Resonance Dissonance: Downtime
Title: Dissonance: Downtime
Author: AotA
Rating: K+
Characters: Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus
Setting: Bayverse, Resonance Exodus AU
Summary: A "what if...?" where Smokescreen didn't forcibly reassign himself to the Validus and instead took his original assignment under Ultra Magnus aboard the Starforge.
Notes: Rarepairing prompt Ultra Magnus/Smokescreen: downtime. It occurs after Everything You Never Wanted, during the Resonance storyline with the alterations mentioned above. (Still haven't made it to Resonance yet, so no, nothing is posted for it at the moment.)
Everything titled "Dissonance" is NOT canon for the Resonance storyline.
Dissonances are things that could have happened, but didn't.
Smokescreen watched Ultra Magnus when the Convoy class wasn't looking. He admired him when the large mech was commanding. Tried to cheer him up when he was doubting. Gave him something to lean against when he was wounded.
And Ultra Magnus did his best to command his mechs, despite his doubts, and wounds.
Smokescreen hadn't even realized what it was he had been doing until he found himself inviting mechs to his berth and imagining their hands were strong, scarred silver as they moved over his plating, that he was caressing sapphire blue plating, rather than green, or red, or yellow.
At that point, he had to stop kidding himself.
Somehow, all those instincts that he had thought had been nearly rooted out had somehow gone and latched onto Ultra Magnus without him noticing and came out as lusting after the mech due to the distortion caused by the noble's coding that he had to contend with.
"Gah..." Smokescreen dragged a hand down his face before he sipped at his cube of energon. He glared down at it, slowly sloshing the liquid energy from one side of the cube to another as he mentally bashed himself over the head repeatedly. He dropped the cube a short distance onto the table with a clink and his head met the surface shortly thereafter, then repeatedly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
"Smokescreen..."
His helm met the table with one last "stupid" and a thunk before he managed to freeze, sensor wings twitching.
"I would request that you tell me what has you beating your helm in," a stiff voice said.
Smokescreen slowly raised his head to peer at the mech himself. "I'd rather not, sir," the Praxian said wryly.
The large mech stared at him, a typically serious expression on his face.
Smokescreen tossed himself back with a sigh and waved his hand toward the seat next to him with a flourish, "Would you like to sit? If you're not busy that is, sir."
Ultra Magnus stared, evaluating. After a long, uncomfortable moment, he drew out a seat and sat, still staring.
Smokescreen avoided the piercing gaze.
"Well?" the mech prompted, placing his own cube down on the table.
Smokescreen cringed, "It's a personal issue, sir. It won't have any effect on my work."
Ultra Magnus frowned. "I should hope not," he said stiffly.
Smokescreen sighed and some of the tension released from his struts, hearing the discomfiture he knew the commander would rather other mechs didn't. "It won't," he reassured, lips twitching in a self-deprecating smile, "I just had a... revelation of sorts about the road my personal life seems to be taking."
"You've come to realize that you've run out of mechs to 'face with, then?" he asked flatly, "You made short work of the crew onboard Starforge, Tactical Officer."
Smokescreen nearly choked on his energon, unable to stop himself from tallying everyone up and realizing that it was pretty much accurate. "Ah..." Smokescreen dithered, "That... wasn't exactly it. Though you do have a point." It seemed that in his attempt to assuage his appetite for a certain Convoy class he'd nearly finished off the energon sampler. Oops.
"Dare I ask if your 'facecapades have come to a halt?" he asked with a sour face.
"Yeah," Smokescreen said with a sheepish shrug, "I think they have." He wasn't going to 'face around anymore. Not now that he'd realized what it was that he was actually trying to do. And denial wasn't going to help. Not anymore.
There was a word for a tactician who deluded himself: that word was "liability."
Ultra Magnus gave a huff that to Smokescreen's audials sounded more like a sigh of relief. "Good," the large mech said, "Maybe now you'll stop distracting the soldiers."
Smokescreen stared at Ultra Magnus. Stop distracting the soldiers?
The large mech shifted slightly in what appeared to be a self-conscious manner.
Smokescreen carefully schooled his face to hide the thoughts now latching onto his mind that wanted to come out as a lascivious smirk, or maybe a grin, or even a leer. Ultra Magnus might be a 'bot to stand on ceremony, but he had always said that he was just a soldier doing his duty, whether that duty was taking commands or dishing them out.
Ultra Magnus wanted him to stop distracting the soldiers?
Or...
Maybe he wanted Smokescreen to stop distracting Ultra Magnus?
Smokescreen cleared his vocalizer so his voice wouldn't come out at a seductive purr as he knew it would if he wasn't careful, he said, "That would probably be for the best."
"Good," Ultra Magnus said, finishing off his energon with a gulp, "I'll see you on duty, Tactical Officer."
The large mech rose, striding off after giving Smokescreen stiff nod, leaving the tactician behind to stare at Ultra Magnus' aft with a speculative gleam.
Maybe his old instincts as a Wing weren't that far off.
He sipped his energon with self-satisfaction and resisted the urge to whistle. He began to plot a new campaign like the industrious tactician he was. Though his plotting in this case had a rather more insidious bent to it than was strictly typical.
Even for Smokescreen.
After a particularly difficult battle, Smokescreen hunted down his commander, finding him sitting in his office, going over the battle that had just taken placed rather than refueling or recharging.
He watched for long moments, leaning against the wall by the door that Ultra Magnus hadn't even noticed open and close behind him.
He looked tired. Drained.
"You should be resting," Smokescreen said, making the large mech jump and sit up from his slight slouch.
"I needed to evaluate the battle," the commander said, relaxing slightly in his too-tightly-wound way.
Smokescreen proffered a cube of energon he had picked up specifically for the Convoy class when he had realized that he had never shown up to get his ration, "How about this then? If you're not going to recharge?"
Ultra Magnus stared at the cube like he had never seen its like before.
Smokescreen sighed. "Honestly, sir. You should take a moment of downtime at least. Refuel, clean off the soot," Smokescreen reached out a claw and daringly scraped a line through the dark residue at scoring that was the result of a glancing blow from a plasma cannon, "recharge."
Ultra Magnus was already shaking his head, but he didn't draw away. Smokescreen only wished he knew if it was from the fact that the large mech didn't mind that Smokescreen was trodding on his precious military protocol or if he was just too tired to muster a reprimand. "I need to know how the Decepticons..."
"You need to rest sir," Smokescreen interrupted, finally deciding to just say it like it was, "You're not good to anyone if you fall over because you're neglecting yourself."
Ultra Magnus drew back, "I am not-"
"You are," Smokescreen overrode him again.
The frown made its reappearance but its effectiveness was limited by the sheer exhaustion lining Ultra Magnus' face. Massive shoulders slumped and a large, silver hand dragged roughly down tense face plates. "Smokescreen..."
"Lean on me," Smokescreen said eventually, shrugging when Ultra Magnus gave him a Look. Noble he might be, he had had even more humble roots than any other Autobot aboard this ship. "I'd like to..." he floundered for words. The words that he would use meant different things to mechs like Ultra Magnus than they did to one who was preprogrammed. "I'd like to take care of you," he cringed at the baldness of the statement.
"You are a noble," Ultra Magnus said flatly.
And nobles didn't do that. They were taken care of.
Smokescreen cracked a wry, tired smile, "I wasn't always."
Confusion flickered over the Convoy's face, "What?"
"My seed code was that of an Enforcer," Smokescreen said, making Ultra Magnus blink, then he stressed the next part, "From Praxus."
"A Praxian Enforcer? Weren't they all prepro-" Ultra Magnus trailed off.
"We were," Smokescreen said, "and I took care of my superiors."
"So you want to... take care of me... because you were programmed-"
"No," Smokescreen interrupted yet again, slashing a hand through the air, "I was programmed to do nothing of the sort. My spark is that of a Wing. Programming has nothing to do with it."
"A wing?" Ultra Magnus asked, even more puzzled.
Smokescreen nodded, "Among my first kin, and they are my kin, were arranged ourselves into nonadic structures, two of which were Wing... and Core. Wings are drawn to Cores, who are the ones who look out for the rest of the mechs. They are serious. Intelligent. Strong. Dependable." Smokescreen laid his hand down on Ultra Magnus's arm. "Leaders. We take care of our Core as they take care of cadre. We remind them to rest. Bear some of the load of leadership..."
Suddenly, Ultra Magnus scowled and shook off Smokescreen's hand, "If you're just looking to finish off your interfacing list then you can forget it, Tactical Officer."
Smokescreen bit back a snarl. Ultra Magnus didn't know, didn't understand... He had to explain it to him as best as he could. "Being a Wing has nothing to do with interfacing. Preprogrammed mechs of my type didn't even have interfacing mods. I have never once interfaced with the Wing I nearly died grieving the Loss of before I was remade into this." He gestured to his blue and gold plating. "I never asked to become what I am: a mockery of a noble created from the remains of a fading preprogrammed mech."
He placed his hand back on the sapphire plating and leaned in closer, "I'd like to make your job easier. I'd like to interface with you, sure, but that isn't want I'm looking for. I hate seeing you exhausted and neglecting yourself. I hate seeing you doubt yourself. I hate seeing you hurt and ignoring it because you think there are better things to do with your time and with others." His face was practically against Ultra Magnus', "I have been trying to do all these things already. I just want you to let me, rather than brushing me off and being difficult. I'm not going to let you work yourself into the ground from over work."
He leaned back and nodded toward the untouched cube he had brought with him. "Drink that." He flicked his wings and added a belated, "Sir." He turned to go.
A large hand grabbed him by the shoulder, arresting his movement.
His plating flattened, the lone sensor panels on his back stiffened.
"Smokescreen..."
The Praxian looked over his shoulder coolly, "Yes sir?"
Ultra Magnus was visibly conflicted before he dropped his hand, shaking his head. "Nothing. You are free to go."
"Sir," the mech said and strode out, the door closing behind him with a hiss.
Ultra Magnus buried his face in his hands as soon as the Praxian noble was gone.
"Smokescreen..."
"So..." one soldier said, "What's the deal with you and Smokestack? Prissy noble's been even more pissy than normal."
Ultra Magnus gave the vaguely familiar mech a Look.
"What?" the white mech asked, "Did he finally come onto you?"
The Look darkened.
"It's about time someone turned that slut-bot down."
A deep rumble echoed through the room, shocking the mechs there as the normally frowning mech dropped the frown for a straight out glare.
"I wish to clarify something," he said, voice still rumbling, "You were referring to Smokescreen when you said 'Smokestack', correct?"
A voice in the back suddenly declared in the lull, "Hoooooooly slag... He's pissed. Move! Move! Move!"
The rec room was evacuated post haste, except for the unlucky bot that had been pinned by a pissed off Ultra Magnus' gaze of Doom.
"Ah..." Optics were unusually bright as they looked up at the much, much larger mech, "Y-yeah?"
"That would be 'Yes sir', soldier," Ultra Magnus said.
"Y-yes, Ultra Magnus sir!" the soldier stuttered.
"So correct me if I am wrong, but you just referred to the active CTO and direct second in command of this detachment as a 'slut-bot', did you not? If so, then that would mean that you were willfully disrespectful and showed contempt to a superior officer where there can be no doubt of your culpability. Such an act could result in dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of pay and energon, and confinement for up to a vorn. What do you have to say for yourself, soldier?"
The bot made an eeping noise and his optics flickered out, he then tumbled backward, falling to the floor in a dead faint.
Ultra Magnus growled once more, not exactly satisfied by the reaction, and returned to sipping at his energon in the rec room, which was empty save for him and the out cold form of one misfortunate enlisted.
It was nearly a breem later when the door to the rec room slid open and Smokescreen stepped inside, taking in the hastily vacated space and the still simmering Ultra Magnus.
Smokescreen sighed, "What happened here?"
"A slight discipline problem," Ultra Magnus said stiffly, "I already took care of it."
Smokescreen's lips twitched, "If that's what you want to call it, sir." He stepped over the collapsed mech and claimed a seat next to the large mech. He cleared his vocalizer, "Sir... I'd like to apologize for my behavior in your-"
"There is nothing to apologize for, Tactical Officer. You were correct in stating that a commanding officer should take better care of himself."
Smokescreen smirked, "That's not exactly what I said."
Ultra Magnus finally looked over, the anger in his field dissipating slowly, "So you stand by what you say then?"
"I'd like to stand as your Wing, sir," Smokescreen replied.
Ultra Magnus sighed, "I still don't understand that, but I won't stop you."
Sensor wings fluttered as golden lips curved into a smile, "Thank you, sir."
Ultra Magnus was different from Prowl and he didn't understand but Smokescreen didn't really mind. All Ultra Magnus had to do was be himself. Smokescreen could take care of the rest.
Chapter 2