Transformers belongs to Hasbro


He straightens out the wrap on Oil Slick's frame, "I'm not sure how well this looks on you. You shouldn't have put the hip panels on. It hangs all wrong on you with those."

"It looks fine," Oil Slick's voice is pitched high and entirely wrong and he's crossdressing as a femme for this, "I saw one bot wearing a chest wrap on his legs. A little bit off is nothing. We look perfect. We'll be the fanciest bots there. I made bows for the hip panels, and they're covered in crystals that match, so it won't matter, right?"

Optimus has to admit that Oil Slick makes for an absolutely gorgeous femme. His long, sleek hip panels have crystals cascading down the length of the gauzy, lacy fabric wrapped around them, and Optimus wants nothing more than to drop to his knees and kiss those pretty panels. They're terribly distracting. If they were on Haydon, the modesty guards would make Oil Slick wear a loose cape over his festival wrap.

Optimus takes a video capture of Oil Slick spinning in place, making the crystal chains flare out dramatically around him. He knows that Wildstar and Glitterfrost will love to see this. His papas will, too; just not nearly as much as Oil Slick's creators.

He presses a kiss to Oil Slick's servos, "You look lovely. We should go and make sure that Elita-1 and Sentinel are correctly dressed, though. If they aren't we need to fix it. I'm not going to let them embarrass us by wearing it wrong."

Oil Slick shudders, "I know, I just can't allow them to ..." He shakes his head, then pulls out a new pair of gloves and boots, "I got you a present first. Something to match your wrap. I know it isn't the weaver cloth, but... well.. I made it, and covered it in the crystals. It isn't like the bots here will know. We can get better things later."

Optimus can't help but make an embarrassingly excited squeal, wrapping his arms around Oil Slick, "Oh, Primus, they're perfect!" He holds out his servos, "Put them on me." Optimus dims his optics as his beloved fits the gloves over his servos, and then kneels down to do his boots. They're an interesting design-they're not really full boots, so much as they are shaped covers that lay over the top of his peds and extend a bit upwards, leaving the soles of his peds uncovered. A good design, considering that Cybertron's streets are not designed with delicate metal cloth in mind.

Oil Slick takes his servo, smiling, "Let's go, then. We need to go to see Sentinel and Elita, then head to the festival."

He nods, pressing a kiss to Oil Slick's head, "Let's go. "I'm sure we can do this fairly quickly." If not, any damage that was done to the clothing wasn't his fault, and he has already established that. They can just leave without them. Oil Slick and Optimus have no problem just leaving the other two behind if Elita or Sentinel ripped the clothing apart for some reason. If Elita rips their clothing out of jealousy, they will be pressing charges.

They enter the room that Sentinel and Elita are waiting in, Elita fully dressed, Sentinel dressed in everything save for his cloak, which Optimus is carrying. Both bots gasp, optics going wide. "Oh, Primus," Elita-1 whispers, her optics sliding over the both of them, "you . . you look amazing." She comes closer and circles around Oil Slick, "And you look like you were onlined as a femme."

Oil Slick dims his optics, his vocal processor high and light, "Thank you. It will be entertaining to see how many bots think the same this night."

Optimus presses a kiss to Oil Slick's servo, "We need to do a final fitting on Sentinel, and then we're done. It should be fine, but we need to make sure."

Sentinel turns around, and kneels a bit, "Of course. I want it to look wonderful."

He drapes it across the bot's shoulders, adjusting it so it looks perfect. He lets his optics roam across it, picking out any obvious flaws, and then then shrugs. "Looks fine to me." There are things he'd never get away with on Haydon IV, but here it is just fine.

Oil Slick can spot the problems, too. but he clearly doesn't care, either. "You look like you'll work. If you come visit us on Haydon IV, we'll do more work on you. Maybe."

Instead of looking insulted, Sentinel looks grateful, "Thank you. I know it must be a lot of work, keeping me looking functional. I know clothing bots are much pickier about appearance than most."

The only bots worse were seekers who chose to wear clothes. There had been a few on Haydon, and they were the pickiest creatures alive. Nothing but the best would suit them. Ever. Most weavers refused to work for them. It was understandable. No bot liked being ordered to redo their cloth or lace a dozen times.

They all head out, Optimus wrapping his arm possessively around Oil Slick's waist in a way no actual femme would allow, and murmurs softly, "I love you."

Oil Slick gives him a happy look, "I love you, too." He's nuzzled softly, "I'm glad that they aren't even trying to shoo me off the base this time. They realize it is pretty pointless to even try when a festival is going on."

The base is overrun with bots that don't actually belong there, filled with lovers or family of recruits, and Optimus is glad that he can get away with this sort of thing. The base is flowing with contraband, and there is going to be a crackdown when it is over, but he'll be perfectly safe before it happens, since Oil Slick always keeps him safe from this sort of thing.

"I'm going to fill you up with high grade tonight," Oil Slick hums, leaning against his side. "High grade and maybe a dose of that lovebug I saw being passed around earlier. I bet you'll get really wild in the berth if I give you that."

Sentinel coughs next to him, apparently overhearing them, "You're betrothed. You aren't supposed to be fragging if you're betrothed. I thought you were from Haydon IV. They're really strict about those things, aren't they? I hear they have even more rules than we do about courtships."

Optimus flushes, squeezing Oil Slick's waist, "Well, yes and no. You aren't supposed to, but everyone does."

Elita-1 raises an optic ridge, "Everyone does? What about bots raised to be good bots and would never do such a th-"

Oil Slick gives her a dirty look, "Elita, do you frag Sentinel?"

She smirks, "Well, of course I do. He's my mech. I can do what I like. It isn't like I can't do what I want to him."

Oil Slick nuzzles Optimus, "And we are each other's mechs. We have the bonding wraps to prove it, as well. We just need to settle everything into the contracts and have the house set up before we get everything all nice and finished, that's all. We are, of course, virgins. To be anything else would be in violation of our contract. The fact that we spend so much time together in a hotel with our doors locked means nothing. You could ask that bot at the temple what we did as sparklings, we could, very easily, have just been feeding each other whipped energon all the time."

"Except any medic scanning your spark would know that you've fragged," Elita-1 says, optic ridge arched prettily. "Aren't you inspected before you go to your bonding ceremony?"

Optimus tips his helm to one side, blinking innocently, "Oh, of course we are, and the medicbots will always comment on what healthy, innocent sparks we have." Everyone was in on keeping up the illusion of innocent sparklings-turned-adults getting bonded, but Optimus knew by now that they were all relieved that they weren't really turning two complete, naive innocents on each other that night. It was good to have experience with your intended.

Sentinel looks a bit like his worldview has been shattered. "Wh-what? I had thought-"

Oil Slick rolls his optics, "We aren't stupid. You want to make sure the bot you're with doesn't hurt you. Or, if they do hurt you, it is something that you want to happen in the berth." Oil Slick rubs against Optimus, optics dim, "I do wish you'd be just a little bit rougher with me, but you just aren't big enough. You took after your Papa Powerdrive's size like that."

He nuzzles his lover's neck, biting the cabling more than a little savagely, "While taking after Papa Steelbolt's model type" He nuzzles Oil Slick's neck, then sucks on the dents, "I love you."

"Oh, Primus," Oil Slick groans, optics dimming, "I love you too, my spark."

Optimus feels his own spark pulse with joy at the rarely used nickname, and Elita-1 and Sentinel gasp.

"Don't let anyone hear you call him that!" Sentinel orders. "You'll end up with your sparks examined, and I can guarantee that the medicbots here will not stay silent about the fact that you're not virgins."

What a spoilsport.

Oil Slick makes a face, "It isn't like my senseis aren't trying to make me get rid of him as it is. But I'm going to stay with him no matter what they try."

Optimus's spark freezes in his chest. "Wh-what do you mean? They've been trying to make you get rid of me?" This is the first time he's heard of this.

Oil Slick nuzzles him, "Nothing you need to worry about, love. They just keep telling me that a ninjabot doesn't need a bond, and keep trying to take away my bonding wrap. I've managed to do several things that earned me top ranking on my classes because I beat the senseis on pure motivation from them trying. Don't worry!"

But he can't help but worry, and Optimus frets, clutching at Oil Slick's frame. "They want to separate us? They can't. We are going to bond, and," he stands tall, "if they try it again, tell me, and I will come and file a report on them for attempting to break a bond. If they try to take your bonding wrap again, we can have them charged with attempted theft as well."

Oil Slick chuckles, kissing his cheek, "I told you to not worry about it, sweetspark. I've got it under control. No bots are gonna stop me from loving you for the rest of time."

He smiles, "Good." He kisses Oil Slick softly, "We're at the festival. Let's head in."

It is both significantly more impressive and disappointing than the one at Haydon IV. The size and scope is much more wide and varied than the one on their home planet by a large margin, but the clothing is much less impressive. The bots mostly go naked, and Optimus is not nearly impressed with how much of anyone looks at all. On Haydon, they would have looked very good, near the top, certainly, but they wouldn't have stood out.

Here, they are easily the best dressed bots, and blow everyone else's clothing away. Even with their mismatched accessories that they added at the last moment to compliment their new found love of gloves or crossdressing.

They look terrible by Haydon standards with those accessories, things they would strip off if any bot they knew from Haydon showed their face, but in this crowd, they look gorgeous.

Optimus lets his crystal chains tangle with Oil Slick's as they walk, a sign of affection and closeness that most bots here won't understand at all. Their servos link, and Optimus walks over to a booth selling energon sweets speared onto rust sticks. "Four, please," he asks, and tries to bring out his credit pad, only to have Oil Slick swipe his own over the scanner.

He takes the sticks and gives one to each of them, frowning as Oil Slick kisses him. His mech smiles, "Let me treat you, love. For every single sol for the past few vorns, I get to hear from my senseis about how you don't need me. Let me prove to them how much you need and want me."

His spark hurts at that. A bot that is teaching shouldn't be trying to shove betrotheds apart in such painful ways. "They shouldn't be doing this, Oil Slick. Why haven't you told me? You should should have told me the very instant it started."

"They're aftheads, Optimus. Nothing I say or do will change that. They're all about being open-minded and free, but they're stubborn sticks in the mud when it comes to relationships. I love you, and I want to bond with you, and they dislike that." Oil Slick kisses his cheek. "With any luck, I'll graduate in a few vorns and be done with them." His claws tease Optimus's wrap, "And then you and I can move in together."

He smiles, "I know that I'd like that." His spark warms at the thought of it. He'll be with Oil Slick forever, and they'll have sparklings to take care of. He breaks a tiny piece of the candy off, and places it in his lover's mouth, "How is it?"

Oil Slick makes a tiny purry sound, "Not as good as when your fingers are bare, but very delicious anyway."

He smiles, knowing that Oil Slick likes him more when he's covered up even more, since it keeps him away from prying optics. "We can feed each other more later, my love."

"Yes," Oil Slick strokes his frame with teasing servos. "I think we should challenge Elita-1 and Sentinel to a few of the games at the booths here. Are you bots up for a challenge?" Oil Slick smirks at them, puffing his chest out, "You can accept your defeat right now if you like. I'm more than willing to-"

"Oh, it's on, you spindly excuse for a cyclemech," Elita-1 purrs right back at him, dragging Sentinel against her. "You're going to eat your words, and then, I think the losers are going to take the winners to the best cafe in the city and treat them to high grade."

Oil Slick smiles, "If that's what you want, then we can do that. I'm not going to complain about you buying us high grade. I just wonder how you're even going to get into the World's End. It is very high class and you need a reservation severa-"

Sentinel coughs, looking away, "We, uh, we already had that... a very long time ago. It was already something that was planned. Two different friends were going to be coming, but that never actually worked out, and you just... fell into place."

Optimus smiles, "We'd be honored to come."

Elita-1 huffs, "You won't be once you have to pay for everything."

"You're a very foolish femme, and I hope a very rich one," Oil Slick hums, tugging Optimus to a booth. "I believe I will order some of the best energon they have when we win." He pushes Optimus in front of a laser pistol. "Now, be a good bot and shoot some turbofoxes for me, sweetspark."

Optimus finds it deeply amusing how pushy Oil Slick gets when he's around other femmes. "Of course, sweetspark." He swipes his creditpad to pay for a round of the game, and then takes the pistol, waiting for the targets to appear. Little red and white turbofoxes pop up on the screen, speeding around various bits of scenery, and Optimus shoots them, missing the first-the gun's aim is terrible, off a ridiculous amount to the left-but manages to get all the rest, including the blue bonus foxes that occasionally dart up for a nanoklik on one edge of the screen.

Oil Slick takes it from him, and gets all of the targets perfectly, having watched him and realized that the aim was off. When they're finished the gun is set down, and they look at the owner, who gives them both stunned looks before reluctantly offering them prizes. Optimus has a choice from the second highest tier, and settles on a slightly tacky pair of gloves that he can modify so that they'll fit Oil Slick if he cuts them up a little bit to go around his treads. "We'll put these on you later," he murmurs.

Oil Slick smiles, "Yes, they'll be fine once you fix them up a bit." His beloved looks through the top prizes, finally pulling out a small sculpture of a weaver model type. The little silky spider type robot model carefully getting tied on Optimus's shoulder, "There. Now it is like almost every other festival we went to. With a weaver sitting on you and trying to demand your attention in the most frustrating way possible. At least this one won't try to demand that we don't kiss."

"They're fun to kiss," Optimus objects. They have sweet, adorable little mandibles that wiggle against your lips. And he swears he felt a tiny glossa one time, when Spindle was being unusually affectionate with him. The poor little mech couldn't hold his high-grade very well.

"They're irritating as frag," Oil Slick counters, watching Elita-1 and Sentinel put up admirable showings at the targeting booth, though neither makes it above the third prize tier.

Elita gives them irritable looks, "We're going to keep going. Just a single game means nothing. You both just got lucky. We need to do something else. Something other than this."

Oil Slick smirks, "Like? What do you think we should do next?"

She points at a different game booth, "That one. It's a memory game. We'll do that instead."

Optimus wonders if Elita remembers that she always did terribly on memorization things, while Optimus did the best. And that Oil Slick is a ninjabot. Optimus nods, "If... if that's what you really want to do?"

"Oh, it is, little mech," she steps up to the booth and swipes her pad, challenging the booth bot, "Give me something challenging."

The mech arches an optic ridge and selects a stage for her. It's a fairly simple game at first. The screen shows a selection of numbers, objects, or shapes, and then removes several of them, offering a wide selection of objects at the bottom. The bot playing has to select the missing objects in the correct order. It's also a game of image recognition and finding, because the images and numbers are jumbled together at random on the lower screen.

Elita-1 has never done well at this game. Sentinel is a fair hand at it, but Optimus has always won in the past, and Oil Slick is trained for things like this.

When they finish, Optimus only gets a third tier prize, but still does better than Sentinel's fourth tier and Elita-1's lack of prize. He gives Oil Slick the little bottle of polish that they'll never use, and smiles when he's given another sculpture of a weaver. "Do you think that you're going to give me all of the weaver statues they have?"

Oil Slick looks smug, "If I continue to break all the high scores? Yes. I will. I don't think they're planning on ever parting with the things, but I am the top ninjabot student for a reason, and I will win. I have been beating out the senseis ever since I came here, and I will keep beating them at things."

Optimus isn't sure he likes the sound of that, actually. "You shouldn't have to beat them. What do they do?" He takes Oil Slick's servos, kissing them nervously, "It explains why you sometimes come to me covered in scratches and looking so upset, but I always thought that was sparring. What are they doing to you?"

"It is sparring, mostly," Oil Slick lifts his servo and kisses his gloved fingers. "Ninjabots are dangerous, sweetspark. We train very hard, and we fight much dirtier than you do. At least, some of us do." He pats Optimus on the aft as they move to the next booth. "I think if we win here, you should just declare yourselves defeated," Oil Slick laughs, resting a servo on the counter. "Four nets, please."

Optimus kneels down and stares at the tank of thrashing, angry turbofish, and then at the tiny paper net he's holding. "I'm pretty sure you can't catch one of these with a net like this, Oil Slick."

Oil Slick smiles, "Of course you can, I'll get you a lot, don't worry."

Optimus frowns, "I can't keep a pet on the base. This would be even worse than you bringing me that turbofox."

Oil Slick gently pushes him to the tank, "Go ahead and try."

He looks down at the turbofish, "This isn't going to work."

Elita-1 and Sentinel glare at Oil Slick. Sentinel taking the net angrily, "These stupid fish are bred to be extra aggressive. I want a different booth after this, and this one doesn't count."

Oil Slick raises an optic ridge, "We've already beat you in two games. If we were doing two out of three, we would have already been declared the winners. What does this matter?"

"Ninjabots aren't allowed to win at this game," Sentinel hisses quietly at him, so the boothbot won't hear. "I could get you disqualified from this."

Oil Slick arches an optic ridge, "Very well. This booth does not count." He kneels at a separate part of the tank. It's a strange set up. The tank has two parts. The inner area is largest, full of writhing fish splashing solvents at any bot passing by. The outer part is a smaller section full of solvent, split into different areas, so multiple bots can play at once. The caught turbofish is meant to be dumped into the sectioned off area, which has a gate that can be opened to allow the fish back into the main tank if you don't catch enough to earn yourself a fish as a pet.

They are actually interrupted by a bot walking up behind them, and one of the turbofish starting to splash, almost insanely, fins flashing brightly. The boothbot sighs softly, "Alpha Trion, will you please not incite the turbo fish this sol? Just take the one that likes you so much and go?"

The councilmech behind them hums thoughtfully, optics dim and roaming over them, "No, no. I think not. I am in no mood for amorous ichthyoids this sol, not when I have a far better option right in front of me." He goes straight to Oil Slick, voice turning seductive, "Hello, I've never seen you here before. I can tell that you're from Haydon IV with a wrap like that. How exactly did you get here and escape everyone's attention?"

Oil Slick arches an optic ridge, "I did not realize that you came down for the festival, Alpha Trion. I would have thought a mech of your age would need to . . . take a stasis nap."

The mech laughs, reaching forward to hover a servo right over Oil Slick's shoulder, stroking the air over his wrap, tickling his EM field without making actual contact, before pulling his servo back, "I like a femme with an attitude." He leans in close, "I am far from old enough to need stasis naps mid-sol, lovely."

Oil Slick thrusts his paper net at the mech, "Will you catch a turbofish for me?"

Alpha takes the net, "I don't catch fish, but I can show you a trick. Would you like to see something interesting?"

Oil Slick nods, "I wou-"

The booth owner shakes his head, "No. You will leave, Alpha Trion. You will take your lovesick fish with you. I'm not going to deal with moving all the fish back."

Alpha smiles, "I'll take the fish if I can show them this."

The booth owner narrows his optics, clearly distrustful, "You said this last time."

"Oh, but I really mean it this ti-"

Optimus moves over to Oil Slick, whispering softly into his audio as Alpha tries to sweetalk the booth owner into letting him do whatever trick it is he wants to do, "He's very charming, isn't he, love?" He hopes that Alpha doesn't go too far. Or, if he does, he realizes that Optimus is part and parcel with Oil Slick. If Alpha is only wanting Oil Slick because of the novelty of a very pretty femme, they're both going to crush that very fast.

"Fine," the boothbot announces. "I'll let you do your fragging awful trick, and then you take that poor glitch of a turbofish with you afterwards. I know you've got a fragging enormous pool of them at your home."

Alpha smiles mysteriously, and nods, "I do indeed. Thank you for your patience, Rally Point. Now, I believe I promised the lovely femme a show." He leans down over the solvents, and waits for a moment. Turbofish mill around under him, and then, without warning, he slaps the surface of the water with the paper net. One of the turbofish, startled by the sudden noise, leaps out of the water defensively, and lands straight inside the outer layer of tank. Alpha lifts his arm and slaps the surface again, and another turbofish leaps in panic, into a different sectioned off part of the outer tank.

Oil Slick kisses Optimus on the cheek just as Alpha turns around, and Oil Slick claps his servos. "Wonderful! I didn't know they did that!"

Alpha walks over to them frowning intently, then suddenly smiling, "You're Oil Slick, the top ninjabot that Yoketron is alternately raving about how wonderful you are, and raving about how you shouldn't be bonding to a bot." The mech turns to Optimus, taking his servo and kissing it, "And you'd be the betrothed, then. No wonder you continually ignore his demands to break it off. If I had a betrothed as lovely as him, I'd ignore Yoketron as well."

Optimus smiles, much more relaxed, "It is good to to meet you as well, sir."

The mech turns to Elita-1 and Sentinel, who look rather peeved to be ignored. He smiles at them, and takes their servos, kissing both at the same time, "And one of the best teams to come from the recruit class this vorn, I've heard. Elita-1 and Sentinel. Oh, how Kup complains about you two, but he has such high hopes. It is an honor to meet four lovely bots this sol." The mech absently slaps at the solvent behind him, and more fish leap into the outer tanks. Optimus wishes he knew how the bot did it.

Elita-1 and Sentinel look gratified at that, and Elita smiles, "We're going to be trying to do a few more games to see who is paying for the meal when we go out. We'd ask you to join us, but it is going to be very expensive, and I don't think that they'd let us have you join us, sir."

Alpha looks disappointed, "Where are you going?"

Sentinel straightens up, "To the World's End, sir."

Alpha Trion's optic ridges shoot up, "You certain weren't kidding when you said it would be expensive." Alpha gathers all four of them in his arms, "Certainly more expensive than what you all can afford, I should be the one that pays for you all. My treat. You must have had your creators have put in a reservation decavorns ago."

"Sir, you can't-" Sentinel starts to protest, only to squeak when the bot pinches his aft.

"I have a standing reservation at the World's end. I am welcome there whenever I like, with a reasonable number of guests." He reaches down and massages Elita's aft, before switching to fondling Oil Slick and Optimus. "I would be honored to escort you all there this evening, and buy you some sweet energon and treats." The mech dims his optics flirtatiously, "They also keep a room there for me, with one of the best views in the entire city. I would like the four of you to come up and see it."

Sentinel looks like he's about to refuse, but Elita-1 beams, "We'd love that!"

Oil Slick and Optimus nuzzle against the mech as they start to walk, and Alpha smiles touching Optimus's shoulder, touching the weaver sculptures, "I see that your ninjabot won at two of the games. It seems that Elita-1 and Sentinel were the ones that were going to be paying if these were anything to go b-"

"Alpha Trion! You will get your aft back here, and take this fish!"

The mech winces, and turns, smiling widely at Rally Point, "I was hoping you could keep him for me for the sol. I have guests," He draws the four younger bots against him. "A turbofish would only get in the way of our plans."

"I'm not falling for that fragging thing again, Alpha Trion," the mech growls, scooping the amorous, whiskered fish out of the tank, plopping it into a portable bowl with a lid. "You take the fragging fish so it stops looking at me like I'm torturing it by denying it the chance to live with you."

Alpha holds them a little tighter, making Oil Slick's armor creek, "No, I need to be heading off. You can just deliver the fish to my home, and it can join the grou-"

Rally Point glares, "Do you think I'm stupid? I've tried that, and you've had the turbofish sent away under the 'no gift' clause. You aren't going to refuse it. You will take the fraggin' fish. You can drop it off on your way to the restaurant before you go. Don't think you can't, because I know that you can. They won't care, and it isn't like you won't be trying to woo the ninjabot one into your berth as it is. You're going to try to get them all there, anyway. This way you just get them there faster. Take. The. Damn. Fish."

"Alright, alright, if you insist," Alpha takes the container, sighing dramatically. "The things I do for pretty new recruits." He leans down and dims his optics at them, "I do hope you don't mind if I take you to my home before our evening out. Perhaps that is a bit . . backwards, but I do need to get this little one into the solvent pool with the rest." The fish thrashes, fins flaring out hopefully, wiggling its long whiskers at him.

Rally Point looks smug as they walk away, "About fragging time you did this."

Elita-1 looks over at Oil Slick then says, "I still think we should do at least one more game."

Alpha perks up at that, "Actually, I think you should do two more. Since I interrupted that one, and you clearly only did two so far. A little longer won't hurt the fish, and I'd like to see how you all do the games. I can buy the winners the most expensive candy on the menu. I normally don't even buy it for me, but I have to choose the game."

Elita-1 looks interested, "I am for this. What about you bots?"

"I wouldn't mind playing a few more games while we're still here," Optimus says shyly, linking servos with Oil Slick. "What game will it be?"

Arms still around them, Alpha guides the bots over to a booth with very few bots standing nearby. "This, I think. I hope you like it, Optimus." It's an interesting booth, because it actually seems to open into a small courtyard area. There are the remains of destroyed and splintered objects all over, and the mech's optics brighten as he sees them approach.

"Oh, cadets. I can always tell when we've got ninjabots and cadets here." The bot rubs his servos together, "Care to demonstrate some of that battle skill? You'll have to do it blindfolded, of course."

Optimus and Oil Slick freeze at the edge of it, looking at each other nervously. Optimus frowns, "I don't want to rip my festival wrap."

Alpha smiles, "Well, you can take it off, and put it back on when you're done. I know that you have a screen to change behi-"

He shakes his head, "That was confiscated. It's contraband. Just like-"

Oil Slick kisses him, "But I have my screen. I'll let you change behind it while Elita and Sentinel do this. Don't worry, love. I won't let anyone watch you."

"Thank you," Optimus says shyly, letting Oil Slick set up the screen. It means he can't watch Elita-1 and Sentinel do whatever it is that the game is meant to do, but he can slowly unwind his festival wrap, feeling increasingly naked as he does so. He can't believe that the mech would pick an event like this, knowing he would need to strip down. What a filthy old mech.

By the time he's unwrapped, cloth stored away in subspace, Elita-1 has finished, and is proudly strutting because she's managed to get a second level prize and only scuffed a bit of her paint. Oil Slick kisses his cheek, "Did you put the weaver sculptures on the shelf with the dolls?"

He nods, smiling, "Right next to them."

Oil Slick nuzzles him, "Good. I think that you'll win this one, since I don't really have a weapon other than my chain. And I don't really ... use that. I think you're going to win this, my love." His betrothed smiles at him, "You'll let me have a taste of the candy, won't you?"

He blushes, "Of course. You get out of the wrap. We don't want it destroyed as we do this."

Oil Slick nods, and then slips behind the screen, and Optimus watches Sentinel take on the game. It's fairly simple. Easier than the courses that Kup has been putting him through in bootcamp. Kup makes him go through courses and training stages that no other recruit has to, but Optimus tries not to resent it. It has made him better at fighting and protecting himself.

Small targets and obstacles come out, and have to be destroyed before they hit you and detonate, leaving you coated in colored powder.

Sentinel goes through it without a scratch to his paint, but misses several targets. Getting the second prize tier, just like Elita-1.

Optimus waits until Oil Slick slinks out from behind the changing screen, revving faintly like he always does when his betrothed is naked like that, and allows himself to be blindfolded. There's a slight feeling of disorientation, and he can tell that the the booth owner cheats a little bit with the blindfolds, but not in any way worse than Kup. It would explain why Sentinel missed so much, though, since the bot isn't used to the fact that taking a step to the right feels like a step to the left.

He takes a few experimental steps, then rushes through the course, making sure to go for the bonus point he knows that Sentinel missed, and possibly Elita-1 did, as well.

He's always had very finely attuned audios, with his sensitive audio fins, and they help him here, directing him when the blindfold alters his magnetic field a bit, trying to trick him into believing an oncoming target is heading to his left rather than his right. He swings his axe, dodging the obstacles-the courtyard is relatively small, and makes it to the end. Optimus pulls the blindfold off and glances down at himself, smiling to see that there's not even a single speck of color on him. "That was much easier than the courses Kup is having me run."

The booth bot glares at him, "Oh.. You're one of... Kup's bots. That would explain it. I'll be sure to make this harder next time so that it won't be as simple."

He smiles brightly. "What's my choice of prizes?"

The bot gives him a bitter look, and points out a selection of things, "You get the top prizes. Any one of the ones you want. Whichever you'd li-"

"The weaver sculpture. To go with the ones Oil Slick got me."

"Oh. So you're the bots taking the sculptures," the mech says flatly, pulling it off the shelf to offer to him. "Congratulations."

Optimus smiles, "Thank you. I believe it's your turn now, Oil Slick." His mech nods, and then accepts the blindfold. He makes it through the course shortly, but misses a few targets. Nothing explodes on him, but he doesn't get the bonuses that Optimus had.

"That blindfold should be illegal," he mutters, ripping it off at the end.

He holds out his servos, tugging Oil Slick behind the screen and kissing him softly. "I train with a worse one, love. I could help you, if you want me to."

Oil Slick shudders, "I might take you up on that." They pull out their wraps, carefully putting them back on, helping each other with dressing. "I can't imagine wanting to use something like that. It makes me feel sick."

He smiles, "It makes it better for when I need to trust what I'm hearing or doing other things. What if a bot tries to scramble what I'm doing? Decepticons are deceptive. It is right there in their names. I don't want to be caught unaware."

"Then don't go looking for a fight," Oil Slick kisses him gently, fondling his aft under the pretense of adjusting his wrap. The bot squirms, and Oil Slick kisses him again, glossa flicking over his lips. "I don't want you risking yourself, my sweetspark."

Optimus is about to reply when another servo squeezes his aft, and his optics widen in shock as Alpha purrs, "That was a wonderful showing, Optimus. You do your betrothed great honor in being such a skilled warrior."

They both cling together giving the intruding bot a dark look, "Hasn't anyone told you it is rude to come in when bots are getting dressed?"

Alpha smiles, "I do know," the bot waves the cloak he's wearing at them, "I'm just here to tell you that we should be going. The turbofish is upset, and we need to go. Elita-1 is... not exactly happy. No femme is ever happy when she has been shown up so many times."

This is very true. However, "You still shouldn't be groping my betrothed." Oil Slick frowns, "Let us get finished."

Alpha reaches out and gropes Oil Slick's aft, wiggling his optic ridges, "There, now you two are even. It was very unfair of me to only grope one. You're going to be bonded. I should make sure your afts get equal attention from my servos."

Oil Slick huffs out a laugh, looking away, "Get out of here, you lech." Alpha leaves with another wiggle of optic ridges. "That bot is a menace," he says, but his tone is lighter and happier than Optimus has heard from Oil Slick in a very long time.

Optimus nuzzles his lover, "Do you like him?"

Oil Slick looks away, "I... I don't-"

He kisses him, smiling, "If you do, I'm glad. I want you happy, Oil Slick. You just seem so miserable here. You're top of the ninjabots, and I'm top of my classes. We're going to be the best. I know we can't just leave. I just want you happy."

Oil Slick kisses him, putting the finishing touches on the wrap, "I only need you. No one else. No matter what. We don't need anything at all."

"We need other bots," Optimus objects lightly. "We can't live isolated on Haydon IV forever. I want our sparklings to see a Universe at peace. One without the shadows of war everywhere. Megatron may be missing, but only a fool would think him truly defeated." He gently cups Oil Slick's cheek. "I love you, but we have to keep moving forward. We cannot stay in place and stagnate."

Oil Slick pulls away, "We have places to go now, Optimus. We can discuss our futures later."

He sighs softly, and folds up the screen letting Oil Slick put it in his subspace before kissing him softly. "Love you."

Oil Slick perks up, smiling, "Love you, too."


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