Work Text
Pharma ran his servos over the piano keys, never having touched one in his life. He didn’t understand the amount of labour that went into constructing one of these. There were four rows of sixty keys each, plus an additional twenty-five keys lining a pedal board at the base of the piano. He couldn’t appreciate how well-tuned Tarn had kept it, how beautiful the exotic sequoia wood that made up its structure was. To be honest, he was surprised that there were any instruments here, any that had survived the Great War, especially in this condition. There wasn’t a single chip on a key. Not only that, but the other members of the DJD had their own instruments. There was an entire room filled with them that might make an orchestra proud.He tentatively depressed a key, hearing the thrum of an organic string ring the struck key. It vibrated through the floor and up his hand, humming through his entire body. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before; in the Golden Era, the pianos he always heard were synthetic. Same sound but different sensation. Near the top of the key, a symbol lit up: C#. All of the keys seemed to feature similar etchings, but they were near invisible unless they were depressed, to which they would then illuminate.He shyly glanced over to Tarn, who seemed to be studying him for signs of appraisal. Unnerved, Pharma planted himself on the bench. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He knew they were supposed to play, but he didn’t know how.And he had to admit that fact out loud.“I… I don’t know how to play,” he said quietly, hands balling into fists. He’d told Tarn the first time, but Tarn insisted that anyone could learn. Pharma had agreed because it would mean a reduction in the number of T-cogs that was asked of him each visit. The more pieces he played correctly, the less T-cogs he needed, which would mean the less lives he’d have to let slip. Anything would be better than that, he reasoned.Tarn could’ve easily given him a storage device to upload the basics of how to play directly into Pharma’s databanks, but Tarn, always the one keeping an optic out for an opportunity to bring suffering upon him, decided it would be best if Pharma learned it manually.“Move over,” Tarn responded, approaching the bench. Pharma did so, grateful the piano seat offered space large enough that the two of them wouldn’t be touching when Tarn sat down. Tarn made a point to ‘accidentally’ hit his treads against Pharma’s exposed wing. Pharma didn’t respond, remaining stiff where he sat.Tarn leaned into Pharma’s personal space as his left hand reached the end of the piano’s first rack of keys, fingers gliding as though on water as he played every key in a smooth crescendo until they hit the highest key. The reverberations rocked Pharma to his core, the loudness of the instrument something that would take getting used to. Tarn shifted back into Pharma’s space again, hand positioning at the furthest key once more. He turned his head to address Pharma, “Pay attention to the motions of my fingers, and document the notes they’re labeled as and the sound they make. He repeated the crescendo but more slowly. Pharma tracked the information requested of him, trying to write this into his memory. It was hard to do when one wasn’t musically inclined and hadn’t the slightest inkling of what any of this meant.The tank leaned back when he was finished. “Now, you try.”Pharma stared at him, anxiety having him feel like he should flee. Against his instincts, his hands gently touched the keys in the same position as Tarn had. In his head, he replayed the video he’d captured of Tarn’s hands in motion; he attempted to replicate it with his own hands.Unfortunately, his medic hands weren’t made for playing an instrument, simply not accustomed to moving in such an unnatural manner. Those fingers, normally graceful and purposeful in a medical capacity, stumbled and wrought clumsy, embarrassing noises from the piano as he attempted to climb the keys like Tarn had. Pharma bit his tongue in embarrassment and frustration the higher in chord he went. He wanted to stop but kept going until his failure reached the end of the piano.The discordant harmony rang in the air like a foul stench that refused to leave. Pharma refused to look at Tarn, his face burning with humility. He was always good at the things he tried for the first time. That’s why he was one of the best surgeons in existence. He wouldn’t bother with things that he wasn’t already perfect at. Seeing his blunders here in front of someone he was supposed to impress—lest many innocents die at his hand—was like a kick in the fuselage.“That’s alright. My first time wasn’t graceful, either,” Tarn admitted, fingers doing a little trill on the keys. The sound meant nothing to Pharma. “Thankfully, you have the luxury of free time to practice.”Pharma’s first instinct was to retort that he didn’t have free time to waste playing these silly instruments. That his time would be much better served maintaining the health of his patients. But the looming threat of what would happen if he didn’t play was the sole reason his aft remained on that seat as he tried the motions again..oWith this agreement to play the piano, the amount of times Pharma met with Tarn jumped from once or twice a stellar cycle to once a deca-cycle—much more frequent than he’d anticipated. First Aid and Ambulon would eventually notice his disappearing act. Pharma first thought to blame it on needing a few mega-cycles to himself for mental health, but his pride won over him. Instead, he shifted the blame to the excuse of considering giving First Aid more power by having him in charge for a few mega-cycles a week. Just to see how well he’d handle it on his own. If he did well over the next stellar cycle, perhaps the bot might be considered for an upgrade in rank. Pharma would be working on ‘important’ things (to which he had no reason to elaborate on).It was a passable excuse as he found himself in the presence of Tarn and his piano every deca-cycle.To be fair, the time spent wasn’t in vain. Pharma was improving in his ability to play piano. His servos weren’t so stilted as they played easy arrangements. The songs he was most comfortable playing, sometimes he heard Tarn humming along, tapping his pede, and maybe he could feel a tickle in his spark as a result.Today’s journey to the Peaceful Tyranny was complicated by an aggressive blizzard that brought upon temperatures frigid enough to be a serious threat to the small jet. He could feel his coolant lines become uncomfortably cold, body beginning to tremble just to generate heat.He could see Tarn waiting expectantly for him. He landed on the extended docking platform, nearly landing on his face when his transformation sequence didn’t go as smoothly as he’d expected due to his frosty joints. Tarn didn’t say anything; his optics crinkled behind his mask, provoking a scowl from Pharma.He settled on the bench as he’d done many times before. He left his hands clenched between his thighs in an effort to defrost them a bit. Knowing there was an expectant Decepticon lurking behind him, his servos weren’t nearly warm enough when they started to play.He leaned forward into his playing, a simple etude to warm up with, when he felt his right hand’s pinky lock up, causing his hand to slip and hit a wrong note. He froze, terror grabbing at his spark in a manner similar to how Tarn’s Voice would.Tarn hummed noncommittally, waving his hand, prompting Pharma to restart. This time, he played it correctly..oTarn was teaching him a new composition. One that his hands just couldn’t seem to get right.The notes asked of him were rapid and required a specific pattern that his processor just couldn’t seem to transmit to his hands, no matter how often he keyed the command. His hands kept stumbling in the same spot. When he tried it slowly, the servos seemed to fare better in striking the right keys, but when he attempted to speed it up, the right keys just weren’t in his sight.Unfortunately, Tarn wasn’t in a merciful mood today.“Again,” the tank hissed, his Voice lashing out at Pharma’s aching spark. Pharma jumped, hands knocking unharmonious notes as he twisted in pain. Whimpers escaped his vocoder as he reset his hand positions, starting from the beginning.The swells and dips of the music soothed the pain over time, but it did little to assuage the panic leaping in his spark, on edge for the next time he’d mess up. His feet pressed at the keys beneath them in time with the rhythm of his hands. He started to feel a little more confident, passing over a segment of the composition known for twisting his fingers, when—Tarn snarled as the wrong notes ruined the melody.Pharma felt the fear lace his spark long before Tarn’s powers pressed a choking hold around it. .oDespite how much he’d come to despise the piano, associating it with the ever-unpleasant Tarn, he wanted to take things a step further. He noticed the initiative that First Aid was taking now that Pharma had entrusted him with more power than he’d had with Pharma’s full attention. The medic seemed genuinely enthralled and his positive energy was infectious—even though Pharma had a meeting with Tarn in two solar cycles, he could feel a buzz of satisfaction running through his cables. First Aid’s initiatives sparked an idea in Pharma’s mind—perhaps learning a new song without Tarn’s prompting might give him better favour with Tarn. To Tarn, Tarn likely saw a medic begrudgingly playing for him without any enjoyment. To show some ambition might put the tank in a good mood.Pharma spent all of his free time looking at compositions, choosing one that his prediction software indicated that Tarn might find pleasing based on the choices he’d had Pharma learn in the past and that Tarn would hum along to. Pharma had no piano with which to practice with, so he projected a hologram of the piano and its four rows and began practicing, fingers tapping the projected keys on his desk. It was different without some sort of haptic feedback that the real thing would give, but he just had to keep doing it until his hands could play it with a memory of their own..oWhen he sat in that chair, he interrupted Tarn before he could command the medic to play a specific piece.“I’d like to play a new song for you. I’ve been practicing,” he declared, staring boldly at Tarn.Tarn looked surprised, cocking his head to the side. Just when Pharma thought Tarn would reject his offer, the con nodded. “Proceed.”Pharma puffed his armour out a bit, pleased that he’d be able to show Tarn what he’d been working on. A smile gracing his lips, he turned, fingers flaring, and he played the piece he’d been studying.Apparently, it was a composition that Tarn had heard before, because he soon began humming along to Pharma’s rendition. If Tarn was in a good mood, maybe Pharma could convince him to further decrease the amount of T-cogs asked of him…When his spark started to swell to the humming of Tarn’s Voice, Pharma’s fingers faltered. The good mood that he’d been in was instantly replaced with a cold wave of horror. He froze, waiting for the pain.“Ohhh, what a shame,” Tarn cooed, his power cradling Pharma’s spark with a gentle touch. Unprepared for the continued pleasure, he whimpered. He jumped when he felt hands resting on the top of his shoulder vents. He took a risk, glancing up at the DJD leader. “Relax,” he purred, fingers delving into his vents with a firm grip, sending agreeable signals to Pharma’s hands and spark.Pharma pressed into those massaging hands in an effort to obey and relax, trying to still his racing spark and trying not to attempt to flee.“I love that piece,” Tarn continued, leaning into nuzzle at his jawline. Oh…Pharma felt nausea curling in his fuselage, warring with the pleasure lancing into his spark with every word from Tarn.“Play it again,” Tarn urged with a nudge of his Voice. He played with subtle inflections that reflected his now-compromising position beneath the Decepticon, shaky here, lilting there, all of which seemed to please him as he hummed louder. Pharma prayed he’d stop touching him, only for his hands to freeze once more when Tarn’s hand settled on his thigh, unprovoked.“T-this…” Pharma started, hands remaining where they pressed, the chord ringing loudly against the static he was hearing in his audials. This wasn’t part of the agreement.“I didn’t say you could stop,” Tarn tsked, that damned Voice of his coaxing another throb of pleasure upon his spark. Pharma vented, palms connecting with the piano, a moan threatening to escape his vocalizer. Tarn’s optics darkened; Pharma could feel the hunger. Pharma felt large servos settling on his hips and leading him to rise from his seat. He didn’t move from the position he’d been placed in, hearing the bench being slid away from behind him off to the side. His wings began to tremble. He saw a command telling him that he ought to turn on his fans. He had an idea of what Tarn was leading to but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure and he didn’t want to make an assumption that dangerous… If this was the consequence of going above and beyond to appease Tarn, Pharma didn’t know if it was worth it…“Do you know the history of that composition?” Tarn queried, hands palming at the golden lines of Pharma’s turbine.“I-I—!” Pharma didn’t know, and he couldn’t elucidate that he didn’t know, because Tarn was nudging his legs apart. That Voice was sending thrums akin to the vibration of those piano keys straight into his valve. He had to lock his hip joints to prevent himself from rocking his hips in the air.“The composer believed there was a way to stimulate the spark without ever touching it—through specific assembly of chords that, when played with the proper instrument, would resonate with a spark,” Tarn explained, lacing his words with his Voice. He could hear Pharma’s spark’s beats without the need for a hand-made instrument; Pharma’s spark was the instrument and the cries he wrought were the melody. “The music, playing to the same tune as the spark, could elicit an overload from the vibrations and frequency.”Pharma felt unsettled, legs nearly dropping beneath him. He caught himself on the piano, disrupting the hot air with a disjointed chord. He could feel lubricant settling against his modesty plate. He couldn’t do anything but nod dumbly in response to Tarn’s history lesson. He could feel hands kneading his thighs, stroking down to the sensitive junction of his knees, up, up, to his valve cover… Dabbing away a bead that had revealed the effect the Voice was having on him.“I… I-I don’t want—“ Pharma tried, dropping his head as Tarn groped.“I don’t want you to stop playing,” Tarn growled, his hands leaving Pharma’s crotch to wander about the rest of his body.Pharma could only nod, swallowing, ordering his hands to continue where they’d left off. The rhythm wasn’t as good as it had been before Tarn had started handling him; the rhythm was conducted by the tremble of his spark, which gave the playback the personality of a nervous virgin as the next movement of the song approached. He could feel Tarn tapping the notes out on his body in the proper order, skilled hands of one who’d mastered the piano long ago…Tarn was starting to hum again, in harmony with the piano, in harmony with Pharma’s spark. Pharma’s head ducked, biting his lips yet unable to stop his pitiful moans. With a will that kept his hands from shaking during surgery, he forced his hands to keep playing.Pharma was so focused on keeping his hands functioning that he failed to override the command to grind into Tarn’s palm when he pawed at his crotch cover once again.“You’re doing so good,” Tarn affirmed, claws clicking at the seams. “See how wonderful the art of music is?”“Yes,” Pharma panted, his resolve wiltering under the ministrations of that con.“This song is having an effect on you beyond just me,” Tarn noted, and Pharma once again agreed. He’d originally thought it was a myth Tarn was reciting, but he could feel the effects the music was having, plucking at his spark like a harp and making it hard to finish.“Yes… many pianists do find this piece difficult to finish,” Tarn said, as though he’d heard what Pharma had been thinking. “They often have to play with a rag beneath them so they don’t soil the bench during a concert. It’s that powerful.”Fingers traced at the weeping modesty cover. “The audience isn’t unaffected, either, but the effect is not as great as that upon the musician who plays it.”Primus, Pharma needed relief. He couldn’t handle an attack from both Tarn and the music itself anymore.“I think you should let me lend a hand,” the tank suggested. And Pharma agreed.His panel retracted, those clawed digits providing immediate relief. They slid smoothly out of that lubricated passage. A plume of hot air escaped from his vents as he tried to continue playing whilst rutting into that hand. His fingers kept hitching, the wrong notes providing a temporary relief from the assault on his spark—that was, when Tarn wasn’t also fucking it with his Voice. He was only a few stanzas away from finishing the song, wrong notes be damned.His hands clenched on the keys as fingers curled up into those nodes. “Please,” he begged, voice hardly a whisper against the cacophony of right and wrong keys. When Tarn stroked his ceiling node, he couldn’t focus on playing anymore, devoting his attention to squeezing his walls against the three teasing fingers inside his depths. Those fingers thrust harder but were now avoiding that very node.“Hm… you’ve stopped playing, I see,” Tarn warned lightly, but his Voice kept praising Pharma.“Uhnnnn, oh!! I—I—“ Pharma couldn’t catch a break, tossing his head back and pushing himself onto those thick digits. His hands performed on more keys, but they were jilted, without rhythm, mingling in with Pharma’s ragged gasps.Tarn’s other hand, which had been holding Pharma’s hips, reached in between the jet’s legs and fondled at the external anterior node, causing Pharma to curse and another wave of fluids to drip onto the floor, a little splat that went unheard with the loud roar of their combined fans noisy in the air. He was so close, jerking in those hands. He cried in frustration when those hands stopped, burning inside and feeling like he would explode.“If you finish the piece, I’ll let you finish.”Damn that tank.Pharma choked back a wail, legs shaking fiercely and turbine spinning with charge. The air was hot and heavy with it, just waiting to be dispersed. Pharma slammed his hands onto the piano, diverting as much of his processing power to his hands as possible, determined to get through it so that he could get through this.He yelped as Tarn pinched at that little node, hips bucking against the piano. His vents wheezed, his lips bleeding as he bit too harshly into them. The last five notes played felt like an eternity, whole notes that stretched the ending with the lowest keys letting out a sub-audial growl. The vibrations of those keys reverberated through the entire room, straight through his core. He let out a moan of relief, letting some of his weight drop forward. He proffered his rear to Tarn, who acquiesced and thrust those wonderful fingers up into his valve, other hand circling that anterior node. Pharma didn’t hold back, his voice calling with wanton abandon, arms leaning against the keys, producing a chorus that didn’t harmonize with his cries. He didn’t care. His spark was in sync with that Voice, with those fingers thrusting into him, stroking him through an overload that knocked his legs out from under him. Tarn caught him, helping him down gently with one hand while the other kept thrusting to prolong the overload, overstimulating that leaking valve until the aperture locked his fingers in a vice grip.Pharma’s body jerked through the aftershocks, causing more dissonant cords to be played as he rested on the foot key pedals. Fluids were plastered on several of the keys, something that Tarn would later have Pharma clean up. But for now, he allowed himself to recover, head spinning with the notes that had brought his downfall.“My dear doctor, you are good enough for an encore,” Tarn praised, wiping his fluid-covered hands on Pharma’s thighs. “Mmm, perhaps if it’s good enough, you’ll need only one T-cog this time around.”Though his mind was thick with fog, that caught his attention.Music and overloads.If it meant less people had to die…Pharma swallowed his pride. Swallowed his dignity.If it meant less energon on his hands, these hands would do it for them..oWhen Ratchet discovered he could play piano flawlessly (purchased synthetic keyboard bestowed upon him by Drift during a visit to Hedonia), he attributed it to some latent coding that he might have downloaded from a skillset update. He never once gave thought to the blue hands whose memories remained in their coding. They’d never forget how to play the hundreds of compositions they were forced to play to save many lives from the DJD. The only persons who could tell the story were the Decepticon Justice Division, who found their band nights a bit lonelier without a pianist to accompany them.