Work Text:
1. It’s not that Smokscreen has it out for Trailbreaker specifically. He doesn’t have it out for anyone, except the slag-sucking ‘cons and also that guy on Marr’xt-95 who cheated him out of a half-million shanix and walked away without even a scratch thanks to the Marr’xt-95ians strict ‘no retaliation’ policy.
It’s also why he no longer goes to Marr’xt-95 when he’s on leave.
Anyway. Smokescreen likes to think of himself as a pretty likable bot, easygoing and lazy’s fare or whatever the earthlings say. It’s just that at some point, Trailbreaker had caught his attention, and in the worst way possible.
In keeping with his likable, easygoing lazy’s fare nature, Smokescreen likes to think he’s not the kind of mech who judges another bot’s vices. The war’s thrown all of them into the compactor and then the smelter and then the acid pit, spitting out whatever parts were too tough to be devoured, and if Trailbreaker needs Nightmare Fuel every off shift to cope with the fact that too many of his parts were lost to the fire it’s really not Smokescreen’s place to judge. It’s especially frustrating now that they’re in this weird liminal peacetime-but-not, a ceasefire that’s been drawn out for the last month as the higher-ups argue about the latest impending universe-ending event.
This time, it’s Shockwave’s fault.
It is, however, his place to judge when it intrudes on his off-shift.
First, it’s just the fact that when he’s overcharged, Trailbreaker turns into a damn klutz. Smokescreen’s lost track of the number of times the bot trips over his workstation en route to his recharge slab, falling to the ground with a hard thump. Every time it happens, Smokescreen jumps and thinks about Tribalta.
He’s talked with Mirage about it. He thinks Trailbreaker might be banned from Visages, but Mirage is notoriously tight-lipped about his clients.
He could request a transfer to a new habsuite. Prowl’s been in one of his moods recently, shoving the majority of his paperwork into Bluestreak’s workflow in favor of endless arguments with Starscream that go nowhere, and Smokescreen is pretty sure Blue’d sign off on the request without a fuss.
He doesn’t want to, though. He
likes
his habsuite; it’s finally set up just the way he likes it, and the room is conveniently positioned close enough to the exits to facilitate a quick getaway while also being close to the mess and rec rooms. He’s not giving up his habsuite, and if it means dealing with Trailbreaker tripping and falling on his face every day, well. Bluestreak’s dealt with worse.
2. So. The Necrotitan, Dead Universe event was certainly A Thing That Happened.
Smokescreen tries not to think about the Autobrand (Bumblebee’s Autobrand, Primus on a stick he can’t even remember the last time he talked to ‘Bee about something that wasn’t strictly work-related) adorning Megatron’s chest.
Smokescreen takes some comfort in the fact that the action has essentially imploded the Decepticon cause—at least for the moment. Shockwave had been out of the command structure for months prior, and Starscream has apparently taken this opportunity leave the Decepticons and run for…president? Supreme ruler? Emperor? What do you call a leader who isn’t a Prime?
Whatever. Just like Megatron, he’s abdicated his position in the Decepticons, but unlike Megatron he’s not strutting around with a dead Autobot’s badge on his chassis. That earns him half a point in Smokescreen’s favor, but it’s not like anyone is asking his opinion.
The extended ceasefire means Smokescreen has even more time to split between Maccadam’s and Swerve’s. Initially he’d preferred Blurr’s take on Maccadam’s, but apparently so do the Decepticons, because on more than one occasion, Smokescreen’s stepped inside to see Soundwave and the cassettes stinking up the atmosphere with their ‘woe is us, our fascist dictator boss isn’t talking to us anymore’ angst. Swerve’s is fine but chatty, and sometimes a mech just wants to sit quietly at a table and work on his Kaonian 6-Square skills. It’s also because, Smokescreen thinks, a little uncharitably, because Swerve’s is Trailbreaker’s bar of choice, and Smokescreen has decided that he’s going to deal with his neighbor by interacting with him as little as possible.
So when he gets a message from Devcon requesting to meet in the medbay, it’s not like Smokescreen has anything better to do. The fact that his spark twists in its chamber at the thought of Devcon is just a coincidence and there’s no point thinking about it.
3. When he gets to the medbay, Devcon isn’t the bot that immediately catches his optic.
It’s Kup.
Well, it’s Kup, and the line of visitors leading out the door.
Smokescreen makes a mental note to visit Kup—later, after the procession has died down. He spares his teammates a nod as he weaves through the crowded medbay in search of Devcon.
“Talk some sense into him,” Ratchet says to Smokescreen, brusque as always. “The idiot seems determined to restart the war the second I discharge him.”
Smokescreen peers over Ratchet’s shoulder to look at Devcon, who offers a wry smile.
Smokescreen takes a seat at Devcon’s side, willing the tightness in his spark to subside. This is just awkward.
Desperate for something to say, he gestures to the line at Kup’s bedside and says “Popular guy, huh?”
They talk, after that. It’s awkward and stilted, made even more awkward by the fact that even the idea of so many bots behind him has Smokescreen’s internal proximity alerts going haywire no matter how many times he tries to edit the criteria to exclude friendly signatures.
Eventually it settles into a bearable discomfort, and Smokescreen finds himself focusing more on the conversation with Devcon, to the point where it moves from awkward to slightly pleasant. Of course, this happens right as visiting hours are ending, and Smokescreen finds himself being herded out by First Aid.
He catches another glance at Kup, who grins at him before waving. The realization that it’s Trailbreaker of all mechs sitting at Kup’s bedside is…it’s something.
Smokescreen rubs his helm and heads back to his habsuite
4. Two weeks later, and Smokescreen is pretty sure he’s convinced Devcon not to go after Starscream and Soundwave the second he’s released from medbay. It’s not that Smokescreen doesn’t hate them, but he’s so tired of fighting, and if Starscream wants to spend his time with focus groups figuring out a campaign slogan and Soundwave wants to live at Maccadam’s, it’s better than spending their time shooting at Autobots.
He’s spent enough time in the medbay in the last couple weeks to see Kup’s parade of visitors petering out to the regulars—a newly recovered Springer, Optimus, and…Trailbreaker.
Smokescreen isn’t sure what to make of that, and he finds himself straining to catch any stray bits of conversation, but even still it’s not enough to completely distract him from spending time with Devcon.
The smallest flashes of light coming from Kup’s bedside is what catches his attention. Devcon’s seen it too, and he sits up to get a better look.
Trailbreaker is holding out a lighter—battered and greasy, probably seen more battles than Smokescreen and Trailbreaker combined, but still capable of carrying a flame—to Kup’s cy-gar. Smokescreen almost wants to laugh at the boldness of the gesture, but the look in Kup and Trailbreaker’s optics stops him, and he abruptly feels uncomfortable, like he and Devcon are intruding on an intimate, private moment.
Smokescreen wonders what it would be like to be Kup.
5. Smokescreen sits on the recharge slab.
He ignores Devcon’s pings in his HUD until his ventilations to slow down to a manageable point before sending a response ping. No big deal. Don’t worry.
He’d been so caught up in his talk with Devcon that initially, the noises coming from Trailbreaker’s habsuite hadn’t bothered him. It wasn’t until he’d leaned against the wall, only to be met with a resounding thump from Trailbreaker’s side, that he was abruptly pulled back into reality. Irritation had boiled in his tanks, and for the first time, Smokescreen found himself storming out of his hab, splicer in hand.
It wasn’t technically an appropriate use of the tool—likely in violation of one or two or ten of Tyrest’s Accords, but said accords were the last thing on Smokescreen’s mind as he hacked the lock, only for his mind to be filled with a wide variety of new and exciting images (he had no idea Kup was that flexible, or that Trailbreaker could look so…)
Smokscreen stammered an apology and slammed the door.
Devcon sends another questioning ping.
Smokescreen sends his fifth apology to Kup, and his tenth to Trailbreaker.
+1
“It’s hard,” Trailbreaker says. “Never gets easier.”
They’re watching Ark leave—Prowl had spent most of the morning herding his ‘picks’ for their initial return to Cybertron—Smokescreen and Trailbreaker were not included. They were shortlisted for a trip to find the long-famed Knights of Cybertron, and Smokescreen isn’t sure what to think about that, but Devcon’s ship left earlier that morning, one seat left empty.
Solidarity is what prompts Smokescreen to reach out and rest a hand on Trailbreaker’s shoulder.
He receives a faint smile in response.