Would You Like To Date My Son?

[heliopauseentertainments]

For @tangentially-displaced, this is their fault. This can be read as part of the Settlement (DreamWidth) universe, but doesn't have to be.

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: implied First Aid/Springer, past Prowl/Tarantulas

Characters: First Aid & Tarantulas

Summary: In which First Aid is offered a date with Springer from an unlikely source.

Crossposting: AO3 | Tumblr | Pillowfort

Fic under cut

It was an adjustment, having a techno-organic coworker, especially one that had chosen the form of a large, many-legged Earth creature. First Aid was pretty sure that was called a “spider” or a “tarantula.” Then again, the mech’s name was Tarantulas, so First Aid supposed to it was a mercy that there was only one of him.

Tarantulas was a lot.

Very vocal, very… open about what he thought and whatever his feelings were. It was a little jarring from how emotionally guarded a lot of mechs that went through the war had been, but then again, Tarantulas had allegedly been a neutral the entire time. At least, that was how he presented himself. First Aid didn’t know enough to dispute any of Tarantulas’s claims about his background.

First Aid could quite ever remember meeting someone quite like that before.

He didn’t even work in First Aid’s department.

He just happened to be on the same floor because this part of that floor of the hospital had been reserved for certain experimental research. So, they ran into each other in the hallway quite frequently. Tarantulas was oddly happy to see him every time and First Aid really didn’t understand why. Still, he wasn’t going to dissuade him unless Tarantulas started to get weird about it.

When Tarantulas appeared at his office door, hands clasped together with what was probably glee, First Aid wished he could make sense of his colleague’s facial expression… or lack thereof. His chosen features did not emote as much as a more typical mech’s face. Even First Aid could express quite a lot despite his face-obscuring visor and mask.

“Uh, hello, Tarantulas,” he began, before coughing uncomfortably. “What… do you need?”

“Do you remember what we talked about at lunch the other day?”

First Aid tilted his head to the side, trying to sort through his memories. Nothing was pulling up, but he’d been quite focused on the report he was in the middle of writing.

Sparks, despite being the center of their very beings and lives, were understudied and he’d been researching their capacities direct communication. Myths regarding a legendary concept of “bonding” had always been regarded as just that: myths, but First Aid had finally been given the greenlight to explore it further.

Absolutely engrossing work and that had been affecting his ability to focus on anything else for the last few weeks.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, setting his stylus aside on the desk. “Do you mind reminding me?”

“No, not at all.” Tarantulas chuckled before plopping himself down in the visitor’s chair. His extra legs, where kibble would have been on a more typical Cybertronian, wobbled when he sat. Techno-organics, the few that First Aid had seen, always had a sort of… soft gel-like quality to them. “You were telling me about this… ideal mech of yours and you see, I was thinking… it just so happens that I know someone who fits what you were talking about.”

“Oh?” First Aid doubted that, since he’d basically described Springer, but he saw no reason not to hear Tarantulas out. Even with Springer’s recent career change from Wrecker to a defense attorney in opposition to Prowl’s appointment as Chief Prosecutor, First Aid still felt his spark stutter at the sight of him. “Do you?”

“Oh, yes.” Another chuckle as Tarantulas put his elbows on the desk, leaning forward with what would have likely been a wide, excited grin on a more typical face. All of his optics glowed with glee. “I know you’ve been lonely, but you see, my son’s a lawyer.”

“I’m sorry, your what?”

Son?

“My son, yes. Mine and… Prowl’s.” While he couldn’t blame Tarantulas for saying Prowl’s name with utter disdain, First Aid was struggling to keep up with the information and the psychic damage it brought with it. Cybertronians didn’t reproduce. Also the idea of Tarantulas and Prowl having been… involved at some point in the past was… more than First Aid really needed today.

“Your s—“

“Don’t think about it too hard. That’s not what’s important.” Tarantulas let his… claws? Hands? Tarantulas let his primary manipulating appendages fall to the desk. “What’s important is that I think you’ll like him very much. He’s got a great job. He’s a lawyer, a defense attorney even. He’s got a spectacular war record, a hero. He was in the Wreckers, you know, even led them for awhile.”

Wait.

This was sounding really familiar.

“Oh?” First Aid leaned back in his chair slightly, not sure where exactly this was going.

“And so I said to him the other day, ‘Springer’—that’s his name—Springer, you’re getting older and now that the war’s over, it’s time, I think, you found some company to make sure you don’t end up like your father. I know this guy from work, a real nice guy, hardworking, and he’s a doctor—”

“Springer is your s—“

“Yes, don’t interrupt. I’m not finished.” Tarantulas coughed. “Now where was I—Yes, and so I got him to agree to a date if you want.”

First Aid didn’t move for a moment, silent in his utter befuddlement.

“First Aid?”

“I think… I need to sit down for a second.”

He was already sitting down. Tarantulas squinted one of his optical lenses.

“So, do you want to date my son?”

“Yes—“ Perhaps that was too eager.