re_alignment | [Video]

Entry tags:

✘ tf: prime | wheeljack

[Video]

[Wheeljack wasn't one to question things, really. But when something goes wrong in his world, there's -usually- repurcussions for said thing that went wrong. So...you can see the confusion when he opens up the feed. He's SOMEWHERE in Solus's temple--the lack of indents and scorch marks are a key sign that it's not his room--eyebrow perked.]

So uh...can you guys do me a favour and just watch this for me?

[Before you can even give an answer, he sets the Link back slightly, giving a full shot of him. Grabbing a grenade.

And pulling the pin--PLEASE NO WHEELJACK.

He sets it a few feet away, folding his arms. And...well, like it should, it detonates. Smoke billows through the whole room, the walls once untouched by scorch are now charred black, and the Link may have bounced a little from the impact.

But...Wheeljack walks out of it, and aside from scorch to match the walls, looks relatively unharmed.]

That's not normal. I'm good but I'm not -that- good.

[Well no shit, Wheeljack.]

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[His arm is caught. It's caught and nothing in him wants to pull away. Even though it's easier now, to feel the emotions in the other bot. To feel him, and it's suddenly more like drowning.]

[There's a visible tremor in the big scientist's hands. In his entire frame. No matter how he focuses, there's no way to keep things at bay right now.]

[His voice comes out nearly hoarse, and very soft.]

It... would be a start.

Please.

[He feels that shaking, and something in his spark freezes at the very thought that Perceptor had been holding this in the whole time. He's been reckless more than once, he knows that--this was just what eventually broke the scientist.

Had he...always felt like this on the inside? Covering it up with that snark?

And why did it hurt to know that? Certainly hurt more than that grenade explosion.]

Fine. You got it, Sarge.

I'll do whatever helps ya sleep--I mean it.

[He shakes his head a little, still avoiding looking at him. That uncertainty. The hurt. It's too much. Way too much. He starts to draw away.]

[He can't handle this. It's making it difficult to focus on Wheeljack's words. On anything more than what's running through his head.]

I... I'm not sure I can believe that.

You throw yourself into danger -- you --

I know you mean it, but I don't know if you're going to keep that word, the next time something horrendous occurs.

[He pauses, doing his best to control the tremors, control the raging thoughts long enough to say something.]

--because I know you, you reckless... stupid... courageous -- You can no more sit by while terrible things happen than I can shoot a rifle! It's --

Admirable.

[He backed up slightly, at first offended--like Perceptor didn't believe him. Only until he heard the rest, where those eyes just look up, almost...

helpless.

It was true, though. Whatever Perceptor said was true. As much as he said he'd give his word, he couldn't back down if someone needed him. He'd learned to handle things on this planet that way, by running head in and swords out.

It's the complaints that get him, though. That make his head snap up. Was he dreaming it? It sure seemed like something his brain would cook up.]

Admirable.

[Just...making sure he got you correctly.]

You think I'm--

Yes.

[The word is all but dragged out of him. He has no desire to admit it, but there he goes, babbling it out, regardless. He stares at him, now, looking helpless and exhausted.]

You heard me correctly. You aren't dreaming.

[There's no point in hiding any of this. Not any longer. He shakes his head.]

Not the violence. I still abhor that. But your damned dedication...

That is what I mean...

[There's no snide remark or smile. Just...amazement and shock. This whole time he felt like Perceptor looked down upon his whole outlook on jumping into danger. He was a pacifist--it seemed like a logical conclusion even for him.]

Frag it, Sarge...

[His eyes finally cast up, hand doing the same and placing itself on the bot's chest and patting it, fingers trailing down after.]

Helps if ya got somethin' to fight FOR, yannow?

[He did look down on it. He would always look down on it. But -- he knows why it happens, now. He knows there's a reason for it. And he can't say that reason is anything to be ashamed of.]

[He stays silent, until that touch. Until that touch sends a shiver all down his frame he can't hide.]

[No, he can't do this.]

Why... do you think I wanted you to guard this place...?

[He feels that shiver, not even bothering to move his hand as he leans up against him, back to front. Arms folded over his chest.

What comes out next is soft. Uncharacteristically soft.]

Why do you think I took the job.

I know why...

[He could step away. He could move. But he doesn't. Part of him is glad of the touch. The contact.]

[Glad Wheeljack is here...]

You needed something to fight for. And I was offering a solution. That's. Why.

[It's the only reason. Right?]

[Perceptor wasn't wrong, per say. He did need something to fight for. But...he wasn't exactly right, either. There was--]

's more to it than that.

[This is really hard for him to admit okay.]

... I don't follow.

[He knows that was hard. He can feel it. But curiosity beckons, and the words are out before he thinks better of them.]

[Goddammit, Perceptor, don't make this harder than it is on the Wrecker. He's bad enough at trying to put words to his feelings, and it certainly shows in how he dodges his eyes away.

But he asked, didn't he.]

I don't pick up guard duty unless I got someone to protect, Sarge.

Get me?

[It's... probably abusing this dubious gift of his to try and sense where this is coming from. To figure out what's behind those words, exactly.]

... We have been through a lot together, haven't we?

[That whole friendship thing, right?]

[That's all this is. Isn't it?]

...Got that right.

[And while you may be airing on the side of friendship...]

Too much, sometimes, for it to be...yannow. Normal.

Wheeljack.

You know full well I'm not adept in the social sciences. Especially not... after the day I've had.

[Despite how tired he sounds, how ragged and weary, there's... an odd note of fondness in his voice.]

You... are going to have to be more clear than you are.

[This is like watching two people who speak different languages ask each other what the weather's like. Wheeljack's not good with words, Perceptor's not good with social cues.

Perfect.]

What I -mean- is...maybe there's like..somethin' else. Past friends.

[GOD DAMN THAT WAS HARD DON'T MAKE HIM ELABORATE.]

It's stupid, alright?

[He just stares.]

[He openly stares. Like he's really hearing a different language. Like he honestly can't believe that it is he's hearing.]

[Lights along his panels betray him, though, brightening, as hope suddenly and sullenly, starts to rise.]

[He misheard.]

[He must have misheard.]

Past... friends. I... you're serious?

[The hesitation makes him want to backpedal, and in fact, he almost does. If it wasn't for that question, he would have told him to forget about it and move on.

It stops him right in the nick of time, though.]

Yeah. You know...that feelings scrap.

[Wheeljack knows he's a trainwreck with this kind of stuff. Two people in Haven already knew. Which is why this is harder to admit.]

Feelings...?

[He can't help the note of incredulity creeping into his voice. It can't be true. He can't be hearing this.]

[There are visible tremors in his frame. Though whether they're relief, or hope, or an odd sense of dread, he has no idea. All he knows is Wheeljack is being utterly sincere.]

[He practically blurts the next words, staring helplessly at him, as if that will clarify things.]

You're not a trainwreck! It -- hardly that!

[Just Perceptor repeating it, especially with that tone, is hard to believe it came out of his mouth. And as such, his helm dips down, slightly embarrassed over the whole thing.]

...Y-

[That is, until Perceptor blurts that out. His eyes shoot open wide, head snapping to attention and fixed on the scientist. How did he know? That wasn't just a lucky guess. That was word for word exactly what he was thinking.]

I never...said that.

Not out loud.

[If he could have gone pale, he would have. Instead, he straightens up, going rigid. The lighting along his panels flares up bright, then dims, as he looks away.]

[... Ashamed.]

[He rubs at his face again. A little harder. Like it's going to help.]

... I... see.

[What else is he supposed to say?]

[There's a sigh from him, though, running a hand along the handle of his forge.]

Not wrong, though.

[Yeah, he won't question the fact Percy just read his mind.]

It's been scrambled for a good while.

[He steps back over to his console, as if to put distance between them. His hands shake. He presses them to the desktop, in order to stop them.]

... You aren't the only one to feel that way.

[Admitting it costs him something.]

[He never wanted to say it. Never wanted to admit there could be something the matter with him. He hates it.]

[It makes him feel vulnerable.]

...

[Those eyes shoot up, glued to the scientist now. And nothing he says will shake them. Not now...]

Whatcha mean, Sarge.

That we're both messed up?

[His chin rests on the handle of his forge, thinking.]

Place...does things to ya.

It... does, yes.

[Even that admittance cost something. It cost more. His shoulders sag. He's leaning on his hands, now.]

[Does... does he dare?]

[He'd resisted so long, now. Giving in, after all this time... is it even worth the risk? Even hearing the words from Wheeljack himself -- something more.]

[He couldn't mean --]

But that. Was not the entirety of what I meant.

[The words come out halting. Almost pained. His voice is just as rough as the Wrecker's scarring. It's like the words are broken somehow. Damaged. For all his brilliance, all his skill and scientific ability, this is almost beyond him.]

... You are not. The only one. Who feels s-- [His vocal processor seems to hitch. Struggling.]

Something more.

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