Merry Christmas dear readers! I hope your celebrations of Hanukkah were bright and warm, and that the new year brings joy and happiness to all.
Chapter 202 – Of Lovers and Machinists
(CdPOV)
Chance pelted toward the entrance bay, oh one hundred, hugging the wall opposite to the Med-bay as best he could in the hopes that Ratchet wouldn't-
"And just where do you think you're going?" Ratchet's voice called out with a scowl. Dammit.
"I thought I heard-" Chance started, he didn't need to see Ratchet to know the medic could hear him.
"Jet engines? Of course you did," Ratchet began in his patient tone. Chance slowly began edging toward the entrance bay; unfortunately visible from the med-bay, but there was a trick to escaping Ratchet: you only moved when he couldn't hear you, and the only time he couldn't hear you was when he was talking. "That's because Jetfire- for slag sake Chance! If you're going flying take your harness!"
Chance froze.
"But you just said-"
Ratchet turned around and scowled at him.
"I told you to sleep, and I still know of no better way to get you to sleep than to send you out flying. Delta Trine are giving Silverwing a tour of Earth and Jetfire agreed to take you up with them. Take your harness."
"Would you quit screwing with my head!?" Chance demanded, walking into the med-bay and toward the medic as Ratchet opened the harness box and fished out his personal canister. In the corner of his eye, four delicately framed bots were comfortably laid out on med-berths, they'd been there for forty hours now, and every human in NEST Base Washington was torn between sneaking into the med-bay for the sake of a furtive glimpse of the strangely beautiful creatures and leaving them to recharge in privacy.
The reports said that six femmes had been rescued, but four laid in sleeping repose. Apparently, the fifth had roused almost immediately, and the delta trine had escorted her to the Nevada base at the insistence of the sixth femme.
Washington base was too stuffy and crowded for fliers, and Chance couldn't help but agree with that.
"Not until you admit it."
"Admit what!?" Chance demanded.
"That I can drill a hole in your head without you knowing it." Ratchet smirked.
Chance blinked, and snorted, shaking his head as he stepped into the strappings already fitted to his body. He barely had the last clasp in place before the nanites flooded out of their canister, swarming across his body and integrating themselves into his flight suit.
"Drilling and screwing are two entirely different concepts and you know it," Chance informed the mech with a perfectly straight face.
"In what way?" Ratchet demanded, the holoform promptly scowling at the middle distance as he obviously re-checked his sources and scans of the english language. "To drill and to screw both involve circular motion along the parallel axis to penetrate..." Chance grinned and tiptoed backwards out of the med-bay. He'd admit to the medic later that Ratchet could verbally screw holes into his brain, he regularly did. But Ratchet would also call it moot if Chance could just make it past this particular sensor, it didn't pick up slow motion...
"What's that?" a soft, female voice asked curiously. Chance whipped around, a part of his mind knew that the second he did the sensor informed Ratchet that he'd almost made his getaway again.
The rest of his mind didn't care.
"That's one of the humans we were telling you about, Firelight," Jetfire stated gently. Chance stared right back at the petite – for a bot – flier femme standing shyly beneath Jetfire's wing. The lines of her form spoke louder than any boast possibly could, she was built for speed, maneuverability
Her optics were enormous, sweet, innocent and the most extraordinary shade of violet he'd ever seen.
"Crikey," he whispered.
"Will he be my friend?" The soft, timid voice asked curiously, her optics momentarily flicked up to Jetfire, as though asking his permission before they locked onto his eyes again.
Chance smiled. He straightened somewhat, as was proper for a bot, and offered his arm formally.
∂Gladly do I greet you, Firelight, I'm already your friend∂
The three members of the Delta trine were gaping at him, but Chance didn't really care as Jetfire began to chuckle; that was old hat. More important – nay far more important – was the fact that Firelight was now creeping softly forward, one, two, three precise steps before she knelt down, her wings lightly folding out of her way in much the same manner that Kae's did; the very motion a magnified definition of delicacy.
"The lil' fleshlin's evolved against the normal order of their planet: they can't transform, or fly, or really even defend themselves without some sort o' external system, but they'll put even a Prime to shame when it comes to courtesy," Jetfire was commenting idly to the Delta trine. "A fair few of 'em have flier's sparks, like Chance here-"
But Chance only paid that commentary passing heed. He was far more interested in the delicate, immaculately sharpened claw that gently wound around his arm; returning his greeting in the accepted manner between their sizes.
"I'm pleased to learn to know you," Firelight murmured with a little smile.
"Believe me," Chance murmured, "to meet a Sheila with optics as beautiful as yours the pleasure is all mine," Chance smiled at her and pressed a gentle kiss to that sharpened claw. He smiled all the more as a gentle glow emerged from beneath the femme's facial plating, a soft tone of pleasure emanating from her spark.
"Would you like to come flying with me?" Firelight asked softly. "Can I take him flying with me? Sir?" she added, sparing a glance toward Jetfire.
"Whatever you want ma wee femmeling," Jetfire informed the femme with a gentle, indulgent smile.
"It'd be my honoured pleasure," Chance murmured reverently. Firelight reached out the next second, wrapping him in extraordinarily gentle fingers before rising and cradling him against her chest-plates. Chance smiled somewhat drowsily up at the femme, comfortably relaxed in the grip of fingers that would not simply crush him, but slice him to ribbons in the process were she so inclined.
"Ready?" Firelight asked with a little smile.
"Sweetling, I've been ready my entire life," Chance replied honestly, tightening his muscles as the femme launched herself from the ground and transformed around him with a precision of skill that Chance couldn't help but envy.
"Are you okay?" Firelight asked worriedly, lightly settling into a gentle cruising altitude.
"Better than," Chance replied with a smile.
"Why did you go rigid?"
"It helps keep the blood from draining out of my brain and into my feet."
"Why would it do that?" Firelight asked innocently.
"Because as strong as my heart may be, if the gravity gets too strong it can't compensate well enough to overcome that gravity." Chance smiled at the femme, settling himself comfortably in place and looking out and around as the fliers settled into formation around them.
"Then I should fly slowly," Firelight stated worriedly.
"You don't have to worry about me, sweetling," Chance stated soothingly, lightly reaching out and gently stroking the femme's console. "I already know how to stop the g-forces from making me black out, and it just makes flying all the more fun."
"Just tell 'im tae clench up before you take a sharp turn or dive ma wee Firelight," Jetfire's voice added over the comm.
"Yes sir," Firelight replied with a smile. They flew in silence for a few minutes, Chance habitually intermittently watching the console readings and the skies around them.
"Would you like to swoop around for a little bit?" Firelight asked him softly, a tiny bit of hopefulness touching her tone. Chance grinned.
"Darlin' femme, I thought you'd never ask," he stated with a broad grin. Firelight giggled, and the roller coaster ride that Chance always got into trouble for enacting on his own, began.
(OPOV)
Optimus smiled somewhat, his mate was out 'de-stressing her frame' as she called it.
Which of course meant flying at her top speeds through the upper reaches of the atmosphere testing her frame's stress limits to the nth degree. It didn't matter how many times Ratchet and Arcee both scolded her for taking such risks with her body still so new and inclined to damage.
Somehow, when his femme returned to ground after having tested her body to it's limits, her neurals were far more relaxed.
Optimus turned his attention back to the frequencies again, here and there, bots chatted with each other, the human frequencies were humming through the banks Soundwave had built to monitor them, and true to the bank's reports no true tone of panic or request for Autobot assistance came through.
"Optimus!" Bumblebee called out, Optimus started somewhat and turned, looking at the scout curiously as the cheerful yellow mech strode into communications with Bluestreak hot on his fender.
"Are you sure you're supposed to call him by name?" Bluestreak muttered softly, albeit rapidly.
"There are three Primes occupying this base alone," Optimus informed the mech patiently, "As such, I am Optimus. If you address me as Prime I act as Prime."
Optimus smiled as the youngling beamed at him.
"We were hoping you could resolve a bet for us =Big-brother=" Bumblebee chirped with a broad grin on his faceplates, Optimus looked down at the scout in amusement.
"And that is?"
"I bet Bumblebee five rell that Archangel could make a bot overload without even touching them-" Bluestreak began seriously. Several techs along the catwalk snorted in amusement, the present humans by now desensitized to the foibles of the Cybertronian kind. Optimus rolled his optics, he couldn't help it.
"Which he won without even tryin' 'cause everybot's seen you fall into her servos anytime she uses that look Arcee taught her," Bumblebee finished with a grin. "But I kinda want my five rell back =Big-brother= so now I bet that you could make Kae overload without even being in the same room with each other."
"I still say that's impossible!" Bluestreak immediately protested.
"Five rell?" Bee grinned at him.
"Shake," Blue stated firmly, Optimus almost blew a processor as Bluestreak offered Bumblebee a targeting hand, only to watch the two shake servos in the humans' fashion. He rolled his optics again as the pair promptly turned mischievous optics on him.
Primus forbid he admit that the two had sparked his own curiosity.
Lena chose that moment to stride into communications, Optimus looked at the femme curiously, it was Jolt's turn for duty...
The smug smirk on her face answered his unspoken question the next moment.
"Am I to understand that your duty rotation has been switched once again?" Optimus rumbled gravely down to the adorably framed little femme.
"I knew a happily bonded mech such as yourself would understand," Lena informed him blithely.
"The human born femmes really are spectacular aren't they?" Bluestreak commented to Bumblebee cheerfully. "I mean the Cybertronian born femmes are gorgeous but the human borns just seem to have something extra in their programming that makes them absolutely incorrigible - I mean not that you're incorrigible Banshee-hawk but-"
"I get what you mean Blue," Lena stated in a tolerant, amused tone.
"It's mostly 'cause they started out as spectacular humans," Bumblebee informed his friend with a broad grin.
"Aw now you're just trying to make me blush," Lena informed them both cheerfully.
Optimus chuckled and rose, making way for the little technician femme. It truly didn't matter where they originated, femmes were absolute mistresses of the tolerant, patient tones designed to calm excited younglings. A rapid passing of info packets and updates and Lena grinned at him, settling into the technicians' spot and reaching out with one of her cables, connecting into the computer banks with practiced ease. Her optics dimmed the next moment, resuming the monitoring of the frequencies in an astonishingly professional manner whilst not even a vorn old. Optimus shook his helm slightly and turned.
Bee and Blue both grinned at him as he shot them a minute, conspiratorial glance, leading the young mechs to the deserted Central. Optimus settled himself comfortably into his place and bared a pair of ports, allowing the duo to connect to him and watch.
So to speak.
At spark level, Optimus noted his mate just touching down at the Nevada base, safe on the ground attending to her duty as the Lady High Protector and gathering the reports from the seekers firsthand. Optimus smiled, his mate had rapidly garnered the approval and loyalty of those seekers; the easygoing, natural leadership that had graced his human femme's personality was rapidly blossoming into the true gift of leadership.
She was Prime, a Prime of the calibre that he himself had oft held Sentinel to; yet the leadership, duty and visible discipline of his mate had not yet diminished the mischief in her optics.
Thus, with Bumblebee and Bluestreak beside him in the mindspace, Optimus reached for his mate as his physical body raised a hand and began gently stroking the combined mark of he and his mate where it lay etched in his chamber.
(SePOV)
"This'll be the perfect thing to leak to the Brotherhood!" Wheeljack exclaimed excitedly. Sentinel restrained himself from rolling his optics, it was a struggle. Wheeljack had been expounding both upon his own virtues as an inventor, and of this that and the other possible technological leak for the past eight breem.
"Can it be weaponized in any way shape or fashion?" Mala asked patiently. Again.
"Er..."
Sentinel rolled his optics.
"Wheeljack I need something that looks like it could be a weapon, but is entirely harmless," Mala stated calmly. Again.
"Harmless..." Wheeljack muttered. Sentinel made a point of looking determinedly around the workspace, working to keep his faceplates perfectly neutral. Nothing Wheeljack created was ever truly harmless, even the most benign typically blew up.
Usually, the most benign blew up in the most spectacular fashion...
"This will be the perfect thing!" Wheeljack exclaimed excitedly, his holoform snatching up one of the human sized rifles.
"It's a gun, how is it harmless?" Mala asked in a tone that was beginning to sound somewhat exasperated.
"It's a mockup!" Wheeljack stated excitedly, the holoform promptly took aim and fired at a pile of slag.
It blew up.
Sentinel had been ready for that, the second Wheeljack had taken aim he'd gone to a knee, cupping a protective hand around his femme.
"Wheeljack it's not harmless! I need something that MECH can't turn on us!" Mala stated in a fully exasperated tone as Wheeljack and his holoform both stared in shock at the smouldering mess he'd made.
Again.
"It's not supposed to do that!" Wheeljack scowled. Sentinel watched the inventor scan the rubble and promptly whack his own helm. "Oh oops, sorry, here-" the inventor announced. Wheeljack's holoform promptly turned the rifle onto another pile of scrap before anyone could stop him, fired, and watched with satisfaction etched into his faceplates as the cluster scattered.
It didn't blow up.
"Wheeljack," Mala began in a warning tone, running a gentle hand along his uppermost finger as she strode toward the inventor's holoform. Sentinel couldn't help but smile at his femme's silent thanks for the impromptu shrapnel shield.
"No there was a mostly-dud grenade in the last pile, that's what blew up... finally... this is a mockup, it only looks like a plasma rifle; I built them for the humans to practice with. It throws a forcewave – the same sort that the wreckers use to boost their ships' turning speed – to mimic the kickback. It fires a tiny payload of electromagnetically negative charged copper sulphate crystals. The forcewave pulverizes them to the ionic level which in turn causes them to ignite and scatters them throughout the beam."
"And how is that harmless?" Mala asked patiently.
"It's just a little bit of copper salt burning up in the atmosphere, it makes it pretty," Wheeljack stated in a hurt tone. "The soldiers find it entertaining to put their nanite armour on and see how far the forcewave will propel them across the hangar on the colonel's office chair..."
"That's not answering my question, Wheeljack, how can you be sure that MECH won't find a way to weaponize this?"
Sentinel chuckled.
"Your own philosopher, Sir Isaac Newton summed it up precisely: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, in order to utilize a gravitational booster for a weapon-
"Not that anyone would ever actually bother," Wheeljack interjected in a quietly condescending tone.
"-a bot would need to use a forcefield to counterbalance the reverse force. A booster powerful enough to damage a bot would be far too heavy to be transported by human means."
"Mount it on a truck?" Mala asked him patiently.
"A booster powerful enough to actually harm a bot would need to be mounted on one of your human's tanks," Wheeljack laughed gleefully. "Not that it'd actually do any good."
"Why?" Mala asked curiously.
"A booster powerful enough to cause actual damage to a bot would require mounting upon the equivalent of one of the military's M1 Abrams tanks for effective transport. However upon firing that booster said tank would in all probability be blasted several hundred units backwards."
"Unless they tried to shoot a flier out of the air, then they'll just crush the tank." Wheeljack grinned.
Mala looked unconvinced.
"The only thing that MECH can directly reverse engineer from this dummy rifle is a thruster for flight," Sentinel informed his femme gently. "If they accomplish that feat before your mission is complete we will simply have to teach the NEST humans the concepts behind these thrusters, and those which we use to provide the main thrust of our spacecraft."
"These aren't the miniatures of your main thrusters?" Mala asked intently.
"Certainly not! Only the wreckers outfit their ships with this style!" Wheeljack laughed. "The design is far too temperamental for primary thrust, even for a wrecker. They use them to augment the rudder."
"Which means?"
"That when my Ark turns on the micro unit, on a dime, as your human languages translate, she does so at fifteen times the speed that her normal thrust ratios would allow," Sentinel rumbled proudly, he couldn't help it.
Mala lightly accepted the rifle from Wheeljack, weighed it, sighted along it's aiming lines, and promptly concealed it amidst the voluminous, flowing silks of her formal wear. 'Sari' she called it.
"Then it's perfect," Mala grinned at them.
(MPOV)
"Thrust," I stated with a nod, greeting the flier as I transformed and touched down lightly on the designated landing space of NEST Base Nevada.
"Prime," Thrust stated with a grin, nodding to me. "The lot of us have the reports compiled, you're right on time. Unless of course you're gonna have them piped to a data like everybot else so we can get back into the skies..."
I chuckled and reached out, lightly shoving the flier.
"It's better to hear them out of your lot's vocal processors, that way I can get a better idea of what your opinions are, and I can directly ask everybot's recommendations," I informed Thrust. Again.
"But... but... fly!" Thrust pouted at me, gesturing toward the open air behind us as we entered the main area, and strode toward the gathered group of barely-contained seekers.
"But... but... if you all send me your reports on datas I wind up stuck in an office with the rest of the grounders reading them all! Where's it fair that I gotta sit on my aft while you lot soar? High Protector's gotta spread the pain around somehow," I stated seriously. As though it were on cue, the fliers surrounding me burst out in the chirping, high toned laughter so characteristic of the creed. Starscream graced me with a benign, approving look as Skywarp and Thundercracker laughed on his flanks.
Obviously if the only pain I felt like doling out as the Lady High Protector was that of an ornly gathering of seekers for a full fledged debate over reports and information, Starscream was willing to overlook my lack of Seeker status.
For now.
"Then we're all lucky that our reports are much the same as last orn," Redcowl announced patiently.
"You flew all the way out here for nothing," his trine-mate stated with a grin.
"Who are you and what have you done with Singwing?" I demanded flatly.
Even Starscream laughed. The ghost of a sensation touched my chamber, I pressed it out of my forward attention. My Optimus was stroking his chamber, sending the feeling of it to me. Evidently I'd been gone too long: my mate was off of his communications duty and bored.
"Right, by continent," I stated with a smile. "Then we can all get the slag out of here."
"Agreed," Starscream stated firmly as several of the fliers nodded, "Africa was quiet this week, nobot got shot at at any rate."
"There were a bunch of people who seemed to be trying along the coastline though, not that they got their weapons online before we were gone." Thundercracker added gravely.
"And there are a lot of them walking around in the middle," Skywarp finished firmly.
"Europe is colourful, there's a great geometric patchwork to it, of all shades and colours. It's as though the humans made a point of making the face of this planet pretty," Redwing stated with a small purr. I nodded to the femme and her trine.
"We scanned the areas around the human's Ukraine and Russia," her second stated firmly. "The Auto and Aerial bots may wish to step up the evacuation plans should these humans begin their self-destruct sequence."
"There were a lot of weapons in the area," her third stated in a stunned tone.
"Be sure that the next trine knows to either avoid the area or be prepared to deal with possible anti-aircraft missiles, particularly after that human plane crashed," I stated firmly, receiving nods of confirmation.
"I scanned that crash, whomever he was he had no chance to run, ridiculous build," Redwing stated with a sigh of exasperation. "At least I found no evidence of spark chamber, it wasn't sentient."
"The sparks of the little groundpounders were though," the third stated in a soft, saddened tone.
Redwing's trine gathered around their third, comforting his gentle spark as I nodded my own sad confirmation to his statement.
"Australia is red, and covered in sand, except for the outside bits," Ramjet announced. "The grounders in the interior look up at me as I pass, but offer no weapons nor communication of distress. I saw no activity around that mountain you've bought from the humans there, either."
I nodded patiently, sending the gentle request to my Optimus to stop trying to make my circuits go haywire, I was attending to duty.
"Asia has a few hotspots, the south-western part particularly. There were a lot of grounders walking through the mountains, femmes and younglings among them; they ran when I passed," Dirge stated quietly.
"Everybot runs when you pass," Ramjet informed the solitary seeker with a smirk.
Dirge simply shrugged, I made a note to commend him for it later. "There were no true battles in the areas which I scanned, but a number of weapons concealed beneath the ground, and barely in scanner range. Here are their positions," he stated, handing me a data. I looked down at it, and up at him in amusement. "I could always have us all standing here for the quarter joor it would take to detail them all, but your humans and grounder mate should go through the data, they may wish the information."
"Thank you," I stated calmly, nodding to the seeker and subspacing the data. I used that motion to lightly conceal a quick swipe of my hand across my chest-plates, working to banish the sensitivity my mate was so cheerfully instilling in my spark.
"North America hasn't produced anything interesting since we got here," Thrust announced, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of NEST Base Nevada.
"South America was the same," Camber added. "Whatever battles are happening down there, the grounders are keeping it hidden from the skies."
"I thought you didn't like it when the mechs tried to get into your berth without your mate beside you," Skywarp stated cheerfully.
I just about jumped out of my exo, looking at Skywarp curiously.
"You sound like you're itching to get a mech in berth, Prime," Redwing informed me patiently. I rolled my optics and reached up, idly rubbing at my chest-plates as my mate redoubled his efforts.
"My Optimus is off duty now," I stated in an amused tone. "He's off duty and evidently bored."
"He's interfacing without you now?" Thundercracker asked in a suggestive tone.
"No, he's touching himself and sending me the sensation directly," I snorted. "Seekers, if there's nothing else?" I asked, struggling to maintain a patient tone.
"Keep yourself well up in the atmosphere," Redwing commanded me in an amused tone. I looked at her curiously as the femme reached out, cupping my chin firmly in her palm without so much as nicking my paint with her immaculately sharpened claws. "If you overload whilst flying, be sure you have plenty of room between yourself and the ground. A little extra fall-time is crucial when re-syncing one's processors," Redwing informed me with a fondly exasperated glance at her trine-mates.
"I'll keep that in processor," I stated with a laugh, nodding to the fliers. "Air commander," I nodded to Starscream formally. He straightened slightly and nodded.
"Prime," he replied patiently.
Formalities done I grinned, spun, and took off sprinting amidst the chirping laughter, no few of the fliers close behind me angling for the skies. Ten steps into the open air, launch from the cliff edge and transform.
My Optimus was halfway insensate by now, the secondhand sense of his arousal building in our joint sparks. I could sense Bluestreak and my little-brother connected to my mate, watching the results of their bet. I rolled my optics and pushed myself up high into the mesosphere, the full intensity of the sunlight caressing my frame as a combination blast of my air-pusher engines and spacer charge almost instantaneously shot me into my top speed. Automatically my systems opened out as much as my airfoil could allow at such a speed, gathering the powerful rays of sunlight and converting it directly into energon. My mate was far too distracted to notice how much closer to each other we were becoming.
The earth beneath me steadily began to roughen, my chronometer ticking away the seconds. Fifteen minutes, the Colorado mountains gave way to grassland, half an hour and the Mississippi delta snaked teasingly across the path far beneath me as the sun retreated beneath the horizon. My Optimus was holding off his overload, determined to fry my sensors from a distance and blessedly too far gone in the sensation to gather the new information from my spark and realize that at this distance, only his overload would cause my own. Then finally, the ocean made her silvery, sparkling appearance beneath an early moon. I rapidly decelerated, dropping down and circling Washington with a rapid, scouting scan to be absolutely certain my mate would be safe from attack whilst we were otherwise occupied.
Automatically I signalled the klaxon to fire off, the skyris offering me a warm, golden target as I lined up, transformed and landed almost before the portal had locked itself in the open position. With an idle signal it was closing again as I strode with a purpose for the Central. The fresh, clean energon my cells had gathered began to cycle through my spark, a quick, regenerative flash crossing my frame and clearing away the inevitable grime.
Forty-two steps taken as quickly as I could without crushing someone and I had my hands in my mate's chest, lightly knocking his servos out of my way. My own armour rapidly slid open, baring my spark-chamber as I straddled my mate's legs to more effectively crush our chests together. Two seconds and I was reaching for the soul of my mate with my own, caressing the sensitive, protective chamber he had been housed in from the orn he'd left his femme creator's sparking hold.
After an hour and a half of self-torture that was all that was really needed to send my mate over the edge, the minor charge load which flashed over his frame only serving to whet my appetite. Around us, mechs were howling with laughter, but I paid them little to no heed as I hauled the semi-conscious form of my beloved mate to his feet; half-dragging him from the central, down the corridor and into our quarters.
I thanked Primus for Wheeljack's modified retaining fields and playfully shoved my mate against the wall, roughly pinning him there as I lipped at his neck-struts; the force thankfully absorbed by the field rather than by my mate going through the wall.
ΩI want your armour off, immediatelyΩ I informed my mate, grinning as his systems snarled to life again – jolted out of his bemused, loopy-grinned reverie by the flowing, singing language which we both registered as our primary. Or perhaps by the fact that the second the plates were free from obstruction my armour fell haphazardly to the floor, immediately joined by the thicker, more vibrant armour of my mate.
We'd have to be careful in the morning to not integrate and modify each other's armour once we could bring ourselves to leave our quarters again. But I didn't give a flying frag about that as my Optimus bodily lifted me, the powerful, dominant male aspects of my mate emerging in the safety of our quarters as he spun, pinning me in turn against the oddly tingly field.
In a single, smooth motion my Optimus had me spiked against the wall. A moment later his hands were groping for, then grasping my wrists, dragging my hands above my head as the pressure of my mate's protoform alone held me pinned in the air. I wound my legs around his waist the second our mutual stability allowed it, mere seconds from the moment he'd pinned me.
Then his spark reached out, caressing my own chamber open. I began wriggling a bit, gasping as our sparks tangled together. We were already revved to the breaking point, overload a simple affair to reach. I screamed as energon raced through our systems, sloughing over our frames before my cells gathered the power searching for the route of escape before my mate grounded himself. Then he smirked, draping my hands over his shoulders before his own grasped my aft, my mech turning once more and opting to deposit me in our berth while I clung to him like a limpet.
It was automatic function as we moved as one, servos and component parts shifting to provide the absolute minimum of disentanglement we could get away with before my mate was on me absolutely once more.
~How big shall I make you build the central this time?~ the spark of my mate asked with playful seductiveness as several of his cables began teasing their way toward my couplings.
"You should be careful what you wish for, my mate," I purred into his audio receptors before flipping him to his back. "We'll re-power Cybertron a thousand times over before I'm finished with you," I smirked down at him as he released a spark-felt moan. Then, his optics turned plaintive.
"Only a thousand?" he asked softly, the petulant look on his faceplates desperately struggling to not crack into the laughing grin I so loved.
"Or ten," I shrugged flippantly before my mate's composure finally broke and stole my spark all over again.
(SyPOV)
"'Till the white rose blooms again, you must leave me leave me lonely," Symphony sang sweetly.
"So goodbye my love till then, 'till the white rose blooms again," Wingnut sang with her with a note of longing that tugged at Symphony's heart. For what she cared of time, Symphony had been in Ace's presence for some four days. There had been many people who had remained in her life for far longer periods of time, but somehow, she already missed the quiet, protective, comforting presence of Soundwave.
"The summer days are ending in the valley, and soon the time will come when we must be apart," Wingnut sang softly.
Wingnut missed her creator, Ace and Lugnut had both left them in the safe custody of the Autobots to continue the war effort on a planet that Symphony found herself oddly longing to walk upon.
"But like the rose that comes back with the springtime, you will return to me when springtime comes around," Symphony reminded her friend gently.
"Till the white rose blooms again, you must leave me leave me lonely, so goodbye my love till then-" the two chorused, sitting close together on Symphony's piano bench.
At least, until Wingnut almost jumped out of her exo, and Symphony jumped out of her skin. Above them, a sonic boom. Moments later, outside in the corridor, the sound of two or more of the larger bots crashing against each other, closely followed by the sound of something large and heavy being dragged. Doors opening, doors closing.
All the while accompanied by raucous laughter.
Wing was giggling the next moment. Symphony lightly leaned against her friend, patiently waiting to be let in on the joke.
"Bee and Blue are almost here, they'll tell you." Wingnut giggled.
"Come in!" Symphony called out. She knew full well that if the bots were close enough to be announced as 'almost here,' they were close enough to hear her.
"I can't believe you won again!" Bumblebee's voice protested in laughing complaint.
"I dunno if we can really call that either way does it count when Archangel gets into the room before either of them have overloaded?" Bluestreak asked curiously. "What do you think our chances are of getting Prime to retry the experiment again they both didn't seem to mind at all..."
Silence.
Bumblebee and Bluestreak were silent for a long moment before they both burst out howling with laughter.
"What's the joke?" Symphony asked curiously.
"I dunno if you actually want us to tell you Sim," Bumblebee told her seriously.
"Why?" Symphony asked patiently.
"It's a Ratchet question," Bluestreak stated seriously. Symphony nodded patiently and rose, striding toward the far wall that housed the door into the corridor.
"Where ya goin' Sim?" Wing asked cheerfully.
"I have now compiled five questions for Ratchet," Symphony stated placidly. "That should be an acceptable number to begin with. He's in the med-bay now, right?"
"No he's gone to berth, Arcee strode in right after Archangel landed and commanded him to their quarters I swear the only time the baroness uses her rank is when she wants her mate to do something..."