Chapter Text
Tailgate struggled to cycle his vents, a shaky cough leaving his intake. He hadn’t felt like himself since their last detour to restock supplies.
Most mechs would have leapt at the chance to go out and explore. After all, pit-stops were a rarity on the Lost Light's journey through deep space. Typical Cybertronians were often happy to stretch their pedes at the first opportunity they could get, eager to experience new terrain in their alt modes or to cycle fresh ozone through their systems. Tailgate, however, was not most mechs.
Recently, he'd been far more interested in remaining glued to Cyclonus' hip plating, attaching himself to the small nods of acknowledgement the taller mech would give him. It was a subtle gesture, one that had somehow morphed into addiction as coolant flooded his lines any time their optics met. Tailgate would do anything for those fleeting moments, desperately clinging to the high he gained from his imaginary closeness with a mech so stoic and unmovable.
Despite sharing a hab suite with the jet, Tailgate unfortunately struggled to encourage Cyclonus to open up. Countless stellar cycles had passed since the Lost Light had first embarked, and their relationship had seemed no closer to friendship. Cyclonus might have been less antagonistic towards Tailgate as of late, but they still had a long way to go.
Luckily, he'd noticed that any field trips surrounded by techno-organic nature seemed to do the trick, and those detours were made even more fun when Whirl and Swerve decided to tag along. As always, Whirl’s constant heckling led to Cyclonus losing his composure but this kept him loose and etched its way past his cold facade, forcing him to lower his guard and let Tailgate experience his many unexpected expressions while they walked along the forest path.
Tailgate always appreciated Whirl’s ability to ‘break the ice' and encourage a reaction out of Cyclonus. But he found himself appreciating Swerve even more for keeping his anxiety at bay by trotting along beside him, servo curled around his forearm. Having Swerve so close to him, encouraging his every move and whispering conversation prompts when he drew a blank was really helping keep his spirits up. Everything had been going so well...
Swerve had noticed the flowers first, quick to point out that the pedals’ vibrant lavender hue reflected Cyclonus’ paint while the blue pollen-filled centre reminded him of a certain mini-bot just itching to get in between purple servos. Tailgate’s faceplates heated as his optics peered to Cyclonus’ shoulders, strong and sturdy. The two larger bots were in their own world, bickering like it was the only thing that gave their sparks purpose.
Tailgate's vents cycled a low purr as he leant closer into Swerve's side while walking ahead. “You’re always the romantic…”
Swerve let out a sly chuckle, his pedes stammering as he came to a stop halting both of them. “I make it my job to push you dumbafts into romantic situations. Face it, he’s madly in love with you, you’re bonkers about him… His pride has got to crack sooner or later, maybe he just needs some encouragement.”
Swerve tapped gently on Tailgate's servo, his digit then pointing to the flowers surrounding the path. He seemed to be hinting at something...
“ Oh!” Tailgate’s optics widened with glee, his helm nodding rapidly. “The flowers? That’s a great idea!”
Quick as he could, Tailgate hurried over to the field, flashing quick glances at the mechs ahead. He scooped up a few of his favourites with the most vibrant colours and made his way back to Swerve. “Do you think he’d get the hint?”
“Worth a shot!” Swerve shrugged, looking at Tailgate with his usual cheesy smile. Giggling softly to one another, they both vented in a cycle to cool their heated excitement.
“...”
The two stopped in their tracks, Tailgate dropping his freshly picked bouquet and swerve clutching at his chassis with shock.
What was that feeling just now?
Tailgate sputtered, vents heaving with sharp intensity. He looked to his left in a daze, hoping to use Swerve’s shoulder for support. But instead noticed his best friend slumped on the ground, vents loud and strained.
“C-Cyclo-...“ Tailgate felt his pedes give out, dropping to the gravel with a thud. Though hazy optics he could see a purple and blue mass hurrying towards them. With all the strength he had left in his servos, he coiled his digits around Swerves, hanging on for dear life.
Tailgate’s optics had offlined themselves without his permission, his frame shuddering as he choked through vent after vent, heat radiating through his frame.
Cold hard plating slowly wrapped around his torso as he suddenly felt weightless. But before he could figure out where it was coming from, his processors faded to white.
The sensation of a bot shifting beside his hip joint gently pulled him out of recharge, his optics faint and hazy.
“You’re awake!” Red optics gleaned through Tailgate’s washed-out vision. His self-repair had been struggling to reboot his vocaliser but images were appearing clearer by the click.
Cyclonus met his gaze, clawed servos softly clutching at his own while he leant over the right side of the medical berth. Tailgate took in his surroundings, he could see Swerve laying on a berth across the room. Whirl was pacing back and forth in a panic, claws pinching in rapid succession. He could hear a KLINK…
Ah, his audials must be working… Maybe with another reboot…
“Cy onUS..? Wha- w AT HAP Enn d?” Tailgates vocaliser choked through the static.
“Take it easy kid, your self-repair is working but it took quite a while to get the two of you back online. Even with my help…” The medics' all too familiar voice was laced with concern. Tailgate was now becoming used to waking up in the med bay and that surely was not a good thing.
Tailgate lowered his helm back, feeling a soft squeeze to his right servo. “What’s… going on… ?”
Ratchet looked up from his datapad, meeting Tailgate’s optics. “Apparently you both collapsed, I’d never seen Whirl so panicked… Cyclonus well, we’ve been here before haven’t we?” A sombre look of dread befell the mech's faceplates. Tailgate gave his own squeeze to their connected servos, it was all he could manage to comfort Cyclonus.
He had been through worse, he surely wasn’t dying this time… probably…
“Why does it feel like I drank a ship's worth of bad engex?” All optics hurried to meet Swerve’s, his shaky grin giving all a spark of relief. However, the servos firmly placed on his helm made it pretty apparent he was still uncomfortable.
“Glad to see you’re online,” Ratchet stated. Despite the stern tone, Tailgate could see the gentle relief curling behind Ratchet’s optics.
“When Cyclonus and Whirl brought you both in, Tailgate was clutching a plant. I’ve sent it to Perceptor and Brainstorm for testing, it’s likely the two of you cycled a toxin through your vents.” Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge, furrowing his brow with concern.
“Now… I’m not sure what side effects it might have in the coming hours, so my advice is to rest and keep yourselves out of crowded areas. Cyclonus and Whirl don’t seem to show any reaction to the toxin, so I’ll have them keep a close optic on the two of you.”
Whirl hurried to Swerve’s side, nuzzling his helm into the small bot's cheek in a dramatic display. “We get to be roomies!!”
Ratchet cleared his intake and continued, “I’ve asked Ultra Magnus to prepare a larger hab suite suitable for four mechs.”
Despite his panic only ticks ago, Whirl obviously struggled to contain his excitement, optic bright. His helm was still dangerously close to Swerves. Tailgate took notice of the minibot’s brightly flushed faceplates. The display made him giggle softly to himself.
He felt like slag but hey… things could be worse. The idea of his three favourite people keeping him company put his processor at ease. However, despite the calm resting over him, his frame could feel a building, itching heat.
What was that…?
Ratchet held his servo up to his commlink, “Right. Yes. Alright. I’ll send them down”
Tailgate grappled at the left side of the berth trying to heave himself up, only to feel a firm servo press against his chassis. “Rest.”
Before Tailgate could protest, he felt clawed servos coiling around his back, hoisting him off the berth. Cyclonus scooped him up effortlessly, cradling him against cool chest plating. The chilly sensation gave Tailgate a brief moment of bliss before he felt the rising heat stir once more. The minibot let out a small frustrated whine as the spike in core temperature left him dazed and desperate for relief.
With a squirm, he offlined his optics and nuzzled in closer, his helm pressed firmly against the surrounding metal. Cyclonus held the small mech securely, venting a puff of cold air in his direction, rewarding him with a satisfied hum.
“I’ll carry you there, so just relax.”
Whirl and Swerve were in awe, unable to pull their optics away from the affectionate display.
Swerve contemplated this exact scenario on more than one lonely night, but seeing it in person had been wish-fulfilment to the extreme. He was so desperate to be in Tailgate’s place, yet he also wanted to be the one to hold Tailgate. What would it feel like to have such a strong dominating force treating you with the utmost care? Swerve felt his vents falter and churn through a shaky sigh. ‘I must be nice… ’ he thought.
Whirl snapped out of his trance with just enough time to hear the minibot shift beside him and soon his optic found a more interesting target. Swerve was clutching at his pedes and shrinking into himself, the hum of his small engine purring in Whirl’s audials. He appeared too ensnared in Cyclonus and Tailgate to notice Whirl’s newfound interest in his soft pink faceplates.
The copter gently tapped a clawed digit into Swerve side, this rewarded him with an all too adorable squeak as his helm crept in closer to the smaller mech's personal space.
“Wanna try it? It’s not like you have the strength to move anyway.” The digit continued to prod at Swerve’s side as the minibot wriggled.
“Wha- huh? T-Try what?” Without warning, Whirl whisked Swerve into the air and flung him over his shoulders like a washrag. He struggled to choke out anything but static as the heat from his faceplates caught in his intake.
“Get ready for the ride of your life, sweet spark!”
Tailgate found it hard not to squirm in Cyclonus’ grasp, the rise and fall of each thundering pede causing deep vibrations to settle against his plating. He was all too aware of every step, every in-vent and ex-vent… Tailgate had become familiar with Cyclonus’ hold, after all, this wasn’t the first time they’d been so close. Yet this time felt different… Every time Cyclonus’ plating touched his own, a subtle charge would begin to build. The soft buzzing feeling sent jolts of pleasure up the small bots spinal strut with every small movement. The way Cyclonus’ form dominated his own sent his processor spinning.
Before he could stop himself, a soft whimper left Tailgate’s vocaliser. Panicked, he covered the front of his mask, optics wide and faceplates burning. T-That was embarrassing… Hopefully, Cyclonus didn’t noti-
“...”
Piercing red optics peered down to rest on the minibot’s helm with a burning intensity. All Tailgate could hear was his spark drumming in his own audials as he froze in place. The two locked optics for what felt like cycles before the sound of a long drawn out whistle jerked Tailgate out of his trance. He could feel his spark being snuffed out from embarrassment.
“Well, that was a cute sound~! You feeling alright over there, Little Legs?”
Whirl strode up behind the two with newfound interest. He had previously been too preoccupied keeping Swerve from kicking his helm off to pay attention to the lovebirds. Apparently, the little guy didn’t like being slung around Whirl’s neck... His loss… Whirl knew plenty of bots just dying for the chance to dangle their legs around his helm. Well… maybe he didn’t… but based on the amount of charge emanating from Swerve’s core, he was sure he liked it.
Before Whirl could pry further, the four had reached their destination.
Ultra Magnus was waiting patiently outside the new hab suite, back straight with servos tightly crossed around his chassis, looking stern as ever. However, the closer the mech’s got, the more apparent his concern became. Ultra Magnus’ brow was furrowed and his posture slanted. Tailgate could now pick up on all the subtleties in the enforcer's scowl due to time spent in close quarters learning the Autobot Code. Ultra Magnus had helped Tailgate a lot since his introduction to the ship and now seeing a mech he looked up to worried for their sakes warmed his spark.
“I am relieved to see the two of you in slightly better health, we were all very concerned when Cyclonus and Whirl brought you in...”
“I trust Ratchet has updated everyone on the situation.”
All four mechs took in their surroundings as the door softly closed and locked behind them. The room was just big enough to comfortably hold three medium-sized bots, but with two large bots and two minis, it was proving to be a bit of a tight squeeze. There was space, sure, just not privacy…
Cyclonus gently placed Tailgate down on one of four berths. Ultra Magnus had done his best fitting the room with the bare essentials, however, the lack of space resulted in two berths flush next to one another on either side of the room.
“It looks like a honeymoon suite~!” Whirl purred as he hoisted Swerve from his shoulders and placed him on the berth directly flush with Tailgates. For a click, Whirl admired the two, contemplating something. However before he could raise a claw and speak, Cyclonus clocked him behind the helm with a fist.
“Play nice, they are both sick,” Cyclonus hissed.
“ Hey! I’ll have you know I’m especially nice to minis!” The room fell silent, causing the sound of Cyclonus’ palm hitting faceplates to echo through the room.
Whirl cackled, Cyclonus growled, Swerve rolled his optics behind his visor and Tailgate giggled. Out of all the bots to be stuck in one room together…
Cyclonus cleared his intake with a cough. “I believe we should give Tailgate and Swerve the opportunity to recharge now that they are comfortable. How are you two feeling?”
Tailgate stirred, the feeling of Cyclonus’ claws and chest plating unable to leave his processor. There was something about being on an unfamiliar berth that left Tailgate’s mind wandering.
“I’m feeling fine, j-just a little hot.” Tailgate rolled over from his back to his side so he could meet Swerve’s optics. “How are you feeling, Swerve?”
Swerve heaved, his vents still appeared to be heavy. “I’m fine too, just having some trouble venting. This heat really is something huh?”
“Mm!” Tailgate reached a servo out to Swerve in a display of comfort, at least they weren’t suffering through this alone.
Swerve gave a cheesy grin in response as he gently entwined their digits. Pressing his helm to the other mini-bot, the two started to drift off into recharge.
H-Hot…
Tailgate woke with a sluggish, pressured weight looming in his vents. He could feel an overwhelming amount of charge built up in every inch of his plating. He slowly inched himself into an upright position on the berth, hazy optics searching the dark room.
Cyclonus’ was consuming the berth facing his own, his large frame was tilted to the side in the familiar recharge pose that kept Tailgate feeling grounded. Cyclonus always looked so peaceful in his sleep…
Whirl had chosen the berth next to Cyclonus, his frame splayed out with pedes and torso drooping halfway off the berth. Typical Whirl…
Tailgate had been lost in thought when suddenly a gentle tap to the hip plate snapped him out of it. Swerve was stirring beside him, visor bright and expression dazed. Tailgate leant closer to his berth mate, he could feel the heat rising from the spot Swerve’s digits poked.
“What’s wrong?” Tailgate whispered, hoping not to wake the others. Cyclonus was often grumpy when woken mid-recharge and Tailgate was far too scared to even imagine the violent outburst that might come from Whirl thinking he was still dreaming and wrecking the place.
“I don’t feel too hot… Well… that is to say I do feel hot… Boiling actually.”
“Me too…” Tailgate shifted in a little closer to feel Swerve’s face plating with a servo. He soon felt the red and white bot shudder under his touch, charge pooling around the point of contact.
“Wow, we really are experiencing the same thing.” Tailgate’s digits ran down swerves cheeks to rest by his neck and chin, enticing another full-body shiver.
“It’s so hot…” The sound of stilted vents struggling to cycle the heat from Swerve’s systems caused an ache in Tailgate’s spark. He knew what Swerve was feeling and he’d do anything to help, they were desperate.
While trying to think up a solution, Tailgate’s processor began to wander once more. Images of Cyclonus’ cool plating fixed at the front of his mind. For a bot with such a big engine, he sure did feel nice and cold…
That’s it! Tailgate didn’t want to wake Cyclonus, but maybe they could huddle up next to him and use him as their own personal temperature regulator. They were sick after all, so surely Cyclonus wouldn’t be too grumpy.
Tailgate lightly gripped Swerve’s shoulder, his optics were bright and hopeful. “I think I’ve got an idea,” he whispered gleefully.
Swerve and Tailgate leant on either side of Cyclonus’ frame, the two had been careful not to wake either mech up as they fumbled to the berth. Cyclonus was still on his side, facing the door with his back to Whirl. Tailgate balanced on hands and knees as he leant in close checking that Cyclonus was still in recharge.
Swerve crawled into position by Cyclonus’ back, careful not to bump against one of Whirl’s stray appendages. It was a tight squeeze but nothing could be more uncomfortable than the rising heat in his system.
“Wow…” Swerve declared in a whisper, “He really is cold...” Swerve almost melted as he slunk into a resting position flush with Cyclonus’ back. The jet’s exposed backplating felt unbelievably good against Swerve's helm, causing him to nuzzle in slightly. The physical relief sent pleasant chills down his frame, prickling charge in his lower back.
Once Tailgate was satisfied Cyclonus wouldn’t wake up, he too settled beside him. However, staring him straight in the face was a little embarrassing… he opted to turn around and face the door frame, scooting in close so that the front of Cyclonus’ frame wrapped around him.
Cool bliss… the two minibots thought in tandem, relief washing through their frames and clearing their chugging vents.
Swerve and Tailgate had previously been too distracted by their rising core temperatures to pay attention to any of the toxin's other symptoms. Now that the simmering heat was subsiding, they were both made acutely aware of the stray charge pooling in areas it rarely touched. They were both more than a little worked up...
The collective hum of Cyclonus and Whirl's engines in recharge filled the silence, drawing more attention to the closeness of their bodies.
Swerve shifted in place, unsure of where to look or what to touch. Every plate that connected with his own sent violent bubbles of charge threatening close to the array hidden behind his panel. Why now? Swerve bit his bottom lip, shifting backwards slightly in an attempt to break contact with Cyclonus’ frame. Every point of contact was soon missed as he drifted further away from Cyclonus. But before he had a chance to dwell on the loss, he felt a sharp jab press against his lower spinal strut and aft, Swerve yelped.
“What’s wrong?” Panic began to settle in Tailgate’s spark.
“N-Nothing, Whirl’s pede just jabbed me in the aft. I almost died of fright…” Swerve peered over his shoulder to check if the copter was still deep in recharge, he was.
Tailgate couldn’t help but let out a soft, gentle giggle as he eased his tense shoulders. The calm was short-lived, however, his vocaliser halting as he felt a sharp claw scrape around the plating of his midsection, coming to rest around his waist and pulling him in closer. A deep growl came from above Tailgate's helm replacing his relief with another quiver of panic. Oh primus… please don’t be awake...
Tailgate was quickly becoming more and more aware of his compromising position. Being possessively clung to by your biggest crush on their berth while deep in recharge wasn’t only embarrassing, it was also incredibly exciting… Tailgate could only hope that his charge wasn’t audible from Swerve’s position behind them.
Cyclonus’ form was still pleasantly brisk which kept his own temperature from spiking. However, Tailgate noticed a subtle rise in temperature by his hip plating as charge began to pool. He craned his helm upwards to check if the jet was still recharging, the view surprised him. The larger bot was still heavy in recharge, optics offlined. But his venting sounded haggard as condensation beaded by his forehelm, faceplates flushed a soft pink. Was Cyclonus panting?
Meanwhile, Swerve had been frozen in place, he was lost in thought. The pointed knee joint wouldn’t have been hard to dislodge from between his thighs had he been able to think with a clear processor. But as things were, his processor was muddled, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to remove it. After all, Whirl’s plating seemed to be just as pleasantly cold as Cyclonus’, the only difference was the placement. It was just where he needed it the most and it seemed to scratch an itch tantalisingly close to his interface panel, but it wasn’t enough.
With a small rock of his hips, Swerve felt himself press against Whirl’s knee, pressing panel to plating and enticing a full-body shiver up his strut. A shaky whimper slipped past his glossa as his servos grasped at Whirl’s pede, bracing himself.
“ Who would have thought you were so kinky...” A low purr settled beside Swerve’s audials as he felt Whirl’s claw brush past the sensitive cables on his neck. Swerve choked, his vents hitching up a gear as Whirl bucked his knee between minibot thighs, grinding it in place.
Tailgate’s optics widened, he couldn’t hear what Whirl was saying over the sound of Cyclonus’ whirring engines and heavy venting, but he certainly recognised the sound of the copter's voice. Unaware of Swerve’s situation, Tailgate attempted to settle himself and feign recharge. Maybe if Whirl thought he was resting, he wouldn’t have to put up with his inevitable teasing… After all, what could be more embarrassing than the situation he was in right now?
Cyclonus’ claws tightened their grip on Tailgate’s waist before travelling down to clutch at the minibot’s hips. The tip of sharp digits grating over his paint leaving scuffs. Tailgate couldn’t help but lean himself into the touch, he was far too charged up to be embarrassed at this point.
Cyclonus was in recharge, right? Tailgate’s thought process was halted as he felt sharp denta sinking into the sensitive cables on his neck, he could feel pressure building behind the panel by his hips. Cyclonus bucked forward in one sharp thrust, causing a loud pleasured shriek to escape Tailgate’s intake as he clutched at Cyclonus’ servos.
Whirl’s whistle echoed off the walls of the hab suite, “Frag, you two sound like you’re having fun~!”
Cyclonus awoke from recharge with a start, optics wide as he tried to collect his bearings. It took the jet several soft reboots to clear the haze from his vision. Whirl was always loud, but what was so important he felt the need to wake a warrior from his well-needed recharge?
He felt movement coming from between his servos. Peering down, his optics met with the perpetrator, the blue and white mini was quivering. Cyclonus’ attention was ripped away from the purple paint transfer on his back once he noticed his servos still gripped around the small bot’s hip plates.
“C-Cyclonus…? Static laced Tailgate’s vocals, his face still in a daze.
Cyclonus quickly released his grasp, propping himself up and leaning over the side of the berth, servos clenching into fists on his lap.
Tailgate snapped out of his trance, “Uh! I-I can explain! I’m sorry, we were just really hot… We were desperate a-and your plating was cool! So we just uhh.. We figured-”
“ We?” Tailgate was cut off by Cyclonus, the two turning to face their spectators.
Swerve was covering his subsequent embarrassment with his servos, fighting back a moan as Whirl continued to rut his knee joint between Swerve’s thighs.
“Oh don’t mind us! We were just enjoying the show,” Whirl hummed from behind a very flustered minibot.
“I’m leaving.” That was it, he couldn’t handle any more stimulation tonight. Cyclonus paraded to the door frame with long strides, quickly disappearing into the hallway.
“W-Wait, Cyclonus!” Tailgate quickly chased after him, stumbling over his own pedes.