(no subject)
After the events of their first Nexus outing (not the good ones, the bit that ended in poultry talks), our intrepid heroes found themselves feeling more than a bit rattled...
“Slaggit.”
Iceberg was sitting on the bunk, trying to focus on compiling the team’s equipment list. It wasn’t working. Even keeping his frustrated stare on the datapad in his hands was difficult.
Out of the corner of his left optic, he saw Ransack twisting around to give him a worried look. Iceberg looked up and gave him a half-hearted smile by way of reassurance.
That didn’t work either. But that was all right, in a way. It was Ransack’s job not to let it work.
“Are you all right?” the green Minicon asked, picking up a couple of cubes from the counter and coming over to him.
Iceberg snorted. “Well as I can be, yeah.” He accepted the cube Ransack handed him with one hand, vaguely grateful when his partner sat down next to him. There was silence for a moment while he sipped it and Ransack took out his siphon.
“Nasty shock, that was,” Ransack commented. Iceberg didn’t answer, though part of his mind was fervently agreeing.
After a minute, he lowered the cube and stared at it. “I’m sorry.”
He could feel Ransack shifting to look at him directly. The green Minicon didn’t ask ‘what for?’ - after all this time, he could probably guess what was bothering his teammate.
Iceberg sighed. “I can’t believe I went to pieces on you like that. I shouldn’t have. I mean, when was the last time I did something like that?”
“Actually,” Ransack said quietly, “I can’t remember. I… it rather worried me, seeing you shaken that badly.”
“It’s not like we haven’t been rattled before,” Iceberg said unhappily. “Primus knows we’ve been through the turbines before. But I flat-out panicked back there and… Ransack, believe me, it won’t happen again.”
“Iceberg… it was Unicron. I can’t blame you for being upset. It scared me, too.”
“But you didn’t start gibbering,” Iceberg pointed out. “You held your ground. Me - I’m surprised no-one was decapitated by the shrapnel. And that’s - that’s not like me. That’s what really bothers me. Going to pieces is supposed to be Dune Runner’s thing…”
“We were missing him,” Ransack said thoughtfully. “That can’t have helped.”
Iceberg said nothing. It was disturbing beyond words to spend years building up a habit of being the cool, steady one in a crisis, and then to have that habit broken in a matter of minutes. Ransack might not be as steady, but maybe that was why he’d been able to bounce back. Iceberg shattered and melted; Ransack got knocked and charged back ahead anyway.
Maybe if Dune Runner had been about, it would have been better. Having someone to reassure and steady often helped distract you from panicking yourself.
If ever I said Sanders had no use, I take it back now. All of it.
It wasn’t as if Unicron had even been that bad, when he thought about it. He’d just talked to them, and even that had been enough. Iceberg didn’t know how to deal with that. Guilt and embarrassment weren't high on his preferred emotions list.
“Damnit, that git just gives me the creeps,” he muttered. “In the same way an earthquake gives a hut the shakes.”
Ransack’s visor brightened slightly. He’d be wearing a gentle smile were he human. “If he didn’t, Iceberg, I’d be deeply worried about your sense of self-preservation.”
“Yeah,” the orange Minicon muttered. Then he gave a weak laugh. “Yeah. That explains it. You did fine ‘cause you haven’t got one.”
Ransack chuckled. “There you are, then.” He settled a little closer to his teammate, tyres touching treads, a companionable presence by the other’s side. Iceberg sat back and let his smaller partner lean on him slightly. It was a state of affairs long established, seldom shaken. It could do with being re-established.
Iceberg returned to his energon cube. He was slightly more relaxed now; he wasn’t sipping tensely as before, but drinking properly, and so he was nearly finished when Dune Runner came through the door in a swirl of sand a moment later, calling, “Hey, guys, did I miss anything?”
Ransack and Iceberg blinked at him through the settling sand and considered whether to pounce him.
“You…” Iceberg growled, and launched himself at the yellow technician. Dune Runner gave a yelp and tried to dodge. He wasn’t successful.
He got a light smack upside the head. “Ow! What’s that for?”
“Going out when you knew we were coming!” Iceberg gripped him by the shoulder-tyres and gave him a shaking.
Dune Runner tried to rub his head around his partner’s arms. “Knew? Are you joking? For all I knew, you’d be here next decade! You belated idiots’re just lucky I bothered to put up a note!”
“Why did you, if you didn’t think we’d be coming?”
“On the off-chance! Everything happens on the off-chance around here! Let go, dimbulb!”
Ransack kicked Iceberg in the leg. “Let him go. We’ve got packing to do.”
“Packing?” Dune Runner’s head whipped round. “Where’re we going?”
“Jungle Planet,” said Ransack, retrieving Iceberg’s datapad from here it had fallen.
“We’ve got a mission,” Iceberg added, letting go of his partner’s shoulder-tyres. “Thank Sparkplug.”
“I will, later,” Dune Runner grumbled. Iceberg moved away and took the datapad from Ransack, looking back over it with a more focused optic.
He could feel Dune Runner watching, looking between them both, analysing the echoes of strain in their voices and movements.
“Is something wrong?”
Iceberg looked up and around at him, then exchanged a glance with Ransack.
“Tell you later?” said Iceberg helplessly.
“Tell me now,” said Dune Runner.
“Give it a bit,” Ransack suggested. “I’m not up to explaining now.”
“Give me a quick summary, at least,” Dune Runner said, exasperated.
They exchanged a look again, as Iceberg re-seated himself on the bunk and made himself comfortable. “Well, all right,” Ransack said uncertainly. “How about… ‘Dad’.”
Iceberg counted a full three seconds in which the only sound was the wind picking up outside the hut. It was a kinda pretty sound, he mused. Maybe Dune Runner had a point about the desert.
Dune Runner’s visor flickered. “Uh…”
“Yeah,” said Iceberg wearily, sitting back and watching him. “Basically.”
Dune Runner hesitated. “I… are you-”
“Fine.” Iceberg gave up on the datapad and tossed it at him. “Go and see what you can find for that, will you? We’ll talk about it when you get back.”
Dune Runner caught it without shifting his gaze from his team-mates. “Are you sure?”
“Positive, Sanders. Just need to get my processor straight, is all.”
That seemed to help. The yellow Minicon relaxed a bit, and turned to go. He paused at the door, though.
“Guys? Sorry I wasn’t-”
“Oh, not you, too,” Ransack moaned. “Listen, both of you, all is forgiven, even though there was nothing to forgive in the first place, so stop getting your servos in a twist!”
They stared at him.
“Y’know, he might’ve had a point about the insanity thing,” Iceberg muttered.
“You might have had a point about the nap,” said Dune Runner. He pointed at Ransack. “Give him one before I get back. I’m not coming in, otherwise.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And now they’re ganging up on me,” said Ransack. “Charming.”
“Your own fault.” Iceberg said, as Dune Runner charged outside in the face of another blast of sand. “You’ve got a bad habit of taking on two opponents at once.”
“Good point.”
“I know it is.” Iceberg’s tone was sharp, but he softened his expression a bit and brushed the sand off Ransack’s shoulder. “And you know, Ransack… sometimes I’m really glad of it.”
“Slaggit.”
Iceberg was sitting on the bunk, trying to focus on compiling the team’s equipment list. It wasn’t working. Even keeping his frustrated stare on the datapad in his hands was difficult.
Out of the corner of his left optic, he saw Ransack twisting around to give him a worried look. Iceberg looked up and gave him a half-hearted smile by way of reassurance.
That didn’t work either. But that was all right, in a way. It was Ransack’s job not to let it work.
“Are you all right?” the green Minicon asked, picking up a couple of cubes from the counter and coming over to him.
Iceberg snorted. “Well as I can be, yeah.” He accepted the cube Ransack handed him with one hand, vaguely grateful when his partner sat down next to him. There was silence for a moment while he sipped it and Ransack took out his siphon.
“Nasty shock, that was,” Ransack commented. Iceberg didn’t answer, though part of his mind was fervently agreeing.
After a minute, he lowered the cube and stared at it. “I’m sorry.”
He could feel Ransack shifting to look at him directly. The green Minicon didn’t ask ‘what for?’ - after all this time, he could probably guess what was bothering his teammate.
Iceberg sighed. “I can’t believe I went to pieces on you like that. I shouldn’t have. I mean, when was the last time I did something like that?”
“Actually,” Ransack said quietly, “I can’t remember. I… it rather worried me, seeing you shaken that badly.”
“It’s not like we haven’t been rattled before,” Iceberg said unhappily. “Primus knows we’ve been through the turbines before. But I flat-out panicked back there and… Ransack, believe me, it won’t happen again.”
“Iceberg… it was Unicron. I can’t blame you for being upset. It scared me, too.”
“But you didn’t start gibbering,” Iceberg pointed out. “You held your ground. Me - I’m surprised no-one was decapitated by the shrapnel. And that’s - that’s not like me. That’s what really bothers me. Going to pieces is supposed to be Dune Runner’s thing…”
“We were missing him,” Ransack said thoughtfully. “That can’t have helped.”
Iceberg said nothing. It was disturbing beyond words to spend years building up a habit of being the cool, steady one in a crisis, and then to have that habit broken in a matter of minutes. Ransack might not be as steady, but maybe that was why he’d been able to bounce back. Iceberg shattered and melted; Ransack got knocked and charged back ahead anyway.
Maybe if Dune Runner had been about, it would have been better. Having someone to reassure and steady often helped distract you from panicking yourself.
If ever I said Sanders had no use, I take it back now. All of it.
It wasn’t as if Unicron had even been that bad, when he thought about it. He’d just talked to them, and even that had been enough. Iceberg didn’t know how to deal with that. Guilt and embarrassment weren't high on his preferred emotions list.
“Damnit, that git just gives me the creeps,” he muttered. “In the same way an earthquake gives a hut the shakes.”
Ransack’s visor brightened slightly. He’d be wearing a gentle smile were he human. “If he didn’t, Iceberg, I’d be deeply worried about your sense of self-preservation.”
“Yeah,” the orange Minicon muttered. Then he gave a weak laugh. “Yeah. That explains it. You did fine ‘cause you haven’t got one.”
Ransack chuckled. “There you are, then.” He settled a little closer to his teammate, tyres touching treads, a companionable presence by the other’s side. Iceberg sat back and let his smaller partner lean on him slightly. It was a state of affairs long established, seldom shaken. It could do with being re-established.
Iceberg returned to his energon cube. He was slightly more relaxed now; he wasn’t sipping tensely as before, but drinking properly, and so he was nearly finished when Dune Runner came through the door in a swirl of sand a moment later, calling, “Hey, guys, did I miss anything?”
Ransack and Iceberg blinked at him through the settling sand and considered whether to pounce him.
“You…” Iceberg growled, and launched himself at the yellow technician. Dune Runner gave a yelp and tried to dodge. He wasn’t successful.
He got a light smack upside the head. “Ow! What’s that for?”
“Going out when you knew we were coming!” Iceberg gripped him by the shoulder-tyres and gave him a shaking.
Dune Runner tried to rub his head around his partner’s arms. “Knew? Are you joking? For all I knew, you’d be here next decade! You belated idiots’re just lucky I bothered to put up a note!”
“Why did you, if you didn’t think we’d be coming?”
“On the off-chance! Everything happens on the off-chance around here! Let go, dimbulb!”
Ransack kicked Iceberg in the leg. “Let him go. We’ve got packing to do.”
“Packing?” Dune Runner’s head whipped round. “Where’re we going?”
“Jungle Planet,” said Ransack, retrieving Iceberg’s datapad from here it had fallen.
“We’ve got a mission,” Iceberg added, letting go of his partner’s shoulder-tyres. “Thank Sparkplug.”
“I will, later,” Dune Runner grumbled. Iceberg moved away and took the datapad from Ransack, looking back over it with a more focused optic.
He could feel Dune Runner watching, looking between them both, analysing the echoes of strain in their voices and movements.
“Is something wrong?”
Iceberg looked up and around at him, then exchanged a glance with Ransack.
“Tell you later?” said Iceberg helplessly.
“Tell me now,” said Dune Runner.
“Give it a bit,” Ransack suggested. “I’m not up to explaining now.”
“Give me a quick summary, at least,” Dune Runner said, exasperated.
They exchanged a look again, as Iceberg re-seated himself on the bunk and made himself comfortable. “Well, all right,” Ransack said uncertainly. “How about… ‘Dad’.”
Iceberg counted a full three seconds in which the only sound was the wind picking up outside the hut. It was a kinda pretty sound, he mused. Maybe Dune Runner had a point about the desert.
Dune Runner’s visor flickered. “Uh…”
“Yeah,” said Iceberg wearily, sitting back and watching him. “Basically.”
Dune Runner hesitated. “I… are you-”
“Fine.” Iceberg gave up on the datapad and tossed it at him. “Go and see what you can find for that, will you? We’ll talk about it when you get back.”
Dune Runner caught it without shifting his gaze from his team-mates. “Are you sure?”
“Positive, Sanders. Just need to get my processor straight, is all.”
That seemed to help. The yellow Minicon relaxed a bit, and turned to go. He paused at the door, though.
“Guys? Sorry I wasn’t-”
“Oh, not you, too,” Ransack moaned. “Listen, both of you, all is forgiven, even though there was nothing to forgive in the first place, so stop getting your servos in a twist!”
They stared at him.
“Y’know, he might’ve had a point about the insanity thing,” Iceberg muttered.
“You might have had a point about the nap,” said Dune Runner. He pointed at Ransack. “Give him one before I get back. I’m not coming in, otherwise.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And now they’re ganging up on me,” said Ransack. “Charming.”
“Your own fault.” Iceberg said, as Dune Runner charged outside in the face of another blast of sand. “You’ve got a bad habit of taking on two opponents at once.”
“Good point.”
“I know it is.” Iceberg’s tone was sharp, but he softened his expression a bit and brushed the sand off Ransack’s shoulder. “And you know, Ransack… sometimes I’m really glad of it.”