Chapter 8: Trying to Seduce One Another (Or: Five Times Bluestreak and Hound Tried to Interface, and the Time They Finally Did)
The Ark itself was a large ship. Huge, in fact. But much of it was buried and unusable inside the mountain. Over time, the Autobots had slowly enlarged the living space available to them, but even then there was not a lot of space for so many mechs.
Finding time and space to be alone with someone for any length of time was, at best, an exercise in luck.
Slag.
The mech's hands were amazing, but it was what he could do with his lips that left Hound strutless.
Hound was just beginning to understand why so many mechs had been giving him thumbs up and jealous looks after he and Bluestreak had officially become an item, when the door to his quarters beeped and slid open.
Hound lurched to a sitting position, his fans running at full speed. He awkwardly knocked Bluestreak to the side, and they both stared at the large black mech who slowly walked through the doorway.
"Room lights, 50%," Trailbreaker said. He shuffled into the room a few steps before catching sight of the two mechs tangled together on Hound's berth. "Oh!" He stared at the two of them as they adjusted their optics to the sudden light, taking in their position and the roar of cooling fans. "Oh!" he said again. "Um..."
"Hi, Trailbreaker," Hound said, casually sliding his interface ports closed again and pulling all of his limbs back to himself. "I didn't think you were getting out of med bay today."
"Yeah, Ratchet said that I could heal up just as well in my own berth as in the med bay, so he kicked me out." He limped towards his own berth and sat on it heavily, then looked at the other two mechs uncertainly. "Sorry... I would have commed you if I'd... That is, if..."
"It's all right, Trailbreaker," Bluestreak said, his door wings waving gently behind him. "It's your room, too. And besides, you just got out of med bay." Bluestreak glanced at Hound, and the green mech could feel a slight bite of disappointment in the silver mech's field. "Did you want me to go?"
"No. Unless you want to." Trailbreaker still looked uncertain, but had relaxed a bit at Bluestreak's words. "I was just going to watch Hillstreet Blues on our little set in here. No one ever wants to watch it in the rec room with me."
Bluestreak looked at Hound, who shrugged. "Sure. I've never watched it. What's it about?" Bluestreak asked.
Hound exvented quietly. It wasn't exactly what they had planned for tonight, but he didn't mind watching the show. He settled in next to Bluestreak.
Trying to sync both their schedules and finding times when one of their roommates was not around seemed almost impossible. Then Bluestreak had the idea to hide themselves away in one of the shuttles in the hanger. The Ark had one working shuttle, and several others that were too damaged to fly.
"They're just being used for parts. I know they've been trying to build one more working shuttle, but they need to take apart the more damaged ones to get enough parts to fix the one they're working on." Bluestreak ducked into the entrance of the shuttle on the far end of the hanger. He pushed aside a control panel that dangled from the ceiling near the door. "Come on. No one will see us here."
Hound looked around. Parts were strewn all over the floor of the shuttle, and wires hung from the walls and ceiling. On one side of the shuttle, a display had been torn out of the wall and the hull had been cut open, exposing the wall of the hanger just next to the shuttle. "Very romantic," Hound said with a smile.
Bluestreak laughed and walked towards the front of the shuttle. "The pilot's seat in this one's still intact." He spun around the seat and patted its cushioned surface. "Here. Sit down."
Hound sat in the cockpit's seat, and grinned as Bluestreak straddled his hips. "All right, I see where you're going with this," he said, looking up as the Praxian fanned his door wings over him.
"Do you?" Bluestreak purred. He brushed his lips down Hound's cheek and nibbled across the outer vent on Hound's helm. "I don't think you do."
"Then show me," Hound murmured, and wrapped his arms around Bluestreak's waist, pulling him down firmly into his lap.
A crash at the door of the shuttle made them both jump. "Ow!" They turned to see Wheeljack rubbing the top of his helm where he'd knocked it against the hanging control panel. The engineer peered into the shuttle and said, "Bluestreak? Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Were you in here looking for parts, too?"
"No." Bluestreak's door wings flicked once and he stood up. "We were just..."
"We were just looking around," Hound said, standing next to Bluestreak. "Um. Just trying to find someplace quiet."
"Oh." Wheeljack shifted his optics between the two. "I, uh, sort of needed to get the inducer coils out of the floor in this shuttle. We think they're in good enough shape to use in the rebuild. Um... I could come back later?" he asked.
Everyone knew how hard it was to find someplace to be alone sometimes.
"No, that's all right," Hound said. "I know it's really important to get another shuttle up and running in case something happens to the only one we have." He gave Bluestreak a little shrug. "We'll pop into the rec room to see if anything's going on there."
"If you want to come back in a few hours, I should be done by then!" Wheeljack called after them as they left and started for the hanger door.
When they were far enough away from the shuttle that Wheeljack couldn't hear, Hound exvented heavily. He said, "And I've got patrol in two hours." He brushed his fingers down Bluestreak's arm and grabbed at his hand. "We'll figure it out soon."
"I know," Bluestreak said, entwining his fingers with Hound's. "I'm going to make a point of making sure we do."
Finally. Finally! Hound lowered his firewalls with a wash of relief. Bluestreak's processor threads entwined with his as soon as the connection was established, and Hound bucked at the burst of sensation. [[It's been a hell of a wait, but this is so worth it.]] Hound knew his field was practically giddy.
Bluestreak smiled up at Hound. [[All right, pup. Time to see what you're capable of - ]]
Bluestreak's message was cut off as a claxon sounded on all frequencies.
"All hands to battle stations! Decepticons are approaching the base. This is not a drill. All hands to battle stations!" Red Alert's voice boomed urgently out of the comm system.
[[Are you slagging kidding me?]] Bluestreak growled audibly as he let his helm thump back onto the berth in his quarters. He looked up at Hound.
Hound shook his helm, equally unimpressed. [[This is unbelievable.]] He raised his firewalls and pulled his cords free of Bluestreak's interface ports.
They hurriedly disentangled themselves. "I am going to personally disassemble Megatron," Bluestreak snarled, his field burning with frustration. "Come on, let's go."
They ran to the entrance of the Ark to take up their positions.
Later, Hound reflected that perhaps having a frustrated Praxian on their side might be beneficial, considering that during the ensuing battle, Bluestreak managed to cripple four seekers with only three shots.
Tomorrow was supposed to be the day. Their day. The day they finally managed to interface, for real. Everything was perfectly arranged. Tracks was away in New York for an event with Optimus Prime, so Bluestreak would have his quarters all to himself for almost three whole days. And tomorrow they were both off duty.
What wasn't supposed to happen was Bluestreak getting caught in an explosion. Brawl had lobbed the device over the Autobots' defensive line, and it had landed right next to Bluestreak.
Hound had been across the battlefield, and had only heard Sunstreaker call out a warning. ::Prowl! Blue! Look out!::
A minute later, Prowl's voice had come over the comm lines. ::Ratchet, report to the rear defensive station immediately. Bluestreak has taken severe damage.::
Hound's lines had run cold.
The damage was extensive. A large chunk of shrapnel had taken Bluestreak's left leg off at the knee, and smaller chunks punched holes in various places around the rest of his frame. One piece had lodged next to his fuel pump, and it had taken Ratchet almost three hours to remove just that one piece without doing any further damage.
Now, Hound slumped in the chair next to Bluestreak's silent form in the med bay. His fingers brushed gently over the back of Bluestreak's hand as he looked at his...
Well, not his lover. Not yet, anyway. Hound blew a heavy gust of air out of his vents, and looked at his friend.
"He'll be fine, Hound." The green mech lifted his helm and looked up at First Aid. The medic checked something on a monitor and adjusted one of the lines attached to Bluestreak's frame. "He's coming along just fine. We'll bring him back online tomorrow, and you can talk to him then."
Hound nodded but didn't say anything.
Tomorrow. Tomorrrow was supposed to be their day. Instead, he held vigil next to Bluestreak's still frame.
"So Wheeljack said he should have my new leg done in two days, and after they reattach it, they can let me out of here! Just light duty at first, I guess, but that means I'll have extra days off." Bluestreak gave Hound a suggestive flick of his door wings. "Maybe we can finally find some time together that won't be interrupted by roommates or Deceptions or solar flares or anything else."
Hound squeezed Bluestreak's hand, and knew his field was giving him away. He couldn't help it. "Yeah. About that..."
"What is it?" Bluestreak said, his field suddenly anxious. His door wings sagged slightly. "I... Did you still want to try? I'm sorry things haven't been working out, but I want them to! Maybe there's something else we can –"
"Blue, shh," Hound said, smiling at the sorrowful Praxian. "It's ok. I want to make it work too. I'm not giving up."
"Oh!" Bluestreak's door wings raised again slightly. "Well, good. That's a relief." He tilted his helm. "Then what's wrong?"
Hound's engine whined. "I got tapped for a high-priority mission. Jazz and I are going to Siberia for two weeks." He frowned. "By the time we get back, you'll probably be back to full duty."
"I heard Jazz was going, but..." Bluestreak looked up at the ceiling of the med bay. "Primus. Two weeks." He looked at Hound and gave him a bitter smile. "I hope you understand that we finally manage to do this, I'm probably going to overload in about two seconds. This wait is killing me."
Hound laughed and bent over to kiss Bluestreak firmly. "Me too, Blue," he murmured, and his field swirled with longing.
Jazz flopped into the shuttle seat next to Hound. "Take us home, Sideswipe!" he called. The red mech tossed a half salute to the commander, already prepping the shuttle for launch.
The visored racer stretched. "I'm gonna call this mission 110% successful," he said. "Prowl is gonna be thrilled with the intel we collected."
"Good! I'm glad it was worth it," Hound said. He looked out the window as they took off, and his thoughts drifted back to Bluestreak. The Praxian should be back on regular duty by this time. Hound frowned as he wondered when their schedules and their private time would synch up again.
"Say, how're things goin' with you and Blue?" Jazz asked, kicking back in the seat.
"Good, I guess," Hound said. He kept his optics fixed on the landscape below.
"Just good?" Jazz shifted closer to Hound. "I was sure you two would hit it off like fireworks. I mean..." Hound looked up just in time to see the racer grin. "Blue's got a bit of a reputation for being a real artist in the berth."
"I wouldn't know," Hound said, his voice flat.
"What? Hold on now." Jazz leaned even closer, and Hound leaned away slightly, alarmed at Jazz's sudden intensity. "What's the deal? You two've been a thing for almost three months now, and I know neither of ya is shy about 'facin'."
Hound threw a hand in the air. "We'd love to 'face, but we just can't seem to find time alone. Prowl schedules us for a day off together a week, but it's like the whole universe has conspired against us. Roommates. Attacks. Injuries. Missions. We even tried finding someplace outside the Ark to be alone, but apparently two mechs sitting alone in the woods draws the attention of hikers like you wouldn't believe." He looked at Jazz, slightly embarrassed at his outburst. "We'll work it out eventually, I'm sure. We're both just really frustrated."
Jazz tapped a finger on his chin for a moment before answering. "Well, I would be, too." He was silent for another moment before chuckling. "Although, considerin' your relationship first got goin' because ya got blown off a cliff by a seeker, maybe you two are just bad luck magnets."
Hound started to laugh, then froze. "When I – how did you know that's when we first started..." Jazz was right, of course, but even Hound hadn't fully realized until very recently that's when he started thinking of Bluestreak as someone he'd like to get to know better.
Jazz flashed half his visor in a wink. "I just notice these things," he said, and settled back in the seat, offlining his visor completely.
Hound stared at the Special Ops commander for another moment before looking back out the window. He wondered what his fellow "bad luck magnet" was doing.
"Hound! I need ya to report to the med bay right away." Jazz jogged up to Hound in the hallway, his tone urgent.
"What? I'm not due for a maintenance check for another month," Hound said, trying to keep his irritation out of his field. He'd just finished filing his report from the mission and wanted to go find Bluestreak. Hound had commed him when they had arrived, but he hadn't been able to see the Praxian yet.
"No time to explain. Let's go!" Jazz hauled on his arm and led him towards the med bay.
Mystified, Hound allowed himself to be led into the med bay, where Ratchet was waiting. "Here's Hound for ya, Ratch," Jazz said, sketching a salute to the medic and then turning to leave. "As discussed."
Ratchet looked Hound over and pointed towards one of the private examination rooms. "In there," he said tersely. When Hound hesitated, he added, "Come on! I don't have all day."
Hound hurried into the examination room, but paused in the doorway when he saw Bluestreak sitting on the berth inside. The Praxian was swinging his legs idly, but stopped when he saw the green mech enter. "Hound! Welcome home!" he said, his face lighting up with a huge smile. He jumped to his pedes. "This is a surprise. I think I'm just here so Ratchet can do a final check on my new leg, but I guess you can stay to watch if you want."
"No," said Ratchet. Both mechs turned to look at the red and white medic. He smiled at them, a look that seemed odd on his normally serious face. "You've got this room for three hours. Totally private, and I've shut off the cameras." He stepped out and rested his hand on the door panel. "Per Jazz's orders, you're supposed to make the most of it." He held up a digit and added, "Have fun."
Then Ratchet closed the door.
The two mechs stared at each other. "Did he just..." Hound began.
"Are we supposed to..." Bluestreak said at the same time.
They stopped, looked at each other and laughed.
Bluestreak stepped towards Hound and took his hand. "I think we've been given a gift." He brought Hound's hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. He lifted a questioning brow ridge at Hound.
With a growl and a rev of his engine, Hound pushed Bluestreak back against the medical berth. "How many times do you think we can interface in three hours?" he asked, and pressed a kiss into the gap between Bluestreak's neck cords and shoulder armor.
"I don't know," Bluestreak gasped. "But I fully intend to find out."
