(Chapter 1) Of Drunken Thrills and Jammed Drills
"Many things are not as they seem: The worst things in life never are."
(Jim Butcher, White Night [The Dresden Files, #9])
{To say it was a normal evening is an absolute lie. I mean, what exactly is normal about an autobot on the decepticon warship, hopped up on High-Grade, with no idea how she got there to begin with? How is it anywhere normal for a certain mad doctor when a certain femme two-wheeler becomes his next patient? How is it normal when the two-wheeler autobot doesn't come back from her rounds, cant be tracked, and all her com yields is static? Ohhhh, this is not a good sign…}
To say Knockout was surprised was pretty accurate… Who wouldn't be if one of your enemies was leaning on your shoulder, drunk I might add, completely oblivious that at any time, could be ambushed and even killed for that matter.
As Arcee giggles, the mad doctors processor warps back to the present, his russet optics widening and the coal edges lining them stretching slightly.
The two-wheeler in question, who was leaning on his shoulder, lulled forward a bit, her helm spying the mad doctors face.
"I would love to have a frame as beautiful as this one, wont you let me have it doctor?" she asked, surprisingly subspacing a drill for her right hand instead of a gun.
Optics widening even more, Knockout turns his helm a bit to face her.
"Look but don't touch…" he starts, halting in surprise and raising his servos as the femme's drill jams painfully and she collapses into his lap, breathing out a slight moan and falling into the clutches of recharge, the drill twitching as it tries to continue its revolutions.
Hesitantly lowering his servos towards the jammed appendage, knockout looks away for a moment.
"Primus! If Lord Megatron sees this…" he starts, turning back and grasping her servo.
As he tinkered with the ever protestant drill, the recharging femme's cooling fans whir to life, thoroughly taking the doctor by surprise.
"Primus Arcee! What are you doing!" Knockout hisses, almost dropping her servo. His only response is a slight dying whine from the fans and a cough from the figure resting across the lower half of his frame.
With a series of clicks and whirs, the drill spins away into its subspace leaving a generic hand in its place.
As he gently places the appendage back against her relaxed form, he shifts slightly so she wouldn't fall from her resting spot.
As Arcee coughs again, Knockout contemplates whether or not to just dump her on the deck plating. Looking around the room, his optics fall to an empty berth against the wall.
Gently sliding a servo under her knees and the other along her back, adjusting so it was resting along her back struts, he gently cradled the sleeping form in his arms, standing on his peds and slowly making his way over to the berth.
Ped brushing against something, Arcee stirs a little, curling into the mech's form.
Optics widening again, Knockout stops, holding the figure away from him slightly.
"Arcee, so help me, if you wake up right now, you are going to have so much explaining to do…" He mumbles, sighing as the figure in his arms settles. "Of course you listen to me when your asleep…"
Finally reaching the berth, he lays the femme's small form down comfortably, grinning for a moment.
"you are such a sparkling, autobot." he mumbles, turning and sashaying across the med bay to the doors.
As they whisk open, stopping with a clang, a mumble from behind him attracts his attention, though was too jumbled up to deter what was said.
Throwing a simple phrase over his shoulder as he exits, the femme is left to collapse back onto the berth, going back into that blissful state of recharge she had just been in.
"Have a good rest sparkling!"