Fallout
"Formal"
By Nan00k
Thanks, shantastic, for beta-ing so quickly! For those who commented on last chapter, TC's story was a combination of Alien, Deadspace (the video game) and Pandorum. LOL. Good guesses!
I love this pairing just for the sheer awkwardness. The whole Vortex/Rachel situation is FAR from over and here is the long-awaited continuation of "Keeping a Secret." Vortex tries to win Jazz and TC's approval and, of course, Jazz doesn't make it easy. Also: Danny and Vortex are totally bros.
Poor, poor Vortex. I beat him up waaaay too much.
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Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.
Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery
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2051 AD
"Okay. Okay, so… what? You're giving up?"
Vortex snorted. "What the frag else am I going to do?"
Danny sighed and continued to pick apart the flower in her hands. "I dunno… you're always complaining about it, so obviously it still bothers you. You can't just give up, not about something like this."
"Spoken from experience?" Vortex sneered, glancing up at her. It was kind of hard to do, lying down, but she turned around to look at him.
"Ha, funny," she replied dryly. She flicked the flower at his helm. "Seriously, 'Tex, you gotta man up."
Which was an entirely ironic statement, Vortex seethed. The whole problem was that he was not… well… a man. A human.
It was a chilly spring morning, but bright out for once. Vortex had attempted to relax up on a knoll by himself, but Danny had insisted on joining him, claiming he had looked "down" recently. He didn't think he had been that obvious, but humans were disturbingly perceptive when it came to emotions, especially Danny.
"And how should I do that? Beat the slag out of both Jazz and Thundercracker… and not die in the process?" he demanded, sitting up slightly, his propellers hanging loosely on his back.
He could totally beat Jazz down. Maybe. But Thundercracker? There was no fragging way. And they never strayed too far apart anyway. Fighting them together would be instant suicide, not to mention one of the other Autobots were sure to join the fray out of instinct. Arcee would just be waiting for a chance to leap in…
"No, no, not like Chuck Norris-manly, but mature-manly," Danny insisted. Whoever the frag Chuck Norris was, Vortex thought. "You should talk to them. Like an adult. Ask them formally for their permission to court Rachel."
"What the frag?" he sneered. "Did you pick that up in some kind of human ritual manual?"
"I read books about it. They're fictional and Barns said it was kinda old-world stuff, but whatever. The concept's the same," Danny said, scowling. "I mean, you have the right to feel the way you want to feel. They can't berate you for that. If you want to act on it, however, it'd be respectful to ask both them and her."
Her. Meaning Rachel. Vortex was pretty sure Rachel had no idea what was going on behind her back, even as this unusual drama unfolded concerning her. The only reason Danny knew was because the brat was almost as keen as Jazz was about social drama.
Rachel… Vortex heaved a sigh. It wasn't fair, not at all. He thought he could have trained himself to move on, but how could anyone move on from being infatuated with someone when that person was one of the few people he saw every single day? It wasn't like there were other mechs around (and none of their group attracted him, that was for sure) and he didn't think looking for another human would be a good idea either. He wasn't even sure he knew why he liked Rachel; she just… made him feel different.
"You'll never get past this by moping and avoiding the topic," Danny continued, her voice strangely taking on a musical tone, mocking. "I bet Jazz is waiting for you to bring it up anyway."
Oh, Vortex surmised the same thing. Neither Jazz nor Thundercracker would let him sit by or walk near Rachel after their ill-fated confrontation months ago. They were paranoid. Indignant anger always sprung up in Vortex's spark; what the frag could possibly happen? None of them were ever alone, since it was dangerous to try to move away from the group. Even if they were alone, Vortex couldn't fathom what he could do, aside from killing or maiming her, but he doubted he had the willpower to even dare to try to do that. Rachel meant more to him than anyone had in a long time.
They were trapped in a world of no-action, even if she reciprocated his feelings. Their kind weren't compatible in any way other than exterior friendship. Even still… perhaps just knowing it was reciprocated would feel better than just waiting around with questions hanging over his spark. Vortex didn't dare wonder what she felt; he didn't want to imagine her saying 'no' any more than he wanted to hear her say 'yes.'
"I wouldn't know how to begin to ask," he muttered darkly, turning away.
Danny laughed—a delicate, musical sound; humans had such amazing vocalization—and moved up beside him. "Just ask!" she said cheerfully. "The worst that could happen is that they say no."
Vortex paused. "…Or kill me," he said, darkly. Thundercracker was more intent on intimidation, but Jazz could easily convince the jet to do serious damage.
Danny didn't seem that alarmed. "Well, me and 'Jack will back you up," she said confidently. "I'm pretty sure Blue is cheering you on, too."
That made Vortex feel so much better. "Just great. I have a squishy, a scientist and a moron on my side," he snapped, only half-sarcastic. "Fragging pit, I'm screwed."
Smiling gently, Danny picked up another flower. "Just remember, even though they're all protective of Rachel, Jazz and TC are your friends," she said, glancing up at him with honest eyes. "We all are. We'll support you."
Sentimentality. Bah. Vortex looked away and scowled behind his battle mask. Even if it was sappy, he knew Danny was right. If the other two mechs did go effectively batshit and try to attack him, he was sure the other mechs would step in.
…Maybe.
"If I get slagged, I blame you completely," he snarled, resigning himself to a potential world of pain.
Danny grinned, flopping back onto the grass. "Love you, too, 'Tex."
0000
It was a nerve-wracking afternoon. Dinner had been eaten and the majority of their group was settling in for the night, the fire dying slowly. Vortex had offered to take Wheeljack's place on sentry duty, knowing it was also Jazz's turn. It wasn't that strange a thing to do, really; Wheeljack had covered for him before and he and Jazz got along well. …On most things, at least.
Sentry duty was generally boring and uneventful. All of them were grateful for that; a night attack was not only incredibly more dangerous than one in the daytime, it was far more terrifying. The humans had poor night vision, and even with the mechs' ability to scan the drones were almost invisible in the darkness. Two mechs at a time stayed up for a portion of the evening while the others rested, changing post around one in the morning with another couple.
Normally, Vortex wouldn't have been so jittery, but tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight was when he would finally summon up the gall to approach Jazz. He didn't want to be pessimistic, or overdramatic, by thinking it might also be the night he was slagged by a fragged off Autobot, but in reality… it was quite possible.
Out of courtesy for the sleeping group, Jazz and Vortex moved a few yards away, radars on, and sat down facing the forest. Vortex knew they would be headed that way in the morning; more mountain paths.
"Ahh, I can't wait to be back in the valley," Jazz murmured, always the conversationalist.
Vortex didn't answer, but had to agree with the mech. He was so sick of rocks.
They fell into a comfortable silence—well, for Jazz it was probably comfortable. Vortex was pretty sure all his processors were overheating.
"Jazz?" he asked suddenly. He flinched, wanting to take the words back. Well, it was now or never…
Jazz didn't seem to notice his hesitance. "'Sup?"
Vortex hesitated. Gathering his nerves, he looked over at the silver mech. "I wanted to talk to you," he began carefully, minding his tone. He didn't want to give the Autobot the impression he was afraid. Even though he was.
"Shoot, mech," Jazz replied, grinning casually, glancing at him with a carefree attitude. Either he was pretending to not care, or he honestly didn't know what was coming. It was never easy to tell with Jazz.
Shifting, Vortex forced himself to meet Jazz's optics. "About Rachel," he said, and then he braced himself.
Jazz was a master of emotion, both naturally and learned from the humans. Vortex still saw a flicker of something, however, the moment he spoke and Jazz almost looked angry. Almost.
Instead of his usual smile, Jazz completely shut down. He sat back completely and stared out into the forest, silent.
Well, that went well. Vortex hissed lowly and moved around to face him, not going too close to the other mech. "Not talking about it isn't going to change a thing, Autobot," he growled.
"Yeah. I was kinda hoping you'd forget about it," Jazz replied coolly. Vortex wasn't used to this display from the saboteur. A quiet Jazz meant either he was plotting or angry. And an angry Jazz was nothing to scoff about. Just because he was small didn't mean he was a pushover, not at all.
Vortex scowled. "Not likely." It was difficult to forget a feeling as strong as that, and even more difficult to ignore the paranoia that Jazz and Thundercracker seemed to share whenever Vortex hung around. They were an eleven-person group; they couldn't avoid these encounters.
Jazz sighed and leaned back. "So… what did you want to talk about?" he asked. It was an innocent enough question but his tone seemed to take on a new defensive, sharp sound.
That didn't stop Vortex. He looked back out to the forest, hardening his spark. "You can't keep avoiding it. None of us can afford to keep ignoring it," he said, scowling. "It's going to start affecting the whole group." The awkwardness, the tension…
"I dunno what you mean," Jazz muttered.
Vortex gripped into the cold earth. "Cut the slag!" he hissed. "There's a problem. We need to fix it before—"
"Before what, 'Tex? What're you gonna do?" Jazz gave him a hideous glare. "You claim you got a crush on someone. Normally, you should act on it. But this ain't like yer head over heels for Wheeljack or somethin'." Oh, slag, no. "You're…"
The mech stumbled over his sentence. Vortex glared more. "I'm what?" he demanded.
Jazz, exasperated, motioned with his hand absently, a human gesture. "Yer a mech. She's a human. It won't work. It ain't natural and it's… wrong," he said, awkward. "Ethically. Physically." Jazz grimaced. "Psychologically."
Vortex sneered. "Are you just saying that because you're her guardian?" Jazz and Thundercracker seemed particularly corrupted when it came the roles of human guardians and mech guardians. They acted like "maternal fools" as Kass said once.
"What?" Jazz asked. He flinched. "No! It's—look. Circumstances are weird. Yeah, we're all stuck together in a weird group. Sure. But come on, 'Tex. You're a mech. A Decepticon. Not that I'm saying if you were an Autobot, it'd be okay. It still wouldn't be okay," he added quickly, waving his clawed hands. He sighed and looked away, exasperated. "Rachel's still a kid. I don't want her tryin' t' figure out how t' work with… this."
With a mech. An interspecies relationship. It was unnatural. Not… acceptable.
"You're stalling," Vortex accused, though he knew… he could understand… what Jazz meant.
Jazz shot him a heated look. "And you're creepin' on my little girl. Back off."
That pissed Vortex off more than anything else. "I'm not creeping! I haven't even gone near her alone!" he exclaimed, enraged. He had been walking around, as Danny claimed, on "egg-shells" around Rachel. Whatever they were.
"I don't wanna talk about this," Jazz said shortly, waving his hand. "Not now."
"When, then, huh?" Vortex leaned closer, at the end of his patience, his sanity. "This is driving me insane. I want to talk to her. I want… to at least let her know what I feel. If she says no, fine, I'll get over it." It wouldn't be easy, but he'd try. "But I can't unless we make some sort of common ground."
Jazz didn't look at him, but his tone dipped down into icy levels. "I don't think that's a good idea." No room for debate.
Vortex growled. "I knew this bothered you, so I thought to come to you first." He hesitated and then braced his pride. "Please… what can I do to let you let me talk to her?"
He didn't need permission. Not from a slagging Autobot. But he wanted to make this work, and to make it work without getting beaten to pit and back, he needed to get the approval of an Autobot (and Neutral; Thundercracker was a hurdle for another day, however).
Jazz didn't look at him for a while and Vortex sat back, emotionally torn. He wanted this to work. He didn't want to have to make enemies out of his allies, who were all still very new at the whole "ally" thing to start with. This was going to drive him insane, however; he just knew it.
Vortex, sighing, sat back. Maybe he had approached this too soon. He wasn't any good at relationships, even with teammates.
Jazz shifted, metal creaking in protest. Vortex turned and saw Jazz was just sitting there, but… he seemed more alert.
"…You really, really want me t' say yes, huh?" Jazz murmured, looking distant. But within his visor, Vortex saw something unsettling growing in Jazz's expression.
…Oh, slag. "Yes," Vortex replied slowly. He did not like that tone. Or that look.
Jazz sat back further, tapping his claws absently into the dirt. "Well… maybe I am bein' a bit too harsh. I mean, maybe it could work." He paused, glancing over at Vortex with all-too-innocent optics. "But I don't wanna put my baby girl on th' line, ya know? That's kinda risky. Heck, both of ya could wind up hurtin' each other an' that ain't good for group morale." He paused again and grinned. "So…"
"So… what?" Vortex asked, fearing the answer at the same time as feeling anxiously curious.
Jazz met his optics pointedly. "Prove it. Prove t' me yer serious about bein' with Rachel."
Vortex stared. "… and… how would I do that?" he asked, optics narrowing. That was far too vague to be reassuring.
"For a week, ya gotta do seven things t' prove yer a good match fer her. I'll think of stuff tonight." Jazz sighed, ignoring Vortex's mildly horrified face. "We've known each other fer years, 'Tex, and I know yer a good guy." Jazz smirked. "I just wanna be sure yer gonna be good enough fer our Rachel."
That did not bode well. Not at ALL. Vortex grimaced and looked away, considering. Jazz's request, as all of his requests were, ridiculous and random, but he had to admit; it was expected. Jazz would not make it easy for him, but Vortex had faith in his Autobot sentimentally. He just had to persevere through the tasks, which would probably all be stupid or embarrassing, but it was for a week. He could… handle a week.
Maybe.
"Fine," Vortex growled out, spark flaring with resentment and nervousness. Oh, Primus, this was going to be painful.
"You're dedicated, I can tell," Jazz said, smiling brightly. "Hopefully… fer both of ya… you actually mean it. I wish ya luck." Vortex couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
"Thanks," he said quietly, looking away.
He was nervous… but strangely optimistic. He could do this. He had to. Smiling to himself behind his mask, Vortex suddenly had the first bit of hope he had since this whole mess started.
Maybe it was possible.
0000
"You are horrible."
Jazz turned and saw Wheeljack standing there, several yards from the edge of the camp. Morning had come, just as it always did, and a new day was beginning. But today wasn't a normal day and Jazz was already anticipating quite an interesting ending. The rest of the week promised even more intrigue.
"Oh? Why's that, 'Jack?" he asked, glancing at the scientist. He grinned, knowing full well what he had meant.
Wheeljack, flustered, moved closer. He didn't want anyone else to hear their conversation. "I heard you last night. You and Vortex," he said, sounding grave. His optics narrowed, reprimanding. "Jazz, you're planning to toy with him."
"I'm givin' him a fair chance," Jazz protested, leaning away. He saw the humans packing their things, oblivious. Vortex kept shooting him stray looks, but was focusing on not getting caught looking, so he kept turning around. He was definitely not Special Ops material, Jazz mused.
"You and 'fair chance' don't go hand in hand when you're aggravated," Wheeljack replied, stern. He crossed his arms against his chestplates; Jazz wondered if Wheeljack knew so many human gestures because he wanted to help give them back to Danny growing up. It was possible. "You're mean-spirited about it."
Jazz shrugged, unimpressed. "I'm givin' him a fair chance, 'Jack. It's all anyone could offer, Primus."
"You're playing with his emotions," Wheeljack complained. He actually sounded upset, glancing over at the group, at Vortex. "I've been watching this play out for a while, Jazz, and I honestly think he means what he says."
"What he says an' what he does are completely different," Jazz replied shortly. He watched as Rachel and Kass did the dishes and how Vortex was watching them. Thundercracker was also watching; Jazz had informed him of his little plan before the others had woken up.
"What could happen? Even Wildrider knows to be gentle when handling the humans," Wheeljack countered. "Knowing Vortex's social incapacities, he wouldn't really be able to do anything but let Rachel know his feelings. Is that so wrong?"
"I don't want her t' be havin' t' worry about this kind of thing," Jazz replied, turning back to the taller mech.
"When will she ever find a companion other than us?" Wheeljack demanded, optics furrowing even more, pressing the limits of a mech's capacity to show emotion. "Jazz… I am worried as well, but perhaps we should just trust in their judgment. They are the ones who will have to worry about the benefits or consequences of their actions. They are adults. They can carry themselves responsibly."
Jazz frowned, listening, but knowing it wasn't going to make him budge on his decision. He wasn't going to take a risk, not with Rachel. Thundercracker agreed with him. This… wasn't right. Not at all.
"Have ya ever heard of the Bible?" Jazz asked. Wheeljack flinched, clearly surprised by the turn of conversation. "I never got t' read the whole thing, but there was this one story I heard. This dude, Jacob, wanted t' marry a woman named Rachel. Her dad made Jacob do seven years of labor t' get her hand in marriage." Jazz glanced at the scientist, smirking. "I'm not th' only asshole dad out there, 'Jack."
Wheeljack straightened, a frown ever-present in his optics. "…I see." He sighed softly. "You do realize that Rachel's father in the story double crossed Jacob and made him work fourteen years instead, right?"
Touché. "I'm not out t' ruin his life, 'Jack," Jazz said, shaking his helm. He looked back at their group, reading himself. "Just… t' give him somethin' t' think about."
This would be hard, for both of them. Most likely, this would end horribly and many feelings would be smashed. This was for Vortex's own good, as much as it was for Rachel's.
So, yeah… he was going to make this hard.
0000
Day One
"You want me to do… what?"
Jazz pointed out at the field they were currently holding mid-day rest at. "Collect flowers," he instructed simply. "Twenty of 'em, and not all the same kind."
Vortex did all he could not to lash out at the impudent mech. "Why?" he demanded angrily. This was just humiliating!
Jazz, however, had other ideas. "You're interested in a five-foot, four-inch tall organic who could easily go squish if ya look at her the wrong way," he said sternly, as if reprimanding a sparkling. "If you think you can handle a relationship with her, you had better be pretty damn dexterous with yer hands. And gentle."
Leave it to the saboteur to make sense out of something ridiculously STUPID. Vortex snarled, but could not find a reason to disagree. In fact, he somewhat agreed; if anything did come of the relationship, he'd probably be picking Rachel up more than normal. Gentle was a necessity.
But… flowers ? !
"…Frag." Vortex clenched his fists, but knew there was no way to get out of this. "I… fine. Fine."
"Be nice and gentle," Jazz added, having the nerve to look positively gleeful. "Whole flowers, 'Tex. Nothing squished."
The field they were resting in had flowers; it was a rare, rather beautiful sight. Compared to most of the landscape, the colors were startling. There were only pink and blue colored ones, with a few yellows. The humans had ogled at them earlier, but were focusing on getting their lunch done, leaving Vortex with a whole field of flowers to pick from alone.
Joy.
It was not easy. His fingertips were twice the size of many of the flowers and even the ones that were slightly larger, he couldn't always grab the stem easily. He had torn through several unfortunate plants. If he survived this with his sanity intact, Vortex swore after the seventh blue flower was obliterated, he would kill Jazz. Or at least beat the slag out of him.
And then, of course, one of the humans walked up. "Hey, Vortex?" Slagslagslagslag.
"What?" he demanded. Glancing to the side, he saw it was Barnaby, looking up at him innocently. A smile was in his eyes, but there was more curiosity than anything else. Obviously, he didn't know what was going on.
"Why are you collecting flowers?" Barns asked, smiling hesitantly. He wasn't sure if it was a joke, apparently.
Vortex seethed. He was not about to let the fragging humans know what was going on. They would only make the situation worse, by over-sympathizing (and pissing Jazz off by confronting him on their own), or reacting negatively to his intentions. He had no idea if they could accept this relationship. He needed to handle one hurdle at a time; seeing what the humans thought could come later.
"Jazz wanted some," he replied, optics narrowing. He managed to pick one of the yellow ones thankfully and it was remarkably intact. He took the grip measurements from his last action and decided to apply it to the next picking.
Barns nodded. "…Why?" he asked, curious.
Vortex growled. "I have no fragging idea."
"Why doesn't he just pick them?" Barns asked, leaning in closer. Vortex moved away, dropping his shadow onto the man.
"…I volunteered," Vortex replied tersely. He accidently tore the pink flower by the middle part. Frag.
Thank Primus, Barns was very skilled at realizing when Vortex was at the end of his patience. "I… see," he said. He paused. "Do you want some help?" Or not.
"No." Vortex sighed when he managed to get a pink one intact. Thank Primus. "Go away."
Barns frowned, but eventually listened, walking back to the main group. Wildrider decided to cause more mayhem twenty-minutes later by throwing insults and teasing comments his way ("You look like sissy human! Vhere is dress for femme-Vortex? !"). Vortex, cursing Primus for every fragging flower he saw, slowly built up a collection of twenty flowers. He wanted to burn the whole field, but then the humans started to mess around in it, so he had to resign himself to just loathing all plant life for the next decade or so.
He found Jazz standing alone by the edge of the forest, smug, and Vortex restrained himself from punching the aft-head in the face. Instead, he dumped twenty flowers into Jazz's clawed hands.
"Here. Flowers. Twenty of them," he growled. He wanted to burn every single tree and flower and bush he could find.
Jazz gazed at the flowers, feigning interest. "Huh. Nice work, Vortex." He glanced up at him, smirking. "Day one and challenge one complete."
Vortex relaxed. Perhaps this wouldn't be too hard.
"Good luck for tomorrow, though," Jazz continued, grinning mercilessly. "I'm just getting warmed up."
Vortex grimaced. Or not.
Six more days. This was not going to be pleasant.
0000
Day Three
"Get to the left—behind you! MOVE, DANNY!"
Chaos. Bloodshed. Metal flying in all direction. Just another unlucky moment in another ordinary day. Drones had come up from the south and it was a scramble to get into defensive and offensive positions. Jazz dodged a swipe from above and brought another drone down with a lucky grab. Metal and weak wiring crumpled under his claws, Jazz flung the monster away, readying himself for more violence. It had been such a peaceful week, too, outside of his and Vortex's endurance match. It was already three days into Jazz's trials for him, and much to the saboteur's surprise, the helicopter had succeeded in doing everything rather well, without a major complaint. It was becoming nerve-wracking now, actually; maybe he should start adding a time limit—
"RACHEL! TO YOUR RIGHT!"
Jazz looked up just in time from Kass's cry and saw what she meant. Rachel was doing her usual bait routine, but a stray drone, smacked loose from its general trajectory by a stray gun blast, was zooming right at her. Fear—paralyzing, helpless fear—grabbed Jazz's spark.
Before he even had the processing-power to run up to block the attack, Vortex launched downward from the air, where he had been giving them aerial support, and lashed out at the drone. Rachel shrieked and stumbled—Wheeljack asserted she couldn't actually trip in the air, but one false body jerk and it was easy to tip over and lose altitude—falling. Vortex landed, catching her from the air, dropping down to set her on the ground seconds later.
Well. That wasn't as unexpected as Jazz really wanted it to be. Fuck.
Vortex crouched over the shocked human. "You okay?" he asked, not over-emotional, but there was concern in his voice.
Rachel was shaken by the close call, but she was always the tough one. "Y-yeah," she said, literally and psychologically brushing herself off. "Thanks, Vortex."
Vortex nodded. "It's nothing."
Jazz watched as the two separated. There was no revulsion in Rachel's countenance from Vortex's touch. She and the other humans always treated the mechs, especially the Decepticons, with as much respect and care as they did with their own kind. They did not see faction. Vortex turned away and got back to the fight. Jazz stood there for a moment, watching.
His optics did not miss the tiny smile that appeared on the human's lips once Vortex's back was turned.
Perhaps this was worse than he had expected.
0000
One Week Later
He had collected the twenty flowers ("Dexterity!"). He had hunted down a fragging deer using only one of the human's concussion blasters ("A man needs to provide for his beloved!"). The clothes washing ("Usefulness!"), the boulder throwing ("You know she likes strong guys."), the animal holding ("Ladies like cute animals. Here, hold this raccoon."), the book reading to a sickeningly-attentive Bluestreak ("You gotta be cultured, man. Rachel's a smart chick."), and had endured the gleefully compliant Wildrider's ramblings after both of them had to walk alone for a day... all… alone ("Humans like kids, so let's see if you can last babysitting one of ours.")—he had done it all. His pride was irrevocably damaged and he was pretty sure the humans thought he had gone insane, but he had completed his tasks as Jazz described. They were ridiculous, but did have some sort of logical explanation. Sort of. He had persevered, which was the most important part.
Unfortunately, as he had dreaded, Jazz was not very keen on the fact he had succeeded.
The light was fading to dusk once again. The humans had sat down to prepare their evening meals and soft conversation filtered throughout the camp. Vortex had left without his energon ration and instead went directly toward Jazz. Both the silver mech and Thundercracker had moved to the edge of the camp, away from the humans, waiting. Neither of them looked particularly happy, but Vortex didn't care. Jazz owed him something.
He stopped just short of Jazz, glancing back at Thundercracker who glared threateningly. "I finished the week," Vortex stated, directing all of his attention toward Jazz.
The saboteur frowned deeply. "Yeah. I guess you did." He did not sound happy.
Then, silence. Vortex waited, as patient as his nervous spark would allow, but Jazz just stood there, looking out at nothing. That was not a good sign.
"…And, Autobot?" Vortex demanded, voice growing harder.
Jazz glared at him and refused to say anything else. He leaned away, gripping the tree trunk so fiercely, his claws cut through the fragile bark. Vortex glared back.
"Don't tell me the honorable Autobot goes back on his word," he snarled, daring to move closer. Thundercracker was only a few yards away, watching the whole thing go down, so Vortex restrained himself from grabbing Jazz by the arm. "You said—"
"You have no fragging idea how hard this is for me and TC," Jazz snapped, whirling around. He was just an Autobot, but his visor's glare was enough to make Vortex hesitate.
"All I want to do is talk to her!" he complained instead. He motioned towards the humans, who were just going on with their normal routine, as usual, oblivious. "You can't deny me that! You're just acting like a sparkling!"
Jazz hissed lowly, shrugging away. "Frag off. Let me think."
Vortex, at the end of his patience, dared to jab the Autobot with his finger, making him recoil a little. Thundercracker rumbled threateningly, but Vortex pressed on. "There is no reason for you to say no!" he exclaimed. It was true. There was nothing but feeble emotion driving these two now.
"No reason?" Jazz repeated, voice growing icier and more dangerous with each sound. "Oh, I can think of quite a few."
Vortex bared his teeth. "Enlighten me."
"You'd squish her," Jazz suddenly said, throwing his hands up.
Lame excuse. "I'm gentle with all of the humans," Vortex snarled, moving closer.
"Vortex." Jazz's tone was sharp. He leaned back looking straight up at the taller mech, fearless, determined. "Humans… are not like us. You don't understand, okay?" Jazz's optics flickered over toward the humans, body tense, voice ringing with authority. "They need… touch. Warmth. They want to hug, kiss, fondle, make love. They can't connect like we do. They can't read each other's minds. All they know, all they have, is touch."
A dark growl rose up in Vortex's chestplates. "For Primus' sake! What the frag do you think I'd do? Try to fuck her ? !" he hissed, fists clenching. "Do you actually think I'm attracted to her physique? SHE'S ORGANIC!" Moving away, Vortex glared down at Jazz, shaking with anger and… "I'm not fragging blind, you moron!"
"Then what are you attracted to?" Jazz demanded, closing the distance between them, dominating.
"She—she does…" he began, but failed to finish.
Ah, what a question. What a problem. If Vortex knew the answer to that, this wouldn't have been so hard to begin with. He would know why he was putting his spark and honor on the line for a goddamn squishy. If he knew an answer, this whole fragging thing would make sense and not send his processors spinning out of control.
Vortex stared down at Jazz, his spark twisting, words coming from nowhere, his processors generating the answer before he even comprehended it.
"She doesn't care. About who I was. What I am. What I've… done." He latched onto his right hand with his left, trembling. "She should hate. Fear me. But she treats me no differently than you Autobots, or other humans."
A smile. A laugh. A feeling of light weighted carelessness. Even while running for their lives, she could find a reason to look his way, making sure, caring.
Appreciating an enemy.
"…She makes me laugh. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had something to feel happy over?" he demanded, but then stopped. He looked away in embarrassment, frustration. "We all know what that's like, but that doesn't change the fact… I have something to smile over. Me. Vortex."
Vortex never laughed. Or smiled. Even before he'd lost his brothers, even when he'd been a Decepticon and hadn't been living a backwards life amongst his former enemies, he had maintained a cold demeanor, his few emotions easily covered by his battlemask. But now… he couldn't help it, the way his spark filled up whenever she said something to him, joking, serious. There was a desire of want, yes, but…
This…
Like everything on this miserable planet…
This was totally different than anything he had ever experienced before.
"She's funny. And kind, but tough. If she were a femme, yeah… I'd feel the same," he continued, voice growing lower, losing his strength. "But she's not a femme and I fucking know that, Jazz. I know that nothing will come of this, physically or… emotionally. But I can't stop how I feel."
Which was true. It was truer than he ever wanted it to be. But there was no use hiding it now, or fighting it.
"She'd want more out of a relationship, that's what I'm saying. She wouldn't just want feelings," Jazz said. He was quieter now, looking strangely distant. Desperate.
"I…" Vortex began. He hesitated. "I know that. That's why… I know nothing will come of it. I accept that. I just… need to… finish this. In whatever way. The sooner I hear a rejection, the sooner I can just… walk away from it."
Because their group comprised the only people, mech, femme or human, that they knew… they were all they had to care about. He didn't want to fuck up their group dynamic – but he was just as afraid as Jazz was that if he approached Rachel, he would ruin their unity, ruin everything.
But if he didn't approach her, all he would ever have was his one-sided feelings. He was tired to hiding it. Tired of… watching from afar. If she said no… he could accept it. Until then, he had nothing to accept. He just had half-sparked hopes and overwhelming worries.
They stood there in silence for a long time, watching the humans, dwelling on their turbulent emotions. Vortex was ready to just forget everything and go over to Rachel now, even if that meant having the two mechs behind him attack. The silence was beginning to drive him insane.
Jazz stood there, as still as a statue. "I don't like it," he said simply.
Vortex winced and looked away.
"But I'm not Rachel, am I?" Jazz said suddenly. Vortex started in surprise. "I'm worried. I'm concerned. I like you, don't get me wrong, Vortex. You're… not a bad guy." Slowly, Jazz turned away. "There's just… a lot to consider."
A bird flew by over head. Vortex stood there, spark heavy.
"But I'm not Rachel."
Vortex paused and turned, looking at the smaller mech. Jazz refused to look back at him, glaring out at nothing.
"This is going to, in the end, have to be brought up. I know that. I don't like it. But she's th' one who gets t' decide fer herself." Jazz paused, looking almost ill. "She's a grown woman. Bein' th' mother hen all th' time is just… silly at this point." Sighing heavily, Jazz shook his helm. "Whatever happens next is gonna have t' be between you two."
Vortex didn't know what to say, if there was anything else to say. He stared down at Jazz silently. "…I guess I wanted your approval," he finally managed to say at great length.
Jazz shrugged, still not looking at him. "…Ya have it," he said. "Well, my approval for talkin' t' her. I don't approve of th' relationship itself." Jazz made a sighing sound again. "But… things could change, like I said before. Maybe we're all just overreactin' 'cause this sort of thing is new." Finally, after what seemed like forever, a tiny smile appeared on his face. "Maybe… it might work out."
Vortex stared in disbelief. "…Thank you," he said lowly, meaning it.
Ha. Since when did an Autobot's approval mean anything to him? Vortex had to laugh at himself; this miserable world had brought him down to unspeakable levels.
"Don't yet," Jazz warned, frowning gravely again. "You gotta wait t' hear what she says."
"When do you think I should bring it up?" Vortex asked, now suddenly excited. Maybe—maybe he could do this. Maybe he did have a chance at—
Suddenly, the overwhelming feeling of Don't Look Behind You swept through Vortex's spark. He froze, knowing full well that Thundercracker had just stood up behind him, looming with all his height.
"Who said you could ask her now?" Thundercracker growled, optics narrowing ever-so-slowly. "You have Jazz's approval. You never got mine."
Vortex felt part of his spark whimper and die, and Jazz's hysterical laughter did not help. Not. In. The. Least.
0000
"What the hell is Jazz doing to Vortex now?"
Rachel sighed as Kass handed her a mug of hot coffee. "They've been messing with him all week," she replied, frowning over at the two mechs in question. Thundercracker was equally guilty, with him just standing there… menacingly.
Kass snorted and sat down next to her friend. "They're so mean to him," she complained. "I mean, he can be mean, too, but this is just abusive now. What are they talking about, you figure?"
"Oh, definitely me," Rachel sighed, chin resting on her hand. She scowled. "I swear to God, they are the biggest psychos when it comes to me meeting people. This one time, at a camp, I got propositioned by this fourteen year old. You'd have thought TC was gonna shoot him, and Jazz was supportive about TC doing so."
"Oh, dear." Kass giggled nervously as Vortex and Jazz separated, Vortex looking dejected. Danny was over by Wheeljack, motioning helicopter over. "You may want to talk to them about being less, ah, protective. Poor Vortex looks so miserable."
"Jazz and TC don't listen to me," Rachel complained. She did look a little guilty, however, gazing after Vortex. "…You think he really does like me? I thought 'Jack said these guys were asexual."
"Maybe for them that means, 'I can love anything'?" Kass suggested, shrugging.
Rachel scowled again. "Great. So it's like he's in love with a tree branch. Lovely."
"Can you pleeeease stop talking about this?" Barns suddenly pleaded, glaring at them from his pillow. "I have enough nightmares."
Kass and Rachel laughed. "This is a serious situation," Kass reprimanded, giggling. "Social dramas need to be handled!"
"Handle them where I don't need to envision robots and humans—!"
Rachel shook her coffee cup at him threateningly. "Barns, I swear, if you finish that sentence, I will beat the shit out of you," she warned. Kass only laughed harder.
Meanwhile, as the three humans laughed, Bluestreak walked up to their smaller section of the group and peered down, curiosity blooming on his face. Kass noticed him first and smiled at him.
"What's wrong, Blue?" she asked.
Bluestreak looked confused. "…You guys knew?" he asked, shocked. He had been under the impression Jazz and TC didn't want Rachel (or any of the humans for that matter) to be involved with the problem of handling Vortex.
Rachel and Kass looked at each other and then back at the surprised mech. "Blue," Kass began, smiling tiredly, "yeah, we knew."
"How?" he asked. He certainly hadn't said anything.
"We're girls," both replied automatically, not even blinking.
The gunner paused. "…And?"
Rachel sighed heavily and waved at him absently. "Trust me, Bluestreak, women just have a way of knowing," she replied casually.
"Oh." Bluestreak tilted his head, frowning. "I don't get it."
"Me neither, but drop it, Blue, thinking about it won't help," Barns suddenly said, voice muffled by the pillow he had his face buried in.
Bluestreak didn't really understand why that was so funny as the girls laughed, and he certainly didn't understand how being female gave the girls the power to read mechs' minds, but he decided it was a human thing. Because human things rarely ever made sense.
0000
Across the Camp
"Wheeljack—"
"No, I am not helping you win over TC, Vortex."
"Slaggit."
.
End Formal.
Next: The kids and their first experiences with… "talking cars." From a human perspective, that is.
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Ending Notes:
-Hang in there, Vortex! XD Perseverance is the key! And of course the humans knew; you can't hide a thing like this from three women. We have a sixth sense like that.
-The next continuation of this situation will be "Fortitude," which isn't for a while, but it gives you more of a solid conclusion than this.