Firsts: Blaster and Perceptor
Title: Firsts: Blaster and Perceptor
Author: Mirage Shinkiro
Rating: K
Warnings: very light mech/mech, a.k.a. feelings between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-“pronoun’d” ‘bots.
Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.
Summary: Blaster and Perceptor ponder the intricacies of communication.
A/N, explanation: For the holiday fic exchange on TFic_Contests. Each ficlet is capped at 1000 words. The prompt:
21. Continuity: G1
Characters/Pairing: Perceptor/Blaster
Prompt/Premise: Methods of communication
Preferred Rating: G
Firsts: Blaster and Perceptor
In Perceptor’s world, everything proceeded by logic and order: phenomena could be studied, answers deduced, experiments run. Perhaps this was why when it came to his feelings for Blaster, nothing made sense. Love could be observed and its effects studied, but the emotion itself had no logic. In short, Perceptor was lost. He needed to communicate his feelings, and he had no idea how.
He had shared his conundrum with both Skyfire and Wheeljack, neither of whom were helpful seeing as how they went into immediate shock. “Why Blaster?” they had asked. “You have nothing in common!” Granted, they had been supportive anyway, but they didn’t understand Perceptor’s feelings. Blaster was everything Perceptor wasn’t: extraverted, humorous, colorful, and the life of any party. He drew Perceptor in with his smiles and laughter, and although no one realized it, Perceptor enjoyed Blaster’s music. The problem was how did Perceptor tell Blaster that?
With a muffled sigh, Perceptor glanced up from his computer terminal, where the design specs for mini-mechs were displayed, and smiled at his crush. He was helping Blaster by designing two cassettes for him.
“I like it.” Blaster grinned. “Watch out, Soundwave, the Blaster Man will be kicking your aft soon!”
“I’m glad you approve of the design.” Perceptor straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “If you don’t mind, I would like to make a suggestion. We desperately need a mech to handle data processing, and it would be helpful to have another surveillance agent. If you haven’t yet considered functions - ”
Blaster nodded. “Oh, yeah. Jazz has been begging me to make one of them surveillance. Seems fair, huh? What with Laserbeak and Ravage and all.” He smiled again. “Data processing? That’s unique. I’ll give it some thought.”
“Excellent!” Perceptor hesitated, wishing there were some way to extend his time with Blaster. Nothing came to mind, however. He could talk at length about the mini-mechs’ designs, but most ‘bots grew bored when he launched into details.
Shifting from foot-to-foot, Blaster ducked his head, then pulled a datapad from his subspace. “Uh, here, man. Someone told me that you dig my tunes, so I thought I’d make you up a mix. Have a listen, will you?”
Perceptor accepted the datapad, nearly speechless with surprise. “Really? They did? I mean, I do! Thank you.” He smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness.
“Hey, no problem.” With a wave goodbye, Blaster bopped out of the room, no doubt listening to music on his internal radio.
Perceptor was left staring at the datapad, intrigued. Someone had told Blaster? And Blaster had been impressed enough to make him a mix? To give him a gift?
Feeling his hopes rise, Perceptor pressed one hand to his chest, where his spark buzzed warmly.
oOoOo
Blaster hovered in the doorway to Perceptor’s lab, watching him bustle from counter to counter, collecting vials and beakers. Obviously, he was preparing for an experiment, and Blaster found his curiosity piqued. He had immensely enjoyed chemistry at the academy. His creator had given him a chemistry set when he was younger, and he’d spent countless joors mixing wild concoctions. At first, he’d considered majoring in chemistry, but when war had erupted, he’d focused on his other talents: communications, code-breaking, and in his free time, music. Still, he often missed his old chemistry set.
But chemistry wasn’t why he was here. Or, rather, chemistry was why he was here: personal, romantic chemistry. Many of his friends considered Perceptor a geek, but Blaster thought he was brilliant, gifted, and yes, even interesting. At first, he’d worried that all they’d had in common was a love of chemistry, but when Wheeljack had mentioned offhand that Perceptor liked rock music, Blaster had nearly leapt in joy. Music was the gateway into his spark, and sharing that with someone he cared for was important to him.
Gathering his courage, he slipped into the lab. “Hey, Perceptor!”
Perceptor whirled around, nearly dropping the vial he held. “Oh! I didn’t hear you approach.” A shy smile graced his lips, and he carefully set the vial in its holder. “How may I be of assistance?”
Blaster had to stop and collect himself; the shy ones always got him right in the diodes. He loved little smiles like those. “I just came to say I think I’ll go with the data processor and surveillance mech ideas.” It was hardly a message he had to deliver personally, but he wanted to see Perceptor. “And I wanted to know how you like your mix.”
The smile expanded. “I love it!” Perceptor clasped his hands in front of his chest. “I have to say that I find human musicians to be quite talented, and I like the unusual instruments they use. Michael and Janet Jackson were both quite lovely, but I also enjoyed The Human League and The Cure.”
Beyond thrilled, Blaster joined him at the counter. “Awesome, man! They’re great, all of them, just in different ways.” He leaned in, excited as always about discussing music. “I can make you more mixes. Would you like to try heavy metal?” He hesitated, realizing suddenly just how closely he’d leaned in.
Curiously, Perceptor hadn’t backed away. “Of course,” he said rather breathlessly. “I enjoy experiments, after all.” His gaze dropped to Blaster’s lips. “One can’t determine what does or doesn’t work without taking risks.”
Surprised, Blaster wondered if they were still discussing music. “I suppose you’re right.” Forever bold and impulsive, he reached up and cupped Perceptor’s cheek in one hand, running his thumb over his lips.
Perceptor’s lips parted faintly, shining in the light, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he reached up and laid one hand over Blaster’s.
“I guess I’ll experiment, then.” Blaster leaned down, brushing his lips over Perceptor’s. He pulled back and watched his expression carefully. “You wanna date?”
That beautiful, shy smile returned to Perceptor’s lips. “Why, certainly. I’d love to.” His gaze met Blaster’s, all his joy and excitement shining within.
“Then I declare the experiment a success,” Blaster teased gently, and they laughed. Music and chemistry, he thought, elated. Or musical chemistry.
Nothing communicates better.
Author: Mirage Shinkiro
Rating: K
Warnings: very light mech/mech, a.k.a. feelings between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-“pronoun’d” ‘bots.
Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.
Summary: Blaster and Perceptor ponder the intricacies of communication.
A/N, explanation: For the holiday fic exchange on TFic_Contests. Each ficlet is capped at 1000 words. The prompt:
21. Continuity: G1
Characters/Pairing: Perceptor/Blaster
Prompt/Premise: Methods of communication
Preferred Rating: G
Firsts: Blaster and Perceptor
In Perceptor’s world, everything proceeded by logic and order: phenomena could be studied, answers deduced, experiments run. Perhaps this was why when it came to his feelings for Blaster, nothing made sense. Love could be observed and its effects studied, but the emotion itself had no logic. In short, Perceptor was lost. He needed to communicate his feelings, and he had no idea how.
He had shared his conundrum with both Skyfire and Wheeljack, neither of whom were helpful seeing as how they went into immediate shock. “Why Blaster?” they had asked. “You have nothing in common!” Granted, they had been supportive anyway, but they didn’t understand Perceptor’s feelings. Blaster was everything Perceptor wasn’t: extraverted, humorous, colorful, and the life of any party. He drew Perceptor in with his smiles and laughter, and although no one realized it, Perceptor enjoyed Blaster’s music. The problem was how did Perceptor tell Blaster that?
With a muffled sigh, Perceptor glanced up from his computer terminal, where the design specs for mini-mechs were displayed, and smiled at his crush. He was helping Blaster by designing two cassettes for him.
“I like it.” Blaster grinned. “Watch out, Soundwave, the Blaster Man will be kicking your aft soon!”
“I’m glad you approve of the design.” Perceptor straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “If you don’t mind, I would like to make a suggestion. We desperately need a mech to handle data processing, and it would be helpful to have another surveillance agent. If you haven’t yet considered functions - ”
Blaster nodded. “Oh, yeah. Jazz has been begging me to make one of them surveillance. Seems fair, huh? What with Laserbeak and Ravage and all.” He smiled again. “Data processing? That’s unique. I’ll give it some thought.”
“Excellent!” Perceptor hesitated, wishing there were some way to extend his time with Blaster. Nothing came to mind, however. He could talk at length about the mini-mechs’ designs, but most ‘bots grew bored when he launched into details.
Shifting from foot-to-foot, Blaster ducked his head, then pulled a datapad from his subspace. “Uh, here, man. Someone told me that you dig my tunes, so I thought I’d make you up a mix. Have a listen, will you?”
Perceptor accepted the datapad, nearly speechless with surprise. “Really? They did? I mean, I do! Thank you.” He smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness.
“Hey, no problem.” With a wave goodbye, Blaster bopped out of the room, no doubt listening to music on his internal radio.
Perceptor was left staring at the datapad, intrigued. Someone had told Blaster? And Blaster had been impressed enough to make him a mix? To give him a gift?
Feeling his hopes rise, Perceptor pressed one hand to his chest, where his spark buzzed warmly.
oOoOo
Blaster hovered in the doorway to Perceptor’s lab, watching him bustle from counter to counter, collecting vials and beakers. Obviously, he was preparing for an experiment, and Blaster found his curiosity piqued. He had immensely enjoyed chemistry at the academy. His creator had given him a chemistry set when he was younger, and he’d spent countless joors mixing wild concoctions. At first, he’d considered majoring in chemistry, but when war had erupted, he’d focused on his other talents: communications, code-breaking, and in his free time, music. Still, he often missed his old chemistry set.
But chemistry wasn’t why he was here. Or, rather, chemistry was why he was here: personal, romantic chemistry. Many of his friends considered Perceptor a geek, but Blaster thought he was brilliant, gifted, and yes, even interesting. At first, he’d worried that all they’d had in common was a love of chemistry, but when Wheeljack had mentioned offhand that Perceptor liked rock music, Blaster had nearly leapt in joy. Music was the gateway into his spark, and sharing that with someone he cared for was important to him.
Gathering his courage, he slipped into the lab. “Hey, Perceptor!”
Perceptor whirled around, nearly dropping the vial he held. “Oh! I didn’t hear you approach.” A shy smile graced his lips, and he carefully set the vial in its holder. “How may I be of assistance?”
Blaster had to stop and collect himself; the shy ones always got him right in the diodes. He loved little smiles like those. “I just came to say I think I’ll go with the data processor and surveillance mech ideas.” It was hardly a message he had to deliver personally, but he wanted to see Perceptor. “And I wanted to know how you like your mix.”
The smile expanded. “I love it!” Perceptor clasped his hands in front of his chest. “I have to say that I find human musicians to be quite talented, and I like the unusual instruments they use. Michael and Janet Jackson were both quite lovely, but I also enjoyed The Human League and The Cure.”
Beyond thrilled, Blaster joined him at the counter. “Awesome, man! They’re great, all of them, just in different ways.” He leaned in, excited as always about discussing music. “I can make you more mixes. Would you like to try heavy metal?” He hesitated, realizing suddenly just how closely he’d leaned in.
Curiously, Perceptor hadn’t backed away. “Of course,” he said rather breathlessly. “I enjoy experiments, after all.” His gaze dropped to Blaster’s lips. “One can’t determine what does or doesn’t work without taking risks.”
Surprised, Blaster wondered if they were still discussing music. “I suppose you’re right.” Forever bold and impulsive, he reached up and cupped Perceptor’s cheek in one hand, running his thumb over his lips.
Perceptor’s lips parted faintly, shining in the light, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he reached up and laid one hand over Blaster’s.
“I guess I’ll experiment, then.” Blaster leaned down, brushing his lips over Perceptor’s. He pulled back and watched his expression carefully. “You wanna date?”
That beautiful, shy smile returned to Perceptor’s lips. “Why, certainly. I’d love to.” His gaze met Blaster’s, all his joy and excitement shining within.
“Then I declare the experiment a success,” Blaster teased gently, and they laughed. Music and chemistry, he thought, elated. Or musical chemistry.
Nothing communicates better.