2This one goes out to all 87 people who've looked at this story in the ten months it's been up! It feels kinda herky-jerky to me still, but I'm really just having fun developing the characters. Again, very OOC/AU, in my opinion. Thank you for reading.
IB
Pinion's show was usually the unofficial opener for serious business. Something about a flier prostrating herself to a spark-pounding baseline overcame any semblance of prudence in even the most stalwart military mechs, and once the floodgate opened, the credits didn't stop until Last Call.
Arcee guessed it had to do with fliers' lighter frames and slimmer armor. It probably didn't hurt that some of the impressive feats she could perform on that pole gave mechs a shimmer of a glimpse at the femme's panel that they all knew they had no chance at.
The blue femme relaxed against the rail of the bar, watching Pinion and taking notes to get her mind off the table in the back.
She felt a broad servo engulf her shoulder, but the familiar energy field kept her from flinching as she turned to look.
Not Ironhide.
Inferno.
That first night, Arcee had forgotten all about telling Chromia and Firestar that 'Fern sent her,' and she'd very nearly unloaded her blaster into his faceplate when she'd walked in on the giant firebot drinking out of the energon dispenser late the next night in the dark in her sisters' habitat.
She'd known the firebot even before she'd started working at the spaceport, and he knew her better than anyone – even Chromia or Firestar for the time being. He was a sweet, straight-welded mech. How the Pit he'd ended up with a loose wingnut like Firestar, she had yet to get the full story on. Well, most of the full story anyway. Some of it had to have something to do with the fact she was well-rehearsed in the delicate dance of city official vs. military officer that the spaceport fire hall was constantly dealing with. Her cute little red escort/fire bike alt mode probably helped too.
"Hey boss," he smiled down at her, settling his large frame onto one of the stools. "Star gone yet?"
"You got lucky. She's a little behind schedule tonight."
As if on cue, the mech's white finials rose curiously as he looked around for his femme. Either it was worse than Arcee thought she was letting on, and Inferno had picked up on her distress through Firestar's bond, or her sister had flat-out commed him.
"Something happen?"
Firestar laughed guilelessly at one of Kup's war stories' punchlines meeting their optics behind the veteran's helm. Definitely the later. Great, now they thought she needed a nannybot.
"Just some mechs trying to get under my plating," she dismissed. "I deal with it all day. Only difference here is there's less datawork when one of them tries to grab my aft."
"And it pays better," he reminded optimistically.
Arcee chuckled.
"You on break?" she asked.
"Yeah," he grumbled. She knew they kept him worn down to the indicators at the docks. The poor guy didn't even bother wasting credits renting a habitat – which was why he ended up at Chromia and Firestar's on his rare shifts away from the fire hall. "Can you gimme something light so Gantry's not crawling up my tailpipe for freeloading."
She smiled with a nod, going around behind the counter.
Ironhide returned to his place at the bar. Rescue bot and weapons specialist exchanged a cursory glance, sizing each other up before almost completely ignoring each other. It was an intricate dance. More adventurous mechs could have taken advantage of being synced to sisters – and essentially synced to each other as a result. But, as far as Arcee had seen, Chromia and Firestar's mechs made every effort to interact as little as two ships passing in the night.
She knew both mechs well enough to understand that Ironhide saw this as a competition and himself the superior male. Inferno had no interest in vying for the females' attention, but he knew it fried the other mech's circuits that he'd been recharging with them like it was no big deal for over a vorn.
"You want anything else, Hide?" she asked to break up the tension, setting a cube in front of Inferno.
"Oh, I guess one more won't offline me." Chromia had explained that this was Ironhide-speak for 'Please talk me into something a little easier on my tanks, so I don't look like a limp gasket.'
She poured him a midgrade fizz with mineral oil.
"The frag's this?" he grumbled, according to his script.
"Chromia's favorite," she lied. "If you're going to get smelted, you might as well give her something nice to kiss."
He grinned, raising the cube to her.
"Thanks, Darlin'."
"Speaking of the turbofox …"
Her blue sister practically glowed. She wrapped her arms around Ironhide's neck and swung into the mech's lap pushing the envelope of professionalism for a femme on the clock. Arcee felt a hot rush of arousal that made her struts tingle and her fingers dig into the bar's counter. The mech grinned at her and winked, and Arcee felt her faceplate heat, realizing he was intentionally 'broadcasting' through the femme in his lap.
Inferno snorted, unimpressed. But his indifference was quickly banished at the first beats of the next number. Arcee was equally glad for the distraction.
On the street, at work, even diffusing overcharged political arguments from behind the bar, her red and orange sister radiated an aura that made any bot that didn't know her automatically feel beneath her. Not too many vorns ago, they would have been. She was the daughter of a diplomat and a senator and a graduate of the law school of Iacon, but she'd given it all up to fight for a change to a corrupt system she knew like the back of her servo instead of just talking about it.
To Chromia's mortified annoyance, Firestar's prized possession and the first thing she'd shown Arcee when they'd brought her home to their apartment was an autographed picture of her and Megatronus at a strike for laborers' rights. She'd apparently matured since her wild protesting and rallying days, but her duties at the fire hall just happened to be a convenient way to keep an optic on military and city goings-on.
If mechs tipped more for femmes that looked like they didn't have to be there, Firestar could have made a killing. But her transformation on stage was nothing short of magic. Instead of milking her classiness for all it was worth, she became this smoldering rally point for the military mechs' morale. She could have had any of the top brass for a mate and manipulated him around her fingers as easy as warm soldering wire.
Like Ironhide said, her creators must have decided at the last minute to drop the '-ter' off the end of her designation. Maybe that partially explained the dopey grin on the big firebot's face as Arcee watched her sister with him.
"You alright, Cee?" Chromia asked. Of course she'd felt Arcee's tumultuous emotions too.
"Fine. Better if it would stop getting brought up," she suggested.
Chromia shrugged. "They're harmless," she promised.
"So, what exactly happened?" Inferno looked at them when the unsettling vibe crossed the energy field.
"Some mechs getting too friendly. She'll be fine," Chromia dismissed.
"Who was it?" the firebot asked, looking around the bar. He scowled, glaring over his shoulder again.
"Wreckers, Inferno," Ironhide put in. "What're YOU gonna do? Site 'em fer code violation?"
He could have. The Xantium seemed to only stay in the air by the power of muffler tape and wishful thinking most time it made it back to port. But, to be honest, Arcee wouldn't want to be any mech on a firebot's bad side anyway. Run-of-the-mill city rescue bots had the frame and hydraulics to deadlift a mech on each shoulder. Inferno was military class.
"It's FINE," she insisted.
"Then why are you feeling so nervous?" Chromia countered. Immediately the apprehension in Arcee's field was replaced with embarrassment at being coddled in front of the mechs. "Arcee …" Chromia tried to backpedal. "What are you so afraid of? If you can't talk to me and Star about it, then …" she shrugged, leaving the threat, however innocent sounding, open for interpretation.
"Come on, Mia," Inferno intervened. "You haven't had her for a week even. Cut her a little slack."
Arcee met his optics, silently begged him not to say anything. Don't ruin her chance with these femmes.
"I'm just nervous," Arcee offered weakly. "I'm … You knew I was used to femmes when you talked me into this. Mechs still overwhelm me a little is all."
"Well, me and Star have got to get you toughened up somehow," Chromia vented more gently. Then, she visibly brightened. "How about I show you how to give Hide a private show? I won't let him bite."
"I think that's a great idea!" said mech enthused.
"Oh, Primus …" Inferno grumbled.
"Would you rather it be you, Fern?" Chromia teased. "She's less nervous with you, but Star would be jealous if I did it. And, she's terrible at one-on-one."
"Pass. I wouldn't want to traumatize her when Star inevitably wanted to play show and tell," Inferno chuckled.
"Pit, you are so fraggin' full o' yerself," Ironhide growled irritably, shaking his head at the rescue bot. "You think yer intimidating me? Is that it!?"
"Not at all," Inferno smirked, not looking away from Firestar.
"Oh Hide, cool it," Chromia snickered, running a finger under his collar plating and pulling his face back to her for a kiss. "Just because his frame's bigger doesn't mean you have anything to feel insecure about."
"I ain't insecure!"
"Good. You shouldn't be." Ironhide returned his attention to the entertainment, but Chromia leaned back to share a glance with Arcee behind his helm and held her servos shoulder-width apart with wide, serious optics and mouthed – fraggin' HUGE! – before nodding toward the smug firebot.
Arcee quickly looked away.
"How about your mystery Wrecker then?" she suggested. "Ironhide could watch – in case he gets grabby – or pinchy."
"HOW ABOUT – I just focus on trying to get through tonight first?" Arcee suggested hopefully. The idea of getting up close and personal with a strange mech in private made her back struts want to corrode. "You and Star are anxious enough tonight because of me."
Her blue sister pouted adorably, but gave over. "Alright. Fine. Have it your way," she shrugged. "But can you at least try it? Maybe tomorrow? You'll be better if you face it and get it over with."
"Fine," Arcee vented. Anything to get on a different subject. "Only the rusty old vets come in at the start of the week anyway. Moonracer is always going on about how easy the creds are with them."
"Who said Moonracer was easy?" the teal femme chirped merrily, appearing behind the group with an empty tray.
"Oh, Sweetling," Chromia crooned. "You know EVERYONE says that. But, Arcee was talking about lap dances. She'll be ready for the firing squad tomorrow."
"Really?" For an instant, the happy waitress' facade faltered, but she quickly recovered. "Well, I guess it would be a good time to start. Want me to show you the basics?" she offered. "Mia and Star are good on the stage and all, but if you want to make the real credits …"
"What are you implying?" Chromia asked, rising to the bait.
"I'm not implying anything," Moonracer smiled. "But you've never seen my metal aft on that stage.
"Well that's because every mech in the district's already seen all your secrets. Where's the 'mystery'?"
Moonracer chuckled goodnaturedly, glancing sidelong at Ironhide but rolling her optics for good measure.
Arcee felt a surge of rage burn through the bond like molten slag, but Chromia showed Moonracer her dente pleasantly. In her peripheral, she saw Firestar pause on stage and felt tension for a moment.
"Okay, you two!" she interjected. "Turn on the defrost! Moonracer can do it. I won't be making either of you jittery, and she won't throw me to the sharkticons."
"I won't?" Arcee cast her a dubious frown, and the femme smacked her playfully. "Oh fine. I won't," she giggled. "Why don't you pick out a mech you're comfortable with and bring him in tomorrow?"
"You don't even have to ask, Darlin,'" Ironhide offered selflessly.
"I'll … worry about it later!" Arcee dismissed eagerly, taking Moonracer's tray of empties and finally escaping. Who was she kidding? She'd worry about it all night, lay awake keeping Mia and Star awake, and probably recklessly endanger someone at work tomorrow while she was worrying about it.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She could always bail out now and cut her losses. Chromia had even given her a good excuse to use – they weren't comfortable with a femme that couldn't open up. It would be easy to break the fledgling bond they'd forged in the relatively short time she had been with them. But, then she'd be right back to where she'd started and miserable.
The question was, would she be more miserable alone or waving her panel in some mech's face for credits.
She watched Firestar work her magic on the stage. As ashamed as Arcee felt for making her sisters worry, the orange and red femme still excited her. She felt Chromia's excitement as well and couldn't help but meet the blue femme's optics behind Ironhide's back again as she loaded the empty cubes into the washer. They shared a smile that put her spark a little more at ease, and Chromia jutted her chin toward something behind Arcee.
She turned and saw the Wreckers were leaving. But more importantly, the green triple-changer was approaching instead of leaving with his companions. She stiffened defensively, but managed to not sidestep away when he settled against the bar in front of her. Arcee even surprised herself when she managed a genuine, if small, smile up at him.
"Hi."
"Springer. Fancy meeting you here."
"I know, right? I never took you for this type of femme," he said over the music, smiling.
"And, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing bad!" He quickly tried to recover himself. "I'm just used to you caring more about the Xantium's maintenance schedule than …" He gestured behind him to Firestar.
Arcee didn't look because she could already feel Firestar giving her THAT look.
"The credits beat overtime at the port," she reasoned dismissively. "And, it's nice being around other femmes after a long day."
"Oh? So … you've got sisters in here?" he grinned, looking around.
Arcee smirked. "Not that it's any of your business."
"It could be. If you let me buy you a drink." He pulled out a coaster and set it on the counter between them. Arcee recognized her handwriting.
"You already did – twice," she reminded.
"And you keep turning me down. You've got to run out of polite ways to say no sometime."
"You think I'll stop when I run out of polite ways?"
"It'd be nice," he admitted, almost purring his engine.
She busied herself with cleaning the non-existent spots out of a cube on the drying rack.
"So you're the Wrecker that wouldn't confess?" she tried to redirect.
"No. I'm the one Wrecker that doesn't have to," he said still smiling. "And, it was their idea, besides. My whole team thinks it's really romantic how you keep going to the trouble of putting up all that red tape every time we come into port, knowing I'm going to cut it all down right behind you."
Arcee willed herself to not give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her.
"I think you Wreckers need to get out more."
"Don't I know it," he vented in agreement.
"So, you were going to let me pick one of your friends for the Pit of it?"
"Depends. Who were you thinking of picking?"
"I wasn't going to pick any of you!" She really wished someone would save her. But, her sisters felt far too amused to intervene.
"But, you were thinking it," he accused. "Come on. Hypothetically, you had it narrowed down, right?"
"None. I mean it."
"Broadside's a little intimidating. Whirl's got the whole … Shockwave … thing … going on. So, I'd guess it was either me or it was Kup."
"Mia! Aren't there any orders?"
The blue femme only waved at her from the other end of the bar before kissing Ironhide goodnight.
"Personally, I'd buy a whole case of Praxian highgrade to get Kup fragged," Springer admitted, "but you didn't seem too interested in him either. So … let me buy you a drink."
The mech met her optics, obviously satisfied with himself as he watched her winglets rise and fall with consideration for a moment. Then, to his delight, Arcee surrendered and sat a cube on the coaster between them and poured a single low-grade. She downed it on one draft, then swept the empty cube and the insignia into one of the busing tubs without ceremony.
The Wrecker's faceplate fell theatrically, crushed.
"Thank you very much. Can I get you anything else?"
"Only a box," he vented heavily, covering the Autobot insignia on his chestplate, "to carry the pieces of my broken spark back to my cold, lonely ship."
"That's in violation of half a dozen EPA codes, STILL overdue for a stasis system check, and – if you're done cutting down all that red tape, like I'm sure you are – should be leaving very early in the morning. You should get moving."
She smiled sweetly for him, and his pout slid to a crooked smirk again.
"You still technically sent that one back to me the first time," he pointed out, hefting his frame up from the stool. "Better get started on more polite ways to say no," he promised, giving her a salute that somehow managed to come across as lewd before turning on his heel and ducking out the door after his teammates.
Well. Frag.
I could take him. Inferno commed her.
When she looked up, he smiled, raising his empty glass as Firestar settled against him.
Don't you start going mech's mech on me too, Fern, she smirked. You're the only bot who I know where I stand with in this wreck.
The orange and red femme laughed brightly at something the mech whispered into her audio as his servo pulled her waist against him. Firestar's servo drifted out of sight beneath the bar without her drawing attention to it, and Inferno grinned as his finials rose to full attention.
Arcee felt a twinge of jealousy at how her sisters made it look so effortless, but she shared Star's smile when she met her optics and broadcasted a generous dose of her and her mech's playful arousal with Arcee.
Don't let them bully you into something you don't want to do, Boss.
Says the mech that set me up.
Set you up? Me?! You were looking for military femmes, and I just happened to know two looking for a third.
Two that you just happened to be banging.
I'll have you know, I haven't made that first move on Chromia, no matter what Ironhide thinks. Not my type really. But, it's not too terrible watching her make Firestar squirm.
Arcee felt coolant flush through her system at the thought. The one night he'd spent in their birth so far, he'd just been a big, wonderful, berth-heater with an energy field for the three of them to enjoy, but she knew getting used to an audience was inevitable. It went unsaid that Inferno would enjoy it just as much watching his femme's interactions with Arcee in their berth when the opportunity presented itself.
You can think I'm a dirty old mech if you want to, but at least I always know you're safe this way.
She vented a soft sigh. It should have slagged her off that Inferno was still indulging the frightened little femmling she tried to block out, but it was impossible to be angry at him for just being the mech he knew she still needed.
Yeah. Thanks, Inferno.
Flashback...
Thanks to her carrier, Arcee's wings were vestigial, but her sire had still been determined to share the special place from his youth with his treasured little youngling. Bulwark had taken her to the pylons countless times, and they'd always been a safe place, no different than their domicile. How could anywhere that creators brought their little fledglings to practice flying not be safe?
She still loved flying with him and experienced a flier's thrill from heights and speed. Also thanks to her carrier, Arcee could at least indulge herself in the later. Her sire had told her about how her carrier, Ingot, could beat him if traffic was in her favor from the airstrip to the docks at the warehouse district. Of course Bulwark wasn't built for speed exactly, but it was still impressive.
Tonight, however, the pylons were empty. It was long past sunset, and Arcee had gotten out for some night air and to give her t-cog a spin. She liked it here at night most because she could sit on the edge and look out over the city without being crowded by younglings and grumpy fliers fussing about a grounder being up here.
She'd told him about her plans to go to the academy. Of course, he'd been upset. It wasn't safe for femmes these days – even though they both knew she'd never see combat. Her carrier had only been a courier – a civilian – and she'd been shot in the crossfire during a riot in the mining district. But, Bulwark couldn't tell her no. He couldn't expect her to not care about the war that was brewing after growing up with it all around her. But, he'd wanted to ship her away to Iacon where she'd be safer. The whole point was about staying with him!
They'd argued, but they always argued. She'd just needed to get out.
It surprised her when a flier landed beside her. He asked if she was lost. She recognized the Autobot insignia on his chestplate and relaxed though she'd never seen him at the base. The riots were bringing all sorts of new faces to the base every day. But, before she could assure him she was fine and knew exactly where she was, the world went black.
Even before she came to, stasis cuffed to a beam in a warehouse, she realized where her foolish mistakes had gotten her. Femme traffickers. Not enough females were siding with the Decepticons, and it was well known useful femmes could fetch a high price from the right buyer. She was nearly in her final frame, and since she'd been at the pylons, her captor had thought she was a flier which would have earned an even better payout.
They had disabled her commlink and shielded her spark signature. They'd ship her off world, and she'd never see her sire again. Arcee begged and tried to negotiate. Finally, desperate, she warned them who her father was. He'd use every resource at his disposal to find her. The mechs didn't seem impressed.
At least not until a cruel, sadistic mech named Girder forced a spark merge on her, forever burning burning his conciousness into her memory banks, and realized she was telling the truth. But, what she'd hoped would set her free, sealed her fate. If she'd been a flier, they might have thought she'd be worth the trouble. But having an entire base of mechs looking for her and the fact that she'd seen their faces – and knew all about their scheme thanks to her assailant – made her a dangerous liability that had had to be taken care of quickly.
For the longest, most horrible evening of her existence, she was passed around like a cheap pleasurebot. Then, the warehouse was set to blow with Decepticon charges, and Arcee was locked in a shipping container to be vaporized with the rest of the evidence. But, they couldn't even get that right. Fewer than half the charges exploded with the sequence, leaving the building and it's contents to burn.
She'd fought to the end, banging on the metal, slamming her body into the door, screaming for help, until her systems began to warn of impending shut down from the intense heat as she was smelted alive. No one would think to look for her here. No one would find her. They'd just bulldoze the whole mess into the furnace.
But, just as she'd lay down to surrender and put herself into stasis, something hit the container door. Again and again. She thought she dreamed about a maul breaking through the lock at last, about someone scooping her limp body up and connecting emergency coolant lines to her, of voices and changing hands.
Solar cycles later, she broke through the haze of dreams and nightmares to see her sire bent over her infirmary berth, and a firebot dozing on his peds by the door. Both mechs had been overjoyed.
The rookie firebot had been in training with one of the city fire halls and had been dismissed for chasing phantom energy signatures in the fire. Never mind he'd saved her. Bulwark saw to it that he was rewarded for his heroics despite the mech's protests, and he was reassigned to the military fire hall at the Iacon Space Port.
Then, vorns later, after Arcee graduated from the academy and her sire had offlined in a skirmish, that same firebot had pulled every string within his reach to get her stationed there too.
Not sure where I'm going with this. I'm honestly just having fun rolling with the punches for once instead of trying to plot and plan out a story in full detail before writing it. I'm sort of toying with the idea of making Arcee encounter all the Autobots I've seen her have an 'aww' moment with. So … Springer, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Optimus (I dread that one if I get to it), Prowl, and Hot Rod (another one I have no idea how to approach.) We'll see what happens. It'll be an adventure