Title: After Atlantis
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.
Warnings: PTSD angst, references to rape, inadvertent/ambiguous dub-con.
Author's Note: Due to content, this chapter gets an additional trigger warning.

Chapter 10: Awkwardness

Trailbreaker seemed very surprised to receive his query ping.

Even after opening the door and finding Wheeljack standing outside, Trailbreaker still looked like he couldn't quite believe what his optics were scanning.

"...Wheeljack," he said after a brief, flustered silence.

"Hey," he greeted him blithely. "Mind if I come in?"

Trailbreaker looked absolutely astonished. "S-sure," he stammered, stepping back to admit him.

"Thanks," Wheeljack said as he entered, taking a moment to glance around.

Trailbreaker's quarters were...nice.

Trailbreaker appeared to be a fairly tidy mech, but not obsessively so; a small amount of personal clutter gave the room a lived-in look. The principal decorations were an assortment of Earth plants housed in small containers – one trailing leafy fronds over a hanging basket suspended from the ceiling in the far corner, several brightening the workstation with colorful flowers, a small, spiky cactus in a painted ceramic pot occupying the berthside table –

Distracted by the décor, he abruptly realized Trailbreaker was staring at him, clearly awaiting an explanation for Wheeljack's unexpected visit to his personal quarters.

"I came to apologize," he said simply.

Trailbreaker looked startled. "Apolo – to me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Wheeljack replied. "I was, uh, kind of surprised when you..." he trailed off, noting Trailbreaker's mortified expression. "It's just that I figured you were interested in Hound –"

"Hound?" Trailbreaker repeated, laughing a little. "No, not Hound. Not like that, anyway. I mean sure, we've hooked up before, but that was before he started seeing Mirage. And it was never, you know, serious. Just friends."

"Right," he said, nodding. "I figured it must be something like that, since you –"

"Yeah," Trailbreaker interrupted, still looking embarrassed. "So, uh…does this mean you weren't offended?" he asked hopefully.

"Not at all," he replied, vocal indicators flashing agreeably. "Just...surprised."

"Oh," Trailbreaker said, looking faintly puzzled. "That's good."

"I, uh, don't really get a lot of offers," he admitted sheepishly.

"Oh," Trailbreaker said with greater understanding. "But you have–?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied quickly. "Sure, of course. It's just, you know...been a while."

Starscream doesn't count, he told himself.

Trailbreaker asked with a low chuckle, "How long is 'a while'?"

Ratchet doesn't count, either.

"...since Cybertron," he confessed reluctantly.

"Wow," Trailbreaker said, impressed. "That is a while."

"Well, no one's really asked me," he replied, a touch defensively. "It's not like I've got mechs beating my door down. Crazy inventor, tends to blow himself up–"

"I don't think you're crazy," Trailbreaker said softly, edging closer.

"Maybe just a little," Wheeljack whispered back as Trailbreaker closed on him, feeling a faint, familiar tingling sensation creeping through his circuitry

Was he really going to do this? Could he do this?

A part of him wanted to. Another part was terrified.

This time, when Trailbreaker's energy field brushed inquiringly against his own, Wheeljack was ready for it. He suppressed a hitch in his intakes and responded with an answering pulse, matching Trailbreaker's intensity, synching their frequencies.

He managed not to flinch or stiffen when Trailbreaker reached for him, running eager hands over his frame.

I can do this, he thought vehemently. I have to do this. I need to do this.

He steeled himself, and began touching Trailbreaker in return. Countless cycles of assisting Ratchet in the repair bay had left him with an excellent working knowledge of other build types, including a general awareness of the overall layout of each individual Autobot's sensor nets. If his memory files were accurate, Trailbreaker should have a particularly dense cluster of sensor nodes right...there.

The action elicited a startled moan and the soft ticking sound of Trailbreaker's internal cooling fans activating. The persistent fingers that had been probing hopefully along the seams in his armor suddenly redoubled their efforts.

"I'm no medic," Trailbreaker breathed urgently into his audial. "Tell me where."

Wheeljack hesitated, feeling strangely reluctant to reveal his own hot spots, to willingly hand over the keys to his chassis. To buy himself some time, he sent a series of slow, steady pulses through his energy field, letting them wash over Trailbreaker.

That, as it turned out, was a mistake.

Trailbreaker was quick to respond in kind, revving his engine and transmitting his own set of swift, heavy pulses. Wheeljack's cooling fans stuttered to life as his core temperature jumped, responding to the surge of pleasure sparking through his circuits. His fingers slipped, his knee-joints suddenly turning to water –

"Whoa there," Trailbreaker said as he caught and lowered him gently to the berth. "It really has been a while for you, hasn't it?" he commented teasingly, stroking Wheeljack's chestplate affectionately. "Don't worry about getting there before me," he said reassuringly. "I know how it is. Just relax and leave the driving to me; I'll take care of you."

The next thing Wheeljack knew, he was lying on his back in Trailbreaker's berth, firm, insistent hands moving over his frame, an energy field pulsing hot and hard against his own, and it felt good, but at the same time, hideously familiar and wrong –

A cold wave of terror washed over him, freezing his spark, chilling him to the core.

It's happening again.

He couldn't move; he was immobilized by fear. He couldn't speak; his vocalizer refused to function.

Stop, he thought desperately, Please stop.

But Trailbreaker didn't stop, didn't seem to notice Wheeljack's distress. He continued to explore his chassis with remarkable care and thoroughness, mapping every plane and angle with his hands, memorizing every dip and curve. Throughout it all, no word of protest escaped Wheeljack's recalcitrant vocalizer; the only sounds it produced were quiet whimpers and soft, helpless moans.

Too frightened to resist, Wheeljack could only cling to Trailbreaker's shoulder-struts, quivering in response to his touches, silently praying that Trailbreaker wouldn't opt to conclude the act by uplinking with him. Every astrosecond that passed was spent in dread of the next, gripped by the fearful certainty that at any moment, Trailbreaker would reach for his chestplate, open him up and plug himself in...

Primus saw fit to answer his prayer, or perhaps Trailbreaker didn't believe in uplinking during a first interface, but for whatever reason, Trailbreaker's efforts were limited to manipulating Wheeljack's energy field and stimulating the sensors covering his frame.

Regrettably, that was enough.

Wheeljack's inevitable overload filled him with a horrible despair.

x.x.x.x.x

The aftermath of their intimate encounter had been incredibly awkward, at least for Wheeljack.

Somehow he'd gotten through it. He'd managed to nod at all the appropriate intervals, to behave as if he'd enjoyed himself. He'd done everything he could to keep Trailbreaker from realizing anything was amiss, even thanked him for his generosity in not expecting him to reciprocate.

"You can make it up to me next time," Trailbreaker had replied genially.

Next time.

Wheeljack didn't want there to be a next time.

But he didn't dare tell Trailbreaker that. Wheeljack had gone to him, not the other way around. Trailbreaker had been ready to accept his refusal, until Wheeljack had withdrawn it.

He'd asked for it. He'd invited it. He'd willingly accepted Trailbreaker's advances.

And when he changed his mind, he hadn't told Trailbreaker to stop.

Wheeljack paused long enough to enter the locking code at the door to his quarters, and then retreated inside. He sank onto the berth with a heavy sigh, overwhelmed by the enormity of the mess he'd gotten himself into.

He couldn't tell Trailbreaker he didn't want to interface with him again, not without coming across as fickle, or a liar. None of the usual excuses would suffice. He couldn't claim he wasn't interested; he'd already indicated that he was. He couldn't claim the encounter had been unsatisfying; he'd overloaded, Trailbreaker hadn't.

There was only one truly plausible reason Wheeljack could give as to why he was loath to pursue an intimate relationship with Trailbreaker, but unfortunately, that reason had everything to do with a recent incident involving Wheeljack and a certain Decepticon Second-in-Command.

He'd sooner be deactivated than reveal that shameful secret.

So he'd had no choice but to agree to meet Trailbreaker the next morning for energon, to spend time with him, to act as if everything was normal.

He'd written this program, and now he had to execute it.

x.x.x.x.x

"Mornin', Wheeljack!" Jazz called cheerfully as he passed the table in the common room Wheeljack had chosen, making him jump.

"Morning," he replied in a subdued tone as he watched Jazz make his way to the energon dispenser. He'd shown up anticipating Trailbreaker would be waiting for him, but Trailbreaker hadn't yet arrived, and the delay was making Wheeljack increasingly uneasy.

He fidgeted with his cube, eyeing the second one he'd set on the table across from him for Trailbreaker, to mark the seat as taken. He pondered subspacing both and returning to his lab; he could always claim he'd forgotten their plans to meet, or lost track of the time –

"Good morning!"

Trailbreaker moved around to take the empty seat opposite him, trailing a hand affectionately across Wheeljack's shoulder-strut as he did so. He picked up the cube with a nod of thanks, and took a sip.

"Recharge well?" Trailbreaker asked.

Try not at all, Wheeljack thought grimly. "Sure," he lied. "You?"

"Had a little trouble switching off, at first," Trailbreaker said playfully, his tone lightly teasing. "For some reason my circuits were all overheated."

Wheeljack flinched guiltily. "Sorry," he muttered, avoiding Trailbreaker's optics.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," Trailbreaker replied quickly, looking apologetic. "I don't mind, really. Pit, after all you've done for me, I figure I owed you one. Two or three, even."

Wheeljack nodded, taking a sip from his cube.

Trailbreaker reached for his free hand, covering it with his own. "I'm really glad you came by last night," he said, soft and sincere. "I never dreamed you would."

Wheeljack struggled to find a suitable response to that, frantically searching his CPU for the right words to form a reply. Say something, he thought anxiously, his spark twisting in its chamber. Trailbreaker was regarding him closely. He's looking at you, say something!

"What's wrong?" Trailbreaker asked, concern and a hint of dread coloring his tone as Wheeljack lowered his gaze.

He couldn't look at him, couldn't bring himself to lift his optics from the cube in front of him. His vocalizer was frozen, his vocal indicators dark and lifeless.

"Is it...because of last night?" Trailbreaker inquired hesitantly, almost fearfully, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Did I...did I do something wrong?"

"No," he said quietly, finding his voice at last. "No, you...you were fine. I just...I think I made a mistake. It was….too soon."

Trailbreaker stared at him, looking hurt and bewildered. But then a glimmer of understanding lit his optics. "Too fast?" he asked.

"Um...yeah," he said. "I guess, yeah."

"I'm not really one for fast myself," Trailbreaker admitted. "I know I'm the one who made the first move, but I wasn't expecting to go all-out right then and there, or even that night. I just wanted you to know I was interested," Trailbreaker explained. "Personally, I prefer to get to know a mech before I start bumpin' windshields with him."

Wheeljack nodded in agreement.

Trailbreaker looked at him shyly, "But after what you did for me, I figured, what more do I need to know? You're about as good as they get."

"Thanks," Wheeljack said softly, touched by the compliment.

"Plus, Hound knows you, and he said I should go for it."

"Oh," he said.

"I'm not in any hurry, though," Trailbreaker said. "When you said you hadn't overloaded since we left Cybertron, I figured you wouldn't want to wait. But if you'd rather take it slow, that's more than fine by me."

"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, okay."

"We could go for a drive sometime," Trailbreaker suggested. "Get to know each other better?"

Whheljack thought about the night before, about Trailbreaker's hands moving lovingly over his chassis, and suppressed a shudder. Then he thought about the sunset they'd watched together, the time they'd spent in his lab working on the mods, and how relaxing it had been, how much he'd enjoyed Trailbreaker's company. How grateful he'd been to have it.

To not be alone.

"Sure," he replied. "That...that sounds nice."

Looking strangely relieved, Trailbreaker rose, dispersed his empty cube, and held out a hand. "When are you off duty again?"

Wheeljack subspaced the remainder of his own cube and accepted the proffered hand, allowing Trailbreaker to pull him to his feet. "Tomorrow."

"Shoot, I'm on then," Trailbreaker said, sounding disappointed. "Maybe I can switch with somebody. If I do, I'll comm you."

"All right," he replied.

...maybe it would be.