Title: Empathy
Continuity: G1 (part of the Dysfunction AU)
Warnings: twisted fluff, twisted h/c
Characters Blast Off, Vortex, mentions of others
Rating: PG
Summary: The gestalt program induces something with that Blast Off and Vortex still need to learn to cope.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty
Blast Off sat on the berth in repair bay, taking care of the damage on his thigh. A major circuit responsible for sending signals to the right places was burned, and he couldn't feel his foot or wing any more. He could still stand, but it was odd not to feel where he was going, and he wanted to repair it quickly.
Brawl was badly damaged; they'd had to carry him to the Nemesis, where Onslaught waited for him. The tank had taken a shot to the head, a burn wound that had laid bare parts of his processor. Their commander had wanted to stay in case the situation was more serious than it appeared and Brawl would suffer from memory loss.
So there were only Blast Off in HQ, and Swindle, refuelled and patched up, and deep in recharge on another berth in the same room. And Vortex, he was at base, but Blast Off didn't know where.
Focusing in the delicate contacts on the circuit board, the shuttle almost missed the soft sound of the door sliding open.
The 'copter's steps were louder, and caused Blast Off to glance up.
"I have energon," Vortex said without the usual mischief or suggestiveness in his voice. He merely handed an energon cube to Blast Off.
The shuttle couldn't even make out the ever present roving of optics over his plating, but maybe he just wasn't paying attention.
Taking the cube, Blast Off nodded.
"You're done with your repairs?" Blast Off asked, but didn't truly care.
Vortex shrugged, bent rotors shifting with the movement. "Yes and no. Ons said I'll get new blades later. The rest is… okay."
"Hmpf," Blast Off huffed, partly amused. The rest was probably causing pain and Vortex didn't mind. At least he'd had the courtesy to wash off the Autobot's energon.
Vortex sipped slowly, leaning next to Blast Off on the edge of the berth while the shuttle worked.
Their fields touched briefly, unfamiliar sympathy and worry present in their signatures.
They still hadn't found a way to cope with the new emotion completely. At least, it was like that for Blast Off. He should worry about his own leg, and not spend thoughts and focus on things regarding his team. He wouldn't be able to change anything right now anyway.
The gestalt program didn't agree.
"Do you need help?" Vortex broke the silence. And for once, Blast Off didn't think he heard any hidden intent.
Turning his head a little, Blast Off's visor met Vortex'. That close and in the light of the room, they could see each other's optics.
For a moment, the shuttle didn't reply.
Then he sighed and nodded again. "You can hold this." He pointed to a tool on the bench. "And push the cables out of the way. I need to work on the contacts beneath."
"Sure." Vortex sipped a last time, and put his cube aside. Pushing off the berth, he walked past the shuttle to get the tool, and came back.
"Okay, where exactly?"
"There, but, wait." Blast Off pointed at a place, frowning at Vortex. He reached out for the other's wrist, and pulled him closer to stand right in front of him. "There. You need to look closely, not from miles away." It was an irritated muttering, covering the pleasant glow of security that his gestalt program created at Vortex' proximity.
"Okay," Vortex said, weirdly not impish, not as if he'd use the chance to grope or poke or touch otherwise. And he didn't. He pushed the cables and wires out of the way, revealing more burnt parts.
"Like that?" he asked as he glanced up. Once again their optics met.
No, there wasn't the familiar naughtiness and playful violence in Vortex' optical sensors. Like in Blast Off's there was fatigue and other things that didn't belong there.
"Right." Blast Off broke eye contact, and concentrated on the damage. "Just keep still."
They were quiet while the shuttle worked, and the edges of their fields touched. Not in an arousing manner. It was comforting, spreading warmth that was nice, like an embrace without touch.
The tip of the tiny welder came too close to where it shouldn't be, making Blast Off hiss in sudden pain.
"Slaggit," he cursed, and put one hand down next to him, bracing, and clenching.
Vortex didn't ask if he was okay, he didn't even look up. He shifted a little, and took the tool in his other hand.
"Keep still." The 'copter shouldn't move, Blast Off thought grumpily. Though, he couldn't be really angry when Vortex's free hand was over his. It was a light touch over the painful cramped joints. The index finger stroked carefully over the back of the hand, and the comforting warmth was most present where there plating met.
Blast Off didn't move much, only his head a little to eye Vortex up. The 'copter pretended he hadn't done anything, still staring focused at the circuits for Blast Off's thighs.
The shuttle relaxed, and accepted the comfort.