Chapter Text
When the Autobots and Decepticons agreed on a truce to deal with the threat of Unicron, everyone was sure it wouldn't last. Even Scrapper did, but lo and behold, it did. Somehow, by the Grace of Primus, the truce held. So far, it did anyway, at least for as long as Megatron and Prime could keep from stirring it up again with their ideological arguments, which Scrapper sometimes overheard while they did renovations on the Command Meeting Room.
There was a lot of banging in there, and he just hoped they didn't damage the foundations they had just completed. So effectively, the war was over until further notice, and with the threat of Unicron dealt with, the Bots and Cons were starting to intermingle. He'd already seen Starscream and Skyfire trying and failing to be discreet in the washracks when they were working on the piping. That was something Scrapper wished he could unhear. Who knew Screamer was a size queen? Deadlock had been lingering quite a bit in the medbay, hoping to see a certain wrench-throwing medic he was smitten with, according to Hook.
Even Vortex of all mechs was actually playing nice for once and trying to schmooze that medic from the Protectobots. Friendships were being rekindled and forged all over the new base built out of the Ark and what remained of the Nemesis. Put, he'd even seen Shockwave shoot a calculating optic to that new fast-talking speedster that put that little Sniper Bluestreak to shame. Scrapper shivered when he thought of the possibility of Shockwave, of all mecha, being romantic. He didn't think that mech even knew what love was. More than likely, he was just analyzing the speedster to dissect him later.
It seemed inter-factional love was in the air of New Cybertron, and try as he might, Scrapper himself was far from immune. The same went for the rest of his Gestalt. During the fight against Unicron, they'd grown, let's say, an appreciation for Prime's right hand, the Autobot tactician Prowl. His plan was precise and fine-tuned in a way that Scrapper could only admire, and he'd been key in winning them many a battle against Unicron's heralds. Those feelings only grew when he saved Scavenger when he was cornered in a particularly rough battle. Soon, they began noticing countless little details about the Datsun. He was cold, but cared for his mecha. Seen as ruthless, yet was still affected by the losses, even though not many noticed.
His plans rivaled Scrapper's own, and he had a sense of perfection and precise attention to detail that Hook appreciated. He had a bit of a dry wit and a bit of a sarcastic streak from his interactions with those he felt comfortable enough to let his walls down around, which Long Haul admired. His fury was a burning flame that scorched those who touched it, and Bonecrusher loved to stoke it. His preference for bittersweet energon flavorings, but also had a secret sweet tooth, as he still ate any treat Bluestreak offered. Mixmaster would be inspired and make similarly flavored things. Though Scrapper was unsure about what to make of his forays into the human culinary world and the 'creations' that were born from that. He also appreciated crystals, and Scavenger would constantly be gifting him them as thanks for saving him.
Before anyone in the Gestalt knew it, their appreciation soon blossomed into admiration, which further evolved into a flat-out ginormous, Devastator-sized crush on the Praxian. They started small, content with watching him from afar as he did his work and rounds around the base. They admired his work ethic, and Bonecrusher particularly loved showing off for him whenever he came to check on their progress of building the city. Hook would encourage him to take care of himself whenever Ratchet forced him into the medbay for a tune-up. Scrapper's fingers would brush against his when he came into his office to hand him progress reports.
But for all that brilliant processor, it didn't seem Prowl had noticed their affections. Eventually, just admiring from afar became unbearable, especially when Long Haul had caught that Neutral merc Lockdown staring at his aft. He summarily got beaten up for it, much to Prowl's annoyance when he scolded them for beating the mercenary who was here because he was a contact that had important information on things like renegade Decepticons and Autobots who didn't want to admit the war was effectively over. Though it really went over their heads because Prowl just looked so good when he was pissed and punishing mechs.
Screw connections, that mech was dead if he looked at Prowl that way again! They gladly risked another scolding from the oblivious Praxian, but alas, after his brawl with Long Haul, it seemed he finally got the hint. Bonecrusher sure did like to make sure he did, as he growled if he even got within a few meters of Prowl's vicinity. So realizing that other mechs may beat them to the punch if they didn't take action, Scrapper called an emergency Gestalt meeting. They unanimously agreed they had to snatch him up before any other mech did.
Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Each Constructicons had tried their own methods of wooing the serious tactician, with varying, less-than-stellar results. Long Haul always tried to offer to carry his load of paperwork for him whenever he could, only to be acknowledged with a flick of the wings and told, 'Apologies, but these are important documents, Long Haul. I need to be the one handling them, and they are not very heavy anyway.'
Mixmaster tried to leave him fuel on his desk before he came in every morning and even asked Barricade, who was a fellow Praxian, and Sideswipe, a fellow Autobot, what Prowl might like. The interceptor and Lamborghini simply shared a look and smirked as they listed off mercury and grated gears as Prowl's favorite toppings on his wheelnuts, and Mixmaster made them enthusiastically. Unfortunately, Prowl, being the workaholic he was, would end up forgetting about it as he worked until late. When Bluestreak came in talking about his day, he'd notice the treats, and Prowl would say Sideswipe and Sunstreaker likely left them here as a prank. Then he'd offer to let the younger Praxian have them if he wanted, since he didn't care for those toppings, and mercury usually gave him headaches anyway. Mixmaster was a bit dismayed as his carefully made treats were eaten by the wrong person. He was more annoyed at those stupid Lamborghinis who ruined fuel for Prowl with their pranks.
But above all, he was absolutely livid at Sideswipe and Barricade for intentionally giving him bad info to mess with his Autobot counterpart. Needless to say, the Decepticon Praxian had been thoroughly beaten to the Pit and back. Sure, Mixmaster had stayed in the brig for a while after, but it had been worth it. If he could, he'd do the same to Sideswipe, but the little weasel had escaped, knowing what was coming from sheer experience. Those heaps of junk tried to use him to get at Prowl! That was something the mixing truck couldn't forgive, and Mixmaster later finished his revenge by adding a small, minor, insignificant, really, liquid that in the Lambo's energon later that day, which caused him to have uncontrollable oil leaks for a few days. Sideswipe seemed to take it in stride, able to respect a good prank-back.
Whenever Prowl entered (read: was dragged in by Jazz or Ratchet) the medbay for a tune-up, Hook would note that he was feeling stressed lately. He tried to subtly offer to polish and wax him as he tried his best to look at him with 'bedroom' optics. Prowl only responded that he had already polished earlier that day, but asked if he truly looked unpresentable for his meeting later that day. Hook could only sputter as he attempted to backtrack from that flop without accidentally offending the tactician. Curse First Aid's trashy romance novels! They didn't help at all! That was the last time he took romantic advice from a medic with a major BDSM kink and an attack helicopter hovering around him!
Bonecrusher laughed at him for thinking that mushy scrap was gonna work. He then claimed he could and would do better. He found Prowl on the couch in the rec room, going over reports. Seriously, did he ever try to take a break? Still, Bonecrusher was determined to one-up Hook, and in a motion that looked inexplicably like he was slicking back hair he didn't have to psych himself up, he approached. He proceeded to sit next to the Praxian, put his arm over the couch behind him, and leaned in.
"How you doin'?" he started in his best smooth voice, adding a tongue click and a pistol finger for good measure. After a few minutes, Prowl's eyes widened, and he looked over to Bonecrusher. He grinned, happy that his pick-up line worked.
"I'm sorry, did you say something, Bonecrusher? I was just in a comm meeting with Soundwave, going over some security concerns he had."
At the mention of this and, even worse, the eyes and ears of the Decepticons being on the other line, Bonecrusher deflated. It was fine; he could still salvage this!
"Uh, I was just wondering if you were free to-"
*BOOM*
The room shook as a huge explosion sounded through the base, triggering the fire suppression systems and drenching them both. Prowl's wings shot up in alarm as he stood quicker than he ever had before.
"Apologies, but I have to go. I just got word from Optimus and Ratchet. Wheeljack and Brainstorm have decided it would be a good idea to try using nitroglycerin as a viable fuel source for a quantum engine. We'll continue this another time, Bonecrusher." With that, he marched out of the room like a mech on a mission, ready to read the inventor the riot act. Bonecrusher sighed, watching the lovely sight of Prowl's backside disappearing from view. He hated to see him leave, but loved to watch him go. It was fine; they could try again when they continued the conversations.
They did not get to continue it another time, as Wheeljack had somehow managed to blow up half the base, which caused more work for them and an incredible mountain of paperwork for Prowl. Bonecrusher wanted to throttle that Autobot!
But not as much as he wanted to wipe that smug look off Hook's face as they worked clearing away the debris.
"'How you doin'?' Really, Crusher?"
"Shut it, Hook!"
"Eyebrow wriggles? Really? You don't even have eyebrows!"
"Oh, like you did any better!"
"I'm only noting the sheer irony of you criticizing my attempt, only to go and try the corniest pick-up line right out of that Earth movie Thundercracker played in the rec room during movie night."
"Ay, don't be pokin' fun at Grease!" Bonecrusher had become quite obsessed with that movie, particularly the bravado of the male humans.
"I'll poke fun all I like, you hypocrite!"
"Snob!"
"Boor!"
"Nitpicking control freak!"
"I resent that, you imbecile!"
"Why I outta-"
"Constructions, Constructicons enough!" Scrapper said as he got between them to push them apart as they had gotten in each other's face, "We will handle this like rational mechs. Yes, both of your, er, attempts may not have worked out, but I have a foolproof plan."
"What kind of plan?" Hook inquired.
"One that will simply have to get Prowl's attention! Now get back to work!"
"Yes, boss!" They chorused.
Scrapper's plan was indeed foolproof. Wheeljack was in the medbay for the next few weeks so that fool wouldn't be able to get in his way this time. He also decided against taking advice from Earth movies and trashy media, and made sure to do it when Prowl wasn't busy. Though not before he meticulously planned out his gift. He'd gone to Prowl's fellow Praxians, Barricade and Smokescreen, and learned that Praxians had loved Crystals. So Scrapper had scrounged up what surviving crystal flora he could from Swindle on the black market, and labored for 4 nights over Prowl's gift. When the time came, he proudly came into his office during off-hours, knowing that the Praxian would still be in. He set his heavy, sheet-covered gift on the desk and pulled it back, presenting him with an entirely made of crystal scale model of Praxus, made 100% accurate. Well, it was mostly accurate, considering it had been completely destroyed in the first fires of war and not many recalled what it looked like anymore. But Scrapper didn't skimp on the details, and he even included little models of him, Prowl, and the rest of his Gestalt together in the Helix Gardens.
Prowl looked at the gift in an expression that was becoming awe, and then looked at Scrapper, who had a pleased as peach look on his face, very proud of his gift.
"What is this?" He inquired.
"I just wanted to give you something to show my appre-" Scrapper couldn't finish his words as the doors swished open to reveal an irate Starscream barging in.
"PROWL! I HAVE A COMPLAINT!" The Praxian's expression quickly morphed into one of deep, long suffering as he sighed and made to address him. Scrapper was affronted at the seeker's sheer audacity.
"Excuse me, we're in the middle of something!"
"Well, whatever dumb construction paperwork it is, I'm sure it can wait, Scraper!"
"It's Scrapper, you assho-" But the seeker just ignored him and turned to the Autobot Tactician.
"I have a complaint to make. Tell me, just why exactly does Lord Megatron get a bigger office on the top floor of the new embassy building, and I only get a middle floor? I'm a seeker! I need space! Elevation!" He dramatically yelled in disgust as he gestured to the sky with his hands.
Drama queen, no wait- more like size queen. He wished he could tell the seeker to go stuff it with his boyfriend's spike, but Prowl was right there, and he had to make a good impression. He didn't want to look like an oaf. But then the Seeker made it very hard when he proceeded to push everything off Prowl's meticulously kept desk, messing up his system and, more importantly, sending the gift that took Scrapper night cycles to make crashing to the floor! It all crashed and shattered, much like Scrapper's hopes and dreams, into a pile of shards on the floor. He wanted to murder him.
"I don't care what you do, just fix it!" Oh, Scrapper wanted to fix something, alright. That something was a certain seeker's voice box, so it couldn't let out such grating noises again.
Prowl just pinched the bridge of his nose, "This office format was decided based on Command Status and unanimously voted on. If you wanted a space on the top floor, you should have made an inquiry beforehand when the meeting was scheduled and before the office layout was finalized."
"Inquiry, shminquiry!" Scrapper's plating bristled at his brazen disrespect towards Prowl, "That buckethead doesn't need an office that high with a view that you can see for miles! He wouldn't even appreciate it! Not like a seeker would!"
Prowl just took a deep, heavy sigh. He seemed composed on the outside, but Scrapper had seen the Praxian's fury enough to know that underneath. Going by those twitching doorwings, he was clicks from exploding and clearly itching to flip Starscream right off that table. Scrapper hoped he did.
But alas, Prowl simply closed his eyes and counted to 10 before his wings stopped twitching. Scrapper cursed. Dammit! Those mandatory sessions with Rung were working too well!
"If you wish to make a proposition to have your office moved, you need to first fill out these forms and bring them to Ultra Magnus for approval by the next meeting." He almost seemed gleeful as he passive-aggressively hefted a stack of paperwork on the table for the seeker.
Starscream just looked at it in disgust.
"Ugh, whatever! I'll just go take it up with Magnus then!"
"You can, but I doubt he would inform you any differently. He's quite the stickler for proper paperwork."
Primus, he was hot when he was being vindictive.
The seeker scoffed and rolled his eyes before snatching the stack from him and leaving as fast as he had come in. Like, an untamed whirlwind of pride and too much ego. Unfortunately, the damage had been done as Scrapper looked at the destroyed model on the floor and Prowl made to clean it up and get his desk back in order. He bent down to help.
"It's fine, Prowl, I'll get it." *CLANG* And that was the sound of him hitting their helms together as he bent down. This caused Prowl to reel back and hit the side of his of the desk, sending his heavy paper weight, gifted by Bluestreak, tumbling down and accidentally knocking him out in the process. Scrapper froze at what he'd just accidentally done and scrambled to call for a medic.
"Scrap, Prowl! I'm so sorry!" he tried as he tried to stand, only to clang his head once again on the Praxian's own helm again, trying to help him up.
Oh Primus.
To say Hook was amused that his leader's 'foolproof' plan crashed and burned by way of an annoying seeker flying in was the understatement of the century. But at least he didn't ridicule him for it. Bonecrusher just laughed in his face.
Prowl was fine, though, going by Ratchet's annoyed grumbles of how he needed the break from overworking his Tacnet, and if he didn't, he'd have knocked him out himself. He would just be nursing a slight helmache and dent in his chevron. Red Alert, on the other hand, immediately assumed it was an assassination attempt. They wanted to take Prowl out, yes, but not like that! Luckily Prime and that fire truck mech that Scrapper was about 90% he was in a relationship with that calmed Red Alert down before he glitched out and they had 2 high command members down to deal with. Scrapper was mortified when prowl walked into the canteen the next day with a small dent still on his chevron and clearly in a bad mood as Jazz teased him about it. Scrapper just slowly slunk underneath the table, too ashamed to face him.
When Scavenger's turn came next, the Constructicons held their breath. With their current track record, this was liable to end up offending or worse, grievously injuring their crush before they wooed him. But surprisingly, Scavenger had gone to Bluestreak for advice and managed to make some headway. The 2 mechs had gotten on like a house on fire during the Unicron War, as Bluestreak had been a great cover for Scavenger as he patrolled for energon deposits and covered Devastator's blind spots. He also helped his recovery when he was cornered and shot, taking out every Unicronian Herald in his way from miles away in his sniper nest. The fact that he was also close to Prowl was even better!
"How do you court a Praxian?" Bluestreak repeated when Scavenger came to him with the question, "Ooh, is it Prowl? I knew you guys had been crushing on him for a while now! I was wondering when you were gonna try to make a move! Though Prowl's about as dense as tungsten, so he probably didn't even notice." Yeah, they knew. That was the problem. "Hmm, maybe you should try something more flashy? There's not really a lot to go on. I was pretty young when Praxus fell, so I don't really remember a lot about Praxian courting. Ooh, but I do remember Smokey, telling me stories about mechs courting their crush by serenading them with music. See the sound bounced off the crystals and would harmonize with their voice. If the crush was accepted, they'd sing back in tune! This was why the Helix Gardens were such a popular place for mecha to propose Conjunx Ritus! I think I also remember there were some crystal-made instruments back then, too. They sure had a lot of different kinds! Now that I think about it, Earth had a bunch of different instruments too! If you wanna learn, you can come with me to Mirage's music class next week! He's just managed to get his hands on some instruments some humans were going to get rid of when that novelty giant musical instrument company went under."
He rambled on as he handed Scavenger a flier. "Mirage's Music Class: Guaranteed to bring culture back to Cybertron. Practice at 08:00 sharp next cycle!"
Well, at this point, things couldn't get any worse. It was worth a shot.
So that was how they found themselves seated with other Autobots and Decepticons in the recently built auditorium, holding comically large Earth trumpets as Mirage, with a bowtie on, lectured them all about how he was going to revive some culture by way of music to recreate the orchestra's famous in Crystal City. The class was abuzz with chatter. The larger mecha, like Astrotrain, who was holding a tuba, sat in the back. Ultra Magnus was also in the back for some reason and holding an almost too small xylophone with equally small sticks that looked almost comical for his large fingers. He looked disapprovingly at Whirl, who was here on parole. He sat there with an accordion and was laughing slowly as his claws fiddled with the keys, trying to make a fart sound. 2 newer mechs who had arrived on Earth during the UNicron War sat together holding hands. If Scrapper recalled right, their names were Octane and Sandstorm, the former a Decepticon and the latter an Autobot, who were finally able to go public with their relationship. Well, good on them!
The Aerial Bots were in the row across from them with a variety of wind instruments and, according to Silverbolt, were there as a team-building exercise. The Stunticons were behind them, as Drag Strip tried to rile up Slingshot before Motormaster, who everyone was surprised to see show up, smacked him on the back of his head with his cymbals, and growled at him to knock it off. When asked why he was here, he merely grunted out, 'My therapist thought I needed an 'outlet for my aggression,' whatever that means.' Seemed this Rung character was already making waves. Beachcomber was near the front and came because he was 'always down with any peaceful jam sessions!'
He was with the minibots up at the front next to Rumble and Frenzy, who were sword-fighting with their drumsticks. Ravage had her drumsticks in her mouth, but how she intended to play with them, the Constructicons didn't know. Soundwave sat behind them, giving them looks of disapproval. Asking why he was here, Soundwave only shared a recorded argument between him and Blaster in which the latter implied his musical skills sucked, and that was why he wasn't asked to help out with the class. His red visor glinted, and Scrapper couldn't be sure, but he was mostly sure Soundwave was death glaring in the direction of his counterpart, who caught his look and sent back a shit-eating grin.
"All right, all right, settle down, class! Thank you all for coming tonight! For those who don't know, I'm Mirage, and I'll be your maestro. Now, I know the war has really divided us, but I believe we can bond and reunite as a people while also reviving some of our beloved cultural landmarks by way of music. Now I myself am quite adept with the piccolo, but even if you're an amateur with no experience, I'm sure I can turn you all into music aficionados within an orm."
Everyone just stared at him and blinked.
"Now I have Jazz and Blaster, fellow aficionados here with me to provide additional guidance, and I also have Hound here to be my assistant." He gestured to the desk where Jazz sat with Blaster at the DJ booth they were setting up. Both mechs gave them smiles and a thumbs up. He also gestured to Hound behind him, who gave a shy smile.
"Now, before we get started, how many of you have played musical instruments before?"
Shockwave, (Shockwave?!), who was sitting right beside Soundwave, raised his one servo with his other holding a triangle dangling from the end.
"Do instruments of torture count?"
The screech of chairs sounded as several mechs scooted away from one-eyed mech. Soundwave, being the only mecha not perturbed by his co-worker due to having worked with him regularly for millennia, stayed where he was.
"Um, no?" Mirage answered with a worried look, though it sounded more like a question.
"Is mayonnaise an instrument?" Skywarp asked with a trombone under his arm. Thundercracker, who was next to him holding a saxophone and wearing a fedora and thick, round glasses, shot his trinemate a befuddled look.
Mirage winced. This was going to be a long class: "No Skywarp, mayonnaise is not an instrument."
His hand went up again.
"Horseradish isn't an instrument either." This time, TC's look grew extremely concerned. Mirage gave Hound a pleading look, and Hound returned it with a sympathetic smile.
"That's fine, that's fine. No one has any experience. Fortunately, we have enough talent for all of you!" Mirage joked.
No one laughed. Someone did cough, though. The bond hummed open as Long Haul complained.
'I thought this was supposed to help us court Prowl?'
'Yeah, this blows! Why are we even here?' Bonecrusher added.
'Ask Scavenger.' Hook deadpanned.
'Yeah, I was in the m-middle of trying to mix up a lo-love potion for Prowl, Scav!' It wasn't the worst idea, and they were beginning to get desperate. But Scrapper still decided to veto it. They were at peace, so drugging him was illegal now, and the copcar likely wouldn't appreciate it anyway.
'Shelve the love potion for now, Mix, we'll use it only as a last resort if Scavenger's idea doesn't work out,' Scapper assured. They didn't want to go down that path, not quite that desperate yet. If Prowl didn't hate them now, he definitely would then. Scavenger began to defend himself.
'Well, Bluestreak said this was how Praxians court each other a-and it's no like we have anything left to lose anyway!'
'You might not, but I still have my dignity.' Hook replied.
'What dignity? I thought that all went down the drain after that lame attempt of yours, Hook!' Bonecrusher jabbed.
'Oh, like yours was any better!'
Bonecrusher growled and almost twisted his trumpet.
'Both of you shut up and pay attention!' Scrapper's determined gaze was entirely focused on the front. He was ready to go and had also been taking notes. This just had to work! Luckily, he tuned out of the bond just in time for another one of these idiots to say something.
"When do you get the free fuel?" Whirl poked up his head and asked.
"Uhh," Mirage looked back at Hound, who just shrugged. Their flier didn't mention any free food, so what the frag?
"The hell? There wasn't anything about free fuel on the flier!" Gears snipped next to a bored Sunstreaker who held a harp.
"Wait, no food?" Grimlock asked, confused. Why the heck were the Dinobots here? They didn't even know what an instrument was!
"Ok, moving along. Try to repeat after me." Mirage played a few notes then gestured to the Constructicons.
"Brass section go!" They did their best to copy the notes.
"Good! Now the wind!" The Aerial Bots did the same.
"Now the drums!" This was where he lost them. If one looked close enough, they could see the light in Mirage's optics die slightly as the drum section full of Cassettes proceeded to blow on their dr umsticks like a flute. Soundwave just held his head in his hands in shame.
Suddenly, the drumsicks shot out of their intakes like projectiles straight at Mirage, who ducked for cover to no avail. They pinned Mirage to the wall by his, luckily there, suit. Jazz winced. Blaster just played the 'whump, whump whump, whuump' sound on his soundboard.
With a look of pure resignation, Mirage could only say.
"Too bad that didn't offline me."
Class went on relatively smoothly after that incident. Having pried Mirage down from the wall, he stood in front of the class again, this time holding a baton.
"Now, let's just try stepping in rhythm. Now I want everyone to stand in rows of 5," Scrapper cleared his throat, "or 6, that's good too!"
Rumble got up from his seat and raised his hand excitedly, "Is this the part where we start kicking?!"
"No Rumble, that's a chorus line," Mirage replied, ready to just be done with the night cycle.
Soundwave just facepalmed.
"Kicking?! I wanna do some kicking!" Skywarp shouted as he kicked Sunstreaker in the shin plate with an evil smirk on his face.
"NGH!" Sunstreaker cried in pain, then his eyes boored into the laughing seeker. "WHY YOU-" Sunstreaker trailed off as his face morphed into one of utter fury. The vain mech snatched up his French horn and tackled the purple seeker to pummel him, who then teleported them outside in reflex.
They could still hear the sounds of punching from inside the building. Then, things went completely silent as the whole class stared at the doors.
....
.....
........
"AHHHHH!" Skywarp's pained scream echoed from outside as everyone just stared at the doors.
...............
The door opened, and the seeker poked his head through.
"Uh, whoever left their trailer attachment parked outside, ya left your lights on." He awkwardly said. Magnus' eyes widened, and he rushed outside. Whirl began cackling evilly, now free of the one person keeping him from causing chaos.
Skywarp proceeded to walk the rest of the way in. Only, he had his wings and thrusters somehow twisted up in the trombone, and it sounded every step he took. The Aerial Bots winced as he sat down, making a long, drawn-out sound as the trombone's handle slid all the way down with a long, drawn-out 'WWWWOOOOOOMMMMP.' Thundercracker just put his face in his hands.
Scrapper just sighed and steeled himself. This was for Prowl. They were doing this for Prowl.
For the next few weeks of that orm, the class somehow managed to make things work. Though somehow, their 2 flag twirlers Blades and Vortex got sent to the medbay in a mid-air stunt collision. Though he had his suspicions, Vortex did it on purpose to both get out of the class and see that medic of his, while also getting one up on his rival copter. Soundwave just played a recording of taps. The next week, Mirage was instructing Reflector on the harmonica. Though being the giant novelty shop, it somehow managed to be too big for the camera trio, and they had to run back and forth blowing in the holes. Meanwhile, the Constructicons practiced and worked hard, even outside of class.
They majorly improved both in their trumpets and in their singing, now confident they could harmonize enough to properly serenade Prowl. Though they lacked Praxian crystals. This was easily fix however, by Scavenger helping Scrapper gather up all the shards that were thrown out and cobbling them together to craft crystal trumpets. They had become confident enough in their improvement that Scavenger had started calling themselves the Structi-Notes. Bonecrusher still thought it was stupid. Scrapper could live with it and just told him to let him have his fun.
Eventually, the class' last day was upon them.
"Well, everyone. This is our last night together," Mirage began nervously. "...and I know that not many of you had improved since we began," he finished, looking over to Grimlock, who was gnawing on his oboe like a bone.
'Hmph, speak for yourself!' Hook harrumphed pridefully over the bond. He had every right to be, too. Scrapper couldn't help but feel immense pride in his Gestalt's efforts.
"But, I have a theory!"
'Uh, oh,' Mix began, cracking a smile, 'T-this is gonna be good!' Scrapper shushed him.
"People talk loudly when they want to sound smart, right?"
"CORRECT!" Brawl confirmed loudly. Onslaught shot him an annoyed look. Blast Off simply kept smiling at Onslaught. That mech was so far gone.
"So if you play loud, people may think you're good!" It's official, the stress finally got to him. Mirage had completely lost it. Hound got a worried look on his face as Jazz and Blaster looked at each other in concern.
"Uh, Mirage?" Hound began, but he waved him off.
"Everybody ready?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, mech-" Blaster tried, but it was too late as Mirage just began counting down.
"...and a 1, and a 2..."
"'Rage that ain't how that works." Jazz tried to explain.
"...and a 1, and a 2, 3, 4!"
"Primus, he's too far gone. HIT THE DECK!" Jazz shouted as he just gave up trying to reason with the broken mech and dove under the DJ booth. The class all lifted their instruments.
*WHAAAAANNNNNGGG*
*CRASH*
The ensuing shockwave shook the building and shattered every glass window in the Auditorium, as well as multiple mechs' visors, including the Constructicons. But never let it be said they don't always come prepared. They quickly fished out and put on some spares they had in their subspaces. It was so powerful that it knocked Starscream off course and sent the seeker screaming into an uncontrollable barrel roll as he was on a flight with Skyfire. Megatron and Optimus were, uh, doing something in his office when they looked up from underneath the desk.
"What was that?" Optimus asked, lifting his head, concerned.
Megatron scoffed, "Who cares? Just get back down here, Prime!" He pulled Opimus back down by his windshield wiper.
In the medbay, Ratchet was struck with a sense of impending doom, as if a large group of mechs just did something stupid and soon his medbay would be filled to the brim. Prowl was in a meeting with Perceptor about Brainstorm's latest violations of the natural law and how he can never, ever be left alone in a room with Wheeljack when he felt the shockwave. His wings shook.
"Did you feel something?" He asked the scientist, who nodded, and they looked at each other in confusion, wondering what the source of it was. Prowl wasn't sure why, but he felt a sudden sense of unease regarding his immediate future.
Back at the auditorium, Mirage had several fractures in his once pristine plating, and his custom-tailored organic suit was blown clear off him. He shakily lifted his conductor's baton that had split and was now in 2 pieces with one dangling precariously. Jazz, Hound, and Blaster all slowly emerged from the now flipped-over DJ booth. Hound walked up to his friend and put a hand on his back in concern.
"Mirage, are you ok?" he asked. But the racecar ignored him and just kept looking straight ahead. Hound was already dialing Ratchet.
"Ok, new theory, maybe you should play so quietly, no one can hear you."
"Well, maybe we wouldn't sound so bad if some mecha didn't play with clumsy oversized claws!" Onslaught accused, looking over in a certain wrecker's direction in offense.
Whirl's optic narrowed. "What'd you say, punk?"
"Whirl," Ultra Magnus began, his eyes widening.
"You heard what he said, Autobot. Clumsy. Big-aft. Claws!" Vortex finished, though prodding the wrecker may not have been the brightest thing to do while still covered in welds.
"Well, I can do a whole lot more to a mech than play an accordion to 'em! You wanna private performance, ya' spike sucker?" He threatened as he clacked his claws together. Blast Off meeped at the threatening display, but stood by his leader.
"Now, mechs, let's be smart about this," Thundercracker tried getting between them, and failed, to help calm the situation down.
"Oh, so now the Earth-weeb is gonna preach to us!" Whirl shouted.
"Eh he's gotcha there, TC, you are a total Earth-weeb." Warp said with his hands behind his head, and flicked his fedora that he hadn't taken off since Day 1 of class. He just wanted to feel cool, dammit!
Thundercracker just sighed in defeat, "I know." Then he just sat back down in resignation. He knew where this was about to go.
Scrapper knew too, and as the arguments began to start up and Mirage's pleas failed to reach the class, all pit broke loose.
The classroom descended into complete and utter chaos. Gears and Astrotrain were arguing until Frenzy rammed a drum into him. Whirl and Vortex, the instigators, decided to try to joust each other with clarinets until they skidded to a stop right in front of Motormaster, who slammed both their heads with his cymbals.
"Hey," The self-proclaimed 'King of the Road' smiled, "My therapist was right! This is helping!"
"We're so gonna lose our deposit," Blaster said as he ducked behind the booth with Jazz, Hound, and a panicking Mirage in the midst of a breakdown.
Jazz nodded and patted him on the back, "Yep, 'fraid so, bud."
Mirage just kept muttering to himself while rocking back and forth. "Start a music class, they said. It'll help with your trauma and homesickness, they said. WELL LOOK WHO'S LAUGHING NOW!" He laughed manically, which startled Hound, who was trying to comfort his friend after his dreams had been crushed. But the laughter soon turned to hysterics as he cried into his friend's shoulder.
Ulra Magnus held his Xylophone out like a shield, but each key was knocked away one by one by Blades' drumsticks. Seems the flag twirling paid off!
Skywarp, being the little shit he was, kicked Sunstreaker in the shin again with a grin that was immediately wiped from his face as the yellow Lamborghini brought out the trombone again and grinned back at him. He ran away screaming as Sunstreaker chased after him, seemingly forgetting he could teleport. Meanwhile, Grlimlock roared as he and the DInobots chased Rumble and Frenzy, who had snuck in snacks upon learning that free fuel wouldn't be provided on the first day. They were quickly sniffed out by the hungry Dinobots. Eventually, Blaster also joined in the fray, having been lured out by Soundwave. Rather than corral his children, the blue cassette player taunted him so they could finally settle who the best sound system was.
Bonecrusher grinned as he joined in the merriment, smacking Slingshot using a guitar like a baseball bat. His excitement filled the bond.
'I take back what I said, Scav, this is awesome!'
Scrapper just sighed and resigned himself to leading his Gestalt to aid the battle-loving bulldozer when the rest of the Aerial Bots began to gang up on him. Well, admittedly, he'd also been a bit pent up. Their successive failures to court the mech of their dreams were wearing on him, and he knew it was doing the same to the rest of his Gestalt. They jumped straight into the brawl, Mixmaster cackling like a maniac and Hook swinging his hook around like a lasso. Finally, Scrapper could let off some steam. No one beat the Constructicons in a fight!
Scavenger's plan had better work. If it didn't, he didn't know what they were going to do.