𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ━ transformers

𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

The discussion of sparkmates were not unheard of, especially amongst the other 'bots on base. Ironhide had overheard both Optimus and Ratchet discussing it on more than one occasion. The twins were especially horrendous about the topic, it seemed.

When Chromia and other femmes arrived on Earth, the discussion pertained to Ironhide directly, even though he had informed them many times that she was not-and would never be-his sparkmate.

"I don' understand why, yer old brute!" Mudflaps exclaimed as Ironhide tried to drill in a new piece of plating into his armor. "Chromia done got here weeks ago, it's time to make yer move!"

Ironhide sighed in resignation. The foolish imagination of the twins would never hinder or disappear. He pressed the plating into the grill plate section, pushing it into place.

"My business is not your concern, you pile of scrap," Ironhide snapped. He knocked his servo onto the top of Mudflap's giant cranium. "Sparkmates are something to be taken seriously, so stop with your needless gossip about them."

"Ya don' think he knows that?" Skids, who was crouched in the corner, probably hiding away from Ironhide's wrath, asked. "S'why he's asking your daft aft! Chromia's probably the only sane 'bot that would accept your bond!"

One day. That was all Ironhide asked for. Just one day of peace to work on upgrades for himself. He just wished to get everything in order in case the 'cons decided that they were tired of hiding in the shadows. Starscream had already come for them once. No one was certain that he would not do it again.

Ironhide leveled his cannon at Skids's head. "Your best option would be to shut your mouth before I demonstrate my new cannon on you."

"We're just tryna help ya!" Mudflap said, dodging Ironhide's drill that he threw at him. "We don' like seein' ya' all depressed and shit."

"I am not depressed." Ironhide sighed, accepting defeat. The twins were relentless, and he was exhausted. "Chromia and I are acquaintances and comrades. Whether or not we had a past is of no concern to you, especially when you have your own bonds to worry about."

"But," Skids remarked, "yer the only one here who has their old flame 'round. Yer mean to tell me, ya ain't wan' nothin' to do with 'er?"

"As I have stated, Chromia is a good friend and soldier. Nothing less, nothing more."

There was nothing more he could do to explain it. In past encounters, he and Chromia could have been seen as something more than comrades on the battlefield, but time spent away had rendered their feeling for one another incomplete-useless. The fondness he still felt for her was present, but no longer did it put a spark in him the way it should have.

"Always one for words, eh, 'Hide?"

Chromia stood regal in the entrance to the weapons bay. Instead of standing on two pedes as she once did, she balanced herself on a wheel, the dark plum of her armor gleaming in the light of the hangar. She strolled further in, whacking Mudflap on the back of his helm as she did.

"Enough with both of you," she said haughtily. "'Hide's busy and doesn't have the time for your shenanigans. If you don't stop, I'm going to get Optimus. You can either scram, or I'll call him in here."

The twins scrammed. Obviously, the fear of disappointed Prime himself was enough to get even the youngest of 'bots into listening to an order. Ironhide grunted his gratitude, and Chromia picked up the slab of metal he had just been working on, reaching up and placing it on his torso area.

"I apologize," he said quietly as the armor clicked into place, melding into him. "They had made their assumptions as soon as you arrived. It seems as though we had quite the reputation on Cybertron."