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echoblaze5 · 6 days

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Growing Up, But Never Apart

A one-shot for @echoblaze5.

Happy Birthday! :)

Wildbreak was too young to remember it, when Strongarm first left the Well.

As far back as he could recall, the younger sparkling was just there—sitting beside him during their private lessons before there were enough sparklings for a classroom, giggling and shrieking as their green Wrecker uncle told them caregiver-approved stories, going on adventures and getting into lots of trouble.

“Wybie!” had actually been one of her first words, following only “Maggie”, “Jackie”, “Oppy”, “Bee”—and Wildbreak wasn’t sure when it started, but the smaller sparkling would launch herself at his back or chest like a cannonball in greeting and cling to his arm when excited.

As they grew up, they spent all the time they shared in the same room attached at the hip. When Wildbreak first had to begin his career, he could remember feeling exposed and vulnerable because he had to spend his days away from Strongarm—only for a sense of comfort to wash over him every night when he went home and found his best friend where she had always been and eager to ask about his day. No matter how tired he was, he would humor her—maybe even allow himself to be tugged along onto another misadventure, arguing for the sake of deniability while the weary smile never left his face.

Then, Strongarm went into training for the Elite Guard—and while they constantly called and texted, it could be weeks at a time between their reunions, and Wildbreak couldn’t help how lonely he felt. He was the oldest of a new, post-war generation of Cybertronians—and Strongarm was second by a few years, closer in age to those who followed than to Wildbreak. Between that and her adventurous, witty personality, Wildbreak had no doubts that she could easily make new friends with far more similar interests—even with the strict adherence to the rules (when it suited her) which she had inherited from Ultra Magnus.

Nothing scared Wildbreak more than growing apart from his best, dearest, oldest, only friend—but he never said a word about it. Strongarm had her own life to live, and Wildbreak was happy because he knew she was happy.

He was lonely, but content to sit at the front desk of his private medical practice and scroll through the texts Strongarm sent after a long day, hearing her voice in her words and smiling.

It had more than occurred to Wildbreak that he depended on those texts, on Strongarm. That had been the story of their childhood.

The first sparkling of a revived Cybertron, the child of Decepticons—Wildbreak knew his very existence inspired controversy. By the time he was old enough to remember, Team Prime had rallied around his caregiver to defend the little family, but that did not remove all threats.

It didn’t matter that he was only a child.

To bitter victors, he represented a sickness that Optimus Prime’s tiny team had failed to burn off of the face of Cybertron.

To the bitter defeated, he represented the betrayal of his turncoat caregiver and the failure of a cause long corrupted.

Adults looked to him, his dark and sharp armor and his yellow optics, with disgust and scorn—and they raised their sparklings to do the same, to him and all of those who followed him as the descendants of Decepticons.

But then, a servo reached up and grabbed his—and Wildbreak was suddenly standing side-by-side with the second-eldest sparkling of a revived Cybertron, her armor mostly white and her narrowed optics a bright blue.

She protected him.

Like her fathers before her, she was witty and fast and not afraid of malicious compliance when it served a greater goal. Her words were like razors. Her optics blazed. She made her body into a shield for the larger sparkling.

And then, she would turn back… and she would smile at him, like he was the best thing on the face of Cybertron and she could not fathom how anyone believed otherwise.

She knew, of course—she always knew.

Strongarm just didn’t care.

At times, Wildbreak felt like her shadow—towering over the bolder sparkling from behind, there to tug her back from the edge of peril or patch up her wounds after a particularly Wrecker-worthy stunt. She would smile apologetically, and he’d huff and sigh and complain about the constant recklessness but always smile back.

She got them into trouble.

He got them out of it.

They looked after each other.

They both had fun.

That was the deal.

But how much did Strongarm really need her shadow, now? The child of Wreckers, a prodigy of the Elite Guard. She was the first sparkling of the Autobots, the victors, and—while family kept the pressure off—she still in every way represented Cybertron’s bright future to the populace.

Nothing lasts forever, Wildbreak supposed. If childhood friends grow apart, it is only natural. Their paths diverge, and they quietly go their own way. There might not even be a true ‘goodbye’.

Wildbreak could live with that, couldn’t he? As long as he knew that, somewhere, Strongarm was still smiling and protecting those who needed her most… he could live with it, and smile as well.

Right?

The quiet, melodic chime of the door to his clinic opening roused Wildbreak from his thoughts, and he glanced up from his long-forgotten monitor to greet whoever had entered. His optics found that familiar smile, and his own smile appeared.

“Hey, Wybie!” Strongarm leaned over the raised counter to peer down at the seated medic, her blue optics shining. “Busy day?”

“Quiet,” Wildbreak corrected her. “As usual.”

He only ever seemed to get Decepticon patrons, and only those who were doing a fair job of adjusting into the shared world Team Prime was still trying to make—even a million years later.

The front window had been smashed more than a few times, even though the combined efforts of Knockout, Wheeljack, and two Ratchets had ensured that his little practice on a street corner was the most-secure building outside of the Iacon Hall of Records itself.

He had Kimia running for its money, even with all of Wheeljack’s… ‘precautions’.

Wildbreak didn’t mind the quiet, though.

He helped whoever trusted him enough to ask, and there were some who did.

That was enough.

“You’ve got new marks,” Wildbreak noted, squinting as she examined his companion’s scuffed-up frame. “Rough day?”

“Sparring,” Strongarm replied. “And my opponent was a fair bit bigger than me.”

“You win?”

“Went for the knees. They went down like a house of cards. I feel just a little bad.”

“Just a little?”

“Just a little.”

The two of them laughed, then Wildbreak sat back in his chair. “Glad that one of us managed some productivity, even if our respective goals were… as opposite as it gets.”

“Think anyone would mind if you closed up early?” Strongarm inquired. “I was thinking we could go for a drive.” Her smile became a bit devious. “Maybe even a race?”

Wildbreak raised an optic-brow.

It was an unspoken understanding between the two of them that every one of their races would end in an undisputed tie.

Strongarm did not inherit the perfectly streamlined frame and high horsepower of Wheeljack, nor the massive size and power of Ultra Magnus, but instead a combination of the two: small but bulky, with a strong frame and engine power that could probably tug a train-car. Untethered, she was hardly agile but could race the wind in a straight line.

Meanwhile, Wildbreak found he had inherited Breakdown’s size and physical might but also his lack of speed and agility. However, what he did have of Knockout was his influence—his love of competition, of racing, the adventure and the thrill of it all. Passion did not meet reality though, as he was even a late-bloomer when it came to learning how to transform. Knockout was patient and kind with him through it all—and then Strongarm, a prodigy, finally helped him figure it out… and then, for the rest of their lives, they always drove side-by-side.

She could outpace him easily, but never did. She’d even insist that he was the faster vehicle, against all logic and reason.

Just another thing that Wildbreak would always be grateful for, and terrified to lose… but willing to, if it meant better for her.

“It wouldn’t exactly be ethical,” Wildbreak mused, leaning over the desk and propping his chin on a clawed servo as he grinned up at her. “But if anyone asks, I can always just blame you.”

Strongarm snorted, not at all concerned. “Yeah, you can—but you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” Wildbreak agreed, then he logged off of his monitor and stood.

Strongarm’s face lit up, her winglets raising in her excitement, and Wildbreak wordlessly walked around the counter to face her.

He rolled his optics dramatically, then he led the way out of the storefront—and he made no hurry of locking up for the night.

“… Ten,” he finally said, his back turned to his best friend. “Nine. Eight. Seven-”

He smirked as Strongarm transformed. “Six-five-four-three-two-one, GO!”

In spite of the rushed countdown, the young Guard still did not move until Wildbreak had transformed—and then, they were off.

A benefit of the unaligned medic having a small clinic on the outskirts of Iacon was that the two Cybertronians didn’t have to go far to leave the city limits—and from there, Strongarm could let the strict regulations crowding her mind go and let loose (to the extent she would, driving beside Wildbreak).

Wildbreak wondered how fast she could actually go. If Strongarm knew, she had never told him. The same part of him that was grateful was also sad. She didn’t outrun her shadow. Did he really hold her back?

“Careful!” Strongarm’s voice roused him from his thoughts, and he realized that they were about to arrive at a turn.

It was hardly sharp and Wildbreak knew his companion could take it easily at their current speed, but he couldn’t and hadn’t been slowing down. His engine revved as embarrassment flared up in his spark, but he decelerated with her to take the turn.

They drove in a tense quiet after that, and the medic knew that she knew something was off. Both of them had always been far too perceptive for their own good.

The tension eased a bit when they arrived at the shore of the Sea of Energon, and drove alongside it—following the natural curves of the shining coastline. Wildbreak let out a vent that he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, while Strongarm abided by the comfortable yet exciting enough pace he’d set.

Finally, they pulled over and transformed, and Wildbreak watched as Strongarm rolled out her shoulders and rested her servos on her hips—smiling as she gazed out over the glowing sea. Then, the cadet sighed and looked back at him with a raised optic-brow—her smile becoming just a bit wry.

“You gonna tell me what’s been bugging you, now?” She asked, and Wildbreak huffed. “You’ve been quiet lately, Wybie—even for you. Lots of one-word responses to texts, lots of one-sided conversations.” She grew a bit nervous. “Have I done something wrong? You can tell me, and I’ll-”

“No, no,” Wildbreak said quickly, then he sighed and walked over to stand beside the smaller Cybertronian—crossing his arms as he let his optics fall on the liquid Energon that seemed to stretch on forever. “I just-… I think that I’m just finally realizing that we’re not kids anymore, and… it’s scaring me.”

“Wybie, you’re barely out of school and I haven’t even finished training,” Strongarm reminded him, trying to make light of things for his sake. “That, and we still largely live with our parents.”

Wildbreak pouted a bit at that. “We have our own quarters, and you’re mostly at your dorm…”

“Yeah, but I’m also not exactly rushing to move out once I graduate. Rent is expensive, I’ll coast on the Team Prime legacy as long as possible,” Strongarm remarked, and they both chuckled. “We may be ‘adults’, but we’re not exactly adults.”

“I hate that you just made sense,” Wildbreak mused, and Strongarm snickered. “… I guess that the scariest part is… seeing less of you, now.” He heard her armor move as she tensed up beside him. “Getting older, finding our own way… I never realized just how often we were together. Now that we’re not ‘attached at the hip’ like we were, I just- It’s taking a lot of getting used to.”

Wildbreak felt silly, saying it out-loud.

But his friend didn’t laugh, or tease.

“… How do you think I felt, when you started leaving Iacon every day to run your clinic?” Strongarm asked softly, and he looked at her in surprise. “I’d go to school without you, come back to do homework, and just… wait for you to come home.” She gave a small smile, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Heh. All of my brothers and Sari would hold interventions sometimes, come and kidnap me just to get me out of the building so that I wouldn’t just be ‘wallowing in the quiet’.” She glanced over at Wildbreak. “Those are Smokescreen’s words, not mine.”

“What about your friends from school, kids your age?” Wildbreak asked. “I would’ve thought, after I left, that-” He saw Strongarm look away, and he was left staring. “I didn’t- I didn’t know, Armi.”

“I know. I didn’t want you to. I thought that you’d feel bad, and… I was so proud of you, so happy for you. And you were tired all the time after work, but… you were happy.” Strongarm looked back at the sea, optics shining. “That’s all I ever wanted for you, so… I was alright with waiting.”

Wildbreak was at a loss for words, then he closed his optics. “You shouldn’t have to, though. Armi, you-… You shouldn’t have to spend your whole life waiting for me.”

“I don’t have to,” Strongarm insisted easily. “I want to, Wybie.”

“But waiting for me, coming to find me, even just taking the time to text me all those paragraphs about your day just to- Just to make my day.” The medic shook his head. “It’s a lot.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I text you those long paragraphs every day because you’re my best friend, and the only one outside of my family who never seems to mind my rambling?” Strongarm asked, a bit of exasperation in her voice.

Wildbreak looked at his friend incredulously. “Mind? Why would anyone mind?“

As soon as he said it, he knew it must have sounded like a stupid question. Growing up, Strongarm had dealt with a constant barrage of people—other sparklings, even adults—trying to curb her enthusiasm for topics they found dull.

A teacher even called her caregivers in to discuss Strongarm’s lively chatter. One look from Ultra Magnus and one surprisingly profound lecture from Wheeljack on the sorry state of education, and they never made that mistake again.

“Not everyone wants to hear the minuscule details of the protocol I needlessly applied to an everyday situation,” Strongarm said quietly. “In fact, outside of my family… it’s usually just you.”

Wildbreak sighed. “But you’re always so excited, Armi. I love hearing you talk about that stuff.”

“… And you really think that I don’t need you just as much as you need me?” Strongarm asked, giving a small smirk as she raised an optic-brow again. “That-? That I could ever mind waiting for you to come home, or driving out to see you, or texting you my rants… or even just coming to knock some sense into you, when I get to hold the processor for a moment and can tell that there’s something wrong… and that the person I am closest to in any universe seems to have forgotten exactly how much he means to me?”

Wildbreak huffed softly, giving a small smile. “… Well, when you put it that way-" He heard Strongarm snort. “Stop.”

“Nope.” Strongarm shook her head as she wrapped an arm around his larger frame. “You were a dummy and sent yourself into a tailspin. You totally earned this.”

“Ugh.” Wildbreak rolled his optics, then couldn’t help but grin as he glanaced down at his closest friend again. “Heh.”

“Hm.” Strongarm sent her own fond look back at him, that usual smile… the one that said that he was the best thing on the face of Cybertron and she could not fathom how anyone—including Wildbreak himself— believed otherwise. Then, she wrapped her arms around his arm. “C’mon, we’re having a sleepover.”

“Armi, we are adults,” Wildbreak argued even as he allowed her to tug him along—and he deadpanned as she snorted again. “We are! And you have class tomorrow morning!”

“I also have access to a bridge nexus,” Strongarm reminded him smugly. “Just swallow your pride and accept your fate already, Wybie. You’re never shaking me. I’m your problem, forever.”

She giggled, and Wildbreak sighed before his tired smile returned. “You’re not my problem.”

“Oh, I’m a little bit of a problem,” Strongarm disagreed, then she smirked. “Keep fighting it, and I might just have to prove it you.”

“Nope, nope.” Wildbreak shook his head. “I’m good, I believe you. You’re my problem, always—just like I’m always gonna be yours.”

For some reason, saying it like that didn’t feel silly—even though, by all reason, it should have.

Some of Wildbreak’s anxieties were still present, but they were shoved to the back of his mind.

Strongarm always did have a knack for chasing monsters away, even when they were monsters of his own making. And if that ever came back to bite her, then he’d be right there to patch her up.

“Hey,” her voice roused him from his thoughts again, and he glanced down to see Strongarm raising an optic-brow. “Y’know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Wildbreak replied, his whole frame relaxing as the last tension left. “I love you, too.”

Strongarm searched his face with her optics for a moment, then nodded and smiled once she was satisfied—releasing his arm to rest her servos on her hips once more. “Race you back to Iacon?“

“You’re on,” Wildbreak agreed, then he smirked. “You should know that I will be fixing your finish, once we get there. And checking for dents.”

“Wybie!”

“Just swallow your pride, and accept your fate.”

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