Chapter Text
Hound was on patrol, enjoying his drive through the desert when he picked up the scent of a mech he didn’t recognize. It held the base scents of metal, oil, and Energon that all mechs had, but he couldn’t match the scent to any mechs he knew. It could be a trick, mechs were able to change their scent by adding additional smells that overpowered or complicated their natural scent, but why would the Decepticons specifically target him? Hound knew he was the only one with sensors sensitive enough to tell mechs apart by scent, but he didn’t think the Decepticons knew just how accurate his sensors were.
If it wasn’t a trap the only other portion was that a mech he didn’t know was here on Earth, either on accident or by design. The question of what to do briefly flashed in his processor before Hound decided to follow the scent. Everything else on patrol looked fine, but this was odd, something worth investigating. If it was a Decepticon trap he would be able to inform Optimus about what was going on. If a new mech ended up on the planet they might have a new ally if Hound got to him before the Decepticons.
Decision made Hound followed the scent. It wasn’t long before he found its source, a small cave in the ground. Hound almost drove past it but froze in his tracks when his sensors picked up faint mechanical whines and clicks coming from the cave. He knew those noises, but it seemed insane to hear them on Earth. Those were the cries of a sparkling in distress. There hadn’t been any new sparks since a thousand years into the war. Fighters shut down their forges to avoid putting a new spark in danger during the fighting, and the noncombatants all died.
This couldn’t have been a trap. No Decepticon, no matter how vile, would pretend to be a sparkling in distress to lure someone into a trap.
Hound approached the hole but made sure there was some distance between him and the hole’s opening. He didn’t know if the sparkling would want space. It would be best to play it safe for now. Tuning his voice to be the softest he could make it, Hound asked, “Hey little one, what’s wrong?”
The cries stopped when he spoke only to be replaced by a questioning chirp. He was hoping the sparkling would talk to him, but at least they were responding.
“I’m Hound, an Autobot scout. I was patrolling the area when I heard you crying. Do you need help?”
It was quiet for a few klicks before Hound heard the faint noise of mechanical limbs moving. A head popped out of the tunnel and Hound nearly had a pump failure at the sight. The sparkling looked like they were dead with their gray unpainted armor. The only color on them were their yellow optics. That combined with Hound being able to feel their spark faintly humming were the only reasons he didn’t think he was looking at a corpse. Even with those things it was hard to push down his discomfort.
What kind of slagger left their sparkling unpainted? Before the war even the poorest of mechs were painted. The only one crazy enough to want to look like a walking corpse was the great slagmaker himself, Megatron.
Pushing down his discomfort Hound smiled at the sparkling. They were looking up at him, optics wide with wonder. They were adorable once he got past his instinctual reaction. Their round cheeks and wide eyes combined with being small enough to fit in Hound’s hand was worth cooing over.
The sparkling didn’t need to be cooed over, though. Not now, at least. “Since you know I’m Hound can you tell me your designation?”
The sparkling looked down sadly giving off an aura of dejection. A quiet, warbling wine left them that would have been hard for most normal mechs to pick up on.
“Is it because you can’t speak, or do you not have a designation?” Hound asked.
The sparkling held up two servos. They didn’t have a designation. That was odd and concerning, especially when combined with their apparent inability to speak.
Hound really wanted a way to refer to the sparkling that wasn’t just the sparkling or nicknames. He deserved to have his own designation. “Would you like it if I gave you a designation? We could always change it later if you find something you like better.”
The sparkling lit up at Hound’s suggestion, clapping his hands together and clicking in delight.
“Now, for a good designation. . .” Hound wracked his brain, trying to think about a good designation that was fitting for the sparkling. Maybe something to do with sound or noise? They sure made a lot of it, even without being able to talk. “What do you think about Click?”
A high-pitched whine came from the sparkling—Click—as they vigorously nodded.
Hound chuckled at the sparkling’s enthusiasm. “Okay Click, what do you think about coming with me? As I told you, I’m an Autobot. We have a base on this planet, and our medic—Ratchet—could take a look at you. See if he could fix your vocalizer so you can talk. We can take care of you. What do you say?”
Click’s faceplate morphed into a look of awe as he stood still half in that cave staring at Hound. Then, Click ran to Hound, hitting his leg plats with an echoing clang as he tried to wrap his arms around it in a hug. Click’s arms could only reach halfway around Hound’s legs.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hound laughed. “Take a step back so I can transform into my alt form. I’ll drive us back to base, it’ll be quicker.”
Click did as he said and soon enough Hound had Click buckled into his alt form. Driving away Click looked at everything in excitement. This was nice. It had been a long time since Hound had seen a sparkling. Even Bumblebee, the youngest of the Autobots, was an adult when the war started.
“I need to call our leader, Optimus Prime, and our medic, Ratchet, to let them know I’m coming back to base early with you. I’ll be focused on talking to them and heading back to base for a bit. Is that okay?”
Click nodded with a little chirp. Taking that as agreement Hound pinged Ratchet first. He may trust and respect his leader, but Ratchet was always in charge where patients are concerned, and Click was going straight to med bay.
::Ratchet, this is Hound. I’m heading back early and I have someone who needs a checkup.::
::Who is it? What happened?:: Ratchet snapped, demanding the information.
::I found a sparkling.:: Hound admitted, letting his nervousness blead into his voice. Click couldn’t hear this and he needed reassurance about what to do. Ratchet handled plenty of sparklings before the war, he would know what to do. ::They can’t speak outside of baby talk, you know, clicks, whirrs, whines. He, he didn’t have a designation and he’s unpainted.::
Ratchet’s end of the comm was quiet for several klicks before he slowly said, ::You found an unpainted sparkling that doesn’t have a designation and can’t speak.::
::Yeah. Well, I gave him a designation since he didn’t have one. He’s Click now, and I told him he could change it if he found one he liked better. But he didn’t have one when we met.::
::How did you find him?::
::I was on patrol and smelled a mech I didn’t recognize. I can recognize all the mechs on Earth now, so I knew it had to be someone new. I investigated and found Click. He was hiding in a little cave, more like a hole in the ground, clicking and whining in distress. I tried talking to him and he popped out of the cave and he’s so tiny. Clicks even smaller than Spike.:: The realization of just how tiny and fragile Click was struck Hound. If he tipped over Click would end up smashed to pieces. He adjusted his course slightly lowering his speed and going to smoother terrain. The slight increase in time to get back to base was worth it with the slight decrease in chances that he’ll tip over. The chance that he’d tip over was already miniscule, but he won’t take any extra risks to Click’s safety.
Why was Click squirming now? Was something wrong?
::Hound, stop panicking. What happened next.:: Ratchet calmly asked.
Right, he was telling Ratchet about how he met Click. He had lowered the chances of tipping over. Everything was fine now. He could do this, he was calm. ::I figured out that Click didn’t have a designation and offered to give him one. He’s really happy with his new designation. Then I offered to bring him back to base and have you give him a checkup, see if you could fix his inability to speak. He ran to me to give me a hug. He’s so tiny his arms only reached halfway around my leg. He’s so cute.::
::Well, it seeks like the sparkling likes you. That’s a good sign. When you get back to base bring Click straight to the med bay. No extra stops.::
::Understood. If that’s all I’ll contact Optimus about this.::
::That’s all. I expect to see you soon:: With that parting remark Ratchet ended their comm call.
That went well. Ratchet even mentioned that Click liking him was a good sign. That was good. Now to comm Optimus.
::Optimus, this is Hound. I’m heading back from patrol early straight to Ratchet. You need to send someone else out to finish my patrol.::
::What happened?:: Optimus immediately responded, concern clear in his voice.
::I was several breems into my patrol when I caught the scent of a mech I didn’t recognize. I followed the scent to its source and, Optimus. . . I found a sparkling.::
::A sparkling? How did he end up here?::
::I don’t know, but something’s wrong with him. He, he can’t talk, he didn’t have a designation, and his armors unpainted. I thought he was dead when I first saw him.:: Hound choaked out the last part.
Click was gripping his seat belt tightly now, quietly whining. What was distressing him? Hound couldn’t sense anything around them.
::That’s concerning. His caretaker?::
::I couldn’t sense anyone else around. I’m not sure he had one. I mean, who doesn’t give their sparkling a designation. I-I gave him a designation, he’s Click now, at least until he changes it.:: Hound was rambling now. He didn’t know why he was rambling. Everything was fine. He was on a safe course back to base with Click securely riding with him. Ratchet was waiting at base to give Click a checkup. Ratchet was the best doctor in Cybertron ever produced. If anything was wrong Ratchet would fix it. Everything was fine.
::And he’s coming with you willingly?:: Optimus asked.
::Yeah. Click hugged me when I suggested coming here. He’s just so cute. Ratchet said its good he trusts me.:: He was starting to ramble again. He needed to stop that. Optimus was his leader, that meant he needed concise reports of important information, not Hound’s ramblings. Not over a comm call.
::That is good.:: Optimus gently said. ::You made the right call, Hound. I’ll send Sideswipe and Sunstreaker out to finish your patrol and see if they can find anything else. Do you have the coordinates you found Click at?::
It was a relief to know that Optimus agreed with his decision. He would have defended it to Prowl, but it was good he wouldn’t have to. Sending the coordinates he found Click at he said, ::I sent you the coordinates. Click was hiding in a tiny cave. I didn’t look inside, but he didn’t bring anything with him.::
::I’ll let them know. And Hound?::
::Yes Optimus?::
::Get back here quickly. I look forward to meeting Click..::
::Will do, Optimus. Hound signing out.:: Ending the call Hound focused on Click again who still looked nervous. He needed to cheer the sparkling up—it was upsetting to see the sparkling so upset.
A flock of birds flew by and Click pointed at them with a whirr of delight. Hound chuckled seeing Click so happy at seeing some birds. He loved the organic life on this planet, it was nice that the sparkling enjoyed it as well. This could be Clicks first time seeing birds.
Hound began explaining what he knew about those birds and birds in general on Earth, all his worry from earlier disappearing. Click soaked up what he was saying with a focused gaze and happy chirps, his earlier nervousness completely gone.
They began making a game of it. Click would point at something with a questioning whirr and Hound would do his best to explain it to Click. He pointed at everything there was in the desert, form the sand and stone, to the rare plants and animals. He even pointed at Hound himself. He just chuckled and started explaining his past and what he does now to Click who was an attentive listener. It was a very pleasant drive back to the Ark.