Chapter Text
Rap tap tap.
The hollow sound of Rodimus’ servo connecting with the door rang on far too long in the empty hallway. A bolt of doubt struck him then, freezing his spark in its chamber. What if Thunderclash wasn’t in his hab suite? What if he was in recharge early after the stressful events of the last couple of days? Or what if he wasn’t answering on purpose for some reason? This was a dumb idea. He should have waited until tomorrow at least, or commed Thunderclash first, or done literally anything else besides immediately sprint down here like he was running from Unicron himself—
“Thunderclash?” he called, wincing at how nervous he sounded. “Uh. It’s me.”
There was a distinct rush of movement from within the hab suite, and then some very muffled words that, if Rodimus didn’t know better, almost sounded like cursing. “Captain!” he heard Thunderclash answer. “Rodimus, excuse me. I’m, ahem, terribly sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. Could you please give me a moment?”
“Yeah, totally,” Rodimus said, hoping the waver of his voice wasn’t obvious. “No rush.”
He held his elbows and tucked them against himself, tapping his digits to fill the silence with metal pings. He wasn’t ready for this, he realized. Oh, frag. Frag. Frag! He rocked back on his heels, servos going to his subspace to pull out all six notes and the rose to fidget with them. It made him feel a bit better hearing the tense pitchiness of Thunderclash’s usually steadily deep voice, but not that much better. Maybe he should make up some excuse and come back another time. That sounded good right about now. But since when had he ever wanted to run away from something? He supposed that was simply the effect Thunderclash had on him. Heh. Fragger.
It was too late to run now anyway; he could hear Thunderclash’s pedesteps coming closer and closer. He barely had a second to steel himself with a shaky in-vent before the door slid open, revealing a very flustered Thunderclash.
“You’re here,” he said, looking simultaneously politely surprised and incredibly on edge. His optics shot straight down to where Rodimus had the notes and the rose held close to his chest, and they widened. “Of course. Why don’t you come in? I, erm.” A bright flush turned his orange faceplates to a rich salmon color. “I have something I need to say—No, something I need to admit to you.”
Rodimus met Thunderclash’s overbright gaze. “I got something I need to say, too,” he said.
Thunderclash stepped aside and gestured for Rodimus to enter. It took him a moment to remember how to move his legs. When he did, he hurried in, and as he passed Thunderclash, he caught a whiff of—Primus, was that scented wax? Oh, hell. Rodimus was in trouble.
The door softly hissed shut behind him. Rodimus shifted his weight uneasily as he glanced around the hab suite, determinedly looking anywhere but Thunderclash. The place was tidy, bearing signs of having been cleaned recently. To the right stood a generously sized bookshelf. Its bottom shelves were, lined with data tablets, while the top ones proudly displayed framed pictures of Thunderclash and his friends. To the left was Thunderclash’s desk. Scattered across the top were a few sheets of paper of various colors and a fancy looking pen.
Rodimus could have laughed. Just how blind had he been?
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he found his voice again and quietly said, “I, uh, got your message. Messages. Notes.” Off to a fantastic start already. Rodimus gestured a bit weakly towards the desk. “The Nyon dialect was a nice touch.”
“I was hoping you’d noticed.” Thunderclash’s plating puffed up a bit; evidently, his nerves were getting to him too. A bit of guilt skittered through Rodimus’ spark. He really wasn’t meaning to drag this out, but sue him for being a bit anxious. “Was it… correct?”
“What? Uh, yeah! Yes. It was great.” God fucking—Could he have his words back? Or a bit of coherency, maybe, as a treat? Ugh. Primus, help him. Rodimus reset his vocalizer. “It’s been a while since I read something written in it,” he admitted. “It was… nice, seeing it again. I appreciated it. A lot.”
Thunderclash flashed a brief smile, genuine if not a bit wobbly. “I’m glad. I’m sure I bored poor Rewind half to death in the effort to find some appropriate Nyonian texts to study.”
“Nah, he loves that kind of stuff. I bet he had a blast.”
They both paused, fidgeting, and uneasy. Rodimus took the time to look Thunderclash over. He was standing a bit stiffly, with one arm tucked behind his back. But he still was attractive as ever, with his strong jaw and kind eyes and adorable tilt to his helm, perhaps even more so than usual; his paint shone like new, gleaming in the soft orange he’d set the lights to his hab suite to. And that had to be scented wax. Where had he even found the stuff?
“I meant every word,” Thunderclash said softly. The notes and the rose fell to the ground with a flutter and a clatter. A brilliant red flush lit up Rodimus’ face.
“I…” A part of him wanted to demand why. Why him. Why Rodimus. Why him, the one who agreed to let his best friend exile himself for something that wasn’t his fault, who allowed a mass murderer on board to prove a point to someone who never cared, who sometimes wondered if he should have taken Optimus’ advice to remove himself as a captain, and who—
Well.
There was a reason Thunderclash had to go digging to find Nyonian texts.
“Thanks, Thunders,” he said quietly. “That’s—Slag, thanks doesn’t begin to cover it. But, not to be emotionally vulnerable or anything, you’ve got me—” He made a vague twirling motion with his servo around his red face. “A bit mixed up right now. So. Yeah. ‘Thank you’ is kinda the best I got right now.”
Thunderclash’s face softened with understanding. “I understand. I wished I could have been more straightforward about it, but it’s a challenge of great mental fortitude to think straight when you’re around. I could never figure out the right way to say it. So, I wrote it instead.” With a deep intake, Thunderclash seemed to reach some sort of decision and looked Rodimus in the optic. “I’m sure you’ve gathered this by now, but…” Shyly, he brought out a massive bouquet of red and orange roses from behind his back. All of the bio-lights on his body were almost too bright to look at directly as he smiled, small, but devastatingly earnest as he offered the bouquet to Rodimus. “I admire you a great deal,” he finished breathlessly.
Stunned, Rodimus took it. The crown was so huge, it easily hid his face as he weakly closed his servos around the black stems, only to nearly drop it when Thunderclash delicately slid his servos over his own. The other part of him that wasn’t demanding why still can’t really believe this is happening, but the weight of the roses in his arms and the warmth of Thunderclash’s servos on his own tells him that it is. It was real. This is real.
“I said I admire you, Rodimus, and though that is true, a more correct word is adore. I adore you, and I have for quite some time now. Everything about you”—he huffed incredulously—“it’s simply… astounding. You are astounding!” Rodimus went to duck his helm into the roses to hide his grin before realizing it would be a lost cause; he wasn’t going to stop smiling for days. Instead, he bit his lip to keep his smile from growing too large as Thunderclash continued. “I adore you for your bravery in the face of terrors the likes of which this universe has never seen. I adore you for your devotion to your crew—to your friends—and your determination to always be better for them. I adore you because you always strive to give the best you can offer, and never anything less if you can help it. And yes,” he said solemnly, servos tightening reassuringly around Rodimus’, “you’ve misstepped before. You’ve made mistakes. We all have, and to deny that is to deny a part of ourselves. But your ability to push on without disregarding a single one of the choices you made… That is one of many parts of what makes you incredible. Your conviction to redeem yourself, make amends with your mistakes instead of refusing to acknowledge their consequences, and your willingness to give others a second chance despite the pain they may have caused you—It’s no wonder you are worthy of being a Prime. I’ve never known anyone with a more radiant spark than you, Rodimus.”
Thunderclash’s shyness burned away as he spoke, and the fire and intensity that filled his words were almost too hot for Rodimus to handle—Literally. The metal of his exhaust pipes was becoming distinctly redder and redder, and he had to dismiss several warnings about core temperatures rapidly rising. Since he wasn’t exactly looking to accidentally set his crush on fire tonight, he sent another command to force the heat to dispel throughout his frame.
“I’m,” he said intelligently. He had to hastily write up yet another command to lock his knees in place as Thunderclash caught him with pure, warm affection shining away in his optics. Emotion threatened to throttle his words in his vocalizer. When was the last time he felt so light? So plainly, relentlessly happy? He couldn’t remember, but maybe now was the time to commit it to memory.
Distracted, he missed Thunderclash rubbing his thumb along the tops of Rodimus’ servos and asking him a question.
“I—Sorry, I, uh. What was that last bit?”
Thunderclash smiled sympathetically. “I said, I was wondering if you would allow me the great honor of courting you?”
For a moment, Rodimus legitimately wondered if he was about to experience a full system restart. He felt like he was burning, free-falling through a star-speckled sky like the meteors he so loved to ride—
“...Rodimus? Are you—?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes! Yes!” He laughed, bright, and a bit loud, and darted forward, hastily nudging the roses aside before they were crushed in the hug he wrapped Thunderclash up in.
Thunderclash’s spark throbbed hard enough that Rodimus could almost feel the spot where it crested warming beneath his cheek. He grinned up at him, somehow becoming even more delighted when he could see Thunderclash’s shell-shocked face. “And for the record? I like you, too.” Thunderclash’s vents audibly hiccuped. Rodimus laughed and thunked his chin on his broad chest. “But, you know,” he said, smiling broadly up at him, “you totally didn’t have to do all this. Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he said quickly, tightening his servo possessively around the bouquet. “Slag, you could’ve rolled up to my hab suite looking like you just dragged yourself out of the Pit and asked, and I would’ve said yes.”
Thunderclash’s little offended frown was the cutest thing Rodimus had seen since Tailgate had joined the crew. “Absolutely not,” he said indignantly. “You deserve all of the niceties, not less than my bare minimum effort.”
“Niceties, hm?” Rodimus asked, completely unapologetically sly. “What did you have in mind?”
“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” Thunderclash teased with a slant to his smile.
Rodimus made a face at him. “You’re lucky I like surprises.” Look at them. Flirting. While hugging each other and holding roses, no less! Rodimus already knew he would have to deal with a whole plethora of PDA write-ups from Magnus. Frankly, he’d never been more excited to get into trouble in his entire functioning. “Still, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Rodimus wiggled the servo that was still holding onto the roses. “Why play the long game?” Thunderclash’s brow twitched, confused. “Back when you were making these, you told me you were making them to court’ someone.’ Wouldn’t it have been easier at that point to just say me?”
Thunderclash coughed. “Ah,” he said, abashed. “A mistake on my part. You asked me if I was interested in someone, and I thought it was a joke.”
Rodimus pushed away from their embrace to look up at Thunderclash with a blank smile. “What.”
Thunderclash squirmed. “I nearly gave myself away after the very first note, after all,” he said quickly as he wrung his servos. “In fact, I thought you’d already guessed it was me when you sat with me at Swerve’s and brought up the first note you found earlier.”
Rodimus laughed sheepishly. “Actually, you were like, the first name I crossed off my list. I didn’t think you’d, uh, be interested in me like that. I mean, look at you! There was no way you’d be single!”
Thunderclash glanced away, but he didn’t move to hide the pleased curl of his lips. “You’re sweet,” he said. “But to continue my explanation, while we were in Hoist’s workshop, I’d assumed you’d already figured out it was me writing the notes. So you already knew that the roses were for you. That’s why I just said ‘someone’ when you asked; I thought you knew where my interests lay. But later, when I was thinking about your reaction to my response, I realized that may not have been the case. And evidently…” Thunderclash grimaced. “It wasn’t.”
Rodimus stared. Then he grinned. And then he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until tears were streaming down his faceplates, and his vents were wheezing so severely, it felt like the filters were about to come rocketing out.
“I’m very sorry for the confusion,” Thunderclash said with so much concern in his voice, Rodimus was set off all over again. It was a long while before he stopped.
“Oh, man,” he croaked, scrubbing away tears with the heel of his servo. “No, that was totally on me. I ne-ver thought you’d ever be into me.”
“On the contrary,” said Thunderclash, “it’s almost embarrassing how much I am ‘into you.’”
Rodimus snorted as he swayed forward until he bumped back into Thunderclash’s chest. He could feel Thunderclash’s hearty chuckling rumbling through his whole chassis. A delighted tingle spread across Rodimus’ frame, and he sighed happily as Thunderclash brought his arms up to settle his massive servos on Rodimus’ back. They go quiet for a few seconds, basking in each other’s happy glow.
“Hey,” Rodimus murmured after a moment. “Can I borrow your pen and paper for a second?”
Evidently confused, Thunderclash slowly said, “Certainly,” and reluctantly freed himself from Rodimus’ arms to go to his desk. He delicately picked up a red sheet of paper and the pen and handed them to Rodimus, who had to shift the bouquet to one arm to take them. Once he had them, he curled away from Thunderclash to hide what he was scribbling down on. He could feel Thunderclash’s curious gaze on his spoilers, so he hurriedly finished the last word in an unattractive scrawl, folded the paper, and presented it to Thunderclash with a flourish.
He took it, his smile taking on an amused slant as he opened it. Rodimus got caught up in watching the faint movement of his lips as he read the note to himself, and he startled slightly when a hearty guffaw suddenly boomed forth from them.
“‘Wanna go out with me, yes or no, circle one?’”
“Well? Do you?”
Thunderclash chuffed. “May I see that pen for a moment?”
Rodimus gave it to him. After far too much time than was strictly necessary to simply circle an answer, Thunderclash closed the note again and handed it back, beaming. Rodimus quizzically opened it, only to have to immediately send another command to keep his exhaust pipes from igniting. The word ‘yes’ had been circled dozens of times over, while a plethora of miniature sparks and exclamation points dotted the space surrounding the word.
“Guess that answers that,” Rodimus coughed, cheeks burning. “So. Uh. Thunders. You wanna meet up for some energon tomorrow morning?” he asked in a rush.
Thunderclash’s smile became impossibly softer. “I would love to,” he sighed.
They drew closer together. It wasn’t a spoken decision for both of them to simultaneously take a step toward the other, but it felt like the right one.
It was Thunderclash that broke the building silence. “Is that goodnight then?”
Rodimus hesitated. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Rodimus’ gaze has not lingered from Thunderclash’s lips once.
Thunderclash’s vocalizer clicked before he spoke. “I know I’ve been asking an awful lot from you tonight,” he whispered. “Something I am infinitely grateful for. But I’m hoping you would be willing to grant me one last request.”
Closer still, slowly, slowly, and yet somehow too quickly. “Depends,” Rodimus whispered back. “What is it?”
Thunderclash stopped, barely inches away. His lips parted, then shut, and then, with a tender curve to them, “May I kiss you?”
A roar began to build deep within Rodimus’ frame, echoing up from his pounding spark until its call was all he could hear, pleading one word, just one word—
“Please.”
One servo came up to lovingly stroke the side of Rodimus’ helm. The other came to rest on his hip. Both were light and sweet, and both were trembling slightly. Rodimus tried to give Thunderclash a reassuring smile, but he was quivering just the slightest too. But then Thunderclash smiled, and closed the breath of space between them and—
Oh.
Thunderclash’s lips were on his, soft, impossibly sweet, chaste, gentle: things Rodimus had never once imagined for himself. He froze, stunned, but his shock only lasted a moment before he melted against Thunderclash, optics flickering shut as he pressed his whole frame up against his. His spark yearned for closer still, and he tried to obey, tried to mold the sleek, smooth planes of his chassis to Thunderclash’s boxier one, and yet, closer, his spark asked, closer!
Rodimus’ optics flew open with what was definitely not a squeak when the servo on his hip moved to his back, and he was suddenly nearly parallel to the floor. Instinctively, his pede moved back to catch himself, one arm throwing itself up to hook around the back of Thunderclash’s neck. But he realized he was in no danger of falling; Thunderclash’s arms held steadfast as he dipped Rodimus back, strong and sturdy, and it was… Really, really nice. So with a soft, pleased noise, Rodimus shut his optics again and let himself hang, suspended in the air with his roses dangling from the tips of his digits.
But now he was entirely surrounded by Thunderclash, with his steady arms beneath him, his gentle servos underneath him, his whole frame pressing down over him. He kissed him as though he were drinking him all in, like he was to be savored. It was all Rodimus could do to keep just enough of a grip on the bouquet that it didn’t go clattering to the floor. Not that he would have noticed, not when Thunderclash was tilting his head to deepen their kiss, smiling against Rodimus’ lips, cradling the side of his face as though he were something precious, something cherished—
Rodimus’ spark went supernova, and he broke the kiss with a gasp. He clutched desperately at Thunderclash’s shoulder, helm bowed into the juncture between Thunderclash’s neck and his shoulder as he shook.
“Are you okay?” Thunderclash asked. Rodimus barely understood the words, but he shuddered as Thunderclash’s smooth voice rolled across his audials. “I didn’t go too far, did I?”
“‘Okay?’” he rasped. “Was that okay? Thunders, that was—I’m—” He broke out into faintly hysterical giggles. “Hold on, I need a second.”
Thunderclash nodded. He straightened up, taking Rodimus with him and tucking him close to his chest as he tried to get the wild pulsings of his spark under control. The steady pressure of Thunderclash’s servo on his spoilers was grounding, an anchor point for his processor to focus on as it soared a million miles away from the ship to go dance amongst the stars. Which each tiny circle Thunderclash rubbed into his spoiler, he felt each jump of his spark lessen and lessen, until it was thrumming instead of blazing with barely contained joy.
“I’m good,” he eventually said. “That was just. Wow. Wow.”
“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Thunderclash murmured, albeit reluctantly. “As incredible as it’s been, I know it’s been as equally emotionally demanding. I’d hate to overwhelm you anymore.”
Thunderclash was right, as much as Rodimus was loath to admit it. His whole frame felt worn, weakened by how intense his emotions had been running tonight. Laying down on the floor and staring up at the ceiling for a while sounded ideal right about now.
“Yeah,” Rodimus agreed grudgingly. “I guess I should go back to my hab suite, huh. Work tomorrow, and stuff.”
Neither of them moved an inch.
“I should go,” Rodimus repeated, more for the sake of saying it rather than actually wanting to do it.
“Of course.” With a great sigh, Thunderclash pulled away, though one of his servos still lingered on Rodimus’ back as he slowly guided him to the door. “I will escort you back to your hab suite if you’d like.”
“Charmer.”
The door slid open, sweeping in a welcome wash of cool air. Rodimus took a few steps out into the hallway before turning back around. Thunderclash hovered in the doorway, looking so incredibly dismayed that Rodimus couldn’t resist coming back to him and pulling him down to kiss him on the corner of his frowning mouth.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Rodimus said once he pulled away.
“Y-yes.” Thunderclash reverently touched his mouth, optics sparkling as though Rodimus had given him the moon instead of a kiss. “Goodnight, Rodimus.”
“‘Night, Thunders.” Rodimus hugged the roses to his chassis, and with a blissful sigh, finally began to walk back to his hab suite. When he rounded the corner, Rodimus paused, glancing around for any passing mechs. It wasn’t too late for someone to be on their way to Swerve’s or “Visages.” But no one was there, so Rodimus let himself fall against the wall, optics wide and his grin painfully huge. He touched his digits to his lips; they were tingling, and he could catch the barest wisps of the scented wax Thunderclash had used.
That had just happened. That had actually just fragging happened.
Rodimus laughed into the bouquet. That had happened, and they had confessed, and they’d kissed, and, they were getting energon together tomorrow, and everything had been so stupidly romantic and perfect, and—
He owed Drift big time.
And speaking of him...
Rodimus opened their conversation.
.:drift:.
.: you’re never gonna believe what just happened:.