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Perceptor waited patiently as their pod was examined. 

It was standard protocol for all vessels leaving and entering the Lost Light’s landing bay to go through a strict set of system checks and regulation guidelines before being granted clearance by authorized personnel. The whole process could be quite tedious and lengthy. 

And Minimus Ambus loved nothing more than thorough and detailed procedural regulation guidelines. And a sixty-two page checklist. 

It was still…bizarre to see the small bot out of the heavy duty armor, even more so watching him use his smaller frame to crawl around the nooks and crannies of the small expedition pod in ways the Magnus armor never could. Not a single micron of the ship was left untouched as Minimus ran through his itemized checklist. The Second in Command had stated at the beginning of their inspection over three breems ago that he would not grant them a clear departure without every single item satisfied or otherwise accounted for. 

Perceptor didn’t mind the perhaps overly meticulous examination; he actually quite liked Minimus’s due-diligence in ensuring their safe travels. It was the same care and consideration he put into his own projects and duties. He could respect the pride of one’s work, even if it vastly differed from his own field of study. He’d find a lot more appreciation for it if both Captains did not have to be present. 

Megatron stood stiffly beside Perceptor. The former Decepticon leader offered no small talk- or any talk for the matter. But that was easy to ignore. Rodimus, on the other hand…

“I don’t see what the big deal is?” Rodimus groaned from the floor, legs splayed out with his back propped up against a rogue supply crate. After he realized Minimus’s inspection was going to take longer than he had expected, like a sparkling, the Captain sat on the ground where he had refused to get up. “Why do we need all this formalized procedure ? It’s not even a real expedition. It’s just an excuse for them to frag each other’s brain modules out.”

Megatron had shown incredible restraint in keeping his lip plates sealed at the display, though his optics narrowed pointedly at his co-captain. 

“Rodimus-” Minimus started the admonishment from somewhere in the cockpit, but it fell on deaf audials as the speedster continued. 

“What? I’m not wrong.” At this, Rodimus’s sharp optics leered up at Perceptor, a slag-eating grin on his lips. “A one-on-one exploration retreat a week after your conjunx ceremony is such a lame excuse for a honeymoon.”

Perceptor ignored the creeping warmth on the back of his neck as he attempted to issue a faint dismissal. “ Apsens VI has a rich biome that could greatly benefit our ship’s research endeavors and-”

“Sure, sure, I remember the powerpoint.” Rodimus gave him an exaggerated wink. “I get it. Research . Discovery. Exploring each other’s-” 

A swift nudge of the pede from Megatron shut Rodimus down, though his sly smirk remained. The back of Perceptor’s neck burned as he turned away from the Captains.

It was always an unfortunate day when Rodimus was right and he knew it. 

Perceptor hadn’t lied during his expedition request hearing. Apsens VI was an ecological marvel being nearly 95% aquatic with only a scant few islands making up its solid landmass. Despite its unique geography, its gravitational forces and rotational axis were a near equivalent of Cybertron, but supporting a vastly different life force of mostly organic microorganisms and oceanic flora. Perceptor had seen research findings that showed the cellular structures of many of the aquatic reefs mimicking that of their own Cybernetic flora. The endless experiments and samples could greatly impact life as they knew it and its potential utility was boundless. All of that was true and a planetary expedition there would be beyond worth it for the scientific merits alone. 

Brainstorm had even written about Apsens VI once. It had been a small blurb serving as supporting evidence to a now-rejected thesis, but in that small snippet, he had expressed the magnitude of possible research from Apsens VI could hold.

Perceptor had used it in his presentation to the High Command of the Lost Light, subtly recording Brainstorm’s shocked expression when seeing the reference annotation with his designation. It had taken considerable effort to hold back his smile. 

However, Perceptor could not deny he had a less than academic stake in this as well.

Aside from its research possibilities, in recent years Apsens VI had become known as an celestial treasure trove. Its unique position within its star system’s rotational path made it a landmark of astrological discovery. Most notably were its system’s comets 45-3A and Rubinski being visually observable from Apsens VI main island. In a few days time, the two comets would be crossing paths in the skies at the same time in a rare celestial eclipse. 

It felt…too perfect of an opportunity to pass up, regardless if it had little to do with the research proposal he had submitted. 

Perceptor never claimed himself to be a staunch romantic. Poetic words or swooning displays of affection had always felt disingenuous. Preformative in a way that went against Perceptor’s core programming. His romantic tidings with Brainstorm had grown quietly, tenderly. In the late nights of their shared lab; in the back corner booth of Swerve’s between cubes of spiced energon; in the annotations of research theories and experiment proposals; in the tedium of working side by side. There wasn’t a singular, explosive moment, but a series of small charges with each detonation building up love and affection. 

Across the flight deck, he could spy his conjunx bent at the waist, giving Tailgate a rambling explanation. The minibot was nearly towered by the haphazard stack of datapads in his servos, as nodded along, though he seemed to be growing more and more confused as Brainstorm went on.

Perceptor was unsure of Brainstorm’s pick to monitor their lab while they were gone. Sure, the tasks that needed to be done didn’t need a specialized servo, but Tailgate seemed unsure of the weight of the responsibility already. It…did soothe Perceptor’s worries that Nautica was standing by, smiling politely as her amica rambled. Perceptor had already sent his own instructions to her a few days prior but Brainstorm insisted on giving a guided presentation. 

His optics were bright; gold and warm with excitement. His ailerons flapped in the pattern of his eager, rushed speech, hands moving in wild gestures that Tailgate’s visor  struggled to follow. 

Warmth, quite different from the burning embarrassment that had started at the base of his neck, filled Perceptor’s chest, his spark blooming with heated affection. Try as he might, Perceptor couldn’t take his optics off Brainstorm, his lab partner, his conjunx.

The term still made Perceptor’s intake hitch, his tank flipped at the very thought. He’d…once given up the notion of having someone that was his and that he was theirs. The war had made it easy to dismiss it; his research projects and scientific endeavors only enabled him to keep the practice up, even once the treaties were signed and the war was officially over. 

The Lost Light had served as escapism when the war was no longer a viable excuse. In it, Perceptor had found resolution, home . He had grown used to the idea of isolation, one of his own choosing. He hadn’t expected Brainstorm to break through those barriers, crack the carefully constructed walls, allow for Perceptor to find an equal in mind and spark.

Looking at him now, it felt like everyone in the landing bay vanished and the only one there was Brainstorm. Like he was scoped in and nothing and no one else mattered, everything else falling to the wayside. 

He never imagined himself to be so enamored with another, but no one was quite like Brainstorm. Perceptor had always been good at compartmentalizing his emotions and feelings, setting them aside in favor of productivity and survival, but everything with Brainstorm felt too vast to be contained, too much to stock away and hide. It unraveled him, too strong and consuming to be stashed away. It poured out of him, exposed him.

The very thought made that embarrassment creep up his faceplates, like one look in his direction would expose that nasty tangle of affection and adoration coiled in his chest. It’s why they had to get away; it’s why Perceptor pushed for their expedition and made arrangements so quickly. He needed time with Brainstorm. Alone with his undivided attention. Where he can feel free to express his thoughts and feelings without the ensembled crew watching their every move. He wanted time with just his conjunx. Alone. Just the two of them. No distractions, no crew disasters, no chaos. Just them.

For once, Perceptor wanted .

“Gross,” Rodimus sneered, making a scrunched up face at Perceptor. “I can practically see you drooling-”

“Okay.” Megatron stepped forward. “Enough.” And with that, Megatron grabbed Rodimus by the scruff of his collar flaring and wheeled them out, parting with Perceptor with a singular curt nod.

Perceptor’s faceplates were still warm by the time Minimus finished his inspections, checklist completed and expedition approval stamped and sealed. He was kind not to make note of Perceptor’s lingering heated embarrassment as he wished him a safe and fruitful journey.

Perceptor was halfway through his pre-flight checks when Brainstorm finally joined him in the cockpit, his field light and giddy in anticipation for their departure. 

“There’s a crowd,” Brainstorm laughed. “Swerve made a banner and everything.”

In the rear camera, Perceptor could see a large group gathering around. Even though they would be gone for one week, it felt like the whole ship had come to see them off. 

“Did you say your goodbyes?” Perceptor asked with a slight tilt of his face.

In the corner of his vision, he could see Brainstorm’s optics squint happily. Perceptor had seen the goodbye parade his friends had thrown him from Nautica’s warm hugs to Chromedome’s quiet, sly words. Even Whirl had come to say his farewells, asking Brainstorm if anything should happen to him if he would be entitled to his cache of illegal firearms. Perceptor had not stuck around to hear the end of that conversation, but judging by Whirl’s enthusiastic waving in the camera, he figured the wrecker got the answer he wanted. 

“Yeah, you?” Brainstorm asked as he flung himself into the co-pilot’s seat and began fiddling with the nav. 

Perceptor had avoided most of the crew in his attempt to get aboard their pod, nodding his helm in thanks as various crew members wished him good luck. He didn’t have the large friend group like his conjunx to wave him off, but he had received his own special send off.

Drift had found Perceptor early in the cycle as he was doing the final packing of their pod. 

“Just because this is a purely academic trip-” Drift threw him a knowing, teasing wink “-doesn’t mean you can’t also make it memorable.”

The sweet resin incense, the soft glowing string lights, the crystalline petals, the delectable energon sweets: all of it weighed heavy in Perceptor’s mind, having stashed the gift into one of the supply crates. 

“Yes,” Perceptor murmured, his faceplates growing warm. He wondered distantly if he should be worried this will be a constant state of his. “Ready?” his voice croaked, nerves and excitement toying with his vocalizer. 

Even with the blast mask affixed, Brainstorm’s joyful smile was breathtaking, any embarrassment instantly becoming a distant thought. “With you, always.”

In a bold move, Perceptor took one hand off the control panel and reached out for his partner. Brainstorm, as always, was eager to meet him halfway.

It had to be perfect. 

And it would be. His seven different prediction models all showed success in the range of 97.64 to 98.99%, the highest his models were programmed to go, leaving a scant 1.1% for error or cataclysmic failure, the likeliness so near-impossible that Perceptor didn’t even consider it a possibility. 

Affection bloomed in his chassis, his spark bursting in warmth. 

Even if 100% was impossible, Perceptor was determined to get it as close to it as possible. 

Their takeoff had been smooth. 

To Perceptor’s bemusement, the roaring farewell of the Lost Light’s crew could be heard over the forward thrusters of the pod as they took off. In the rear camera, he could see someone- undoubtedly Whirl -had rigged several small explosives in the wake of their departure, which was met with a mix of excited cheers and terrified screams. As they slowly picked up speed, visuals of the smoke and chaos faded, leaving the Lost Light a small speck in the distance. 

“How long till we get there?” Brainstorm asked, fully hunched forward so his face was only microns away from the navigation screen, optics tracing their pre-plotted course.

“Only a few breems,” Perceptor said. “We’ll still be in the same star system.” 

Finally, he allowed himself to relax, the tension seeping from his frame the more distance they put between themselves and the Lost Light. Nerves were swiftly replaced with a rare bout of excitement. It manifested as a small smile curling at his lips. Perceptor wasn’t sure he’d been this happy in eons. 

He let the auto-pilot engaged as he watched Brainstorm fiddle with the various gauges. All his careful planning and research was finally coming to a head and he wanted to watch every second of Brainstorm’s delight. It was going to be perfect.

Curiously, Perceptor watched as Brainstorm pulled out a small datadrive from his subspace. With a wink, he inserted the device into the pod’s onboard communication system. Not even a nano-klik later, soft music slowly drifted from the speakers. 

Before Perceptor could even ask, Brainstorm explained, “I may have made a small playlist for the road.” In a sheepish move, Brainstorm ducked his helm. “I don’t know much about music, but everyone assured me these were good for a romantic getaway.”

Perceptor felt his spark flip in his chassis, the gesture bringing an unexpected warmth to his frame as he tried to hide his own small smile.

“I can’t say I know much about music either,” he admitted. 

“We’ll learn together.”

Together, the pair leaned back in their seats, optics on the cosmos moving past them as the gentle sway of music filled the space between.

They were halfway through their second loop of the playlist when their radar blipped . Perceptor’s optics darted over to it and frowned. Sure enough, a cluster of dots began to fill the upper screen of the radar, directly in their path. As he squinted ahead, he could see the beginning formation of what looked like an-

“Asteroid field,” Brainstorm surmised curiously, his processor in sync with Perceptor’s. “Quite a big one too.”

No sooner had the words left Brainstorm’s vocalizer that their ship was met with a heavy thud. Both mechs lurched forward in their seats, bracing themselves against the central console. They locked their gazes in understanding. 

“We need to get out of here quick,” Perceptor hissed, digits already altering their course. Beside him, Brainstorm moved in tandem, scanning their radar and ship’s shield barriers. Based on his pinched expression, Perceptor knew they were going to have a bumpy ride trying to get out of this. 

Several smaller rocks bumped against their hull as they turned to leave the asteroid field, but thankfully the pods were built to take a little bit of rough travel. A few too many incidents had made the structural integrity of the individual pods a priority. It would be their saving Grace now as they ping ponged their way through the outer band of asteroids. Behind them, a few of their supply crates took a tumble but it was nothing they couldn’t reorganize or fix once they landed.

It was a small incident but with early prevention and a bit of luck, they would be right back on course. Perceptor retained the hope with every jutting rock and sway their pod made. 

They remained tense and locked up until they had finally exited the field, their radar showing clear ahead of them. In unison, they both exhale a sigh of relief, digits linking together between their seats and squeezing. A small hiccup but ultimately they ended up fine and mostly unscathed. Perceptor would want to do some minor ship repairs and adjustments once they landed on Apsens VI and he knew Brainstorm was already thinking about tweaks he could make to the ship’s structural shields and radar. It may sound like work, but the prospect of another project together only made the two scientists grin like fools at each other. 

Their smiles didn’t last long as something smashed into the top of their pod. Immediately, their pod started to spin, somersaulting from the force of the hit. As they spun, Perceptor had just enough time to catch a glimpse at what had struck them- a rogue asteroid that looked ready to smash into them again .

Their radar was beeping wildly as they crashed into the large rock a second time, this time right into their front engine housing. The force of the second hit had them rocking sideways. Their steering and navigation gauges blacked out and froze and within a millisecond, all power to the pod was lost as they spun wildly out of control. 

A third hit was the last thing to register to Perceptor, his optics seeing the approaching asteroid right as it made contact with the windshield of their pod. His helm hit the center console and his vision went dark. The last readings Perceptor got were from his HUD, the tiny projection model he had made for the trip rapidly ticking down as he lost consciousness.

His processor was sluggish and slow as he came to, bright lights blurring his vision and bringing a sharp, stinging pain to the center of his helm. Distantly, Perceptor realized his scope’s wiring had detached, his processor unable to get its typical feedback.

“Perceptor? Are you up? Percy?”

Relief bloomed in Perceptor’s chassis upon hearing Brainstorm’s voice, despite the edge of panic that collected around each word. Frantic servos were gripping his upper arms, shaking him. Perceptor’s vision finally focused enough to see Brainstorm leaning over him, optics blown wide in panic.

Above him, a clear blue sky washed over the rest of his view. Numbly, he could feel softened ground beneath them. They were no longer in the pod- the smell of smoke and burning metal was enough to confirm their crash was real -and must’ve landed on some sort of planet. 

His interior readings showed everything was fine: pressure was 0.91, which was only slightly higher than that of Cybertron but still below what he experienced on Earth; gravity was only one thousandth of a percentile off from what they typically functioned at; atmospheric levels were all within safe parameters with oxygen at 19.76%, nitrogen at 82%, and the remaining trace elements all within safe percentiles. The only indicator in the red was Perceptor’s prediction model, the number having fallen to 62.69% but slowly ticking upward as each read out showed safe, level numbers.  

A quick visual scan of his conjunx showed Brainstorm to be fine. A small dent in the shoulder seemed to be his own injury but Perceptor would want to do a full thorough diagnostic once his visual feeds stopped fritzing. 

“We crashed?” Perceptor asked.

 “A bit.” Brainstorm sheepishly nodded.

Perceptor winced as he tried to sit up, his processor still lagging from the crash. Brainstorm helped ease him the rest of the way, a solid arm around his back. 

A bit was quite the understatement as Perceptor finally caught a glimpse of their pod.

Or really, what was left of it. 

It hardly resembled the expedition vessel anymore, more like a lumpy, metal ball. Not too dissimilar in shape to the asteroids had pulverized it. The windshield was completely gone with just some jagged glass edges clinging to the frame. The rest was probably lost in the vacuum of space. The entry doors were blown off, one hanging by a hinge that looked ready to snap. The other door was nowhere to be seen. Giant craters and dents marred most of the surface of their pod, leaving holes and stripped wires in the wake of the devastation. Perceptor didn’t even want to look inside, though he could imagine it would look just as bad after their hull had ruptured. The crash certainly wouldn’t have helped but hopefully some of their supplies could be salvageable and could sustain them until they figured out where they were. 

He looked past the ship and around them to take in their crash site. It appeared they were in a marsh of some sort, their ship luckily landing on a small strip of land versus the boggy waters that surrounded them. Tiny other little sand bars and soggy islands popped up around them. Huge trees crowded their island, the roots thick and spindly from what Perceptor could see as they were semi-submerged. Their own island was big, enough to house their destroyed pod, and a few paces of dry land before it sloped off into the murky swamp. If there had been grass, it had burned away at their impact, leaving dusty, ashy dirt as their flooring. 

“I took a peek inside after I got you out,” Brainstorm said, keeping his arm locked around Perceptor. “The power cell is gone. Not sure if it blew off in space or crashed with us here but I couldn’t find it.”

No power was as good as a death sentence. Without any way to get their pod’s transmitters up and running, there would be no way of contacting anyone. They would be effectively trapped here. Forever. 

“Despite what it looks like on the outside, most of the nav looks intact. Just powerless.” Brainstorm leaned close, optics almost blinding. “I have a few ideas for alternative power I’d like you to look at. With a little joint lubricant and creative engineering, I bet we can get our pod up and running and be on our way to Apsens VI in two breems.”

There was an undercurrent of excitement in Brainstorm’s voice. Leave it to his mad conjunx to find a thrill in scraping together his own rescue. It almost, almost , lightened the heavy dread that hung on his shoulders.

Six breems had passed and Brainstorm was no closer to patching up their vessel. 

“Just give me a few more kliks,” the other scientist begged, optics wide. “I think I found a way to divert fuel so we can bypass the missing power cell all together.”

As remarkable as that would be, it didn’t matter if their ship could run with the gaping hole at the bottom and the shattered glass windshield. 

With a heavy sigh, Perceptor finished soldering the last bit of wire. “In the meantime,” he held up the small device for Brainstorm’s inspection, “we can at least begin broadcasting to the Lost Light.”

He had no idea how far they were and if his signal would even reach, but it was their best bet in hailing for a rescue.

“You built a radio transmitter?” 

“Yes,” Perceptor nodded, quietly thrilled as Brainstorm snatched the device and began rotating it in his hands with awe. It…wasn’t all that difficult, salvaging the old radio system from the pod and patching it up was simple enough; taking a solar battery and rigging it to the radio had been even simpler. “I have it programmed to state our name and approximate coordinates every five kliks. It should pop up on the Lost Light’s radios. I know Blaster scans for transmissions within a certain radius. All we can do for now is hope they intercept our signal.” 

“Maybe I can dig out the ship’s black box for further details,” Brainstorm mused. “If we are camping out which,” Brainstorm’s gaze turned sour as it landed on their destroyed ship, “seems more likely by the second. We are low on fuel and the power diverting is going to need more.”

Perceptor knew chances of fixing the ship were unlikely but…he felt disheartened in having that possibility cemented as their actual only option. All his planning…gone.

“Aw,” Brainstorm’s tone softened to a low coo, “cheer up, Percy. It’s not all doomed. Now we just have a different world to explore.” Brainstorm threw his arms open to the field before them. None of the topography was familiar in the slightest. That didn’t necessarily mean this planet wasn’t worthy of their discovery but…his carefully crafted plan, his Brainstorm specific itinerary…

“You’re right,” Perceptor said, the clouds parting as Brainstorm perked up. “We should set up a base camp, it's getting late.”

Thankfully, it seemed that most of their supplies were intact. Many of their shipping crates and bundles were tossed about the hull, but very few had made exit through the various holes littering the floor. Their supply of energon rations was safe - thank Primus -and most of their onboard lab equipment was relatively undamaged. Even the small crate carrying Drift’s gifts were safe and whole, much to Perceptor’s bittersweet amusement. 

The nav, as Brainstorm had assessed, was in one piece.  A few nicks and scratches were nothing that couldn’t be overlooked. One of the screens had a large crack down the center, but it shouldn’t affect the internal mechanisms. Assuming they hadn’t been exposed to the pressure of space or faltered during their high altitude crash landing or any other numerous possible failures that could have occurred. 

Perceptor tried not to think about it too much as he began cataloging and organizing their camp. It was an unavoidable fact that they would have to be camped out for quite a while so it only made sense for them to have their camp set up. Using the emergency parachute and broken hull pieces, their camp site quickly transformed into an onsite lab. The parachute canvas provided shelter and shade with the metal hull slabs acting as tables and structural walls. It was rustic , but functional. Brainstorm let out an impressed whistle as he came out of the skeleton of their pod, carrying their supply of sample collection packs and setting them on a makeshift table made from two supply crates wedged together. 

“Wow, Perce, really prepared for everything?” His optics crinkled in a teasing squint. “Looks to me you weren’t planning on returning.”

Perceptor snorted, pride swirling in his chest. “I like to be prepared.” He didn’t let himself dwell too much at the irony of their disastrous crash.

Brainstorm’s winglets flapped. “ I’m something of a survivalist myself.”

“Really now?”

In answer to Perceptor’s curious look, Brainstorm displayed his briefcase. He must have dug it out of the hull when they were emptying it out. Brainstorm clutched the briefcase to his chest lovingly. He beamed at Perceptor, foolhardy and horribly obnoxiously cute. 

“Absolutely!” With a heavy pat against his briefcase, Brainstorm winked. “ Only the essentials.”

Demonstratively, Brainstorm laid out the briefcase and opened it. Inside- rather than his prized time case -laid a functional subspace storage. An endless stream of tools and supplies were ready at their fingertips, neatly filling in the holes that Perceptor’s essentials did not cover.

When Perceptor looked up, Brainstorm had his hand up and waiting.

Perceptor gave him the requested high five, not even bothering to hide his smile as Brainstorm cheered happily.

Darkness came quickly once nightfall hit. With a limited source of power, their campsite grew dark. Thankfully, Perceptor learned a few things during his brief time on Earth and a small fire provided just enough illumination for their camp and enough warmth to heat their energon rations. 

They sat side by side on a now empty supply crate, sharing warmth as they looked up at the stars above. Reality had settled in like the cool night air. A pit was growing in Perceptor’s tanks as it hit that there was no chance they would be reaching Apsens VI at all, even if they did manage to hail a rescue. 

“So much for our trip,” Perceptor found himself saying, bitterness coating his words.

Beside him, Brainstorm leaned closer, humming in acknowledgement. 

“I mean, this place is no Apsens VI ,” Brainstorm joked, his tone light despite the harrowing situation they’d found themselves in. 

Perceptor felt his helm bow, disappointment coiled in his intake. 

“But,” Brainstorm continued, “ everyone goes to Apsens VI nowadays.” Brainstorm waved it off carelessly. “How many scientists get their own planet to discover?” With that, he nudged Perceptor lightly, his gaze softening. 

It was…difficult to swallow the lump of dread in his throat but Brainstorm’s carefree attitude made it marginally easier. “What are you going to call your new planet?” 

Brainstorm tapped his digit to his chin guard in consideration. “Good question, Perceptor. One we should answer posthaste.”

“Oh?”

Brainstorm grinned, he had to be with the way his optics lit up like amber fire. “Come on, Perceptor. We are scientists . It’s time for us to do a little research and find out the secrets of our new home. Don’t make me do this completely alone?” His expression had turned pleading, a servo extended hopefully. 

Perceptor couldn’t help the snort of laughter that burst through his intake. He fumbled for Brainstorm’s hand, the jet squeezing their fingers together. 

Despite the acidic scent of sulfur and burning metal still clinging to his olfactory sensors, Perceptor’s prediction model ticked up a few more percentages to 67.42%. 

Research fell naturally to them. Despite their trip in tatters, the focus of science helped alleviate some of the despair. With their transmission running constantly, it was a necessity they focused their energy elsewhere or else they were doomed to fall apart. 

The scientific process was a comfort. There was order and procedure, even when paired with Brainstorm’s unique brand of elegant chaos. They dove into the task with excitement.

They already had the necessary tools. They had both stocked the pod with all their more important research equipment and building the rest was easy work with Brainstorm’s clever digits and handy briefcase.

Their first task had been making a map of their general location and topography. The world was foreign, at least to them, and finding out what laid around them was imperative. Brainstorm had taken the challenge in stride, making several brisk trips into the air and quickly filling out the details of their map. Perceptor watched their map grow in detail with each of Brainstorm’s returns. He could also see the jet’s excitement grow as their list of possible research subjects grew in tandem. 

Once their makeshift map was filled out to a twenty kilometer radius, they flung themselves into their separate projects. Perceptor had been eyeing the strange plants that made up their little swamp isle. He had a mountain of sample collection bags and testing strips; they might as well not go to waste. 

Brainstorm was eager as ever to jump into his own project. As soon as he had finished his last scouting flight, he had begun tinkering with some sort of device. 

“It’s a weather radar,” Brainstorm showed off proudly. “I snagged the ship’s navigation radar and intercom systems to build it.” There was pride in his voice as he handed it off to Perceptor for inspection. Upon approval, he explained, “In such a damp environment, there has to be some precipitation. I want to track it so we can plan some further trips out.”

The excitement was nearly contagious. 

At least their unfortunate circumstances hadn’t killed the fire in Brainstorm’s spark. Then again, nothing would, certainly not a little incident like this. Brainstorm thrived in chaos, of his own making or otherwise. 

Perceptor felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips and he turned his back to his sample containers. He should follow his partner’s tenacity and take in the opportunity they had. Perhaps their romantic getaway could be salvaged after all. The prediction model agreed, attributed a few more percentages in the positive. 

Perceptor turned to look at their campsite. It was not the secluded beachside cabin he had organized for their trip to Apsens VI , but it was quaint and homey in its own right: a tiny island of dry ground slightly raised above the swamp that surrounded them, with tall narrow trees providing just enough shade to keep them out of direct solar contact. Tiny pink and white flowers grew along the edge, a clean line of where the swamp met the dry hill they were stationed on. They were as good a place to start as any.

Collection bags in one hand and test strips in the other, Perceptor got to work.

They reconvened that evening, excitedly telling each other their findings. 

“Not a single blip on the weather radar!” Brainstorm said curiously. He was dying to know the source of the water that surrounded them. In his testing, he had checked humidity levels, soil moisture levels and even took another scouting flight to see if there were any changes the further he got from camp. It was becoming a puzzle Brainstorm was eager to solve.

Perceptor was also pleased to show his findings. Botany was never a strong field of study for him, more a hobby if nothing else. There was a nice ease in taking a break from numbers and formulae to work hands on with the nature around him. Out of his 76 sample plants collected, 34 registered as known poisons to Cybertronian forms. Out of the remaining 42, about half were deemed harmless while the other half showed several indicators of possible unknown toxins. However, out of the whole batch, there was one that piqued his curiosity the most.

“Cute flower, Percy,” Brainstorm teased as he held the sample bag to the campfire’s light. 

“I think it has restorative properties,” Perceptor said calmly, pleased to watch Brainstorm’s optics widened with interest.

“Well? Go on! Don’t leave me hanging.”

He had received a small scratch on his arm in the crash. Superficial in the grand scheme of their devastating crash. He hadn’t thought much of it considering it was mostly cosmetic, but during his collection process, he noticed the scrape had healed. He tested his remaining scratches and dents with his harmless selection of plants, only noticing a notable difference with the small pink flowers. 

“Fascinating,” Brainstorm marveled. “Do you think it works internally as well?”

Perceptor had already snatched the sample back before Brainstorm’s blast mask could completely disengage.

“I want to test this back in the lab when we get home,” Perceptor muttered, disapproving of Brainstorm’s attempt at consumption. “I might see if I can build a greenhouse to take some back with us.”

At this Brainstorm jumped at the opportunity. “I can help!” Already, Perceptor could see the gears turning in his conjunx’s helm.

“I would greatly appreciate it.”

Construction of the greenhouse began as soon as the sun was up. Brainstorm already began salvaging materials from their pod. In half a breem, a temporary greenhouse was constructed, but its structural integrity was questionable. 

“I’ll build you a better one for all your flowers when we are home,” Brainstorm promised cheekily, though gave Perceptor a small kiss on the cheek before dashing off to figure out his water puzzle.

Terrarium building was calming. Brainstorm came back several times through Perceptor’s cultivation to watch or make suggestions or to simply ramble.

“I like exploring,” Brainstorm grinned on one of his breaks. “But I prefer working in a lab with you.”

“Don’t have to yell as loud for me to hear you,” Perceptor quipped back.

“Anyways,” Brainstorm pushed that snipe aside with a brush of a finger on the back of Perceptor’s helm, “I’ve been thinking about names for our planet.” He paused for dramatic effect. “What about Swampworld ?”

Perceptor bit back a snort as he successfully detangled the roots of one of the flowers. “Doesn’t seem very original.”

“But it is descriptive.” When this reached no further response, the jet quickly moved on. “Okay, fine, fine, what about New Rodimus . In our Captain’s honor.”

Perceptor turned enough to level Brainstorm a look. “Looking for perks? I think the last thing Rodimus needs is another boost to his ego.”

“More like a ‘get out of jail free card’,” Brainstorm beamed. 

Perceptor huffed a laugh.

 “Okay, okay, what about Simpatico-714,995 .”

Warm crawled up Perceptor’s cheeks as the words registered. Simpatico already held so much weight behind it, his spark spinning at the mere mention. The date of the finalization of their conjunx rites clipped onto the end nearly sent his systems on fire.

Behind him, he could hear Brainstorm giggling proudly. “Pretty good, right?”

“Yeah,” Perceptor admitted, fans clicking on quietly to help cool him down. “About perfect.”

As Brainstorm dashed away, the estimation model raised his success to an astounding 73.25%.

They were not alone. 

It was a chilling thought that Perceptor didn’t know how to reconcile. For days, they have never strayed too far from camp, and yet someone- or some thing -had come and ransacked their campsite. 

Not much of their precious supplies had been damaged in their invader’s scavenging. A few sample packs had been destroyed but Perceptor’s greenhouse was still intact. Actually, the only items that were truly damaged were sectioned off in a small crate that had been tucked in the far edge of their camp.

“What was even in here?” Brainstorm asked, digging through the remains. 

All that remained were some broken glass and wire, crushed crystals and scented ash, and a torn apart package with the shiny residue of energon sweets.

It…shouldn’t have felt like the blow it did to see all the items Drift had given him destroyed. Perceptor hadn’t even thought to use them, but it still felt like an omen. Perceptor wanted to dissuade that thought as soon as it came to him. Omens could not be backed by scientific evidence, and yet…the sight let the dread he had avidly been ignoring come back. It was a flagrant reminder of what had once been a perfect trip to symbolize what Brainstorm meant to Perceptor was ruin. Torn to shreds, ash and dust. 

“It’s nothing,” Perceptor murmured.

Brainstorm looked up at him with pinched optic ridges. 

“Was it important?”

Perceptor should say no. The items were not even his idea and held no relevance to him. But they were a romantic offering for Brainstorm, for their relationship, for their time together. 

He let out a heavy sigh as he kneeled down beside Brainstorm. He leaned a fraction of an inch closer and Brainstorm met him halfway, pressed shoulder to shoulder as they surveyed the wreckage. 

“Looks like something small,” Perceptor finally said. Using his pinky, he traced a slimy line of energon residue to the grass. His scope zeroed in on a tiny footprint.

Brainstorm leaned in close. “Come to think of it, we haven’t seen much wildlife.”

“Must be coming when we aren’t looking,” Perceptor suggested, though his tone remained somewhat bitter.

Brainstorm let out a tiny laugh, his optics sharp with glee. “Well, Percy, we must find the perpetrator.” 

Scrambling to his pedes, Brainstorm raced to his briefcase and dug around before pulling out a small camera.

“Rewind gave it to me,” Brainstorm explained as he returned to Perceptor. “Something about capturing the memories so I won’t forget. I figure it would be better used to find our infiltrator.” 

Together, they set a trap. The camera Rewind had gifted Brainstorm perched on the wreckage with the smallest droplet of energon waiting in the center of its lens viewpoint. 

They went for a walk around their small island and after one full rotation checked, and sure enough, the energon droplet had been disturbed and their culprit on recording.

They crowded together at their nightly fire, watching the footage with bated breath. 

It was almost difficult to see at first, their criminal so small Perceptor hardly caught a glimpse of it approaching until it leaped at the drop of energon. It was tiny, barely longer than Perceptor’s pinky with four stumpy legs. Immediately, he could tell the creature was semi-aquatic in nature from its webbed feet to the slick, rubbery texture of its flesh. He thought he could spy gills but even with the fine detail of Rewind’s camera, the features were just too small to see. Perceptor could see its eyes though, ruby red and staring directly into the camera, tiny needle sharp teeth peeking out from its closed mouth. It snapped its little tongue at them as it darted off, a trail of energon in its wake. 

“Well,” Brainstorm whispered, already rewinding their recording to pause on the tiny creature, “I say we go hunting.”

Perceptor had no doubt that catching this single critter would resolve nothing, but the excitable glee In Brainstorm's optics was enough for him to fall into agreement.

Tracking the creature turned out to be a rather daunting task. The strange and foreign ecosystem seemed to work against them as Perceptor dutifully followed the tiny trail it had made. Thankfully, the only benefit of the moist swamp was it made the creature’s tiny footprints stick to the muddy path, the drag of its body leaving a literal line to follow. 

Unfortunately, that same mud stuck to their frames and mucked up the joints of their transformation seams.

“I’ll help wash you off,” Brainstorm beamed as Perceptor’s pede sunk to the knee joint in a small mud hole. 

As…enticing it would typically be to have Brainstorm’s undivided care, Perceptor would rather not take any more primitive showers in the same watering hole by their camp. 

He gave Brainstorm a small grunt and continued pushing ahead. The path thickened the deeper into the swamp they went, clinging vines and spiky leaves scratched at their plating. 

“I think we lost it, Perceptor,” Brainstorm sighed heavily after fifteen kliks passed. The jet was leaning against a tree, pulling thin creeping vines off his wingtips. His tone was disappointed and tired. It drilled into Perceptor’s chest, his intake closing as the weight of Brainstorm’s misery amplified his own and reflected at the actively declining prediction model.

“It can't be that far ahead,” Perceptor said, though every wire in his frame ached at the thought of continuing to trek further in. “We can grab it.”

Brainstorm perked up at Perceptor’s resolute stance. Even with the mask, his joy was evident, lightening the weight around Perceptor’s spark. 

“We don’t just give up that easily,” Brainstorm flexed out his wingtips and stepped forward to join Perceptor. His hand found Perceptor’s to give a light squeeze. “Lead the way, Percy.”

Perceptor allowed the small smile to come to his faceplates as he ducked his helm and pushed forward.

They only had to walk half a kilometer further before they came across a small pond. As Brainstorm had hypothesized early, the creature was semi-aquatic so it was no true surprise to see its home was in a body of water.

In fact, there seemed to be several.

“Oh, they travel in groups,” Brainstorm observed.

There were six in total semi-submerged in the water. The moment Perceptor and Brainstorm approached the water, all but one ducked into the ink depths of the pond. 

Determined to make Brainstorm’s trip not a complete and utter disaster, Perceptor leaped for the lizard. The pond’s water was uncomfortably warm and Perceptor crashed in, his digits struggling to grasp the slimy critter. Once he had it trapped in the cage of his servos, he turned to leave the pond, only to find his movements slow. Sluggish. Like someone had clogged his joints and stalled their movement. 

“Percy?” Brainstorm’s worried voice curled around his processor and Perceptor struggled to respond.

“Br…” he tried to speak, but his vocalizer refused to work with him. “Br…”

With a stifled grunt of exertion, Perceptor pulled one pede free from the sticky, muddy pond floor only to trip, his entire frame tipping into the pond’s dark waters.

“Perceptor!” 

Brainstorm didn’t jump into the pond, but rather reached for Perceptor’s shoulder, digging his fingers beneath the scope mounting to pull him from the water. Perceptor wished he could say he helped, but it felt as if his entire body was frozen stiff, unable to move. 

Once laid on the pond’s bank, Brainstorm looked over Perceptor’s frame, wary to actually touch it.

“I think his oils got into the transformation seams of your hands.”

Perceptor would have cringed in disgust if his face plates had any mobility left in them. As it was, he pulled up his remote comm link.

::Please tell me you have an idea on how to fix this.::

Brainstorm cocked his helm to the side, tapping the tip of his digit to the center of his blast mask. “Well, the Cybertronian frame and natural remedies are not quite in my wheelhouse.”

::Brainstorm.::

“ But , I have a hypothesis on a possible remedy.” Brainstorm leaned over Perceptor. “I’m probably going to have to drag you back to camp though.”

The embarrassment of the situation did little to cover the mortifying disappointment at yet another mishap in what was turning into a disastrous trip. 

::It’s fine.::

Brainstorm patted his shoulder lightly before hooking his hands under his arms and pulled.

“Oh! Do you still have a hold on Dr. Bauer?”

Perceptor wished he could narrow his optics at Brainstorm but as it was, his helm was locked in a way in which he couldn’t even see his conjunx. 

::Don’t tell me that’s what you are deciding to call this species.::

“Don’t be an idiot, Perceptor,” Brainstorm huffed. “I’m only calling this particular Squamata Mollusca Dr. Bauer. After my favorite Earthling herpetologist.”

Perceptor thankfully had enough bodily control to let out an exasperated exvent through his nose, to which Brainstorm laughed. It did soften the blow of his failure a little bit.

::I have Dr. Bauer.::

“Excellent, Perceptor. I can always count on you.”

` The rest of the long, dragging trek home was filled with Brainstorm’s excited ramblings at the possibly uses of a tactile paralytic agent, each weapon idea more flagrant and obnoxious than the last. Needless to say, it passed the time wondrously and by the time they returned to base camp, the sun was beginning to set in the horizon and feeling was returning to the tips of Perceptor’s pedes. 

Miraculously, Brainstorm’s hunch had been accurate. It turned out after the healing properties of Perceptor’s pink flowers alleviated the paralytic agent of the Squamata Mollusca . As for Dr. Bauer, they were able to scrape together a carrying container for it for the time being. 

“Once we are back on the Lost Light- that’s our ship, by the way - I’ll have Nautica help me build you a proper enclosure. You can live in our room-”
“Absolutely not,” Perceptor cut in with a small mutter as he passed Brainstorm a warmed cube of energon. Holding his own, he sat beside his partner. Exhaustion made Perceptor bold as he leaned against Brainstorm, sharing warmth as the night’s cold chill crept in. “Dr. Bauer stays in the lab.”

Brainstorm pouted around his cube of energon but his eyes were glowing bright with mischievous delight. “Fine, but you have to help me get him past Minimus.”

Perceptor snorted, optics drifting to the enclosure. Through the clear film roof, he could see the tiny monster curled up defensively. Its small, angry red eyes glared at Perceptor.

“You and I both know he will not let it on. You’re better off getting Rodimus to approve it before Minimus and Megatron see him.”

“You know what, Percy,” Brainstorm pressed close against Perceptor’s side. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Despite the aches, despite the pains, despite everything not turning out quite as expected, Brainstorm’s consistent Brainstorm-ness was something that would never cease to bring Perceptor joy. While it wasn’t enough to correct the harsh loss in percentage, it did help boost the prediction model to 55.61%

Surely, it was because things were going too well.

They had decided to take a hike. The majority of the research had been contained to a two kilometer radius around their base camp. Only in short bursts had they ventured further into the swamp around them aside from Brainstorm’s initial flyby. They really didn’t have an idea what else was around their tiny bog. In reviewing the crude map Brainstorm had made, they decided to make the small trek to a reservoir Brainstorm had spotted six kilometers from their site. 

In Brainstorm’s estimate, he had failed to account for the foothills and steep slopes that laid between their site and the reservoir. It had subsequently turned their one breem trek into a three breem hike. Neither of them had been bothered by the prospect. Brainstorm was eager to relay his findings on the various tiny projects he had opened up and Perceptor was pleased to report his plant identification endeavors- he had over 250 samples collected and categorized. They made use of their extra time walking in tandem so they didn’t worry over the extra length and growing distance from their base site. 

Ultimately, it wouldn’t have really mattered if it weren’t for the darkening clouds rolling overhead. 

The first low growl of thunder had both of them look up at the sky. The sun had slowly become obscured with thick purpley black clouds. In the distance, Perceptor could see an endless sky of inky black heading towards them. 

“Rain,” Perceptor surmised. Until now, they had been fortunate to have experienced clear skies. They had a small debate on one of their first nights if this planet even experienced varying weather as the skies remained cloudless up until now. “We should head back.”

Brainstorm deflated only a smidge, wings dipping downward. They were closer to their destination at this point than the camp, but the clouds were coming in fast.

“We’re going to get caught in this thing one way or another,” Brainstorm shrugged but did turn to head towards camp. 

Neither of them balked at the idea of a little rain. In truth, it would probably feel great. Their supply of cleaning solution and solvents were running low and while Perceptor didn’t like his inner components to get soaked , a little controlled washing would feel nice when he knew their dry camp awaited them at the end. 

They had barely made it ten paces when the first drops fell from the sky. They were cool to the touch, providing a moment of refreshment before the hot, sizzling burning sensation followed. 

Their optics snapped to each other as lightning cracked far too close for comfort. In seconds, Brainstorm had transformed, hovering just low enough for Perceptor to grab on. Whatever this rain was- acid, by the chemical reaction happening to his outer armor plating -they needed shelter and fast. 

As soon as Perceptor was secured, Brainstorm dashed off towards camp. The rain turned torrential the closer they got, the hissing of burning metal growing louder the longer they were exposed. Perceptor didn’t want to even think about what it would do to their protoforms, and just hoped there would be no lasting damage as it crashed over them in heavy waves. 

Visibility had completely vanished as the skies poured down on them and Perceptor could feel Brainstorm panic as he attempted to fly them in the right direction. Perceptor did his best to look for any identifiable landmarks, but instead spotted a small alcove nestled in one of the foothills. It would be cramped, but they could at least regroup away from the acidic downpour. Perceptor yelled and pointed towards the small cave opening and Brainstorm dove towards it at once. 

Thankfully, its opening faced away from the angle of the rain, providing them some protection from the onslaught of burning downpour. Brainstorm let Perceptor down gently, his pedes landing on the soft turf with a concerning squish. The moss and lichen covered stone held so much moisture it oozed at the touch, pooling where he stood. Brainstorm landed beside him and awed at it, shuffling his pedes in fascination. 

“At least this isn’t acid,” Brainstorm beamed behind his mask. Thankfully, it looked like despite the rain's burning qualities, it had not eaten away at his finish. The smallest of mercies. 

Perceptor found it difficult to go along with his conjunx’s optimism as the thunder snarled from the skies above. Try as they might to find the silver lining in their fraught expedition, it felt like disaster was winning out. It was certainly the victor for the majority of their trip. 

Everything was going wrong. Even in his attempt to make right of failure, it was all crumbling around him. More melting, as he winced at the heavy downpour of acidic rain slapping at the lip of the cave opening. 

Perceptor peered out to the foreign world before him. The once large swamp that had been their research playground had been cast under the toxic clouds of plate-melting rains. He didn’t even want to think about the state of their camp, only hoping their pod and makeshift tent were immune to the corrosive rainfall. 

“At least it looks like the indigenous species seem immune to it,” Brainstorm hummed, optics watching Perceptor curiously. “You…didn’t get any on you, right?”

“Not really,” Perceptor straightened up. 

He had done a thorough visual scan on both his and Brainstorm’s frames as soon as they had landed. It seemed as though precipitation was a weak, stable acid and once it began to dry on their plating, it immediately dropped in reactivity. It turned almost into a base solution the longer it was exposed, perhaps as it settled in the planet’s atmosphere. Whatever the case may be, Perceptor was grateful. 

The last thing this disastrous trip of theirs needed was a medical emergency. Somehow, they had managed to get to the crash and their various expeditions without any severe, long lasting injuries. It was a small upside, though it did little to raise the success percentage from its current pits of 23.82%. Even now, Perceptor watched it dip down to 19.41% as thunder rolled above them, vibrating the rocky alcove they had taken refuge in. 

“Good,” Brainstorm nodded, though he still watched Perceptor wearily. 

Perceptor didn’t comment on it. He could see Brainstorm was sensing his foul mood. It had been easy to mask during the crash and attempted ship repairs, too focused on trying to salvage their carefully crafted trip. It had been easy to deflect in the swamp and during their haphazardly slapped together research trips and sample collecting. But now, stuck in the cave from the acidic torrential downpour, there was little to hide the absolute disappointment in failing in the one thing Perceptor had aimed for when planning out what was supposed to be a romantic getaway. 

“Percy?” Brainstorm prodded lightly. 

“It’s fine,” Perceptor stated, his vocalizer strained in keeping his words even and neutral. “We will just have to wait it out.” And hope our camp wasn’t affected by the storm. Then truly all hopes of rescue were gone.

Brainstorm nodded his helm and settled on a small rock, chin resting on his palm as he looked out at the darkening sky.

“Sun’s going to set soon.”

There was the unspoken statement that without their campsite or alternative means for light, they would be plunged into darkness. Their biolights would help, but not enough to stop the ever present internal percentage dipping down another two points. 17.36%

“I’m sorry, Brainstorm.”

“Huh?”

Perceptor turned slowly to see the confused look on Brainstorm’s faceplates, a thin crease forming above his optic housing. 

Perceptor gestured towards the cave opening in a silent explanation.

“Oh,” Brainstorm nodded his helm before shrugging. “You are great at some things, Perceptor, but I don’t think even you can control the weather. Not before me, at least.”

There was a teasing tone in his words, softer in a placating way in an attempt to soothe Perceptor. Make him smile.

It…only made Perceptor’s spark plunge to his tanks. This whole trip was supposed to be Perceptor’s gift to Brainstorm. A final, cementing act of love and devotion, meticulously planned out for Brainstorm’s maximum enjoyment and here they were: trapped and Brainstorm attempting to comfort him . 

“It’s not…it’s not just that,” Perceptor struggled to speak, frustration and disappointment making the words stick to his intake, tangling with his glossa in a big knot. “This whole trip has been a colossal failure, this is just the rust shavings on top.”

“Perc-”

“There was going to be a double comet eclipse on Apsens VI. Tonight, actually,” Perceptor said. “It only happens every 58,000 meta-cycles. You had mentioned it in your paper on your cosmic harvester, you had used 45-A3 and Rubinski’s crossing as a reference but without a first-hand account, you were only left with anecdotal evidence.” Perceptor belatedly wondered if his voice was cracking but the words kept tumbling out of him. “I had booked us a site on the main island. We’d have access to the glass top seas. I even packed us an expandable boat so we could go at our own pace. I had it all planned out. Everything. It was going to be perfect.”

The words had tumbled out of Perceptor, tension built up after each and every incident that had happened. He had tried to take the Brainstorm route, to make the best of everything, but he couldn’t anymore. Not when it was all melting before him. 

It wasn’t that Perceptor would call himself a perfectionist. There was not an imperative, innate drive for there to be order and absolution in his world. The scientific process was the antithesis of perfection. But he was precise and calculative. He ran numbers and exacted predictability models for his projects and goals. If the means led to the same result of perfection, than Perceptor was fine with the title. But perfection was simply an outcome of invested, grueling calculations.

And he had calculated wrong.

There was a moment of silence between them. Perceptor didn’t dare look over at Brainstorm, dimming his optics as he listened to the heavy battering of rain. 

A small shuffling was Perceptor’s only clue that Brainstorm had gotten up from his perch, coming close. 

“Percy,” Brainstorm’s voice was subdued, quiet. It would almost be drowned out by the rain, if not for how close he was. “ Apsens VI isn’t going anywhere.”

At that, Perceptor looked up, optic ridge wrinkled in a frown. “That’s not the point.”

“Actually,” Brainstorm tiled his helm questioningly, “I think it is.” 

Reaching forward, Brainstorm cupped Perceptor’s cheek in his palm. His servos were cold from the rain’s sudden drop of temperature. The damp cave made their plating icy, regardless of their internal heating systems. 

“I know you had plans. Grand, wonderful plans. Planned down to the nanoklik, knowing you. And I bet they were perfect too and I probably would have loved them. But, the only thing I wanted out of this trip was to be with you.” Perceptor swallowed thickly and opened his mouth but his conjunx held up a single digit. “Ah, ah, ah. I’m not finished, Percy. It’s my turn.” 

Once he was satisfied Perceptor would say no more, he continued back in his soft, quiet voice. “I want to spend every moment with you. We could be on Apsens VI, stuck on this bogwater planet, or even just our lab on the Lost Light. It doesn’t matter as long as we are together. I know none of this has turned out as you had planned, but I’ve enjoyed every moment of it because it's you and me. We have the whole universe at our fingertips and I don’t want to waste a single moment because some things didn’t work out. If everything was perfect, there would be nothing for us to discover, to solve. I want to spend eternity exploring with you. So stop apologizing and beating yourself up and enjoy this moment with me.”

Silence followed, the rain creating a white noise barrier around them. Perceptor hoped it was enough to cover the thrum of his internal systems, abuzz in an effort to cool his rapidly heating frame. He knew his faceplates were warm and could feel them in sharp contrast to Brainstorm’s thumb that was gently sweeping across.

“I’m sor-” A light tap from Brainstorm’s thumb stopped him and he tried again. “Thank you.” Perceptor swallowed the ball of emotion in his intake. With shaky fingers, he reached up and pulled Brainstorm’s servo into his own, holding it tightly between them. “I understand perfection is a fool's errand. It's impossible, but you make me want to do the impossible.”

Even in the increasingly darkening light, Brainstorm was radiant. “Oh Perceptor ,” Brainstorm cooed lovingly, “I think with your heads together, we can overcome perfection’s impenetrable walls. We have all the time in the world.”

It was a promise, a vow and a plan for the future. Perceptor squeezed Brainstorm’s hand in his own silent agreement, pledge, oath. 

“It looks like we are still stuck here,” Perceptor finally said. His hold on Brainstorm’s servo had loosened for them to slot their digits together in a comfortable, pleasant hold.

“At least we’re together,” Brainstorm shrugged, the brightness of his optics warm in the cool cave. “Besides, it sounds like it is lightening up.”

Perceptor’s auditory receptors did note the decrease in volume as the heavy downpour lightened to an almost soothing patter. Above, the clouds seemed to be thinning out, the nebula of stars breaking through the dark clouds. Despite their distance, the light from the stars above light up the cave to a soft, blue glow. 

Both mechs froze as the soft, pale blue light grew around them, the cave growing brighter and brighter as the light began to move . Perceptor reset his optics in disbelief. Beside him, Brainstorm let out a soft, excited gasp.

The lights moved in a fluttering wave, pulsing in unison around them. They swirled like leaves in the wind, weightless and lofty. Slowly, the cloud began to disperse, the mass turning into a speckling of individual, tiny lights. Their glow was soft as they moved around the couple, surrounding them.

Perceptor’s scope tracked one as the tiny little light landed on the center of Brainstorm’s helm, the light flickering almost playfully. 

“I think it likes me,” Brainstorm grinned behind his mask. A few more joined it and soon a few even landed on Perceptor as the cave grew bright in the soft, ambient light. 

“What are they?” Perceptor asked, raising his arm up to examine the light source.

It was terrible small, but under Perceptor’s scope, he could see it was in fact a insect with translucent, delicate wings, six fragile legs, four needle thin pincers and an iridescent thorax that connected to a flickering abdomen, its powersource undetected even under his high power lens. 

“Glow bugs!” Brainstorm squealed with delight. “Or are they electric gnats?”

“On Earth, I believe they have a similar species called fireflies.”

Brainstorm perked up. “Is the source of their light fire?” His optics went crossed as he attempted to look at the bug in the center of his forehelm. “How curious. You don’t feel warm, unless the fire inside them is too small to emanate heat.”

“We don’t know the nature of their light source so-”

“We’ll have to investigate further,” Brainstorm waved him off, too enraptured with his new friends. “We should take some back to back with us.” He threw Perceptor a wink. “A non-energon reliant lightsource would do wonders for our camp. Imagine what these little guys could do for the ship.”

In an instant, his mind was off. Brainstorm rattled off the possible uses the little bugs could do, speaking almost to them rather than himself or Perceptor. His excitement was contagious and Perceptor found himself laughing in delight, his spark burning in fondness for his conjunx. 

From his subspace, Perceptor pulled an expandable sample bag. He had started carrying them with him after the incident with Dr. Bauer, though the purpose was more for the flora than any additional pets. It would hold little insects for now and they could make adjustments later. 

“Only a few,” Perceptor murmured, slowly pushing the bugs into the makeshift cage. They did not seem bothered by their containment, happily floating around.

“What will we call them?” Brainstorm asked, gently picking off the one on his helm and adding it to the container. 

“I think it is premature to name the species without more research.”

“No, no!” Brainstorm cackled. “We have Dr. Bauer. What do we call them?”

Perceptor could not help but joy his laughter, clutching the sample bag to his spark. 

“We have to name one after Nautica,” Brainstorm decided, bending over to speak directly to the bugs.

In the corner of Perceptor’s HUD, he could see the Brainstorm Prediction Model was changing.

“And Nightbeat and Swerve.”

34.21%

“Tailgate, Whirl, Cyclonus.”

48.56%

“Ratchet, First Aid, Drift.”

53.95%

“Rewind and Chromedome.”

66.42%

“Whoever is Captain and co-Captain and whatever name Ultra Magnus goes by this week.”

72.33%

“And, of course, you and me.”

88.93%

Once the rains had died, the pair made the slow trek home, their makeshift lights leading the way in a soft glow. To their surprise, their campsite was nearly completely intact. Some of the paint of their pod had fizzled away and a few crates were filled with the now base liquid of the rains, but overall everything was still there. 

Dr. Bauer was curled safely in their cage and Perceptor’s terrarium had remained undisturbed. 

“Tonight would have been the eclipse of 45-3A and Rubinski ,” Perceptor murmured. “I…had planned the trip so this would have been our last night there. It was said that when the two comets crossed, the skies of Apsens VI would be painted in golden light.”

Together, they laid on the top of scrapped remains of their broken pod. The skies were clear now that the rains had passed, not a single cloud in sight. Lingering moisture and humidity keep the air warm, the faint breeze refreshing rather than frigid as it had been on nights prior. 

Brainstorm hummed beside him, optics tracing the stars above them. “Yeah?”

“It’s why I had selected these particular dates,” Perceptor admitted. “I wanted to make our trip memorable.”

Brainstorm shifted and Perceptor turned his helm to find his conjunx facing him fully. “I’d say you still achieved that.” There was a teasing glint in his optics. “Maybe not in the way you planned, but undeniably special. Who else’s conjunx has given them a whole planet ?”

Perceptor was near sure if- when -they returned to the Lost Light and input their swampy planet’s coordinates, they would find it already marked and studied in several databases. But the illusion of isolation and first discovery was still theirs and Perceptor was finally happy to live in that reality.

“What did you have planned for tonight?” Brainstorm asked. “Would we be laying on the sands outside our little shack?” 

“Something like that,” Perceptor murmured, turning on his side to look at his conjunx. “Would you like me to show you?”

Brainstorm’s optics cycled wide, his systems quietly stalling for half a second before he nodded. 

Slowly, Perceptor rose up to a half sit, tilting his frame to hover over Brainstorm’s. He moved unrushed and with ease. His optics never left Brainstorm’s, carefully gauging his reactions. He could see the inner lens of Brainstorm’s optics spiral into a tight focus, tracing his movements; he could hear the hiccuping hum of Brainstorm’s sputtering engine, impatient and eager; he could practically feel Brainstorm vibrant in an effort to remain still. All of these small, barely perceivable reactions let a small smile tug at his lips.

Bringing his hand up, Perceptor lightly traced his digit along Brainstorm’s cockpit, following the subtle transformation seams that led to his spark chamber. His conjunx sucked in a hissing invent as the gentle touch and Perceptor held back his own upturned lips from splitting into a full grin. As confident and brash as Brainstorm acted, he always softened under a kind, gentle hand. 

Perceptor drew his gaze up to see Brainstorm’s optics bright and waiting, eager to see where this would lead them. His face was always so expressive, even half-hidden.

Bringing his other hand up, Perceptor lightly tapped a single digit to the center of Brainstorm’s blast mask.

“May I?”

A tiny whimper escaped the jet as he gave a quick, bobbing nod. 

In truth, removing it would still require Brainstorm to release the hidden interior locks, but in doing so, it allowed Perceptor to slowly ease the plating out, revealing a slightly agape mouth. A tip of a glossa was peeking out between lips and Perceptor was helpless to stare.

“See something you want?” Brainstorm tried for cocky but landed somewhere in the realm of breathless. 

Typically, Perceptor’s processor was quick to whip up some sort of retort. Years of proximity and banter had made it second nature to match Brainstorm’s snark with his own biting sarcasm. 

However, words failed him, enraptured by the sight of his conjunx painted in the pale glow of this planet’s moons and the swirling galaxy above them. 

“I think I have everything I could possibly want,” Perceptor found himself saying far too honest, embarrassing warmth rushing to his faceplates and down his neck.

Brainstorm squeaked as something in his vocalizer hitched as he attempted and ultimately failed to respond. Thankfully, Brainstorm was always apt at getting his point across in a multitude of ways. 

His lips were warm against Perceptor’s, a light press that made his spark spin nervously in his chest. Brainstorm pulled himself up, clever fingers grabbed onto Perceptor’s shoulders to keep them close. Beneath his palm, Brainstorm’s own chest was warm. He could practically feel his partner’s spark beneath all the metal plating and wires. His own just as eager to reach out, to meet.

“Percy,” Brainstorm whispered against his lips, barely moving back as he spoke. “This is all I need. You, me and the whole universe to explore together.”

Perceptor’s reply was a soft kiss against his lips as he felt his chest shift. Beneath his fingertips, Brainstorm’s chest plating parted in sync with his own.

They pulled back slightly, still remaining in each other’s arms as he looked down at their exposed chambers, their sparks beaming brightly in the dim night. The blinding light connected, coming together and becoming one. It was like it was always meant to be this way.

A heavy, warm weight settled on them as they brought their helms together. A myriad of emotions crashed over them: years of pain and longing, bright bursts of ingenuity and pride, the steady companionship and comfort of friendship, the hungry desire of challenge and competition, the quiet lull of peace. Perceptor didn’t even realize his optics had shuttered off, inventing deeply against Brainstorm’s cheek, biting back the smile as he raked over Brainstorm’s entire life force, chaotic and frenzied as always, but steady and there.

“Damn, Percy,” Brainstorm murmured against his shoulder. “For a guy that will barely smile at me in the morning, you hold a lot of emotional weight.”

Perceptor had always been good at compartmentalizing but…that didn’t matter so much when he gave every thought and feeling and memory over to Brainstorm. As exposing and terrifying as that should be, Perceptor only felt the strutless calm of no longer having to hold it in. To have someone to share it with. To be accepted in every ounce of his being.

“Surprised to find a multifaceted core in your conjunx, Brainstorm?”

Brainstorm snorted, not bothering to dignify that with any words. Instead, he gently wrapped his arms around Perceptor and tipped them onto their sides, laying them back down onto the pod. The weight of an eternity of knowing was a lot but neither wanted to leave the all encompassing embrace. 

Perceptor wasn’t sure how long they laid there beneath the stars, the gentle hum of their sparks vibrating in the small opening between them, their lives laid out for each other without judgment or fear. Their hands found each other, digits messily linking together as they brushed their lips together. It was hardly a kiss, just a desire for touch and closeness. 

Perceptor was surprised how much energy spark merging took, that it left him loose limb and strutless in Brainstorm’s embrace. The warmth of their systems was in contrast of the cool breeze that cut through the typical balmy nights of their swamp planet. The gentle drone of their radio transmitter buzzing faded into the background like the chirp of exotica fauna and rustling strange flora. All that his sensors could track was Brainstorm, Brainstorm, Brainstorm.

The moons had twisted to the other side of the planet and the sun was only letting out the first rays of light when they finally parted, their sparks returning to their chambers, though they did not leave the embrace nor rush to put distance between them.

“I could stay like this forever,” Perceptor quietly admitted, his always running processor blissfully quiet as it soaked up the hum of Brainstorm’s inner systems. 

No sooner had the words left his lips did a sharp burst of static cut through the quiet pre-dawn. 

Both scientists jerked up, their helms knocking lightly against each other and jarring their sluggish processors. It took a lengthy moment to understand what that noise was before a familiar voice spoke. Tinny and far away, but no less a welcome sound.

“Perceptor? Brainstorm?” Rodimus’s voice was small and thin with static but Perceprtor would recognize his Captain’s bored, impatient drawl anyway.

Together, the pair slid down the hull of the ship and scrambled to the radio. Perceptor dropped the receiver twice with his eager, shaky hands before he was finally able to answer back.

“Lost Light? Rodimus?”

“Finally,” came Rodimus’s groan. “We’ve been trying to reach you for three breems. I was about to tell Blaster to just give up-”

“No, he wasn’t,” Megatron’s retort cutting in, no less sharp in the faraway reception of their call. 

“We crashed,” Perceptor was quick to explain. As much as he enjoyed their holiday, there was no sense in delaying their rescue. “I’ve been broadcasting our last known coordinates in the hopes of-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rodimus cut him off. “We got them. Mags has us heading your way. What happened? Too busy fragging to steer- Hey! Don’t take the mic…”

“Status report,” Megatron demanded, though Rodimus’s yelps could still be heard in the background.

“No injuries,” Perceptor said.

Brainstorm leaned against his back, plucking the receiver from Perceptor’s fingers. “Pod’s slag. Once you get into orbit, we can light a flare.”

“Several volunteers have already begun preparing pods for your retrieval.”

Perceptor looked up to see Brainstorm’s toothy grin. “We have quite a few things with us. You may want to send two.”

Perceptor reached up and grabbed Brainstorm’s hand, lowering them to speak into the receiver without taking it from his conjunx. “We’ve been busy.”

“You sound weird,” Rodimus’s skepticism was surprisingly clear over the layer of static. “Oh Primus, were you guys, ya know?” There was a burst of cackling through the call. “Oh that’s so embarrassing!” 

A loud beep sounded through transmission and rough bursts of static.

“We’ll rendezvous with you within the next cycle.” There was a pause in Megatron’s speech before he quietly added, “Apologies for the disruption.”

The connection ended with an abrupt click and sudden silence. Perceptor blinked several times before he heard a cascade of giggles above him. It was not long after that Perceptor felt his own laughter slowly bubble up his intake, falling from his lips. Brainstorm pressed against his back, arms wrapping around Perceptor as the two laughed embraced.

“Primus,” Brainstorm said between giggles, “I hate it when he’s right.”

Perceptor turned enough to catch Brainstorm’s gaze, mentally recording the moment: Brainstorm’s faceplates open and bright, his smile wide and toothy, optics shining brighter than a million comets in the sky.

“Me too,” Perceptor murmured, bridging the distance in a soft kiss.

Internally, his prediction model recalculated, the numbers rapidly shifting as rose to a solid 99.98%.