot of plating removal and masking.

Masking. Something Tracks and Mirage should both be good at. Almost nobot realized the deco designer had been a young-bot soldier in Breakdown's warband sabotaging Quintessons systems all across the north.

It had made it difficult to become friends, because Tracks was one of those bots just young enough to not have known the Quints as friends or the guilt of having let them in, yet just old enough to have been in the war and witnessed Mirage serving the other side. But it had happened, maybe because both were trying so hard to put their past behind them and pretend they had no damage to exploit and like recognized like.

Tracks was as capable of masking and disembling, as he was professional at preparing a bot's frame for layers of paint applications.

He wasn't there simply because Mirage wanted a friend to help him reach; they would be compensating Tracks for the deco service.

And Karmen, now she was here. She was a setter by trade and well qualified to tend to any crests, cables, filaments, or wires a bot had, or polish their pate if they hadn't. And, as Mirage understood from their previous introduction, Karmen was trained in the art of Chromite Massage, which meant that if Moonheart had kinked or snagged any tubes, lines, or cables beneath Mirage's plating Karmen would be able to smooth and realign them so Mirage did not risk and ruptures when they tried to convert again.

So, as they set up in the deco room, Mirage was unsurprised by the request to remove their helm. Easier to paint the large plating pieces removed from their frame to allow Mirage freedom of movement during as much of the process as possible.

Rosanna politely excused herself to go check on Steeljaw as they prepared to remove the first parts.

Mirage was not in the regular habit of removing any plating, even their helm, as some like Hound, or bots who revered Solus Prime might, but trusted that Tracks and Karmen would be discreet as they were professional.

Mirage sat upon a central swivel stool, with Tracks crouched before their legs and Karmen perched on a stepstool behind, and sent the command to release the internal clamps holding their armor in place. Mirage lifted their own helm, up over their head, as Tracks carefully lifted the first section of plating from Mirage's legs, revealing the steely protoform layer of Mirage's left leg, set with glowing optical ports.

Mirage could feel a shifting of weight around their head, the very slither of their own cables raw and strange without their helm to filter sound.

"I thought you would have cables," Karmen said, "But it's a sidelock pinned up beneath your helm."

"Yes, it seemed the best way." Their sidelock was composed of multiple darkly coated cables, which Mirage often plaited. "Given my helm is symmetrical and I am not."

"A lot of bots choose a protective style beneath their helm. I keep saying we should let bots bare more natural surfaces, since we aren't at war or waiting for the next warlord to raid us, but it's become this personal thing." Karmen wasn't wrong; it was only a minority who followed a custom to bare their heads. Until Skywarp had been injured and forced to get a new helm out of necessity, Mirage hadn't known about his filaments.

"Karmen really should meet Hound," Tracks commented, removing plating from Mirage's right leg this time.

"Why Hound?" Karmen asked, and then, "Do you want me to clean and replait your lock?"

"I would like that," Mirage replied, then added, "Hound's pre-war Clan were nomadic and developed a culture of baring heads indoors as a means to show deference to those offering hospitality."

"He wears cables in a topknot," Tracks said, having also witnessed Hound's indoor customs. He moved around to Mirage's right side to lift an outer panel from their arm. "And-"

"He's got a wiry chin," Mirage finished.

"So, professional interest?" Karmen confirmed.

"Yes." Mirage didn't wish to speak to Hound's attraction, though they believed Hound had preferences.

"Are you having Tracks do your face?" Karmen asked then.

"Actually," Mirage said, "Can you leave my faceplate and hands as is? I can tend to them."

"It can be difficult to do both hands on your own," Tracks stated, walking back around Mirage. "We don't all have an extra set of arms like Flatline."

"Skywarp helps," Mirage said, wringing hands together in their lap.

"So helpful," Tracks said.

"Tracks," Karmen said, wary and almost scolding.

"In any case," Tracks said from Mirage's left side, with blue optics scanning over Mirage's frame, "I can get Basher out and start painting the plating we've removed. That will give Karmen time to work with you. Then we can position you for painting the rest?"

"Sounds good," Mirage said. If it had been necessary for a medibot's examination to make repairs, Mirage might have agreed to remove more, but there was still a line for them, however professional Tracks and Karmen were. Mirage had opted only to remove that plating on their limbs, and retained cover over their chassis. They were going to have to mask sections in order to keep both the blue across Mirage hips and the white on their chest distinct and free of overspray.

Tracks took the last needed armor section from Mirage's left arm.

"I'll hop down and get the cleaner," Karmen told Mirage, "Will you want me to go over your frame cabling as well?"

Mirage nodded. "Yes. Please. I- I had a cryo treatment and I'm not certain that lines didn't get shifted out of place."

Karmen continued from below, as she walked to a cabinet in the wall. "That would be in the area nearest your cog?"

"It was. Yes."

"Let's take care of your lock, first, then we can have you stand at the rack for support."

---

Mirage had a view of Tracks at work as they sat on the stool with Karmen combing tiny digits through the length of Mirage's sidelock. Tracks wore his Basher component on his back, a portion flipped forward over Track's head as a shield, and two other limbs housing paint nozzles extended forward along Track's hips. Basher's compressors churned and hissed propelling paint onto Mirage's detached accessories and armor.

Mirage had been through this process many times. When a youngbot adding mass or receiving upgrades, when changing affiliation, updating to a more fashionable deco, or after receiving damage. It still never felt entirely normal, to be so vulnerable or to see so much of what one considered their self externalized this way.

The deco room smelled strongly of volatiles, even with the fume vent. It reminded Mirage of Skywarp painting his tips. And that was, honestly, a comforting thought. Mirage imagined those talons coming to their defense and projected the illusion of slender talons on their own hands.

"You good, Sparkling?" Karmen asked.

Mirage dropped the illusion. "I think I am."

Tracks stopped spraying. The Basher component shifted mode to hang at his back. "We're looking at some drying time," Tracks said, turning toward Mirage. "Shall we play a game?"

"If you like," Mirage said.

"I'm still working on this plait," Karmen said.

Tracks moved past them to the cabinets. "You have Trines and Truth Tower in here."

"I don't know if I can handle Truth Tower today," Mirage said.

Tracks brought out the tin of Trines tiles.

---

The following megacycles were spent between finish applications and playing rounds of Trines while waiting on drying times. Atmospheric controls kept the room warm and dry to promote faster drying and setting, as such it was quite comfortable, if still smelling of hydrocarbons. It had been a long time since Mirage had let their sidelock down for any significant period of time, and they found themself repeatedly running their digits over the plaited cables as they considered their tiles. They were playing on the surface of a rolling tool cart, which had enabled the game to move with Mirage as they moved from stool to rack for painting.

Trines one of those remaining elements of Cyber-Quintesson culture, from when they considered each other friends. Mirage had often played it in mixed company. It incorporated elements of older Cybertronian card and chip games with chunky tiles a tentacle could easily manipulate, decorated with a combination of glyphs and pictograms from both cultures, and rulesets and strategy from multiple alien worlds. The goal was to collect steps of matching or sequential tiles in specific numbers, while delaying other players from getting their own sets. They were playing with sets of three and five, plus Primes.

Tracks lifted Wrath from the discard field. If he were going for five Faces, then Mirage might wish to hold Death as long as possible. Though, it was possible for them both to draw Faces from the stack, as there were multiples of each type of tile. Tracks discarded the 3 of Cogs. Mirage might want that tile for a sequence, if Karmen didn't.

Karmen took some time to consider and drew from the Fort. She discarded Conjunction from the Phase tiles.

Mirage picked up the discarded Three of Cogs, slotting it into their cog sequence which now only was missing a five. Mirage tugged at their lock, considering tiles, then took Alchemist Prime and played the tile face-up atop the Fort. "I play Alchemist, which means the next player to draw from the Fort gives me that tile." This left Mirage without a Prime which they would need to hold for a winning hand, but there was always the chance to draw another.

Tracks could have felt compelled to draw from discards field, but no, he quickly lifted a tile from the Fort and passed it to Mirage. This meant Tracks' hand would remain unchanged for a turn and Mirage effectively had two turns.

Mirage turned the tile to look at it. The One Glyph. Mirage took their hand from their lock and hovered it over their Death tile. Finally, Mirage put the One with the two Ones they had already collected and discarded Death.

Tracks picked it up and called, "Trines!"

"I only needed a few tiles!" Karmen said.

"I played right into that," Mirage admitted.

"I won the round, but you're still ahead, Mirage," Tracks conceded.

"You're pretty good," Karmen agreed.

Mirage smiled. "I used to play with Dez all the time!"

And then Mirage really heard what they'd just vocalized.

They'd just happily used the familiar name of their Quintesson master that they'd secretly murdered.

Chapter Text

Mirage lay on their recharge slab, not actually falling into stasis. They thought about going to Hound's room. Maybe some time on the treadmill? Howlback was here; Mirage could feel her beneath the slab. She'd come up here if they just asked. Or, maybe a drink of oil would help?

AUNTIE interrupted Mirage's processing with an announcement: "Skywarp detected in dispensary."

Skywarp.

Mirage got up, swinging legs over the edge of the slab. They crossed the room, the door sliding open with a swoosh upon approach and entered the hall. "AUNTIE, dim lighting, please."

The hall lights came up about 20%.

Mirage still didn't feel up to converting, so they continued walking through the hall and house to the opposite wing where the dispensary was located.

When Mirage reached the dispensary and turned, there was nobot there.

"AUNTIE, locate Skywarp."

The smart interface answered, "Skywarp is not within the house."

This was so Skywarp.

Mirage sat down at the cafe table, bothering to use the chair this time.

"He was here," Howlback said, stalking through the entrance from the hall.

"I know."

"Recently. There's a sort of...unscent" Howlback walked into view on her four legs. "Besides, the washer's running."

One of the appliances was quietly churning and humming. "He's dropping in to do his cleaning?" It had been different since Mirage allowed Skywarp to obtain coordinates to their home.

Howlback glanced at the device before turning and coming to rub against Mirage's leg. Mirage might have complained about transfer, but they had matching paint.

"Do we still have circuit blockers left?" Mirage asked.

"Do you really need one?" Howlback asked in turn. "You've been moving better, neither slow nor stooped."

"I had just thought-" Mirage started.

"Come back to your room. Rest."

"I'm tired of resting."

"Yes, but if you want to get back racing, you need proper rest, first."

Mirage knew Howlback was correct. They'd told themself the same. It was important to get back on the track after a roll like that, but given the preceding cog cramps, it was only wise to let all affected systems recover before that return. "I'll just get a drink of oil, then." Mirage reached out and patted Howlback's head once, then rose from their seat to go to the cabinets for a glass and a jug of oil.

Mirage poured the drink and stowed the jug again. Turning to lean against the counter, the washer vibrated behind. It felt good against Mirage's lower back. They wobbled the glass in one hand, watching the amber oil swirl. Passing vehicles outside the towers buzzed by, the sound almost completely muted by the smart windows and hexcombed structures within the walls. It was all familiar, calming. But, there was still this restless feeling.

"You want me to knead your back?" Howlback asked, tone on the edge of irritation and accommodation.

"Would you?" Mirage asked, hopefully

"If it would help."

Mirage pushed away from the counter. "It may."

---

It did feel nice, being stretched out prone on the slab, with the little rubbery pads of Howlback's paws pushing against the layers of dermal and armor plating along Mirage's back. She could brace her back feet against the folded tires and steering mechanisms higher along Mirage's back and knead her front paws - claws retracted - repeatedly against the edges of Mirage's pelvic plating, forcing their backstrut and attached joints and motor strands to extend and decompress.

Mirage was starting to feel relaxed, between the charge from the slab and the mechanical sensation of extending joints. "That feels good. Can you push against that edge some more?"

"I can."

"Please."

"As you wish." Howlback continued kneading her paws against Mirage.

Mirage moaned wordlessly at the stretch. "I appreciate it. It is helping."

"I do want you to feel better."

Mirage sighed.

"Would you like me to lie on top of you after?"

"Yes."

---

"Skywarp detected in dispensary," AUNTIE reported, again.

Mirage did not bother to get up, this time. Skywarp could comm or do whatever he was doing here. Mirage was the most comfortable they'd been in days without the use of circuit blockers. Besides, Howlback was reclining atop Mirage's back.

Mirage just lay there, recharging.

A time later, AUNTIE announced, "Skywarp requesting entry to Mirage's recharge suite." So, he was not just warping in.

"AUNTIE, Open door," Mirage said.

The door swooshed open, revealing Skywarp's familiar dark figure with broad wingspan in the dim lighting of hall and recharge chamber; he carried a couple of cube-shaped boxes and baskets either hanging from a handle or balanced between arm and hip. "Can I come in?"

"I would like that." Mirage unfolded their left arm and reached toward Skywarp. "Come sit with me?"

Skywarp approached quickly, dropping baggage on the floor near the edge of Mirage's slab and then twisting to sit, with his right thigh along Mirage's frame. His left hand was offered to Mirage, but the other left their view. "Hey, Howlback," he said. And made some motion Mirage couldn't quite track. Even with Mirage's head turned to the side, Skywarp was partly in the periphery of their field of vision, and perhaps extending outside of it.

One of Howlback's strings plinked.

"No," she said, calmly, like it was more conclusion than objection.

"Not there, yet," Skywarp said.

"It was not bad to try."

"Mirage," Skywarp said then, evidentially shifting focus and attention, as Mirage felt the narrow tips of talon-like digits graze their shoulder. "You're looking better."

"Thanks. I had help."

"I heard," Skywarp admitted.

Mirage wondered who it was that had informed Skywarp. It might even have been Howlback. But Tracks and Karmen were mutual acquaintances. Rosanna, too, but Mirage didn't think she was friendly with Skywarp in particular, whereas Karmen knew Skywarp and their own circle of mutual acquaintances from Vos fairly well.

"I thought, you might like an oil rub."

Mirage rolled, causing Howlback to slide to their other side, toward the smart window, and Skywarp's hands to move relative to Mirage's frame, coming to rest either side of Mirage's chest. They looked up at Warp. "You decided you might like to give me an oil rub?"

"Both." Skywarp cocked his head as if considering his own answer. "Anyway, I'm offering to rub oil all over you. I got clean rags and everything."

Now his warping in and out made sense. "That's why you were in the dispensary?"

"Yeah!" Skywarp twisted to reach the baggage he'd left beside the recharge slab. "The cloths are still warm from the drying cycle."

Skywarp lifted a wad of rags and dropped them over the slab; several fell softly over Mirage's chest.

"Do you know how to give an oil rub treatment?"

"What's to know?" Skywarp shrugged.

"It's not complicated," Howlback said from Mirage's left, then lolled her lubricated tongue from her maw, which was flatter and rougher than the nodule Mirage sampled and tasted with.

Skywarp warbled laughter at that. "Yeah," he agreed. I've had an oil bath and buff before. Besides, I asked Space Case for tips."

It was no secret Space Case helped his conjunx Wingstun maintain his dark bronze finish. "In that case, I accept your offer," Mirage said, smiling up at Skywarp.

Warp grinned back at Mirage "Spacy says top to bottom is good.

Mirage propped themself up on elbows. "Perhaps, helm to aft along my back, then you can do my front, and maybe then I'll arrange my legs to give you access?"

Skywarp smirked. "You trying to make this hard?"

"No harder for you than me, I think?" Mirage said, smiling. At this point in their relationship, Mirage was confident they were both attracted to each other, but what forms of attraction they felt and under what circumstances remained different. It was likely Skywarp was capable of performing this service in a contemplative manner that soothed them both, but Mirage was bored and uncertain how much they wanted more comfort.

"All right. Sit up and show me your back." There was a hint of challenge in Skywarp's tone, as if he'd just accepted a mission. He extended one hand to help Mirage up.

---

Mirage knelt on their recharge slab, the backs of their thighs cushioned by their tire-calves. Howlback lay curled at their right side. And, Skywarp was behind. Mirage had anticipated the touch of oiled rags or sharp digits to their helm, but what they felt was slight pressure at the back of their shoulder-mounted launcher.

"Targeting systems inactive?" Skywarp asked, voice already low and calm as when he was tired or in contemplation.

"Yes," Mirage confirmed it on their HUD.

"Acknowledged," Skywarp said, perhaps automatically, as he added, "good." The sharp points of his digits braced Mirage's launcher while his other hand wiped a rag along its length.

Mirage remembered a past occasion when they had learned that Skywarp appreciated having his own hardpoint-mounted guns touched. Mirage did not have that military core programming that Warp and some Seekers or other constructs seemed to struggle with accepting or repressing. Mirage's weapons systems had been optional upgrades that had become both necessity and fashion during the war.

A lot of bots in Iacon publicly supported disarmament, but Mirage was not going to remove their weapons any more than Hound or Tracks might. They'd survived war in their own ways. Mirage was determined not to be caught defenseless again.

And yet, they were trusting Skywarp with this. Sitting behind them. Touching the launcher. Working oil onto the barrel.

At some point, Skywarp switched hands to better reach into the space between Mirage's launcher and helm. Those talons fell lightly over Mirage's right shoulder.

When the launcher was oiled, Skywarp moved on to Mirage's helm. Always one hand grasped the oiled rag and rubbed it about in long strokes or circles, while the other made direct, but light contact with Mirage's plating. There was something grounding about that.

"Do you want to lean back so I can get the front of your helm now?" Skywarp asked.

Mirage considered. They had suggested back and then front. But what Skywarp was really offering was a choice in proximity. And Mirage liked choice. "Yes, this time."

"Here," Skywarp said, grasping Mirage's shoulders in empty hands and guiding them to recline. Mirage's weight shifted off their legs, and they felt one of Warp's thighs slot in between the tires on his back, supporting them. Skywarp smiled down, registering upside-down in Mirage's view. "All right?"

"Yes. You can continue. Not my face, though. I will tend to it myself later."

"Yeah, you don't have the same highlighting you usually do."

"Exactly." Mirage's faceplate, like most of their naturally-forged alloys, was steely in nature and able to polish up well, but their current aesthetic was to paint their faceplate in gray tones close to their natural color but which enhanced features with painted contouring of dark and light.

Skywarp's faceplate was painted as well; it had been lavender back when they met, but now was a solid medium gray with much darker optic liner that made his shade look paler by contrast, and rosy when his optics were bright. His lips were purple today, with subtle pink highlights.

Mirage lay back, watching Skywarp as he worked, noting the way he variously pressed his lips together or licked at his fangs while in concentration. They could feel the presence of an oiled cloth on the slats over their left receptor, while Warp's digits clacked along the right. "I may like this."

"Just started," Skywarp said, then asked, "Can I get your neck?" He was aware of the past vocalizer damage, of course, but Mirage realized this also meant Skywarp intended to give all of Mirage's parts the oil treatment, not only the outermost armor which had been recently repainted.

"Thank you for asking. Yes."

"No problem." Skywarp smirked. "I like this, too."

It was good for them; intimate and tactile and romantic in context; it met a lot of their combined needs, without necessarily leading to 'facing.

Mirage really hoped to get back to that soon.

Warp touched talon-tips to their chin and gently lifted it, enabling access to oil the thinner plating and cabling along Mirage's neck. Memories of tentacles, good and bad, threatened to come up into active memory and Mirage dismissed them as irrelevant. This was not that. Skywarp could be playful or even irritatingly unfocused at times, but he knew what it meant to have difference and old damage. He wasn't going to hurt Mirage, not this way, anyway. Not more than Mirage asked.

"Good?" Warp asked.

Maybe Mirage's field had indicated otherwise. "Will be. Maybe you could check if you missed a spot, on my neck."

"Sure." His seeking talons stroked the length of Mirage's neck, though Mirage was sure not a spot had actually been missed.

Warp looked pretty, even hanging upside down as he seemed with Mirage reclining in his lap. Mirage didn't need a bot to be pretty to want to be with them, but it certainly didn't hurt. They'd mentally assigned Skywarp's look as fierce when they met, but over time, Mirage had come to see the cuteness. Warp managed to pull of being darkly dramatic and warm, bubbly, and rosy at the same time.

"You want me to get your chest now? Or sit you up to get your back?" Skywarp asked. And before Mirage could answer, he added. "I think we have some tire balm."

"No," Mirage said, then explained, "That is, I would love for you to help me apply some tire balm, but not now. Let's focus on polishing my plating."

"Right. That's smart. First step, first."

"Help me sit up?" Mirage asked. Tires or not, it might be better to work on their back, first. "Howlback kneaded my back earlier; the cog's been affecting my lower back, still."

Skywarp's digits worked into the space between back and thigh, allowing him to support Mirage's backstrut as he lifted them. Mirage crunched their own motor strands to bend forward. Upright, they raised their arms and stretched adjusting position of their legs beneath.

A talon ran along Mirage's back strut where it was closest to the surface, not covered by folded tires, suspension, or cockpit mechanisms.

Mirage turned their head to look over their left shoulder. "You like that?"

"The aesthetic attraction is very real," Skywarp stated.

Mirage smiled. "Oh, I know it." Both ways. The attraction went both ways.

"I should focus on applying oil."

Maybe. "But what do you want?"

"I kinda want your back stretched over my canopy while I kiss your neck." He just said it, so openly and without reservation. Mirage took it as a good sign when Warp knew what he wanted.

And it sounded like something Mirage wanted, too. "Could you? A little? And then we focus on the oil rub?"

Warp rushed to do so, once asked. He did not pull Mirage back, again, but moved forward, pressing his cooler canopy glass against Mirage's back. They allowed their frame to arch. Skywarp's arms wrapped around them, hands splayed over chest and midsection. He lapped at the back of Mirage's neck, and followed by nuzzling in close to the left side. Warp's lips kissed Mirage's neck. He whispered. "If you stay still, I'll bite you. I'll be careful."

Mirage's system pinged them with the potential to activate their interface array; personal algorithms long trained to warm at slight expressions of interest. Mirage quickly dismissed it. Not now. Not this time. But aloud, "Yes!"

Warp's sharp dental ridges lightly grazed the thin dermal plating of Mirage's neck. The tingle. The scrape. The implied threat that was held under control. Longing plus restraint.

Beside them, Howlback hissed.

Mirage reached out and grasped the back of her neck in their right hand, pressing down on her strings.

"You've been right there with us for a lot more than this," Skywarp told her, voice still so close to Mirage's receptor.

Mirage kept the pressure on Howlback's neck. "It's the neck bite in particular," they said softly.

"Oh? Like a cat thing? Like...flight control surfaces being a jet thing?"

"Yes," Mirage answered for them both. They very much would like to use a set of tool-tips to preen those control surfaces. An equivalent service to what Warp provided now.

Skywarp whispered, "Love you." Another press of his lips to Mirage's neck. "Should probably focus on the oil."

"Yes. Please. Though, I very much enjoyed the diversion."

No reply as Skywarp disengaged from Mirage, but then, he called out, "Howlback, we cool?"

"Yes. I am quite fine," she answered, "Mirage may remove their hand. I do not need it."

Needing was not the same as wanting, but Mirage lifted their hand from Howlback's neck.

---

They continued, Mirage kneeling with Howlback still curled at their side and Skywarp sitting behind, leaving some space between their frames. Warp rubbed the oiled rags over Mirage's back, only skipping the tires. Those could be dealt with later. Skywarp spent a fair amount of time, perhaps more than necessary, on Mirage's lower back, where a section of heavier blue pelvic plating met a band of thinner gray.

Mirage had asked for and wanted this, but began to suspect that Skywarp was hesitant to touch their aft.

"Warp."

"Wha-?"

"Shall I bend over so you can reach better, or shall we work on my chest, first?"

"Sorry. I- I was just trying to tell myself it was all right. It's not like I haven't touched you everywhere before. And you aren't even expecting me to do some seductive thing."

"Correct."

"You want me to do it?" Howlback asked.

"No!" Skywarp snapped.

"Really, I can just do this myself," Mirage offered.

"No!" Skywarp insisted. He sighed. "Mirage. I can do this. I want to. Just- Would you maybe want to lie down?"

"That might be more comfortable," Mirage said. They did bend over with their rear momentarily raised, before sliding their arms out toward the head of the recharge slab and lowering themself to lie prone. Mirage glanced over their left shoulder again. "I'm all right like this, if you are."

Skywarp met their optics, before his gaze darted to Mirage's frame stretched out along the slab. "Yeah. Yeah. I think this is better. More comfortable." Warp still took near a klik to dispense fresh oil on a rag and position himself kneeling along Mirage's left side.

Mirage lay their head on folded arms and shuttered their optics.

Again Skywarp used one bare hand to brace Mirage or perhaps ground himself; it was loosely curled about Mirage's midsection, talon-tips beneath their forward wing, not far from where their cog was. Warp's right hand swiped the cloth over Mirage's aft. Horizontally across, slowly over the edges of Mirage's hips, swooping to catch drips along the vertical surfaces at Mirage's sides. Several more long swipes across the back. A brief pause, but that might have been to collect oil. And then a circling motion as the rag moved between Mirage's thighs and coated the lowest portion of their closed interface panel in oil.

Warp's hand, partially obscured by cloth, grasped Mirage's right thigh where the dermal plating gave way to the mechanism of their hip joints. An area Moonheart and Karmen had each tended not so long before.

"Legs?" Skywarp asked, voice pitched higher than usual.

Mirage smiled to themself, face still concealed in their arms. They didn't know if Skywarp might be nervous, or aroused, or nervous about being aroused. His field didn't really feel different than usual, which made Mirage lean toward the combination.

Skywarp was not so quick or likely to experience a strong urge to interface as Mirage was, but he did get aroused and didn't always know how he wanted to express that.

"Would you, please? Just the backs of my thighs? Then back to the front, I think."

"Sure. Yeah."

Mirage smiled again in secret, though perhaps Skywarp sensed the amusement. Howlback likely could. She was quite experienced with reading fields.

It was very fond amusement.

Warp's left hand moved to Mirage's aft, opposer perched along the lower edge where the was a gap to allow for hip movements. The right hand withdrew only to return with a freshly balled rag which lay a trail of oil along the back of Mirage's thigh.

Was Mirage sure they didn't want to activate their interface array?

>Dismiss.

Skywarp continued applying the oil, working in long swipes along Mirage's thigh. As he came to Mirage's knee joint, more accessible and vulnerable from the back, Skywarp moved the rag in short, slow, strokes.

And then Warp moved on to Mirage's left thigh.

---

Mirage rolled to their back and then wriggled to position themself centrally on the slab. "Is this good, or should I sit up?" they asked.

Howlback had not moved and was curled near Mirage's lower left leg, head raised to look between Mirage and Skywarp.

Skywarp was half on-half off the slab at the moment, bending to reach a jug of oil from the box of supplies; separate piles of laundered and saturated rags were on the slab near his right knee. He took his time in appraising Mirage's position. Optics moving in their orbits and lips going through some number of microexpressions.

Skywarp might be a little interested.

The interest was there, for Mirage's part, but not the intent to follow through. Not tonight.

Mirage considered that there were ways they might help Warp along without themself activating their own array. It could be considerate to offer, though Mirage expected Skywarp would decide it just as considerate to refuse.

"Depends. You want me on top, or you wanna sit in my lap?"

Mirage smiled. There was no wrong answer there. "I am already on my back, you can come climb on top." They beckoned with folded digits.

Skywarp glanced to Mirage's face and optics once more before moving. Holding the oil in one hand, he planted the other at Mirage's side, then walked his legs around behind him in dance-like fashion. Skywarp then dropped his knees either side of Mirage to straddle their thighs. Skywarp dropped his gaze, as well, to focus on the oil and rags. "This is more symmetrical," he said, "I don't have to reach across more with one hand than the other."

Mirage felt they were still fondly smiling as they looked down their frame and then up at Skywarp's. Their size difference was enough that Skywarp wasn't putting much weight on Mirage, kneeling over them, though Mirage felt some slight warmth and contact along their thighs. It was, as Skywarp suggested, not an impractical position. And if Mirage reached down along their sides, they could touch Skywarp's knees. "Nothing wrong with your geometry."

Skywarp smirked at that.

"It's a nice view, too," Mirage told him. "I like you on top."

Skywarp set the jug down on the slab, and glanced briefly to Mirage before turning his head to regard Howlback, before focusing again on Mirage, oiled rag in his right hand poised over their chest. "Only so much as you like being on top."

Mirage's lips quirked into an open smile as they laughed. "All right. True." Both. Both were good

The rag touched the uppermost edge of Mirage's white chest plating. Warp's left hand braced Mirage's right shoulder. "It's a lovely view either way," Skywarp said. "When you know what you want and what you're doing."

"Thank you," Mirage said, accepting that as a compliment. It was reassuring, really. Skywarp had communicated that he did not want to feel he had a teacher and Mirage had made a conscious effort not to fall into that role, despite their difference in experience. But, if Warp still liked Mirage showing some confidence, that was good to know. "I like when you are focused like this."

Skywarp glanced up, the rag in his hand slowing only slightly. "Thanks. I want to do a good job for you. But, also, it's kinda calming when I get into it."

"You being focused on making me feel good is hot."

Skywarp continued slathering oil across Mirage's chest, without comment, though his optics flared.

"Warp."

He looked Mirage in the optics.

"You want me to help you out. Give you a hand? I will."

Skywarp shook his head, yet his left hand reached for Mirage's own digits and drew them up onto his thigh. "Another time," Warp said, "I might really want that. But, for now, put your hands here, so I can get the oil on your arms."

Mirage lifted his arms and reached with both hands, letting them fall above Skywarp's knees.

"Yeah, like that." Skywarp's talons curled beneath Mirage's right arm, lifting it a little higher. Warp's right hand followed with the oiled rag, swiping along Mirage's shoulder and into the joint. Skywarp then transferred the rag to his left hand to apply the oil to Mirage's outer armor panel. He continued working down Mirage's arm, using both hands, until Skywarp reached Mirage's hand.

Skywarp repeated the process with Mirage's left arm, stopping again when he reached the hand. There was still some touch-up to be done on their paint.

"Good?" Warp asked, pausing to collect more oil on a rag.

"Yes," Mirage confirmed, Hands still resting over Skywarp's knees. "Shall we proceed?

Skywarp set the jug of oil down again. "Yeah. I will. Just...sometimes I need a klik to tell myself..."

This hesitation was not unfamiliar, they'd seen it when Skywarp reached Mirage's aft. But he'd still gone ahead an rubbed the oil in everywhere. "AUNTIE, Turn on my overhead fan. Set speed to low."

"Overhead fan is on low."

Skywarp looked up to the ceiling high over Mirage's recharge slab as the air flowed down over them in a slow current. "Mirage, this might not really have the best effect."

"No, I think it has exactly the desired effect. We can just make each other feel good. Doesn't have to mean more than that or lead to anything."

"It does feel good," Skywarp said. He leaned forward, shifting the angle at which the airflow hit his wings. The flight control surfaces - flaps or ailerons - wiggled along the edge of each wing.

Mirage moved his digits over Skywarp's thighs. "I appreciate you being here. Today was rough in some ways. I appreciate your touch and the oil treatment. I want us to make each other feel good."

Skywarp focused his optics on Mirage. "I want it, too. I do. It's just-" He broke off, lips pouting.

"You can tell me," Mirage said.

"Sometimes I try not to think too much."

Mirage smiled. "I know."

"A lot of times I just kinda do things, but, I can get confused feelings. Then I think."

"Sometimes it's worth worrying, so you don't teleport into a hazard, but you can be confident about being with me."

"I don't want to be nervous. I don't want you to think it's you. I love you, but I'm not used to feeling so much attraction the way I sometimes do for you."

Mirage nodded.

"Maybe I just need a klik, sometimes, to identify what I feel or want."

"My patience may have been thin, recently."

"When you're feeling bad, you can forget to be your most gracious. I know that. But that's part of you that I love."

Mirage sighed. It was all true.

Skywarp dropped his gaze as he pressed the oiled cloth to Mirage's chest again. "Is it anything you want to talk about? The rough parts?"

"It's nothing you aren't already aware of," Mirage answered, looking at nothing in particular in the direction of the ceiling. "You know something of my history. Though I accept my past, it can hurt to have it brought into the present. And sometimes, without intending it, friends can bring it up. Or, unthinking, sometimes I do. It's painful and awkward. But there's not much to do for it but to continue."

Skywarp rubbed the rag in circles over Mirage's chestplate. "I know how that is. Hurting bots we care about."

"I don't blame any of them," Mirage said firmly, glancing down from having stared at the ceiling.

Skywarp had been bowed over his work, but looked up. "Then, you also cannot blame yourself," Skywarp said brightly.

Mirage could blame themself, but they shouldn't was the point. "Thank you."

"It makes sense, wanting to feel something better, to not think." Warp wove the oiled cloth beneath the edge of Mirage's forward wing.

Mirage looked down along their frame, as Skywarp tugged at the ends of the cloth, threading it back and forth over the surface of their wing. Warp altered the position of his hands, adjusting the angle of the cloth to the plane of the wing to simulate the sense of forward movement; the rag dragging over plating like air flowing from the edge inward. "Trust a Seeker to know how to work a wing."

Skywarp warbled low laughter. "Just wait till I get to your feet."

Mirage could already imagine it. They knew their current transformation scheme converted their stabilizers to form their rear wing and Warp appreciated their stabilizers. Mirage anticipated the touch of Warp's talons on their stabilizers. But right now, Mirage appreciated the attention to their forward wing. "I could stand this a while longer."

Skywarp worked the rag back and forth, gradually dragging it along the breadth of Mirage's wing.

And then he moved on to the section of blue armor plating across Mirage's hips.

Mirage felt that ping of potential interface again. And, again, they dismissed it. They really wished to get back to that.

Mirage looked up at Warp and the calm concentration on his faceplate as he rubbed the rag over Mirage's interface panel. They longed to have that same focus aimed at bringing them to overload. Warp was slower to show interest in 'facing' than some, and not driven to it so much as Mirage. His naturally expansive field made simple snuggling intensely intimate field interaction. The additional layer of sensory input from an interface array could quickly become overwhelming, and not in the fun way of slowly building charge to overload.

"I'm gonna need you to spread your legs."

"Wha-?" Fantasy and reality were blurring.

"Draw your legs out from under me one at a time. So I can reposition."

Mirage stared in dull surprise another few nanokliks then finally focused. The oil rub. Continuing. Their legs.

---

Mirage had imagined playfully kicking a heel up onto Warp's shoulder, or having their stabilizer between his legs, but no, Skywarp sat at an angle to the slab, with one leg folded before him and the other over its edge, holding Mirage's right leg across his lap. And, it did seem efficient this way. Skywarp could still access the underside of Mirage's leg by lifting it braced on his off-hand or by threading the cloth below, as he had with the wing across Mirage's chassis.

Warp smiled slightly as he worked. It was a nice look, as much as Mirage enjoyed the smirks and bared fangs. Still Skywarp, just a little softer.

He seemed quite contented by rubbing oil into Mirage's thighs.

And Mirage realized, they felt contented, too. Not stressed, or aroused, but well contented and cared for. "You know I love you."

"I know." A brief hint of a smirk. "I still like when you say it."

"When you finish my legs, you want to come snuggle a while?"

"You should buff away excess oil before too long," Skywarp said, but his tone suggested he was very willing to make that while last as long as possible.

"That leaves some time after you finish with my legs."

"Don't think I'm going to rush through your legs just to get to hold you."

Mirage smiled. "You like my legs."

Skywarp's talon's moved to Mirage's knee joint. "I like a lot of your parts." He rubbed the oiled rag along the intake cowling that in alt-mode would be feeding air into their engine components, now across Mirage's gauntlets in bot-mode.

Warp moved on, oiling Mirage's lower leg, including the newly restored sponsor decals, but skipping the tire tucked in at their calf.

Then he reached Mirage's stabilizer. Skywarp lifted Mirage's leg, bending it at the knee to bring Mirage's foot into his lap. The rag glided over the bare metal of Mirage's stabilizer in short strokes from arch to sharpened tip.

Skywarp paused, talons bare on Mirage's stabilizer. "Whole other leg to get to," he said.

Mirage drew their left leg up from behind Skywarp. They kicked it up and dropped their foot down on Warp's right pauldron.

"You want me to work my way up this one?" Skywarp asked.

"I would love for you to work your way up my leg." Mirage smiled.

So Skywarp did, slowly working his way along Mirage's leg, beginning with the stabilizer. He lifted Mirage's foot, supporting it in his left hand, and ran his opposer over the rubbery silencer pad recessed below and behind the sharp edge. Mirage consciously willed themself to relax, seeing the proximity of that edge to Skywarp's face as he bowed his head. Warp placed a kiss on Mirage's stabilizer. It registered as warm contact, but it was the trust implied between them that made Mirage's spark twinge.

Skywarp looked to Mirage over the length of their leg and frame, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. Then he flicked the sensor nodule from his mouth, pointier than what Howlback had, and licked Mirage's stabilizer.

In that moment, Mirage wanted Warp kissing his way up their leg. They wanted it so intensely Mirage projected the illusion: A duplicate Mirage perched on the edge of the recharge slab, Warp kneeling on the floor, his mouth on Mirage's thigh. Duplicate Skywarp looked up and shuttered one optic at Skywarp who followed his previous kisses and licks with the oiled rag.

"That's..." Warp started and trailed off, watching the illusory pair.

Duplicate Mirage's head lolled back as they appeared to gasp.

"That's fair," Skywarp pronounced. A fair amount of teasing from them both. Shutters narrowed his gaze.

Mirage dropped the illusion.

"Next time." Skywarp's tone was inconclusive on whether that was statement or question.

"That a promise?" Mirage asked.

Skywarp pivoted and twisted against the recharge slab, lowering Mirage's left foot down into his lap. He then shrugged, slightly. "Let's say...80% I will definitely want to do that again next time, depending on the context of whenever next time is."

Mirage smiled. Warp may not be perfect, but Mirage did not doubt his math skills or ability to communicate specifically how much he gave willing consent. They had done more or less what the illusory couple had done, before.

"I shall endeavor to make next time as comfortable for you as possible."

Smiling, Skywarp tilted his head away from Mirage. "I look forward to that. But right now, it's my turn."

"I'm the most comfortable I've been in days."

"It looks good," Skywarp said. His optics were wide again, and bright, as he turned and lifted his head. His talons braced Mirage's left leg from below as he moved the rag over the white-on-blue detailing of Mirage's racing team logo.

---

Mirage looked up, feeling Skywarp go still just as he'd finished rubbing the oil onto their left thigh. Warp's gaze in that moment remained bright. His talons were warm; the opposer lying in the gap below Mirage's pelvic armor.

"Come, lay yourself down with me." Mirage lifted their right arm in invitation.

Skywarp looked aside, optics not apparently focused on anything. They dimmed as he returned focus to Mirage. Then, as he reclined, Skywarp folded back his wings.

"You didn't have to do that," Mirage said rolling to their left, as Skywarp settled alongside them, with Howlback on his other side.

"It's nothing."

"You're allowed to be turned on." Not just allowed; Mirage liked feeling desired.

"I was just getting warmed up. You have that effect." Warp's hands sought for a hold on Mirage's chassis. "I want to hold you."

Mirage wiggled against Skywarp, seeking a more comfortable position. They pulled themself up with handholds on Skywarp's pauldrons, curling their frame over the swell of Warp's amber canopy.

"You feel so good right now!" Skywarp told them, and even though Skywarp's talons were on their tires and hip, Mirage knew he meant the field interaction between them.

Warp's field was big and fuzzy as usual. Mirage appreciated that it was so Skywarp, but what Mirage especially liked in the moment was Warp's long, angular frame pressed against their own. Mirage slid their digits over Skywarp's chassis, feeling the projection of Warp's ordinance rack beneath their left hand. Mirage's right hand spread over Warp's collar and neck. Their right leg wound around Skywarp's Midriff.

Skywarp's limbs similarly enveloped Mirage; his head bowed, nuzzling close, his arms wrapped around Mirage's chassis, and his legs folding upward to cradle Mirage's aft and hips.

"Tight," Mirage whispered. "Hold me tight."

Skywarp didn't say anything. Didn't question. He tensed motor strands and squeezed his limbs about Mirage, pulling him firmly against his own frame.

The tactile pressure was so satisfying. Pinned in one known physical location in space. Trapped by a fierce frame of their choosing.

Not having to hide.

That resistance pressing in on their frame.

Mirage let their motor strands go slack.

They dismissed all warning systems related to proximity or pressure or sharp implements being tracked as potential weapons.

They shuttered optics.

There was touch and the tingle of electromagnetic contact.

There was high-energy sweetness as Skywarp found their mouth. Mirage opened up and invited the sensor nodule inside.

Skywarp moaned, gauntlets slowly rolling over the surfaces of Mirage's back without letting up pressure.

The kiss broke.

"You feel amazing!"

Mirage didn't know what their own field was doing, except radiating the energy of their pulsing spark. "Warp. Say I'm yours."

"You are. As much as I am yours."

"No," Mirage whispered, optics unshuttered a slit to perceive the rosy glow on Warp's faceplate. "I mean I want to hear your voice saying: 'You're mine!'"

Warp's talons pressed sharply against Mirage's axle and hip. He didn't say it immediately, or anything.

Mirage understood the hesitation. Their non-exclusive relationship was very much based in autonomy and accepting what the other offered to share of themself.

"Please," Mirage said, "You don't have to mean it for real. I just need to hear it."

Skywarp said it, but the words weren't in Cybertronian. He'd been programmed with fluency in a language Mirage had assimilated in his youth.

The effect was visceral. Mirage's spark twinged, their field flared, their frame shuddered.

Skywarp spoke in Quintesson, again, "You are ours, Mirage."

"Yours," Mirage whispered.

And then Skywarp's Vosian-accented Cybertronian sounded close to Mirage's audio receptors, "You're all mine, Mirage, and I'm not letting you go. I will judge no other claims valid. You're mine!"

Mirage felt like their very spark would leave them.

"You're mine," Skywarp whispered.

"Now, release me," Mirage commanded.

And he did. Skywarp's limbs loosened their hold and then continued to withdraw.

"Primus," Mirage groaned. That literal, physical release hit his spark with such a sense of relief and pleasure.

When Mirage fully unshuttered their optics, he could see Skywarp's expectant look, with wide optics and closed lips at close distance, though they barely touched, except along chestplate and canopy.

After a silent moment Mirage asked, "Are you...good?"

"I guess so." His tone was not very confident.

"Thank you. I needed that. Tell me what you need."

"Can we touch? Can you touch me?"

"Of course. Tight, or-?"

"Just a typical, average amount," Skywarp said. "I like when you do it."

Mirage smiled and lifted their right hand to Warp's painted faceplate. They saw Skywarp's expression soften at the contact, lips parting, shutters narrowing slightly. "Better?"

"Yes. Maybe a kiss? A promise of alliance?"

Mirage leaned in and Skywarp also craned his neck to close the space. They stroked Warp's face as they placed a soft kiss to Skywarp's lips. "I'm on your side," Mirage whispered.

"I believe you." The field interaction was especially intense. Mirage believed that Skywarp believed they had each other's backs.

Mirage believed it, too.

Chapter Text

Mirage walked slowly along the hall, passing the den where indirect morning light shown through the lens of the Great Dome and windows. They reached the dispensary and found Hound there, seated at the table with a cup of warmed oil; it smelled delicious. Mirage sauntered in, lifted Hound's mug, and drank.

"Hey, I was drinking that."

Mirage leaned their frame against Hound's arm as they returned the vessel to the table. "I left you plenty."

Hound lifted the mug in his own dark digits, but did not drink immediately. He turned his head toward Mirage and snuffed the air. "Suppose it was Skywarp got you all lubed up."

Mirage laughed lightly; that turn of phrase was not a little suggestive. "He did kindly give me an oil rub treatment."

"You smell real good right now. Sorry I have to go to work."

Mirage lay their right hand over the deeply-treaded tires at Hound's back. "Maybe tonight?"

Hound raised his head, glancing to Mirage from the corners of his blue optics. "You feeling better?" Then, after barely a pause, "Thought Skywarp had night shift."

"He took off." Literally he'd warped out while Mirage was still in a low-power state saying something about a pick-up that Mirage hadn't quite been able to parse. "Besides, I can make time for you."

"Looking forward to it, Mirage." Hound's field flared as he smiled. So genuinely pleased. "My room?"

Mirage dug the rounded tips of his digits into Hound's tire treads. Hound's room implied certain scenarios, and Hologram Time was only one of those. "We can try that."

Hound tipped his head back to gulp oil. He licked his narrow steely gray lips to clear them.

Mirage leaned over and kissed the cables tied up at Hound's crown.

"But, if it's too soon, we can do something else. Go slow."

Mirage spoke, still bent close to Hound's receptors. "I want to try."

"Then, I'm your bot, Mirage."

"You're so good to me, Hound," Mirage said, fondly stroking his dark cables as they stood straight. "You will take care at work?"

"Always do," Hound said brightly.

From speakers overhead came an announcement from AUNTIE: "Two guests at the side entrance."

"You expecting more well-wishers?" Hound asked.

"They come unexpected as if out of the grillework at this point."

---

Mirage walked along the hall with Hound close behind and to their left. "AUNTIE, display feed from exterior lens," Mirage commanded.

A holo appeared, projecting bots inside the door as they appeared on its other side. Both had the size and angular features of sporty ground frames, but differed from each other in transformation scheme; where one had a hood-chest, the other had roof-chest. Their manner differed, as well, one beaming a smile while shifting weight back and forth on agile feet, while the other held a sulky, asymmetrical pose with dark gauntlets folded across their glass.

"I know these two, though I'm not certain this can be a well-wishing visit. They'd have come so far."

"You can handle them on your own?" Hound asked.

Mirage turned to him with a smile. "AUNTIE, open the door."

The door wooshed open, revealing the two bots in brightly painted actuality.

A series of glances were exchanged as the guests took in the fact that Mirage stood before them and was not alone.

"Mirage!" The red mech's hands went to his dark helm, as if questioning whether he also should bare his head.

"Sideswipe. Shall I introduce you? This is my dear friend, Hound. He lives here with me."

"Good to meet you," Hound said in his bright manner, not signalling he was guarded at all. It was a little disappointing; Mirage would have teased them a wile longer.

"Hound, our guests are Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. I spent some time with them in Vos."

Hound made a low hum in acknowledgement. Mirage had shared some aspects of that visit with him; enough to allow Mirage to process their own feelings about the curious postion they'd been in without giving away all the details.

"Warp said you could use help with some paint," Sunstreaker said, tone flat, which was not unusual so far as Mirage knew.

"Skywarp brought you?" But Mirage did not see him in the hall outside.

"Yeah. Warp. Or Skywarp. Should I call him Warp?" Sideswipe asked.

"His friends call him Warp," Mirage said.

"He's more-"

"A acquaintance," Sunstreaker supplied.

"But, he doesn't do formality," Sideswipe said, "so, yeah, he dropped us of."

"Teleported," Sunstreaker clarified.

"He wouldn't let me practice my Jet Judo," Sideswipe admitted.

Mirage smiled, enjoying for the moment they'd been among the few trusted to ride upon Skywarp in his tetrajet alt-mode. "Please, come inside."

"I was just leaving," Hound said, standing aside where there was a small console near the entry. He took up his helm; green dome with retracted brassy-toned blast shield visor and guards at the sides to protect receptors and jaw.

Sideswipe stepped in, seeming to note this activity and lifted his own dark digits to remove his own helm which was not so different from Hound's in function, yet much more boxy and angular, and all in black. His spiky red crests exposed, Sideswipe turned to Sunstreaker as if to silently as if this was The Way.

Sunstreaker's distinctive chrome faceplate pouted, blue optics so similar to Sideswipe's rolling in their orbits. "You know we only do that in shrines and temples?" He then added, "If we're still followers."

"Solus? Way of Flame?" Hound asked, apparently also familiar with the custom.

Sunstreaker shrugged. "I spent some time in a temple, when I was younger."

Mirage was fairly certain it was Pyra from Our Lady of Tarn who had taken in Sunstreaker and possibly even named him, but that was not their story to tell. Instead, Mirage turned toward Hound and rose up onto stabilizers to compensate for the distance formed of their differently shaped chestplates to place a kiss to his wiry chin. "Drive safe. I'll see you later."

Hound donned his helm. "See you," he said, low like a growl, but his vocalizer pitched up when he spoke to the others. "You two think you can handle him while I'm at work?"

Mirage laughed, as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker must have both suspected this some sort of trick question as they exchanged confused looks with each other.

Sideswipe laughed. "You think we should be worried about Mirage?"

Hound nodded sharply.

"I think we can handle him," Sunstreaker said with slight emphasis.

Mirage smiled. It wasn't such a bad idea for Skywarp to deliver the twins here.

---

"AUNTIE, register Sideswipe and Sunstreaker as my guests," Mirage called when they were alone in the den.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are identified as guests," AUNTIE's voice sounded from overhead speakers.

"Who-?" Sideswipe started.

"It's a smart house, right?" Sunstreaker asked. "Wingstun and Space Case have one in The Village. Mirage stayed there, with the Seekers." Sunstreaker looked levelly at Mirage as he said the last, as if asserting he'd noticed where Mirage had stayed or who they'd been with and would share the information with Sideswipe, now.

"I know lots of Seekers in Vos," Sideswipe offered, "Some of them work in Security or in the clubs, or are some kind of scientists. Some of them are involved in construction, now. Did you know?"

"I may have heard something about it." Mirage knew about the space station in the southern asteroid cluster, at least about its existence, but they weren't going to offer details. They weren't sure to what extent the Vos Security forces Sideswipe worked with intersected with the Seekers in that business, or how much either group trusted Sunstreaker. "And yes, AUNTIE is an artificial intelligence entity with both utility and tactical features. We're quite safe here."

"Is it some kind of company residence?" Sideswipe asked.

"No. It's mine. Think of it as a kind of war reparation, like Bird Cage."

"Right." Sideswipe would understand that, with the Vosian contacts, if not Sunstreaker.

He shrugged again, as if not caring. "Hound and Warp use different terms for you."

"Yes. We have our reasons. I find a range acceptable, so use either as suits you."

"I don't particularly care how bots refer to me," Sunstreaker said.

"Well, that's fine, but I'm definitely a mech."

"Definitely," Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe glared at him.

"I fully respect your selected terms."

Sideswipe's hands rose in irritated gesture. "That tone of yours makes your meaning really hard to understand sometimes."

"What tone?"

"Exactly!"

Sunstreaker scoffed, sneering slightly. "Bro, I am literally respecting your identity." There was more inflection there than seemed typical for Sunstreaker.

"Sideswipe," Mirage tried to keep their own tone mild, "I don't think Sunstreaker was using sarcasm. That's just how his vocalization is."

"I know!" Sideswipe said, then attempting more calm, turned to Sunstreaker and repeated, "I know. But it is confusing sometimes. To me."

"Maybe you're-"

"What!?"

Mirage was afraid Sunstreaker had meant to say 'easily confused'. "So, how have things been, with the two of you?" And then remembering they were guests, added, "Maybe we should sit. Do you need to refuel?"

"Yeah, sure," Sideswipe said, moving quickly to seek a seat within the den. He strode toward the windows, climbing the steps in elevation changes that were intended to promote interaction between bots of different sizes.

Sunstreaker waited for Mirage to follow and then walked beside them. "We didn't travel here under our own power."

"Right." Skywarp had delivered them under the pretense that Mirage require their help. Sunstreaker was probably meant to help Mirage restore the highlighting to their faceplate.

"Whoa, check out this view!" Sideswipe knelt on one of the benches closest to the wide wall of glass that looked out onto downtown Iacon, with the companion Celestial Spires, skywalks between, stretches of the Auto-State in conversion, dense urban layers below, and Hanging Towers in the periphery.

"It's massive," Sustreaker noted. "Could fit more than one of those Titans in here."

Not without some damage, Mirage thought, though so far, despite news of their existence, none of the Titans were online.

The twins had managed to evade Mirage's question, but they had sabotaged their own inquiry by playing host. "You don't have to tell me, if it's too private, but given our time together in Vos-"

It was Sunstreaker who answered, "Dr. Glitter said our spark frequencies are in the typical healthy range and neither one of us has collapsed or suffered serious spark strain since that night."

"Yep. No collapsing," Sideswipe agreed. "That was so much scrud!"

"But since it proved we're spark siblings who have this natural bond, it's annoying how much it doesn't help. Like, Sides here should know before anyone else if I'm being sarcastic or not."

"I can't help that," Sideswipe said, turning around and dropping to sit on the bench. He extended his arms to lie along the backrest. "I had to learn how to act all disciplined for my own survival. I had to push all the weird feelings down inside."

"Weird?"

"Well," Sideswipe hedged, "I thought they were weird at the time. How was I supposed to know I had a long-lost spark-twin when I was part of a constructed batch? I still don't even know how that process worked."

"But you do know," Mirage said, "I know Flatline or Glit explained it."

Sunstreaker dropped down beside Sideswipe, crossing arms over his chest, but spreading legs. "Yeah. Quints harvested Sideswipe, considered me surplus to requirements, he got shoved in some kind of protoform and crammed into uniform armor, and against odds I managed to take on metal and survive the protoform stage all on my own."

"And we both had confusing feelings that we couldn't explain and had to just deal with it!"

Yes, that was what Mirage understood to have happened.

"I spent time in a temple trying real hard to channel my feelings into something creative-"

"While I connected with bots in my batch and learned to focus through martial arts."

Mirage leaned back against a length of railing between the den's elevation changes. "When I was with you, in Vos, it seemed you were becoming attuned, syncing somewhat."

Sunstreaker made a wordless scoff.

"It does happen sometimes," Sideswipe admitted, "Like with you."

Sunstreaker's optics rose and focused on Mirage. "It happens if we're both doing something we can have similar feelings about."

"Yeah. But I can't figure out how to make the bond be like on or open whenever I want."

"Neither of us can control it," Sunstreaker said, then turned his head to look at Sideswipe, as Sideswipe also looked back. Maybe their frustration over the bond was the only thing they could bond over right now.

"Have you tried both painting or both practicing martial arts?"

"It doesn't work," Sunstreaker said.

"We don't have the same feelings about those sort of things."

"If I fight, it's for survival. There are no rules and I don't care who I hurt."

"Sunstreaker does not understand pulling punches."

"I literally can understand it. I just don't do it."

"That's kinda the same."

"It's not."

Mirage stepped away from the railing. "Would you like if I sat with you?" They asked.

"Yes," both said at once, then glared at each other as if distressed to have agreed so quickly.

Sideswipe seemed to recover first, extending arms as if to reach for Mirage. "I mean, sure, sit right here." Sideswipe patted the bench, in the small space between him and Sunstreaker.

"We heard about your crash," Sunstreaker stated, watching Mirage as they advanced.

Mirage did a turn and lowered themself to sit between the twins.

"We figured, since you were there for us when we went through a difficult time-"

"We could repay the favor," Sunstreaker finished.

Mirage twisted between them, putting slightly more tires to Sideswipe and face to Sunstreaker. In this morning light Mirage could see their own face reflected in Sunstreaker's chrome faceplate. "I wasn't counting a debt. I just happened to be available to help, and I certainly got a few pleasurable nights out of my visit."

"You were so hot," Sideswipe said, leaning in towards Mirage such that their fields interacted, though Mirage held theirs fairly close.

"I didn't mind it," Sunstreaker said, seeming almost jaded as usual, but their optics - his optics gazed intently at Mirage, field flaring enough to belie the facade of ambivalence.

"I'm not quite up to 'facing, since the crash," Mirage said, "But I wouldn't mind being touched."

"Really?" Sideswipe wasted no time in pressing the flat of his chest against the tires at Mirage's back. His hands slid around Mirage's midriff, reaching for their forward wing.

"Slow down, Sides. Have some finesse."

"I have plenty of finesse!"

"It's all right," Mirage said, looking over their left shoulder to see Sideswipe's own face pressed close. Mirage shifted optics to look back towards Sunstreaker in the periphery. "There's just the one rule, do you remember."

"Don't touch your neck," Sunstreaker said. "I do know how to respect a bot's preferences."

"I know." It was true. These spark-siblings had each experienced adversity, probably trauma, at a young age. So had Mirage. But these two had also found some sense of community, eventually. Maybe Mirage had, too. They would behave as appropriately as they demanded of each other.

"You can tell me if I do something you don't like," Sideswipe said, "I'm used to discipline."

Mirage smiled. "I shall scold you, if I must, but I'm usually quite permissive."

Sideswipe leaned even more heavily against Mirage's back, laying his head on Mirage's shoulder. "You feel good; you even smell good, today."

"I had an oil treatment."

"It darkens your deco," Sunstreaker noted, golden yellow digits stealing along Mirage's white thigh. His optics, until then focused on Mirage's face, lowered. "You look prettier when you have the highlighting on your faceplate."

Mirage understood this as a compliment from Sunstreaker. "Thank you. I usually manage it myself, but I know you're good with paint. Is your hand as good with a brush as a spray can?"

"Better, even," Sunstreaker asserted.

"Later," Mirage said it like a promise. "For now you can get closer." They raised their right hand to Sunstreaker's chest; black on yellow.

"Watch the finish."

"Now now, I know you know how to maintain a deco. They make erasers for transfer."

"I am skilled in that way," Sunstreaker agreed.

Mirage lifted their hand further to grasp the fin aside Sunstreaker's helm.

Sunstreaker leaned in, but did not go for a kiss, just tapped his helm against the side of Mirage's. "See if Sides wants a taste."

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. He leaned further, around Mirage's left shoulder.

Mirage craned their neck to meet Sideswipe for a kiss. It was eager, and lopsided, but there was a pleasant little spark of arcing electricity.

"You don't look bad stretched out like that," Sunstreaker said, "Lithe like a cycle-bot."

Mirage watched Sunstreaker from the corners of their optics as they caught Sideswipe's lips once more, briefly. "Mech, I've got near three times the mass of a cycle-bot."

Sunstreaker leaned in, a firm hold on Mirage's thigh. "And no more than half what either of us have got, you sleek, little, racer."

Mirage lifted their head and caught Sunstreaker in a kiss.

"I think I almost felt that," Sideswipe said.

---

They relocated to the deco room so Sunstreaker might help Mirage with their face. It was difficult, trusting a new bot to get close and perform work that was so integral to Mirage's image. Even though, Mirage understood, their image was easily adjustable whether they wore paint or not. It was an intimacy already that Mirage had received these guests in their recovering state. That wasn't something granted to every casual interfacing partner, despite the fact that a number of friends and well-wishers also happened to be bots Mirage had 'faced.

Mirage still didn't know Sideswipe and Sunstreaker terribly well, but they were in a peculiar category that was neither mere acquaintance, strictly interfacing partners, or definitely, friends, yet.

Mirage had just happened to be the one to introduce them, and that had granted instant significance to the relationship that otherwise should not have been. Sideswipe should have been a nameless Security officer that patrolled near Acid Storm's cabaret, except that by merit of checking in with the Seekers at the end of the night they all knew his name and some few flirted with him. And Sunstreaker should have been a local artisan in some quaint village Mirage was merely passing through, except that he'd been among those to volunteer as donor for Karmen when she suffered her own collapse and suffered side-effects for it due to the complication of an unknown sibling spark-bond. Mirage shouldn't have had anything to do with it, except that they had been there, available, and - thanks to Skywarp - had the contacts in Vos to escort Sunstreaker to the brother he'd never met.

There'd been intimacy among them before they'd even gotten to the interfacing.

And here, they sat so easily in Mirage's company though it was their first visit and probably their first time in Iacon.

Sideswipe held Mirage securely in his lap, black digits idly stroking Mirage's white thighs as Sunstreaker sat facing them, multiple brushes daubed with various shades of gray paint held between his yellow digits, twirling in and out of active position with some artful sleight-of-hand.

Mirage gazed at their own distorted reflection in Sunstreaker's well-shone faceplate.

Was Sunstreaker aware how bots saw themselves when they looked at him?

It took a moment of processing to see Sunstreaker there.

"Did you ever try doing intimate things with each other?" Mirage asked.

"What the scrud?!"

"Don't move your lips," Sunstreaker said levelly as ever.

"But!" Sideswipe seemed to protest, field flaring and digits pressing down hard on Mirage's dermal plating.

"Stop that," Sunstreaker said, optics tracking over Mirage's shoulder. "There's all kinds of intimacy. Mirage was just curious if we're able to attune that way."

Mirage tried to say, "Some sibling combine," but couldn't vocalize the hum and pop ground phonemes very well without use of lips and attempted to add gesture to clarify, raising their own hands to interlace digits.

"We tried," Sunstreaker said as he returned to painting Mirage's lips. "Things other bots who are close help each other with: maintenance or washing hard to reach parts."

"Yeah. That we tried," Sideswipe agreed, "but it's kinda-"

"Too much," Sunstreaker finished. They were getting better at that, it seemed.

"Affectionate?" Mirage tried to say, bringing hands toward each other in a fist bump.

"Sunny's not the most affectionate," Sideswipe said.

"Don't call me that."

Sideswipe raised his right hand from Mirage's lap to make a fist.

Sunstreaker's optics rolled. Their hands were ridiculously loaded with brushes and tiny jars. He offered his right elbow instead.

Sideswipe groaned and touched his fist to Sunstreaker's elbow. "You call me 'Sides' often enough."

"I can't decide whether I want to swipe you one way or another."

"What?"

Sunstreaker made a sideways gesture with his left hand, somehow not spilling paint.

"'SIDESWIPE'. It's a defensive driving maneuver!"

Sunstreaker's chrome lips spread wide, baring silvery dental ridges within.

"Was that a joke? Are you laughing."

Sunstreaker shrugged, schooling his expression. "Sideswipe," he said. "I am not your warm cheery star."

"Maybe you are, to me. Maybe I was being sarcastic."

"Do not use that short form in public," Sunstreaker amended.

Mirage suppressed a smile, trying to keep their expression neutral as their faceplate was being painted. The use of short-form names seemed it might be genuinely affectionate, beyond the pair of twins merely acknowledging their long-ago shared origin point or acceptance of their revealed spark-bond as a medical fact.

Going into that meeting, driving the stretch of interstate to Vos with a spark-strained Sunstreaker, there had been no relationship goal beyond joint medical observation to stabilize their spark frequencies. Sideswipe still had a security team and home in Vos, while Sunstreaker was a itinerant artist who'd last set-up a workspace in a village near the ruins of Darkmount. Mirage had no idea if they would base themselves in the same city-state.

But they had arrived here, together, to see Mirage, again.

And maybe they didn't need Mirage as a buffer so much as they thought.

---

They relocated once more as Sunstreaker suggested Mirage should be allowed to stay quiet and calm while the paint set. Mirage had them stop near their own room without inviting them in, just long enough to retrieve an item, then continued with the twins to the gym.

The room was brightly lit by the midday light through the broad window, highlighting the weaponry hung on the wall near the sparring area. Sideswipe went directly to the display as Mirage had anticipated. They paused near the doorway where Sunstreaker had stopped to survey the room.

Mirage presented the artbook; a proper illustrated tome about the size of one of Mirage's hands when folded closed.

Sunstreaker read the title aloud: "Archivum Nexus Formarum et Amalgamatum?"

Mirage cocked their head. Sunstreaker could read and vocalize Old Cybertronian?

Sunstreaker nodded. "Temple."

The acolytes must study lore in its original forms. Mirage watched expectantly as Sunstreaker opened the tome.

He flipped slowly through a few pages. "Erotic connection forms and combination."

Mirage gestured holding an implement like a stylus or brush.

"Illustrated manuscript. A bot manually drew every one of these forms and positions. The technical detail is fetish level."

Sideswipe called to them. "Check out this thermal lance!"

Mirage approached Sideswipe, stepping into the sparring area marked on the floor. They raised their hands shoulder height and wiggled their digits out to either side.

"Authentic Quintesson lance?" Sideswipe said, blue optics glancing to Mirage before lowering again to study the length of the pronged implement.

Mirage lowered their left hand in a fist as if ringing a staff against the floor and tapped his stabilizer down at the same time.

"Bailiff?" Sunstreaker asked, glancing up from the book.

Sideswipe shuddered. "Yeah, that's a Bailiff. Saw enough of them."

Mirage stroked their righthand digits over their chin, as if touching a scruff of wires. They then pointed toward the lance in Sideswipe's grasp.

"Your- Uh, Hound, right? This is Hound's trophy taken from a Bailiff?"

Mirage nodded.

Sideswipe smiled. "You're pretty good with these gestures."

Mirage pouted and tucked their opposer then touched their first two digits to their neck, over their vocalizer and tapped twice. They then lifted both hands level with their helm and made the wiggling Quint gesture, again.

Sideswipe took a klik to parse that, glancing up at Sunstreaker, at Mirage's left side, before returning focus to Mirage. "A Prosecutor? Damaged you-?"

"They tried to silence Mirage," Sunstreaker said.

Mirage nodded. They made their right hand horizontal at neck-level and then pushed it down.

"Aw, mech! I thought you had a naturally sultry low voice."

Mirage smiled slightly and shrugged. They liked to think that they were sultry, regardless of vocalizer range.

"I had a few run-ins with them," Sunstreaker said. "Was safely behind our lines in Tarn after Pyra found me."

Mirage bowed their head, bringing their pointer digits of each hand alongside each other.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both stared silently at that gesture.

"Were you a house bot?" Sideswipe asked.

"Don't be offensive," Sunstreaker scolded, tone flat as ever.

"That's what bots call it!" Sideswipe insisted. "It's not more polite to use terms of productization."

Mirage sighed, shrugged, and nodded. They made the 'close' gesture, again, with their pointer digits.

"I wasn't judging," Sunstreaker said, with rather slight emphasis.

Sideswipe huffed, lowering the lance to tap the floor. "At least they didn't compel you to follow their orders with programming."

Mirage had already known that was what Sideswipe, Clampdown, and their entire Fast Responders batch had gone through. It was a matter of public record. Several of the constructed batches had suffered levels of servility programming or ownership claims until freed by The Resistance, which Pyra had likely been involved with.

Sometimes, Mirage imagined that programming would have been a mercy. Then they could say they hadn't on some level chosen it.

"Quints are highly manipulative," Sunstreaker said, adding, "That's what older bots say: It's hard to understand, but bots didn't ask for what happened. Archivists named the eras Time of Seduction and Age of Wrath for a reason."

"Yeah, and we're all on the same side, now!" Sideswipe smiled and laughed, extending his left arm to invite Mirage close.

Mirage willingly sidled up along Sideswipe's left side, though internally they questioned if all bots were now on the same side. Sideswipe's arm draped across their shoulders.

Sunstreaker shrugged. "I don't try to set myself apart. I just happen to be smarter, more talented, and better looking than most bots. It's hard to relate."

"Probably hard to trust bots when you're a feral scraplet fighting insecticons for fuel."

"That's not what happened," Sunstreaker said, but his lips smiled ever so slightly. "And I do trust some bots. You just have to earn it."

"Aw, Bro, do you trust me? I feel so warm and cheery inside!"

Sunstreaker rolled his optics.

---

Mirage twirled the thermal lance in their right hand, watching Sideswipe's agile, sporty frame quickly dodge its path.

"Remember Hound did warn us about him," Sunstreaker stated, with slightest emphasis.

Mirage spared another glance for Sunstreaker reclining at the sideline with tome of erotic art, datapad, and stylus. His blue optics tracked Mirage.

Sideswipe swiped a single-edged sword close to Mirage's left shoulder. Close! Inside's Mirage's own melee range with the lance.

Mirage threw out a duplicate as they covered their own position while they bent their frame back.

Sideswipe's sword swung anew, zinging over Mirage toward the duplicate.

Mirage shifted into a lunge and swept Sideswipe's leg's with their right foot.

Unbalanced, Sideswipe toppled.

Mirage dropped the duplicate and reappeared, pushing the lance before them as they rose.

Sideswipe hit the floor.

The prongs of the thermal lance in Mirage's grasp were drawn just short of contact with Sideswipe's hood-chest.

Sideswipe laughed awkwardly. "Beginning to see Hound's point."

"Enough?" Mirage asked.

Sideswipe nodded. "Yeah. Guess you got me there."

Mirage spun the lance up and away, tapping it's base to the floor, and extended their left hand toward Sideswipe.

Sideswipe clasped Mirage's arm and Mirage pulled him back up onto his feet.

"I had fun," Mirage said, smiling.

"Me, too. Maybe I could use more practice with staff weapons."

Mirage stepped away to return the lance to the wall. "Or develop your spark senses."

"You sound like one of those Dojo bots."

"You don't have to be a ninja to develop a spark sense or strengthen control of your field."

"There's a couple pages dedicated to spark and field play in this tome," Sunstreaker offered, still moving his stylus over the pad in his other hand.

Sideswipe sheathed his sword on his back and stepped around Sunstreaker to peek at his drawing.

Sunstreaker turned the pad, allowing Mirage to see, but causing Sideswipe to have to move again to see.

He'd either sketched very quickly or anticipated Mirage's finishing move. There was a figure in blue lines in dominant yet suggestive pose stepping on a fallen figure in red with a staff-weapon aimed at their chest.

"Beautiful work," Mirage told him.

"Mirage looks hot, but could you maybe put me on top next time?" Sideswipe complained.

Sunstreaker shook his head slowly. "My art does not exist to flatter you."

"Yeah, I think I might be getting some kind of challenge vibe from you."

Sunstreaker pushed himself up to sit straighter.

"Are you really sensing what's in Sunstreaker's spark now?" Mirage asked.

Sideswipe shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's just a guess."

"It's not not challenge." Sunstreaker touched his hand still clutching the stylus to his chest.

"Do you, both, think you want to spend the night?"

Both looked up to Mirage from their seated and stooped positions, but it was Sideswipe who spoke: "With you?"

Mirage answered honestly, "Maybe not so much with me, tonight, as in my house. I promised to make time for somebot else. But, I have guest rooms."

"Unless Skywarp decides to pop in we don't really have a good way to return."

"I don't think we could even navigate Iacon without a guide," Sideswipe added.

---

Mirage showed them the guest room. The one.

The twins looked in through the open door, from the hall. "Single recharge slab?" Sunstreaker's tone was barely a question.

Mirage smiled, maybe smirked. "I'll make it your choice. You can share a slab to recharge or, since I don't think I'll need my own room tonight, I'll tell AUNTIE to let Sunstreaker in there. In case you want to paint me a mural."

Sunstreaker leaned his left shoulder against the wall outside the guest room, tome and datapad cradled in his arms. "Does that come with commission fees?"

"Doesn't commission usually imply I get say over the content?"

Sunstreaker shifted his optics away, perhaps considering.

Sideswipe spoke from Mirage's left side. "But you wouldn't know, right?"

"What?"

"Which room we end up in." Sideswipe smiled. "If you're not there."

Mirage nodded. "I could ask AUNTIE for a report. But let's say I won't."

"Mirage," Sunstreaker said, "Let's say you give me access to your room over several days, I paint a mural of my choosing, but you cover material costs."

Mirage considered the offer. It was a private space. They didn't let just anybot in there. "All right. If I like it, I'll compensate you above your costs." Hopefully, that was incentive to not make it too shocking.

"Deal," Sunstreaker said.

"So we're both able to stay here?" Sideswipe asked.

"Yes." Mirage smiled. "You can have use of the common rooms, of course, and this guest room for recharge."

Sunstreaker shook his head.

It wasn't as if Mirage had insisted they even recharge at the same time.

"That's good. I'm not sure we know anyone else in Iacon."

"I can introduce you to some bots," Mirage said.

"Tracks."

Sideswipe questioned Sunstreaker with a glance. "Tracks?"

"He lives in Iacon, too, right?" Sunstreaker said, confident.

"Yes." Mirage nodded. "He's got a place in Translucentica right now."

"I don't know him," Sideswipe said.

"He probably just didn't notice you," Sunstreaker said. "Blue bot. Curvy. Red Plate."

Sideswipe gasped audibly. "That mech?! I've seen him in Clampdown's office!" Sideswipe's black pointer digits came together in the 'close' gesture Mirage had made earlier.

Mirage did not suppress a giggle. "Does Clampdown have markings or insignia?"

Sideswipe nodded. "Yeah. I changed mine when I got my street deco." Sideswipe raised each of his gauntleted forearms in turn to gesture along the length of his solid red door panel. "But the Captain has Vos Security sleeves."

"That tracks," Mirage whispered.

Sunstreaker shifted, pushing off the wall and looking to Mirage's legs and then Sideswipe's where both had markings in their deco.

"Tracks would probably love to play tour guide, and do a better job than I could. We can definitely arrange that. And if Skywarp's not available, I know air-frame bots in transport who could take you as far as Vos, or another location along the way."

There was a moment of awkward silence; Mirage didn't think they'd decided between themselves where to go. Mirage could not decide that for them, and passed between the pair of twins. "I'll leave you-"

"Mirage," Sunstreaker said. "Could you show me your room. Whether I stay in there or not, I should see the space to plan a mural."

Mirage twisted to see Sunstreaker at their right side, where the launcher sometimes made a blindspot. "that's true."

"Well, I'm going to check out my room, for now," Sideswipe told them. He sidestepped through the doorway.

Mirage led Sunstreaker the short distance along the hall to their own room. "AUNTIE, grant Sunstreaker here access to my room until further notice."

"Permissions updated."

The door then opened and Mirage entered their familiar room with the large recharge slab ahead and wash area to the right.

"Big room for a sleek, little bot."

Mirage didn't argue it. "Yes. Thanks."

"There are several suitable wall surfaces. Mostly metal. Some textured."

"I should warn you, however, Skywarp does have the specific coordinates for my room."

Sunstreaker turned his head and glared. "How specific?"

Mirage smirked. "He sometimes appears above my recharge slab."

"Mirage."

"I can comm him and warn him you may be here. He'll probably remember."

"You can at least try." Neither of them was certain Skywarp would remember or not think it funny to pop in anyway.

"I'll comm him now."

"Please."

Mirage nodded. "If you run into trouble, you can comm. Lately AUNTIE's had trouble parsing accents. But you can comm me. Hound and I will set things right."

"Your spark is surely giving challenge vibes right now," Sunstreaker stated.

"I'm glad you've come for a visit. It's really cheered me up."

"We'll see how you feel when I've finished the mural."

Challenge vibes all around.