tfmatrix:

There was an art to climbing a Cybertronian. It wasn’t like a tree, or a climbing wall at the gym, or even like climbing fences, walls, piles of abandoned cars- suffice to say, Spike Witwicky had great experience climbing things. Keeping his feet safely on the ground was considered to be the hard part, by those who knew him, and it was only a matter of time from his first fateful encounter with the Autobots to him learning to pull himself up onto their backs and shoulders without hesitation.

Said matter of time was really a few hours.

Now, months later, he was a veritable expert.

Fortunately, they didn’t mind, for the most part. Smaller bots climbing upon larger ones was natural, easy- a sort of symbiosis that they all adhered to- Spike had observed and asked questions and understood well, now. Smaller bots climbed on larger ones for transport, to reach new heights- and to groom them in return, and larger bots happily assisted- Optimus Prime in particular had a habit of scooping up those smaller than him, only made easier when said smaller beings were humans who fit neatly into his cupped servos.

The first step was to learn where it was safe to grab. Nobody wanted pinched fingers, and nobody wanted fingers shoved into seams that housed sensory organs, so observing your climbing target first was key.

Then came ensuring that they knew you were there- jumping onto an unaware cybertronian turned out to be a good way to startle them into jolting you off- a shout or a small, benign touch usually did the trick. Unless they were Optimus, in which case you simply hopped on, since he had no qualms about being used as a jungle gym.

Third, you paced yourself. Minibots had no problem scrambling thirty feet vertically. Prowl could literally jump most of the height, but humans? Spike generally found that going steady got him further up Optimus than trying to push it. A good resting spot along the transformation panels of his lower back was ideal, when you needed to give your hands a break.

And you wore gloves. Cybertronians weren’t…textured, quite like anything he’d touched, but metal blisters still happened, or you were rubbed raw by a patch of irritable nanites where they were healing fresh paint. Bumblebee bought him the nice climbing gloves, and he made good use of them.

There was a final rule, to this art he’d mastered. Able to scramble up any of the Autobots easily (and admittedly, he’d managed it on a few Decepticons at this point, too) and to find the right spots on shoulders or back struts to put himself. The final rule, of course…was to relax. To enjoy it. To pick at peeling paint and rub grit off their armor where you saw it- to let them enjoy it too.

After all, it was only fair when you were using them as a climbing wall.