Fandom: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)
Author: Gatekat and baka_no_neko on LJ
Pairing: Trigger/Amunet Mubarak
Rating: PG-13
Codes: Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)
Summary: With Amunet recovered enough to have an extended, coherent conversation about the future, Jazz gets down to business.
Notes: Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)

Trigger Happy 4: Recovered Sniper

Ratchet's endless questions and rather suspicious glances back at him had Trigger on edge, even if he was standing rather silently to one side. A couple of days had passed since Amunet had come back and curled up on his berth, remaining there for joors on end. He had been commed by Jazz a joor or so ago, asking if he knew the whereabouts of the Captain. She'd missed one of her checkups.

He'd shuddered at the news, 'Off to the medbay then.'

After rousing and conversing with the female, she'd agreed to swing by the good Doctor. Only now, Trigger was getting a bit agitated with the questions the perceptive old mech was asking. Never good with superiors, he had done his best to answer with as little and as vaguely as he could. But that didn't seem to satisfy Ratchet at all.

Watching Amunet and Ratchet conversing, he tried to keep his audios from overhearing. But by Primus, his audio receptors were burning with curiosity.

"I'm surprised you're with him," Ratchet said as he ran a scan over her, checking on her recovery. "Hasn't Jazz..." he paused when she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, he's been courting me. Given how poorly I get along with Prowl, it's not likely to work unless I need him."

"Need?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge.

"He's Second in Command and the deadliest thing around," she pointed out with a shrug. "Good protection."

The hunter bot had to control his door wings, Ratchet was straight in there with the sensitive stuff. He doubted he could remain still for long and still look uninterested, so he ventured across and lowered himself into one of the mech sized chairs.

Despite himself, Trigger was eager to hear more of Amunet's opinion on this delicate matter.

"Just what would you need protection from that he wouldn't give to anyone in NEST?" Ratchet scowled at her.

"I'm not without enemies, Ratchet," she sidestepped the question. "Some who would be quite happy to see me dead. I do not expect to need it, so while he hasn't given up, I'm no more inclined to say yes than I was three months ago."

Trigger's optics betrayed him, brightening. He had a chance still, his vision glancing over at the conversing pair. He was tempted to cross the room and interrupt, Ratchet's angled questions getting to him. This protectiveness was getting the better of him, but he couldn't help it. Clenching a servo, he looked away.

He didn't have any actual right to feel like this yet.

Ratchet's voice dropped in volume, but not quiet enough to avoid being picked up by the hunter's sharp senses.

"Don't play them, Mubarak. Either of them," his tone was more stern than anything.

"I'm not," she squared her gaze at the medic. "They're well aware of each other, Jazz knows exactly where he stands and why and Trigger does too. I like'm both, but Prowl's more than I'm going to deal with."

Ratchet gave a bit of a snort and nodded. "All right, as far as I can tell, you're physically fit for duty again."

He picked her up and placed her on the ground. "Now scat, both of you."

Glad for being dismissed, Trigger rose smartly to his feet. Approaching them, he nodded faintly to Ratchet before turning to Amunet.

"Shall I transform? Or the hand?"

"Transform, if you don't mind," she smiled warmly up at him and got in the passenger side without hesitation when he did. She waited until they were out of audio range of Ratchet before speaking again. "Is it safe to assume you heard everything?"

Trigger revved his engine in response, taking corners carefully to avoid any humans they passed, "Yeah I did...Prowl and you really don't see eye to optic?"

"No, I don't," she admitted. "How he gets along so well with Jazz I'll never understand, but the rules he's got hardcoded in him really don't mesh well with my combination of operating methods and secrets I have no intention of telling him. He doesn't like it at all."

His voice reverberated quietly around her, his tone thoughtful, "I guess Prowl is an unmovable mech. I had wondered how he and Jazz came to be, but I put it down to opposite sparks attracting."

"They balance each other," she shrugged. "At least by the time they bonded. Even the brief version I heard from Jazz wasn't the kind of setup I'd call healthy before that. I'm not entirely convinced it's healthy now."

"I see," he replied. "Because of this, becoming Jazz's socket gets quite complicated? They are as one, not apart of course." He vented, his confrontation with Jazz aboard the Indian flight coming back to him. "He's determined, Jazz I mean. Even with Prowl."

"He's a hunter, Trigger. One who's been the best so long that he fixates on anything that presents a challenge. Prowl was the first, and last, individual he couldn't break in a few orn. He's told me several times that Prowl won't cause a problem, and to be honest, I believe him. If he could be a breeding mate, I'd have jumped at the chance to have him sire a few hatchlings. As it stands, he's simply too dangerous not to keep at least somewhat pacified."

His jealousy prevented this rivalry from settling, not liking the idea of having to appease Jazz just to keep the peace. His seats vibrated as he growl quietly, but he kept his tone civil. "I won't say that I like it, but then this isn't just about me. You have a point. But I'm not backing down because he finds you his next delightful challenge."

"I'm not asking you to," she patted his seat. "Being claimed by another is the best way to stop him. That's a line even he won't cross thanks to the damage the nanites can do, and probably Prowl's influence. I'm just not willing to accept anyone to avoid him. He is a lot of fun as long as he's not getting too serious on me."

His temper cooled slightly. "Of course not, claiming is not there just to keep other mechs away ... no matter how much that appeals to me at this point," he grumbled the latter. "Where to Captain?" he slowed so that she could decide their route.

"Common room?" she suggested. "I'm famished. That much healing takes a lot out of me, and I haven't gotten to socialize in way too long."

"Nourishment it is then," he said jovially, engine revving as he turned and sped off in the direction of the rec room. The short drive was in comfortable silence, and Amunet was almost feeling like herself against when the smell of meats, fish, cheese and fresh bread from the mess hall.

"Definitely need to eat," she grinned and slipped out so he could transform. "How often do you have energon?"

Trigger's optics brightened at the mention of energon, straightening as his door wings closed, "I normally have a ration or two once every few solar cycles. My tank's due for another I would say."

"Then you get yours, I'll get mine, and we can refuel together," she suggested with a smile as he walked beside her into the mess hall, seeing many familiar faces amidst the various humans and mechs.

Amunet smiled and waved to those she knew, which seemed to be nearly every mech and most of the combat personnel as she headed for the buffet of human food.

Trigger nodded, venturing off to the energon dispenser. Huffer's broad but small - comparable with his own, frame blocked his path. The mech was filling his own cube with the pink substance. With a grin, Trigger plucked up a cube and came up beside him. "Surprised to see you outside of that workshop."

Undeterred by the Pagani's sudden appearance, the gruff older mech stood up and glower at him slightly. "I have a life outside of my work, lugnut. Although it's a dull one."

Trigger's grin grew, filling his cube before spying the group of rowdy technicians seated around Brawn, "A party, aye? What do you know, you've got something burning in that chassis of yours after all, Huffer."

A half-sparked bat over Trigger's helm was the old mech's reply, Trigger feigning pain. "I hear you've been seen with an organic? That her over there?"

Trigger followed the Huffer's optics to the Captain at the buffet and smiled warmly. "It is indeed, Captain Mubarak. Come say hi?"

Shrugging the engineer followed after him. Both relatively short mechs were still careful of their steps in the human part of the room as they made their way to where Amunet was picking up a second slice of thick ham to add to the scrambled eggs, bacon, three kinds of sausage, toast with butter and jam and a large glass of orange juice.

Huffer rose his optical ridge at the amount of food the femme had, glancing at the black mech, "Is that femme al-?"

Trigger hastily shrugged, "Humans are all different Huffer, some of those techs shovel their rations like Primus knows what."

The Pagani was relieved that Huffer let it drop, "Amunet, going alright?"

"Yes," she smiled warmly at them. "The femme is fine, Huffer. She's just recovering from several days with minimal food after being badly injured."

Trigger glanced at Huffer with a grin. "See, all good gramps."

Glowering at him, Huffer turned back to Amunet. "I am glad to hear it, Mubarak. It has been a while since we last spoke. I hope the lugnut hasn't given you any hassle."

"Nope," she snickered and snagged a serving of melon and fruit. "He's been a sweetie and an entirely too understanding a pillow while I was recovering."

The Pagani vented at Huffer's expression. "She wanted the company and I was more than happy to provide it."

Huffer shook his helm with a slight, ghostly smile. "You are soft at spark, Trigger. Brawn won't believe it."

His door wings lifted in embarrassment, but the hunter bot smiled. "Do you want to meet the techs, Amunet? Or have you a place you'd like to sit?"

"If they don't mind a combat officer crashing their party," she grinned, though she was serious about it. "Most enlisted get edgy around officers they don't work with. Otherwise the guys," she flicked her chin towards a couple tables of Special Forces teams. "Will be happy to have a shot at my time."

Huffer nodded at her statement, "Then I shall ask for you."

The engineer stilled for a moment, optics zoning out. Trigger looked over his shoulder to see Brawn in a similar state. Brawn straightened and seemed to converse with the techs around him.

Huffer vented, "That bot is so egotistic at times."

Several faces peered their way, Brawn giving them an affirmative nod. Trigger grinned, "Seems these techs want to break the mould."

"Then the guys'll just have to wait for a bit," Amunet chuckled and walked towards the techs with Trigger and Huffer in tow.

"Hay, I'm Amunet," she introduced herself as the small corner lift brought her to the human-sized part of the table that was raised so they could converse with smaller mechs.

Huffer seated himself next to Brawn, the latter appraising the new femme. Amidst the spread of foods across the table, ranging from junk foods - that had gotten under Ratchet's optics - to vegetables, numerous technicians watched her. A few waved a little sheepishly, unsure of the Captain. But a darker haired, older woman smiled warmly at her.

"We've heard about you, Captain. Lovely to finally meet you," she stood and offered a hand once Amunet had popped her food on the table, "I'm senior technician Megan Williams."

Trigger leaned against Brawn's chair, sipping his energon with an amused expression.

Amunet raised an eyebrow as she extended a hand to shake Megan's. "So who's been spreading rumors about me?" she asked with a playful voice before she began to eat.

A couple of techs deadpanned and looked pointedly at the Pagani who was feigning nonchalantly. He sent a beady glower at the perpetrators, "I see that Louis can't keep his vocals down."

Brawn snickered, lowering his energon cube, "You're no better, love-sick youngling."

Trigger growled a little at Brawn. He sending Amunet a meaningful glance, "All good stuff, nothing personal."

"That good," Amunet smiled. "I'd hate to see a contract out on you," she gave him a wink and looked over at Megan. "Anyone settled in with a mech yet?"

Megan nodded and glanced at Brawn. He rose an optical ridge at her before his mouthplate pulled back in a smirk.

"Brawn has been courting me for some time and although she is not here at the moment, another of our techs - Cathy - seems quite taken with Bluestreak."

"Sweet kid, hell of a shot," Amunet nodded. "He's a real pleasure to work with in the field. Is she nice?"

"She's a laugh, bit of a mother hen though," Megan sighed. "But overall a nice woman."

Trigger straightened from his perch and came to sit at last. "Her vocal processor malfunctions doesn't it?"

Louis sighed, clapping his hand to his head. "It's called an accent Trigs."

"Like Jazz," Amunet added. Different regions of Earth have different lingual traits, just like different cities on Cybertron."

The Pagani tilted his helm, "Ah, makes sense now. I thought it had all been lost in translation."

Louis shook his head exasperated and turned back to his meal.

"Only if the mech wants it to be," Amunet chuckled. "Jazz, Ironhide and a couple others like sounding different for whatever reason. They're perfectly capable of talking newscaster English if they want, they just don't want to. Pride in heritage isn't just an human thing."

Trigger mulled over that, "Hmm, it took me a while to adjust to the translation package I was given on arrival ... never thought about embellishing it." He grinned, finishing his energon. "I think I'll stick to what I have."

"You won't get an argument from me," Amunet gave him a smile before focusing on her meal for a bit, then she glanced up at Megan. "How'd Cathy and Bluestreak get together?"

Megan put her drink down. "From what I've heard," she glanced pointedly over at a sheepish Louis. "They met just after her socket was installed. He helped her carry her tools and it grew from there." The older woman sighed. "I not entirely sure how far along they are. I presume that they are just taking their time."

"Slow isn't a bad thing," Amunet said with an easy smile. "He's one of mine, a sniper. We try to look after each other."

"As do we techs. One large happy family," Louis interjected, before getting scowled at.

Megan nodded to Amunet. "He was always kind when he was about in the workshop, always helping where he could. Nice to know someone's watching his back out there."

"While he's watching everyone else's," Amunet agreed behind a drink of juice. "He's one of the best I've seen. Real sweet mech off the battlefield too. A mothering socket would be good for him."

Louis looked up from his meal he'd been stabbing at, a curiosity in his eyes. "How long you been in the military Captain? Where were you first stationed?"

"Since I graduated High School," she answered. "First post was Fort Sherman, Panama. On paper, most of my career has been at Fort Polk, Louisiana and Camp Shelby, Mississippi. That's about as accurate as it is for most of the guys," she motioned towards the tables that were dominated by the combat teams with a low chuckle. "But it does well enough."

"Then you traveled around alot? My dad was the same. Traveled back and forth between countries," the blonde tech shook his head, rubbing absently at his neck.

"Yes," Amunet nodded. "When I wasn't training the next generation, I was sent wherever they needed a crack shot."

Megan watched the tables of soldiers and glanced back at Amunet. "If you prefer Captain, you can easily eat with you comrades."

Brawn pushed his empty cube towards Trigger, and smirked. "Wanting another?"

Trigger growled lightly at him, door wings raised. "Get your own refill lazy aft."

"Hay Mubarak," Major Lennox called out across the tables between them. "Get your aft over here." Despite his words, his voice was full of good humor and he was grinning at her.

"That would be one officer not to piss off," Amunet chuckled and stood. "Have a good meal, it was pleasant meeting you," she excused herself and picked up her tray to join her comrades.