Work Text:
Charlie's Diamond Glow Car Wash was a family-owned, small town business. Despite the name, it wasn't a glamorous establishment, operating out of a run-down shop next to a closed down gas-station.
And so far, it was the only place on the entire planet willing to serve Skywarp.
Charlie himself was a disgruntled old man who liked to make a lot of colourful hand gestures through the wash's shop window. He had just turned eighty-nine, which Skywarp figured wasn't a half bad achievement for a fleshbag, though it looked like he'd need a system upgrade or two if he wanted to make it to an even ninety.
The daily running of the car wash was done by Charlie's two grandsons, Mack and Bill, and according to them, Grampa's mind wasn't what it used to be, which is probably why the old man didn't see any issue with insisting they hose down the alien jet disguised as an F15 Eagle like it were no different from a family station-wagon in the first place.
The customer service was nothing to brag about, but as far as Skywarp was concerned the squishies did the job required of them. And it certainly beat the wash-racks on base; the overworked filtration system wasn't getting all the contaminates out of the water and it left armour itchy and dull, and the water pressure was so low it was barely more than a lukewarm trickle.
The humans, with their soft sponges and warm, clean, soapy water, made it all feel like a spa trip.
Skywarp sighed.
"Man, this better not be turning you on!" Bill complained, the warm water from his sponge seeping pleasantly between Skywarp's seams, causing his wing to shudder.
"Don't insult me, fleshbag," Skywarp grumbled, trying to refocus on the circular motions of the sponge on the underside of his wing.
"You keep calling us fleshbags and you can forget about getting a wax finish," Mack called from inside the cockpit, where he was hoovering out the upholstery. He'd had to use a ladder to climb up. It was balanced precariously against Skywarp's wing.
There was a clatter from inside the cockpit as the human disturbed Skywarp's collection of fusion power-cells. "The hell are these? Glowsticks?"
Skywarp didn't have to explain that they were highly radioactive ammunition that were likely to make the poor meatbag sterile, as Bill had finished scrubbing him down and was coming back with the industrial pressure washer in hand. Skywarp's favourite part of the whole experience.
Bill pointed it up at Skywarp's undercarriage and the pressurised spray thundered across his belly. It was bliss, getting into every the nook and cranny and all hard to reach places. Skywarp widened his armour seams and stifled a groan, relaxing on his landing gear with a hydraulic whir.
As always, it was over far too soon. They dried him off, polished him up, and Mack rubbed the last of the wax across Skywarp's nosecone, before sitting back and throwing his discoloured polishing rag down. "There. Done. You gonna pay us in real money this time?"
After the shouting matches of his previous visits, in which his stolen goods had not been accepted as payment, Skywarp had come better prepared this time. "The duffle bag under the seat," he directed them. "I trust it should be sufficient payment?"
Grumbling, Mack scooted across his nose and bent over into the open cockpit. He riffled around under the seat and dragged the duffle bag out. He threw it over his shoulder to his brother on the ground. Bill caught it and set it down. He zipped it open. There was silence.
Mack climbed back out of the cockpit and whistled appreciatively at the wads of cash he could see peaking out of the duffle bag. "That real?"
Bill looked up, scowling. "Yeah, but it's covered in blood."
Mack struggled, making his precarious way down the ladder. "Well-"
"And Canadian."
Mack jumped from the second-to-last rung and whipped his hat off to throw it on the ground, "You fucking dumb-ass robot!"
"Hey!" Skywarp barked. "That's perfectly good human currency!"
"Why we wasting our time with this guy?" Mack demanded, thumbing back to the jet parked in front of their shop. "He's chasing away all our business-"
Bill scooped up the duffle bag by one of the handles and flung it back at Skywarp. It bounced off his wing with a twang. "He's right. Customers don't come round no more 'cuz of you. You're scaring them off."
"That's ridiculous!" Skywarp complained. "Why would you want to wash other meatbags over me?"
"Cars!" Mack was rapidly losing his patience, pointing furiously at the rusty old sign for their business. "We wash fucking cars, not people! It's a car wash! See!"
"That's just as bad. You're wasting your time with those mud-crawling four-wheelers," Skywarp snorted. "If it's more business you need, I have friends-"
"Jesus fucking Christ, the last thing we need is more of you!" Mack shouted.
"Mack," Bill sounded stressed, "Calm down, you don't want-"
"Want what?!" Mack's face was red with anger now. "Him to kill me?! Go ahead, you big purple chicken, I ain't scared of you!"
"Why would I kill you when I still have use of you?" Skywarp optics would have rolled if he'd been in bipedal mode. Without warning, he fired up his jet engine and blasted the cleaning supplies set out behind him into the sky. The bucket soared across the street and crashed through the window of the strip-club opposite.
"Asshole!" Mack bellowed over the roar of Skywarp's thrusters as he rolled onto the street and cut off cars coming from every which direction.
Bill bent to pick his brother's hat up, brushing it off. "He brings any more of those evil robots here we're gonna end up on a terrorist watch list," he shook his head.
Mack snatched his hat back and crammed it back onto his head, "No we're not. We're calling them Autobots. That cheap-ass jet is gonna be their problem!"
The Autobots didn't respond. Bill figured they were busy. Maybe someone needed to die before they took Decepticon sightings seriously.
But he didn't think that Skywarp jerk was gonna kill them, even with Mack's provoking. If he didn't know any better he would have said the alien kinda liked them, or at least liked getting a wash from them. He came by often enough.
It was a weekday afternoon and he was on break, making up a grilled cheese in the apartment above the shop when Grampa's voice shouted for him over the blaring of the TV downstairs. "Ya got customers!"
"Mack's out there!" Bill rolled his eyes and flipped his grilled cheese.
"He's gun' need some help, boy, you better get on it," Grampa called again, and before Bill could ask what the heck that was supposed to mean, footsteps came thundering up the stairs and a sweaty, panting Mack came crashing into the kitchenette. He stopped in the doorway, grasping at the frame with white-knuckled fingers.
"It's back."
Bill took a bite of his grilled cheese and spoke through his mouthful, "The squirrel?"
"The plane," Mack snarled. "And it's brought more!"
Bill nearly choked. He had to abandon the rest of this sandwich as his brother pulled him outside. They passed by Grampa watching through the window, who made to sure to remind them that it was half-off when you recommended a friend.
Outside were three fighter jets, sitting in a row in front of their shop. In the middle was their black and purple freeloader; Skywarp. On his left was a navy jet. The one of his right was red and white and blue.
"You guys really don't believe in camo, huh?" Bill couldn't help himself.
"We told you last week we didn't want your business no more!" Mack pointed at Skywarp. "Get outta here and take ya fucking boyfriends with ya!"
All three jets sat in front of them silently. Unmoving. Bill felt nervous. He tugged on his brother's arm. "Listen, Mack-"
"Mack," a haunting voice repeated, oily and snide. It was coming from the white jet. It sighed, sounding exasperated. "You humans and your crass monosyllabic names. I am Starscream." The white jet rolled forward an inch in introduction. "And I am told you do adequate work."
Mack's jaw was flexing, "For paying customers, yeah."
There was an electronic warp, followed by a clanking racket as the white plane's armour separated from his frame and started to fold in on itself. Both brothers stumbled back in alarm when the jet transformed into a towering robotic man. With wings.
A dark face with a piecing red eyes smirked down at them. His hand dipped into his cockpit and pulled out a briefcase. He bent at the waist, the case pinched between two fingers. And dropped it into Mack's stunned arms. "Five hundred. American."
Mack's shaking fingers managed to pop the clasp on the briefcase. Five hundred bucks stared back at them. There wasn't even any blood.
"Now," Starscream straightened back up and turned to peruse the sign listing their services, his hip cocked. "I believe ...we'd like the works."
Bill blinked himself out of his surprise, "Sure thing, Mr Starscream."
Skywarp wriggled happily, bumping a wing tip against his navy companion. "Just wait till they get the pressure washer out, TC. It's to die for."
The jets came back. Again. And again.
Every Thursday Bill heard the deafening roar of their engines as they swooped in for what they referred to as a well-deserved pampering. The navy jet, Thundercracker, wasn't bad. But that Starscream guy was even worse than Skywarp. Together, the two of them wouldn't shut up, nattering on to each other about their problems like a pair of gossiping housewives at the nail salon.
Mack still hated them. But Bill was starting to get invested. They lived colourful lives, that was for sure. Listening to them made the day shoot by.
That they tipped at like three-hundred percent didn't hurt much neither.
But when they started bringing more friends, even Mack came around to it. He wasn't much fond of the jets -and there were a tonne of them, every colour of damn rainbow- but he liked the other ones. The trucks, and cars, especially the construction vehicles. None of them knew the value of a dollar so he and his brother were racking it in. They'd have enough to do up the shop soon, and Grampa's apartment.
They didn't get much human business mind, but when the alien criminals paid this well, who cared?
Which is why it was a problem when the Autobots finally did pole up, a whole month later.
Two gorgeous Lamborghinis came roaring in, one red, one yellow, glinting under the southern sun like ruby and gold. Mack whistled in appreciation, stepping out of the shop and wiping off his hands with a rag as he approached to admire, congratulate the owners- when a cop car came whizzing in behind them. The lights flashed, siren's giving off a loud whoop that had the curtains of the strip club across the street twitching.
Mack's smile fell. He put up his hands reflectively, stepping away from the whole scene. But neither Lamborghini driver nor cop emerged from their vehicles.
"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, sweep the area," a stern no-nonsense voice emerged from the cop car rolling gently towards him. "I will question the native."
"Native?" Mack wrinkled his nose. "Wait a minute, you ain't one of 'em talking cars, are yah?"
"Cybertronian," the Autobot-cop sounded annoyed. "Decepticon activity was recently reported in this area-"
"Yeah, I know, by me. A month ago, if you wanna call it that 'recent'," Mack folded his arms. "Well, they're all gone now, no need to stick around-"
But the cop car wasn't to be shooed. The air turned static, and Mack had a sense that it was the cop, scanning the area, suspicious of him. "To your knowledge, if there anything in this area that may attract Decepticon interest?"
"Hey look, buddy," Mack tried. "This is just a car wash-"
The aggressive rev of a powerful engine behind Mack cut him off and made him jump. The red Lamborghini had circled back.
"Thank Primus," a young charasmatic voice praised. "You think you could do me?"
Mack's heart dropped into his stomach. "'Do' you?!"
"Yeah, some bird crapped down the side of my door," the Lamborghini's wheel crunched in the gravel as he steered sideways to show off the white drip-mark down his scarlet paint. "Think you could get it for me? I'd get it myself but..." His tires wriggled back and forth. "No arms."
"Oh yeah, yeah sure," Mack stepped around him to get some cleaning supplies. Passing the car he noticed all the dust and mud spray marring his lower half. It would have been from all the small country roads they'd driven through to get here.
Mack couldn't have a beautiful machine like him driving away from his business looking anything but it's best.
"Tell you what, I'll give you the full works."
Headlights flashed in what Mack assumed was excitement, "Wow, thanks!"
Mack turned around to grab a bucket, and nearly tripped over the bonnet of the yellow Lamborghini. "You do a good enough job on him, and I'll let you work on me next." It told him.
Mack wrinkled his nose, "Let me?"
"We can pay!" The red one called over.
"With money?" Mack folded his arms.
"Sure, government gives us money all the time." The red one said cheerily. "To go see drive-through movies and stuff."
Mack weren't best pleased to hear the government were using his tax dollars to fund alien cars' cinema trips, but the Decepticon's money must come from much worse places. In which case...
Mack's shrugged in agreement. He glanced over at the cop car. "You too?"
The cop whooped his sirens in a vaguely unhappy manner and reversed back out on to the road without a word.
"What crawled up his tail pipe?" Mack muttered.
The Lamborghinis laughed, "You don't even know the half of it."
The Autobots were nice. The red one let Mack sit in the front seat and took him out for a quick spin around town. And they seemed happy enough with his work because they were back the next week.
Mack had thought it was a good thing, getting business from someone who wasn't involved in an active campaign to conquer the planet for once, until a pale-faced Bill grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him to the back of the shop. "Are you crazy?!"
"Hey, what's the problem?!""
"They're Autobots!"
"So?"
"So?! This is a Decepticon car wash! We can't have Autobots coming to a Decepticon car wash!"
Mack didn't see the problem, "They're all giant robots, ain't they? What the difference?!"
"I don't know what the difference is, I just know they don't like each other. You ever watch the news? They're at war."
Mack scowled, "They ain't gonna start throwing down with each other here, are they?!"
"They might, if they end up here at the same time," Bill released his brother's shirt and pinched his nose. "You gotta get rid of them, bro-"
"No, no way!" Mack cut his hand through the air. "They're Lamborghinis. They're probably like, alien robot royalty. You tell your guys to get lost."
"They were here first."
"Weren't you the one that said they were terrorists?"
"I don't know nothing about that," Bill's shoulders hunched defensively. "They're good customers."
"They're all assholes."
"I like 'em."
"You like 'em?!" Mack couldn't believe his ears. "That Starscream bitch is the worst customer we've ever had. He treats us like trash."
"That's part of his charm," Bill said, weirdly guarded about them. "I like talking to him. He's funny. They're all funny. And they just want a decent wash. Your Lamborghinis can go anywhere for a wash. My guys don't have anywhere else to go."
"There's a reason they can't go no place else! And I'm not turning away Lamborghinis. They're good for business. Better than that thug gang of gay jets you like so much."
Bill rubbed at his head, "Maybe we can keep all of them?"
"You said they'd try and kill each other," Mack shook his head. "If they start fighting here and a Lamborghini gets dented- we ain't insured for that!"
"Oh, shut up about your fucking Lamborghinis!" Bill snapped impatiently, "And we'll make sure that don't happen. They come on completely different days. We just make sure they don't know about each other and it'll be fine."
Mack took off his hat and wiped away the sweat from his forehead. "Alright, but if it goes south and one of them blows up the shop, Grampa goes to live with you."
Bill sighed deeply, "Alright, deal."
"Skywarp!" Starscream's shrill squawk cut through Skywarp's pleasant dreams and dragged him into his barely mediocre reality. He found his trine-leader's dark face scowling down at him, breathing right into his face with his gross ex-ventilations.
He rolled onto his side with a grimace, "Ew..."
"Don't 'ew' me! Get up," Starscream grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. "We're going to the wash."
Skywarp groaned, optics clenched stubbornly shut. "We were just there yesterday!"
"Yeah well, the Stuntie's were practicing something called drifting in that abandoned mine Soundwave's working out of," Thundercracker's voice came from the doorway, "and ...Screamer wasn't standing in the best place."
Okay, he'd bite. Skywarp onlined his optics and sat up, and had to stifle his first reaction to laugh aloud at the sight of his trine-leader. A thick streak of black mud ran up Starscream's front from hip to shoulder. He tutted sympathetically, shaking his head, "Oh Screamer, and you just got your armour done..."
"I can't be seen like this, we're going back," Starscream kicked the edge of his berth. "Now."
"I'm busy," Skywarp threw himself down grumpily. "I'm also still clean. Can't you just go alone?"
"No," Starscream squawked, "Who am I going to talk to, the meatbags?!"
"Take TC," Skywarp pointed. "He's right there!"
"Oh yes, 'take Thundercracker'," Starscream repeated sarcastically. "And have a two hour conversation about the 'Flashdance' movie! I don't think so, get up."
"Fine," Skywarp flung himself out of berth, "But I'm getting a premium wax while we're there and you're paying for it."
Bill didn't know why Mack liked the Lamborghinis so damn much. The yellow one, Sunstreaker, sure as hell weren't anymore personable than the Decepticon fighter jets and he didn't even have any outlandish stories to compensate for it. Bill suspected his brother knew that, and that was why he was always running to call dibs on the red one; Sideswipe.
Sideswipe wasn't bad. Kinda arrogant, but all the robots seemed that way. He was always telling jokes, or talking about kicking Con aft, and offering them rides speeding up and down the street that had to be getting the Autobots dozens of speeding tickets.
Meanwhile all Sunstreaker did was sit and grumble about the abrasiveness of their sponges. Bill had known girls less precious about their manicures than Sunstreaker was about his finish.
Sideswipe, finished and polished up to an enviable shine, was revving his engine for Mack's amusement as Bill finished up on his brother. He was just giving Sunstreaker's badge one last shine, when the distant roar of approaching planes filled the silence between Sideswipe's rumbling engine.
A bad feeling caught in his chest. Bill straightened up and cast an eye towards to the sky. "Uh, that's you finished up..." he told Sunstreaker, searching between the clouds. "You can get on your way now-"
"Wait," Sideswipe's engine was purring softly now, and the roar of jets was getting louder.
"I know those thrusters..." Sunstreaker murmured ominously.
Bill shot his brother a frantic look, but Mack, no better under pressure than him, rambled, "Uh yeah, uh, that's the uh, just the airfield, uh flight school, civilians-"
"That's no civilian plane," Sideswipe's light carefree cadence was suddenly low and serious. "Sunny-"
"Guys," Bill sucked in a sharp breath, his heart starting to pound. He could see three specks in the distance, in a familiar formation, growing larger with every passing second. "Listen. We don't want no trouble-"
"Don't worry about paying, it's on the house," Mack was waving his arms around like a madman, trying to direct the Lamborghinis back onto the road and the Hell away from them.
That failing, he swung a hand down and slapped Sideswipe on the rear like a cowboy smacking the backside of a horse. Unsurprisingly, Sideswipe didn't shoot forward like a spooked pony, but he did start to transform. Sunstreaker followed his lead.
"Guys!" Bill called as their bodies unfolded and turned them into giants. He backed up clumsily, stepping in his own bucket and falling back on his ass. Weapons whirred and clicked. Things started to glow. "Oh Jesus-!"
Above, in the air, the jets looped around, bypassing the empty piece of land behind the strip club they usually used for landings, to shoot back up into the air, ascending sharply. They flipped over, and nosedived.
"Fucking Hell-!" Mack was running between and around Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's legs with his arms over his head, trying to get back to Bill. They collided into each other, Mack trying to pull him to his feet, just as an ungodly shriek sounded and the guns started going on.
Bucket stuck on Bill's foot, they didn't make it more than three steps before something crash-landed and earth and gravel went flying. The force of the impact threw them to the ground.
They rolled over, onto their backs, and watched Sideswipe swing his right into Starscream's jaw with a wince worthy crunch. The jet went down spinning. Sideswipe stepped forward to kick him in the head but was stopped by Skywarp, armed with the pressure washer, firing it at his eye.
"Gah!"
"Hey, that's not a toy!" Bill bellowed, Mack yanking on his arm to get him upright. They fell again anyway when a pair of grappling robots slammed into the ground right next to them. Sunstreaker was on Thundercracker's back and had him in a headlock. He swung his fist around and punched through the jet's cockpit. Bill and Mack covered their heads as glass flew everywhere.
There was an indignant snarl that sounded like an alien curse. Bill looked through his fingers in time to see Starscream leap up punch Sunstreaker across the face, denting him.
"Noooo!" Mack cried. "He's a Lamborghini!"
"Mack!" Bill shouted incredulously, but he was drowned out by the deafening crash of a building collapsing. Skywarp had booted Sideswipe through the old gas station. He flung his arms over his head as bricks went flying.
"I knew we shoulda got insurance!" Mack was shouting in his ear, rubble landing all around them.
"No insurance policy'd cover this!" Bill roared back. There was another bang and crash of something collapsing, and he suddenly thought of the shop, and who was inside.
He reached out blindly, managed to find Mack's shirt. "Grampa!" He yelled. "We gotta get him outta-"
Loud even among the clangs of robots fist fighting, there was a bang of a weapon firing- not an alien weapon, but a shotgun. He and Mack flinched at the sound of sprayed pellets striking the ground.
Somewhere above, Bill heard Skywarp, "What the-?!"
BANG
It went off again. And this time it was enough to distract the waring aliens. The fight came to an abrupt stop as five pairs of glowing eyes lifted towards the shop entrance.
Bill rolled onto his front, wiping dust from his eyes. There was Grampa, stood in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick with one hand and cocking the shotgun in the other.
"Grampa, no-!" Mack shouted.
"Pathetic human," Starscream growled, rising from Sunstreaker's back where he and Skywarp had pinned him and racked their claws across his armour. Those same talon-like fingers glinted threateningly as he began to approach.
"Wait, please," Bill cried, trying to scramble upright and get between them. "He's just an old man, he doesn't-"
Unbothered by the huge murderous jet, Grampa took aim and fired again. And this time it wasn't a warning shot. Starscream's left wing was shot full of holes. The jet howled like a feral cat what had been squirted with water and scrambled backwards to use Skywarp as cover.
"That's enough now," Grampa called, swinging the barrel of his gun between all five of them. "I won't have no fighting on my property."
"Grampa," Bill limped towards him, bucket still stuck on his foot. "You can't threaten these guys, they're-"
"-they're vain, pretty boys, I know the sort," Grampa muttered, glaring at the alien's stunned expressions. "Yeah, I've been watching ya! And if yer wanna stay pretty, you'll all be on yer way now. Go on!"
Sunstreaker kicked Skywarp off and rolled to his pedes. He shot a venomous look at everyone present. "Sides-"
Sideswipe dropped the large wooden plank he'd taken from the pile of rubble that had been the gas station, which he had obviously been about to whack Thundercracker around the head with. "Fine, we'll go."
"And you?" Grampa directed his gun towards the jets. Starscream's wings folded all the way back out of view, his shoulders hunching. "Or yer want me to even up those wings there, for ya?"
"We're going!" Starscream snarled. "But this isn't over-!"
Grampa aimed the gun and Starscream transformed in a panic and shot into the air. Skywarp cast a filthy look towards the Lamborghinis before he and Thundercracker followed, creating a great gust of wind that kicked up the dust. Bill coughed and fanned it away from his face with a hand.
The twins loitered though.
Sideswipe was rubbing the back of his neck, taking in the damage the fight had caused. "We're sorry guys, we don't know how they found us-"
"They're customers 'ere, that's how," Grampa told him.
"Customers?" Sunstreaker stared. "You can't be serious-"
"Were they threatening you?" Sideswipe crouched beside Mack, brushing the dust from his shoulders with one big finger.
Mack and Bill shared a glance. "Yeah, that Starscream guy's always throwing around threats but we always figured he was just fooling."
"Starscream is dangerous," Sideswipe said seriously.
"You're telling me! Look what he did to yer bro!" Mack pointed at Sunstreaker's finish, where deep scratches criss-crossed his chassis.
Sunstreaker looked down at himself and exhaled deeply. There was a tension to his tone when he spoke. "We need to go."
"It doesn't look that bad," Sideswipe tried.
"Now." Sunstreaker growled.
"Listen." Sideswipe rose out of his crouch, "We'll come back and fix this, we won't let those Decepti-scum harass you anymore."
"Well actually..." Bill began.
"Stay safe, and try and keep inside," Sideswipe transformed and revved his engine. Sunstreaker's tires kicked up dirt as he lunged ahead and skidded onto the road. Bill and Mack watched Sideswipe follow, zooming off up the road, leaving them and the carnage they'd created behind.
Mack took his hat off and smeared more dirt across his brow as he wiped it. He turned around to glare at Grampa. "You gotta licence for that thing?!"
"Who're you, the cops?!" Grampa scoffed, turning around and limping back inside.
The Lamborghinis came back the next day. With what appeared to be their dad.
Optimus Prime was a big truck with a stern authoritative voice, but a patient disposition. He reminded Bill of his and Mack's late father, so he decided to trust him, even if his punk-ass kids had played a part in trashing the street and almost getting Grampa arrested.
Problem was, the jets also came back, and they brought their ...sugar daddy? He was big too, and Bill could only imagine what he turned into. He was silver and bad tempered and Bill knew straight away that he was an asshole.
Within seconds of both parties setting eyes on each other they were squaring up and talking trash, and then Grampa came hobbling out with his shotgun again and Mack started hyperventilating into his hat.
But no one threw the first punch. Which was a relief, because Grampa was standing right below them, in the best spot for getting trampled. The Prime guy seemed to have a Hell of a lot of patience.
The big grey one was gesticulating angrily and pointing to his jets, who were lined up behind him and jeering at every insult he spat like they were his own personal cheering squad. Starscream's wing had been patched up since yesterday, but Bill could see the welding lines. It wasn't pretty. He felt kinda bad. After weeks of listening to the jets he knew how much their wings meant to them.
But not too bad, cuz here they were, arguing over the freakin' car wash.
Prime was trying to strike a deal, offering something called 'cubes'. But the grey one -Megatron, apparently- then started ranting about his seeker's 'using up all the warm water', 'wasting polish', and 'blathering on to him about their problems because they didn't have an outlet'.
So no. He wasn't prepared to make a deal for any amount of 'cubes'.
Optimus was pinching his nose, Megatron was threatening to shoot Prime's head off, and Grampa was waving his walking stick around in an attempt to get their attention- when Bill decided he'd had enough and threw up his hands.
"Why can't you all just share?!"
He was met with seven blank robotic stares.
"You all wanna keep coming here?" He shrugged, "Why don't you just agree to make this some kinda safe zone? You don't have to like each other just, just pretend for the hour or two you're here that you ain't gonna blow each other's brains out at the weekend?"
Megatron's jaw was working, "My seekers claimed this place for themselves first. I don't see why they would have to acquiesce-"
"This is a car wash, man, it really ain't that serious," Bill held up his hands. "And sharing it ain't gonna make or break this war-thing you got going on."
"He's right, Megatron," Optimus nodded thoughtfully, "It's not a great ask."
Megatron's face twisted angrily -as it seemed to do whenever Optimus opened his mouth- but before he could respond, Starscream was yanking on his forearm. "Just say 'yes' you big dope!"
Megatron inhaled aggressively. "Fine. But if my seekers return to me with any more holes shot through them..." He loomed menacingly towards the Lamborghinis.
"Hey, don't look at us," Sideswipe grinned.
Mack pulled at his shirt collar nervously when Megatron looked to Starscream for answers. But the seeker avoided his gaze.
"Then it's settled," Optimus clapped his hands together. "This establishment will be considered a safe zone by both factions, free for Cybertronians from all walks of life to call upon."
"Well, not free..." Mack muttered meekly.
"Now, if it's not too much trouble," Optimus began transforming back into a truck, causing Bill to jump. "I would like to make use of your services."
Starscream slapped Megatron on the back, forcing him to take a step forward too, "You can do this one, while you're at it." He informed Bill. "There're six years worth of muck between his seams."
"No problem," Bill smiled nervously, flinging his rag over his shoulder. "I'll get my stuff."