Following some time after chapter 34, With All Thy Mercies. The 'poor Octane' storyline continues with a little unintentional mind fucking and some degree of closure.

JML: Well, you know me and humor!

Ianam: Oh, most of these were pretty cracky to me, too. The trick is, though, is making it enjoyable crack XD

Silveriss: Always happy to try and brighten up someone's day!

ShiTiger: You know, I thought that last chapter seemed kind of long myself as I was moving things over, but I think there were the same amount of prompts I normally get on a challenge, so I didn't think to split them up. I'll try to pay more attention to the length of it next time.

Tomorrow: I know what you mean- honestly I'd prefer to have actual chapters as well but the last few months life had sucked my inspiration right out of me. The reason why I started up the monthly challenges was to keep me writing and creative. I figured better to have even simple challenges rather than months of nothing.

Title: A Warm and Tender Devil Soul
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Octane, Sandstorm
Summary: A Decepticon and an Autobot meet in a market. One wants what the other can't give.

With calculations and formulas running through his mind, deciding if the fuel exchange was worth the cost, he could almost forget the presence next to him. It wasn't overt in trying to gain his attention but it wouldn't allow him to simply ignore it, either.

Turning the converter over in his hands, Octane finally said, "Go away."

"I think we need to talk."

"I think we really don't."

"You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Not any busier than you've always been. You fail to make contact with me for an information trade for almost a meta-cycle, but you can find the time to volunteer to attempt to siphon energy from an obsolete power plant?"

Putting down the converter, Octane turned to give Sandstorm an incredulous look. "What, are you stalking me now?"

"That's not good business, Octane."

"In case you've gone stupid instead of willfully blind, you know our meetings were never good business for me." He turned and made his way deeper into the market, mindful of his wings. Sandstorm followed, a quiet but insistent presence that made sure Octane knew he was there.

He stopped whenever Octane stopped, moved whenever he moved and was never more than a few paces back. He didn't stray to any other booth, didn't give any products more than a passing glance to store the quality and price in his memory. Part of Octane thrilled at the idea that Sandstorm was there for him and only him, that maybe this was what the Decepticon had wanted and it was finally happening. Octane shoved the idea deep inside and locked it in a shadowy box. He turned on the orange triplechanger.

"Go away," he hissed. "In case you can't take a hint: I don't want to deal with you right now. I don't want to deal with you ever, okay? Leave me alone and let me get on with my life!"

"I want to talk to you about someone you met."

Octane froze and felt something that always fractured whenever he saw Sandstorm break just a little bit more. He knew it would happen, that Sandstorm never looked for Octane just for the sake of seeing him but it still felt like he'd been betrayed on some level. "Nothing happened," he spat out bitterly, "end of story."

"I want to thank you."

A long silence stretched out between the two, Sandstorm patient, Octane floundering. "Thank me? For what?"

"It's a simple thank you." When the Wrecker stepped in close, Octane felt the universe reduced to only the two of them once more. He could almost fool himself into thinking things were just like it once was so very long ago. "It's not that difficult to believe, is it? I can rent out a little room somewhere and you can do what you want to me." A hand brushed against his arm and Octane couldn't help shivering at the touch, at the low voice that made everything inside of him tighten so painfully. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

That hand settled against Octane's elbow like a jolt that shorted out every thought from his mind except for a hoarse, "Yes."

He didn't pay attention to where they went, he was only focused on Sandstorm. He saw only the way he moved, the way his hips swaggered in a way Octane wanted to put his hands to them and feel them sway. He watched the deliberate, careless line of Sandstorm's arm as he paid for the use of some business's back room and when he looked over his shoulder to give Octane a knowing grin the Decepticon nearly jumped him, not caring who was around them.

His hands fisted and the trek to the back seemed to take decades. They keyed in the temporary code to the room and Sandstorm barely managed to get more than a few steps in, barely managed to turn around before Octane was on him. He pulled Sandstorm tight against his chest, hands pacing desperately across the yellow and orange and black body yielding- finally yielding -to him. Octane's engines ran hot and hard, wanting to feel every inch of the other triplechanger, wanting to have him moaning and begging and whispering Octane's name as he clung back in desperate need.

Octane's hands stilled and the harsh whirling of his fans wasn't from lust or pleasure but out and out frustration. "Do something," he hissed against the side of Sandstorm's helmet. "Don't just stand there!"

Sandstorm in turned told him very calmly, very evenly, as though he weren't just being molested, "I said you could do whatever you wanted to me. I didn't say I'd reciprocate."

"No," the Decepticon didn't move away, neither did he make any other movements. "Not like this. I don't want your damned pity or your patronizing. If I have you, it's all of you."

"That's the problem right there." Sandstorm stepped back and Octane's hands fell from his sides. "I can no more give you all of me then I can give it to anyone else. I'm a broken mech, Octane. I've been broken long before we ever even met. I don't even have all of me.

"That's why Fireflight is different- it's why he's important. He doesn't need all of me, he'll accept any part he can touch. He doesn't question, he doesn't presume, he doesn't pressure- he takes what little I'm capable of giving and he's happy with it. That's why, if I could, I'd give him everything." The look he gave Octane was almost apologetic. "It's why I'm willing to give you this as a thank you."

Octane let out a bark of… not so much laughter as it was shock. "This… is perverse. I-It's absurd! I didn't not-kill him so I could get you! I don't even know why I didn't attack him!"

The glow of Sandstorm's optic band was soft and the wistfulness there made Octane want to purge. "Fireflight's good at that, making you want to do things without knowing why."

"Why are you doing this to me? You know how I feel about you, why are you torturing me like this?"

The broken tremble of Octane's voice, of his exhausted expression made Sandstorm jerk back. "I… but this is what you want. It's what you always wanted. To use my body for your own pleasure."

"No, it's not! You think I'm just like everyone else, don't you? You think I just want to take you any way I can and not give a damn about you? Is that really how you see me? Like the memory of all those others you're trying to leave behind?"

"Isn't that how it is?"

A hand to Sandstorm's wrist and one on his neck had him slammed into a wall, Octane's body pressed flush against the Wrecker's. Tension sang through both, just waiting for a chance to snap.

"Look at you," Octane whispered, optics daring the other to argue, "you're ready to kill me just from this. You can't put yourself in this kind of position anymore, Sandstorm. You've got too much fight in you for that now. You're not the clueless little mech you were when we first met. Even if I were like those others, just wanting to dirty you and ruin you, you wouldn't let me. Your pride wouldn't let me."

Sandstorm shoved him away, finding himself furious. "I'm trying to thank you!"

"I don't want that kind of thanks! You don't even want to thank me like that! You just think you owe me out of some twisted sense of obligation!"

The orange triplechanger stood there, trying to decide on what to say before finally settling on, "You could've really hurt Fireflight."

Internally, Octane winced. "Yeah, well I barely even touched him."

"I don't mean physically. He can take more punishment than you might think," Sandstorm crossed his arms. "I meant… the things you could've said, what you could've told him. You could've told him about… about the kinds of things they used to do to me, or the kinds of scams I pulled or the lives I ruined just to get ahead." His arms dropped and his head tilted down. "But you didn't say anything and I just… I want to thank you for that."

"It's not like he would've listened anyway. He'd rather wait until you wanted to tell him- probably wouldn't believe me." Octane's wings flexed in a shrug. "Not my place to tell him. He knows about your habits and he's still sticking with you. And you…" His hand waved wordlessly at Sandstorm. "You're different from who you used to be because of him. If I told him it'd sound like jealous gossip from the ex that never was. He deserves to hear it from you."

Red optics watched him in surprise. "Did you… was that… approval? From you?"

Annoyance shot through the Decepticon. "You know what, just- forget it, okay?"

"Hey, I didn't mean-"

"No, you didn't. I overestimated how much you knew I cared because it's obvious- now anyway –that you really don't get it at all." Octane stepped up to Sandstorm, expression tight and blank and serious. "I love you. And I'm sorry for how things turned out and if I were smarter from the beginning then none of this-" he cut the rest of that off between his denta. "I care about you," he amended, "deeply. I could no more force myself on you than you could with Fireflight."

The Autobot's optic band widened, brightening slightly. "I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I really do." Sandstorm's hands were on his hips, just carefully watching the other triplechanger. "What do you plan on doing now?"

"I… need to get away from you. Figure out my life, get over things." He gave a weak little smile. "I really can't pretend to do the professional thing with you anymore. It really just…"

"I know. I get it." Suddenly the lower half of Sandstorm's battlemask slid away and the soft curve of a mouth was there. The memory of Sandstorm, with his unfettered emotions and easy, bright smiles came on Octane- memories he'd almost forgotten, that made him ache so much because the Sandstorm of then- the one he'd first fallen in love with –was almost alien to the one he was faced with now. "I'm not going to try to track you down or anything, you gotta figure things out on your own. You think you ever wanna do business again, though, you know how to contact me."

Octane couldn't look away from the way Sandstorm's mouth formed around each syllable. "Y-Yeah."

"Octane."

"Huh?"

"Even with everything that happened with you and me, the things that happened…" his mouth twisted up and Octane could almost see his thoughts running through him. "No matter what else I might feel about you," Sandstorm said eventually, "I know you're a decent sort. Even after what was done, I know you're not a bad guy."

"I…"

"So I'm serious," he stepped up, just outside of Octane's personal space. "As an apology and as a thank you, tell me what you'd like me to do for you."

His mind went numb for a moment. "Smile. I want to see you smile one last time."

Sandstorm's mouth parted slightly, surprised at the request. Then- slowly, sweetly –it curved into a warm, beautiful smile that captivated Octane and made him recall days they could never go back to.

A hand against his arm made the Decepticon jump slightly. "I wish you the best." Sandstorm told him, battlemask closing up over his smile again, but Octane could remember it, could see it in the way it curved his optic band. The Wrecker moved out of the room, leaving the other there to think about what he'd missed and what he'd just given up and what he'd have to do to pick his life back up.

Oddly, Octane found he felt better than he had in a while.