Title: Are You Drunk?
Content: drunken Autobots, overloads of the sticky/pnp type.
Characters: Bulkhead and Wheeljack
Verse: TFPrime
Prompt: 4. Inebriated. Let's have some tipsy fumbling ;)
Notes: Written for prompt #4 at tf_speedwriting. These prompts were for the week of April 14-20, 2012 and each one is only allowed 120 minutes for writing, editing and posting.
Notes: Time included a rewatching of 'Loose Cannons' and contains a spoiler for that episode.
Bulkhead coaxed Wheeljack away from Ratchet and Prime. Fascinating though their discussion about various Cybertronian artifacts was, Bulkhead had something else on his processor.
"C'mon, Jackie, lemme show you where you'll be bunking for the time being."
Wheeljack obligingly followed Bulkhead. Actually, he had little choice. He'd brought out the supply of high grade from the Jackhammer, saying it would go bad while he was exploring Earth, and he'd shared it with the Autobot crew after the kids had been taken home for the night. He'd drunk more than anyone else, and was leaning against Bulkhead in an attempt to stay upright.
Bulkhead guided Wheeljack down the hall to Bulkhead's room, where a pair of berths graced each wall. They were simply slabs of metal welded to the walls, with legs under the front edge to keep them up. He brought Jackie over to the smaller berth and helped him lay down.
"You're gonna regret drinking that much high grade tomorrow morning, Jackie," Bulkhead told him, moving his friend's legs up on the berth and laying him out so he was comfortable.
He brought out the rest of the cube he'd stashed and sitting on his own berth, drank it down, enjoying the buzz that snapped through his circuits. He looked over at the other berth and said quietly,
"Too bad, Jackie. I was hoping that tonight I could tell you that…naw, never mind. You don't want to know. G'night, Jackie."
Bulkhead swallowed the rest of the cube and stretched out on his own berth, allowing his recharge cycle to start. He sent a radio transmission that killed the lights and drifted off.
He startled out of recharge, lying quietly for a moment to figure out what had set his systems off.
Two blue optics peered at him over his own chest.
"Jackie!" Bulkhead exclaimed in relief. "You startled me!"
"Sorry about that, Bulk, but I had a question and it wouldn't wait." Wheeljack told him.
"Shoot, Jackie."
Wheeljack leaned down and propped his chin on his hands, still looking down at Bulkhead, but now much closer.
"So, when you told me, on that dock, right after you clocked me to get the bomb away, did you mean it?"
Bulkhead opened his mouth to deny it, but Wheeljack raised a hand, lit by the glow of their optics. "And, Bulk? Don't lie."
Bulkhead clamped his jaws again. Wheeljack just watched him, interest bright in his optics, for a long time. Then he finally spoke.
"Thought so."
"Jackie, I never said…"
"You didn't have to, Bulk. When I tell you not to lie and you don't say anything? It's a confession. I know it 'cause I know you. I figured Prime must have been the real deal when you left the Wreckers to join his crew. I got to thinking about it after you left. Only an honest-to-Primus blessed Prime would have ever pulled you away from me. I gotta admit, I was pretty mad that you'd gone, and it took me a long time alone, wandering among the stars, to even begin to think that there was something you valued more than me, but a real Prime was one of the few things that would do it."
"Jackie…" Bulkhead's voice was full of regret and sorrow.
"Shush, Bulk," Wheeljack told him, laying a finger over his lips. "nice thing is, we're here, now, and we're together. What say we make the most of it before I head out?"
"You're drunk," Bulkhead accused him.
Wheeljack chuckled, "I can hold my high grade better than that, Bulk. A bit tipsy, yes. Drunk? Not really. But just charged up enough to remember what it was like and wondering if it's better, now."
"Let's find out," Bulkhead said huskily, giving into temptation and pulling Wheeljack over the curve of his chest for a kiss.
Wheeljack was unfamiliar with the idea of kissing, but he caught on quickly, especially when Bulkhead's glossa edged out to taste. Wheeljack jumped into this new idea with all the enthusiasm he could, holding Bulkhead's helm and tilting it so their mouths fit together even better. Bulkhead couldn't get enough of the feel of Wheeljack, having missed him since he'd left the Wreckers. Of all the mechs he'd ever met in his long life, Wheeljack was the only one that Bulkhead ever felt close enough to share his self with on so many different levels.
Blindly, Bulkhead groped along Wheeljack's legs, seeking the panel that hid his interface equipment. He'd had a real surprise, the first time they'd landed on this planet and Agent Foster had educated them on humans. Their interface equipment was startlingly similar to Cybertronian equipment, with the same plug and play interfaces in almost the same place.
Wheeljack obligingly shifted, raising his torso slightly off Bulkhead's and allowing Bulkhead's large hands to stroke the panel at his lower abdomen. It took very little coaxing for that panel to slide open and allow Wheeljack's spike to extend.
"Jackie," Bulkhead groaned, "it's been so long."
"Too long," Wheeljack agreed, "open up."
Bulkhead's panel slid open and Wheeljack moved down Bulkhead's chest so he could reach the valve that was revealed. Bulkhead gasped when Wheeljack began stroking around the edge, drawing the lubrication out.
"C'mon, Bulk, sit up for me," Wheeljack told him.
Bulkhead pushed himself up and turned so he was leaning against the wall. Wheeljack waited until he was settled, then straddled Bulkhead's lap. Their equipment was at just the right height for Wheeljack to slide his spike firmly into Bulkhead's valve opening. Bulkhead moaned at the sensation he thought he'd never feel again, and his moan was echoed by Wheeljack's sparkfelt groan.
Bulkhead's valve spiraled down, holding Wheeljack's spike firmly in place as the tip of the spike connected with the plug at the top of Bulkhead's valve. The faint click as it locked into place sent a tremor through them and the data exchange began.
Slowed by bashfulness on Bulkhead's part, and caution on Wheeljack's, they began to exchange sensation data, memories, and emotions. Bulkhead was soon in tears at the loneliness Wheeljack had lived with for far too long, and Wheeljack murmured, "Love you, too, Bulk," as Bulkhead surrendered that emotion into the link.
All too soon, the amount of information and the emotions and the sheer power of feeling each other so close spiraled them into overload. Bulkhead clutched Wheeljack closer, happy to have him so close.
Wheeljack, for his part, held on. He'd never admit to needing someone, it wasn't his style at all, but Bulkhead brought a contentment to his life that had been missing for a very long time.
They disconnected and Bulkhead reached for a clean towel to wipe away the excess lubrication from Wheeljack's body and his own before they closed their panels. Bulkhead shifted and lay down again, expecting Wheeljack to move over to the other berth.
Instead, Wheeljack climbed back on top of Bulkhead and draped himself over Bulkhead's chest, settling his head in just the right spot before drifting off again.
Unexpectedly pleased with Wheeljack's gesture, Bulkhead brought his hands up, gently covering Wheeljack's hands with his own before drifting off to his own recharge.
The end!