Title: Adventures with a sleeping Blast Off
Continuity: G1
Warnings: implied smut, Combati-fluff, implied disturbing images & experiences
Characters/Pairings: Vortex, Blast Off, implied Blast Off/Vortex
Rating: PG
Summary: Blast Off has a good sound sleep which leads to some memorable moments in one way or the other. This time, it's Vortex' turn.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty, thank you! :D
Note: This will be a series of flashfic/drabbles whenever I get an idea. I hope you'll enjoy it. :)
Adventures with a sleeping Blast Off
Vortex sighed, and shivered one last time at a warm surge of pleasure, then the intensity of the connection ebbed.
Blast Off was in recharge, the bond told Vortex so. But it was completely okay, because Blast Off had been tired, and drunk, and he was now lying next to Vortex, an arm around the 'copter.
Vortex was tired as well, grinning lazily behind his battle mask. Slowly, so as not to wake the shuttle, he raised his hand, and traced his fingers over the shuttle's upper arm, over the strong plating. Drawing circles there where the small winglets had been ages ago, before the Detention Center.
He missed them.
Vortex had never mentioned it, because he knew Blast Off missed them as well.
Carefully, he shuffled a little closer to the warm frame, and offlined his optics. The pleasant energy stream was now only an underlying series of systems pings and touch-up synchronisation from the gestalt bond.
Vortex still didn't see a reason to disconnect them.
He rather liked it, and there were only few times when he had the chance to stay connected to Blast Off for a while. It gave him the opportunity to explore the other's frame – if he was in recharge – or get a glimpse of the past when random memories popped up during defrag cycle.
To see them, Vortex had to reach a little deeper though. He'd done it before, and he always had an excuse ready in case Blast Off woke up from the prodding. He'd just say he'd want another frag, and Vortex was pretty sure Blast Off wouldn't question that.
Fortunately, till now Blast Off had never woken up. If the shuttle was in recharge, he definitely was in recharge; Brawl could tell you a thing or two about it.
Vortex' presence invaded the shuttle's, and vice versa as the gestalt coding assisted in an even deeper synchronisation. They couldn't access each others' sensor nets without permission, but Vortex could get some sort of status report from a team mate in defrag like this.
Blast Off was seeing stars again. It was space, like so often. But considering just how much of his life the other had spent out there, Vortex shouldn't have been surprised.
There was a planet glowing, and two stars. Vortex could even feel the slight radiation that came with the memory, but he had to focus on the connection so as not to lose his grip on it. The image flickered, mixing with another, and finally fading to the new file when the defrag system went further. The new place wasn't much different. Another star, another planet, it just seemed odd – and it wasn't Vortex' sentiment.
Uncertainty mixed with reluctance, and now this was interesting. Vortex kept looking, but he didn't see anything special.
And then he didn't see anything any more.
It couldn't be a glitch, because the memory was still running.
Dread filled every inch of Vortex' frame, and then someone screamed. It couldn't have been Blast Off, because he was paralysed just like Vortex. A scream so loud, its insanity so clear, it was maddening, like swapping over, infecting the ones that heard it.
Vortex tensed, and he wanted to see what happened. He wanted to know, but it was like his optics didn't work any more. As though they weren't even there. Like in the Detention Centre. Only it wasn't, because this was something Blast Off had seen.
He was completely alone now.
The memory of dread, loneliness and fear had a strong hold on Vortex, it was hard to break free.
When he did, he sat up.
"Hnnng!" he groaned as he reached to his optics. They were still there, and they weren't malfunctioning. He could see his legs.
His rotor blades were rigid, his hand clenched to a fist.
Blast Off stirred. Purple optics flickered, and confusion was obvious through the connection.
The shuttle looked at Vortex, with a blank expression with only a hint of drowsiness.
"What was that?" Vortex couldn't resist asking.
"Huh?" Hearing Blast Off make such a noise was odd, but Vortex wasn't in the mood to dwell on that.
The shuttle shrugged. "Just a memory…" he muttered, and rolled on his back. Optics switched offline again, and he was back into recharge within astroseconds.
Vortex stared. The dread was still there. It was his own now, and he pondered on disconnecting.
But he'd be alone then, had only the gestalt bond that was closed at the other four sides, and so he just lay down again.
Vortex shifted a little, and shuffled closer. Putting his head on Blast Off's shoulder, an arm on the purple chest, he tried to shake off that odd sensation.
His optical sensors roved around the room. It was only dark.
He sighed once, and reached behind him, taking Blast Off's arm to wrap it around his waist again.
Vortex didn't prod deeper this time. He'd only experienced a damped memory file, he didn't want to know how it'd been for Blast Off back then.
Vortex needed almost four beems to shake off the wrongness.