Designs (Transformers, Grapple/Hoist, PG-13)
Title: Designs
Author: Apathy
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Dork love, vague robosexings.
Word count: 1785.
Prompt: Grapple/Hoist: aggressive Hoist - The subtle approach has failed. Now for the direct approach.
Summary: Whoever said that the thrill was in the chase has obviously never chased Grapple.
A/N: Horribly late story for the 13th. Infodumps come courtesy of Wikipedia.
'How could these people build out of stone? It erodes so easily, and one good punch will shatter it! Slip over and fall, and before you can say firmitatis utilitatis venustatis, your entire stadium is nothing but so much rubble.'
Hoist rolls his optics good-naturedly, and pointedly does not make comment on the fact that the building has lasted longer than most of Grapple's own works, or that human punches probably wouldn't have quite the same effect as those of a Transformer.
Instead, he ever-so-casually places one hand on Grapple's shoulder and pulls him in closer, pointing with his other hand. 'See, Grapple, that's where the gladiators would enter the arena -- it's all quite similar to the designs of the early arenas in Kaon, really, except open to the air.' He shudders a little. 'Dreadful business, that, but the craftsmanship is magnificent. Just look at those arches!'
'Stone!'
Hoist tries very hard not to facepalm. It's a survival instinct, when one spends so much time around Grapple -- if he gave in to the urge every time, he would have knocked his CPU offline vorns ago.
'For pity's sake, Grapple, it's not like they had the technology or resources to build in the Neo-Modern Post-Future Cybertronian Faux-Classic Style! One would think that you'd never seen primitive xenoarchitecture before.'
'Not in person, I haven't -- I never got the chance to travel more than thirty light years from Cybertron before the war broke out.' Grapple bends down to examine the structure more closely, sliding out from under Hoist's hand. 'The holovids I studied never really did the buildings justice. I must admit that this one is... beautiful, in its own peculiar way.'
Hoist kneels down next to him, smiling behind his mask, hand reaching towards Grapple again. 'I do so admire a beautiful design -- '
'But, stone!' Grapple springs to his feet, and Hoist can tell that he would be pacing agitatedly, were it not for the humans underfoot. Instead, Grapple settles for examining the structure with a critical optic, fingers of one hand tapping a staccato beat against his other arm. 'I should speak to the maintainers, see if they'll let me do some restorative work. Maybe make a few improvements. Just small ones, to keep it from falling apart. They'd barely even be noticeable!'
Hoist gives in to the inevitable, and buries his face in his hands.
*
He flings his arms out in a grand sweeping gesture that attempts to encompass the structures, the sky, and all of creation in general. 'Just look at the design on these, Grapple! Aligned to within a few microhics! And all without the benefits of even our most primitive of technologies!' He pulls out a tourist pamphlet, pinching it carefully between his fingertips, and zooms his optics to make out the minuscule human diagram. 'And see here, how they put in all these secret passageways in order to protect their deceased rulers! Truly marvellous.'
There's no response, and Hoist looks up from the pamphlet.
Grapple's head hangs slightly, his expression unreadable. He trails one finger along the edge of the stones with the gentlest of touches. It is typical of him: always ever so careful and respectful with any structure, even when lost in thought.
'Grapple? Are you all right?'
He doesn't look up. 'Do you remember the Kalior Grand Hall, Hoist?'
'But of course I do. Why would you....' He trails off as realisation hits. 'Oh.'
The Kalior Grand Hall, which had been one of Grapple's greatest achievements. A perfect geometric symmetry of lines and angles and steps, acknowledged as a masterpiece by all.
The Kalior Grand Hall, which had been destroyed by Decepticons at the first official sitting of the Kalior Council. Over a vorn's work had been destroyed in a matter of nano-kliks, and with it, the lives of over five hundred councillors, reporters, and administrative staff.
He places a kind hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Come on, let's leave this place.'
Grapple's optics are fixed on the ancient stone beneath his fingers, as if he can stare right through into the pyramid's heart and discern all its mysteries. Hoist doubts he would notice a parade of stomp-dancing nitromonkeys right now. 'I would like to stay awhile longer, if I may.'
'Of course.'
Hoist makes to move away and give Grapple some time alone, but Grapple shifts slightly, his free hand brushing Hoist's arm.
Hoist stands by his friend as afternoon fades into evening, and wonders whether remembering is worse than forgetting.
*
On the upside, Grapple seems to have overcome his distaste for the building materials favoured by ancient humans.
On the downside, his appetite for learning about human structures and materials is now insatiable, to the point where Hoist plays no part in their expeditions beyond existing as a general direction for Grapple to direct his rambling discourses.
'See how the construction materials here are completely different from those in the section we looked at earlier? The building took place over such a long span of time and such vast distances that the materials varied from earth, to wood, to stone, to brick! Incredible, is it not?'
'Fascinating.'
Hoist is starting to regret his chosen method of seduction -- Grapple may be appreciative of each trip Hoist organises, but the bulk of said appreciation has always been directed towards the buildings and monuments they visit, rather than Hoist himself. In the end, each holiday just leaves Hoist more frustrated than the last.
'I say, Grapple -- why don't we walk down further, where there aren't any tourists? Surely it would afford us a better view, and we wouldn't have to worry about stepping on the humans.'
The giant robots are providing just as much of a tourist attraction as the Wall itself, the humans scurrying beneath their feet, trying to decide what to photograph first, clutching the Autobots' legs while smiling and waving to the cameras. Normally Hoist would be happy to play along, but, quite frankly, he's getting desperate.
'Actually, Hoist, I'd like to see if Skyfire would be willing to take us for a flight over it. It's supposed to be visible from space!'
Hoist sighs. 'He's not your personal taxibot, you know.'
Grapple doesn't even take his optics off the Wall, peering at a signal tower with interest and taking notes. 'Oh, he's into all this xeno stuff. He'll enjoy it.'
'It isn't even visible from space! That's just a human myth.'
'Well, maybe we would be able to see it from space.' Grapple waves happily to a camera-wielding tourist.
'I thought that maybe since we get so little leave from our Autobot duties, we might spend some time just relaxing -- '
'Oh, hello, Skyfire! It's me, Grapple. Listen, I was wondering....'
*
'The humans say that Paris is one of their most romantic cities.'
The dazed, goofy expression on Grapple's face can only mean love... and it's all for the latticed metal spire that pierces the heavens before them.
Grapple runs off for a closer inspection, practically bouncing in his excitement, and Hoist trails along like a reluctant leaf in his wake.
'And they say romance is dead.'
*
Grapple peers around in confusion. 'What are we going to see today, Hoist?'
'Absolutely nothing.' With that, Hoist plonks himself down on the hillside and flops onto his back.
Grapple stares down at him from above, looming impossibly large from this angle. 'But... we're not a hundred hics from the place the humans call Stonehenge! I must say, it sounds fascinating. Did you know that the humans aren't even certain who built it?'
'By all means, Grapple -- if you wish to go, then go. But I, for one, am in need of some refreshment.' With that, he unsubs two cubes of energon, offering one up and praying to Primus that Grapple will get a clue and take it.
Grapple blinks, making no move to accept the proffered cube. 'Is that... ultra highgrade?'
'Yes, and I'm going to be paying Smokescreen back for a very long time, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just get your idiot aft down here and drink, already.'
Grapple's idiot aft does no such thing, and so Hoist retracts his mask and takes a sip, which rapidly turns into a good, long swig that briefly sends his colour perception into negatives. Thus emboldened, he hooks his foot behind Grapple's knee, bringing his friend crashing down awkwardly on top of him with a most undignified yelp.
'I -- what? Hoist, what is the meaning of this?' Grapple struggles a little, but it's only a token effort. Hoist's grip, though firm, is easily breakable, should Grapple wish to extricate himself.
'The meaning of this is that you are absolutely, utterly unable to take a hint, and so I am taking matters into my own hands.'
'I'm sorry?' Despite everything, Grapple's expression is still one of pure confusion, and, oh, that is it.
'How fragging long do I have to flirt with you before you notice, you oblivious fool?'
'... What?' Comprehension slowly filters through into Grapple's expression. 'Oh.'
'Yes! Oh!'
Grapple quirks an optic ridge in perplexity. 'If you wanted to interface, why didn't you just ask?'
The impulse to whap Grapple over the head is strong, and so Hoist settles for grabbing his aft, instead. 'Where's the romance in that?'
Grapple responds most effectively with his lips, working them up Hoist's neck. 'Where's the romance in driving yourself insane for... how long has it been, now?' There's a pause as things obviously fall into place within his processor. 'All these times you've dragged me along to sites, just because I have a passion for architecture? Ever since we met?'
'It's romantic.' He is not pouting, Primus damn it.
'It's idiotic,' Grapple says cheerfully, and all this stupid dancing around each other is suddenly worth it, because getting a smile out of Grapple is an achievement as monumental as any architectural feat. 'I told you to stop reading those silly pink human novels, but would you listen to me?'
'Are you going to sit around and insult my reading habits, or are you going to actually do something?'
'My, aren't we the pushy one.' Grapple looks around at the scenery, at the gently rolling hills that hide a not-too-distant town. 'Isn't interfacing out here where the humans could catch us a little... unseemly?'
Hoist pulls Grapple's head down for a kiss. 'It's romantic.'
Grapple grins wickedly, engine purring. 'Weren't you the one complaining that the humans in those romance novels never interfaced in any interesting ways?'
'... True.' Without warning, Hoist yanks on Grapple's hook, eliciting a startled gasp. 'Unseemly it is, then.'
Author: Apathy
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Dork love, vague robosexings.
Word count: 1785.
Prompt: Grapple/Hoist: aggressive Hoist - The subtle approach has failed. Now for the direct approach.
Summary: Whoever said that the thrill was in the chase has obviously never chased Grapple.
A/N: Horribly late story for the 13th. Infodumps come courtesy of Wikipedia.
'How could these people build out of stone? It erodes so easily, and one good punch will shatter it! Slip over and fall, and before you can say firmitatis utilitatis venustatis, your entire stadium is nothing but so much rubble.'
Hoist rolls his optics good-naturedly, and pointedly does not make comment on the fact that the building has lasted longer than most of Grapple's own works, or that human punches probably wouldn't have quite the same effect as those of a Transformer.
Instead, he ever-so-casually places one hand on Grapple's shoulder and pulls him in closer, pointing with his other hand. 'See, Grapple, that's where the gladiators would enter the arena -- it's all quite similar to the designs of the early arenas in Kaon, really, except open to the air.' He shudders a little. 'Dreadful business, that, but the craftsmanship is magnificent. Just look at those arches!'
'Stone!'
Hoist tries very hard not to facepalm. It's a survival instinct, when one spends so much time around Grapple -- if he gave in to the urge every time, he would have knocked his CPU offline vorns ago.
'For pity's sake, Grapple, it's not like they had the technology or resources to build in the Neo-Modern Post-Future Cybertronian Faux-Classic Style! One would think that you'd never seen primitive xenoarchitecture before.'
'Not in person, I haven't -- I never got the chance to travel more than thirty light years from Cybertron before the war broke out.' Grapple bends down to examine the structure more closely, sliding out from under Hoist's hand. 'The holovids I studied never really did the buildings justice. I must admit that this one is... beautiful, in its own peculiar way.'
Hoist kneels down next to him, smiling behind his mask, hand reaching towards Grapple again. 'I do so admire a beautiful design -- '
'But, stone!' Grapple springs to his feet, and Hoist can tell that he would be pacing agitatedly, were it not for the humans underfoot. Instead, Grapple settles for examining the structure with a critical optic, fingers of one hand tapping a staccato beat against his other arm. 'I should speak to the maintainers, see if they'll let me do some restorative work. Maybe make a few improvements. Just small ones, to keep it from falling apart. They'd barely even be noticeable!'
Hoist gives in to the inevitable, and buries his face in his hands.
*
He flings his arms out in a grand sweeping gesture that attempts to encompass the structures, the sky, and all of creation in general. 'Just look at the design on these, Grapple! Aligned to within a few microhics! And all without the benefits of even our most primitive of technologies!' He pulls out a tourist pamphlet, pinching it carefully between his fingertips, and zooms his optics to make out the minuscule human diagram. 'And see here, how they put in all these secret passageways in order to protect their deceased rulers! Truly marvellous.'
There's no response, and Hoist looks up from the pamphlet.
Grapple's head hangs slightly, his expression unreadable. He trails one finger along the edge of the stones with the gentlest of touches. It is typical of him: always ever so careful and respectful with any structure, even when lost in thought.
'Grapple? Are you all right?'
He doesn't look up. 'Do you remember the Kalior Grand Hall, Hoist?'
'But of course I do. Why would you....' He trails off as realisation hits. 'Oh.'
The Kalior Grand Hall, which had been one of Grapple's greatest achievements. A perfect geometric symmetry of lines and angles and steps, acknowledged as a masterpiece by all.
The Kalior Grand Hall, which had been destroyed by Decepticons at the first official sitting of the Kalior Council. Over a vorn's work had been destroyed in a matter of nano-kliks, and with it, the lives of over five hundred councillors, reporters, and administrative staff.
He places a kind hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Come on, let's leave this place.'
Grapple's optics are fixed on the ancient stone beneath his fingers, as if he can stare right through into the pyramid's heart and discern all its mysteries. Hoist doubts he would notice a parade of stomp-dancing nitromonkeys right now. 'I would like to stay awhile longer, if I may.'
'Of course.'
Hoist makes to move away and give Grapple some time alone, but Grapple shifts slightly, his free hand brushing Hoist's arm.
Hoist stands by his friend as afternoon fades into evening, and wonders whether remembering is worse than forgetting.
*
On the upside, Grapple seems to have overcome his distaste for the building materials favoured by ancient humans.
On the downside, his appetite for learning about human structures and materials is now insatiable, to the point where Hoist plays no part in their expeditions beyond existing as a general direction for Grapple to direct his rambling discourses.
'See how the construction materials here are completely different from those in the section we looked at earlier? The building took place over such a long span of time and such vast distances that the materials varied from earth, to wood, to stone, to brick! Incredible, is it not?'
'Fascinating.'
Hoist is starting to regret his chosen method of seduction -- Grapple may be appreciative of each trip Hoist organises, but the bulk of said appreciation has always been directed towards the buildings and monuments they visit, rather than Hoist himself. In the end, each holiday just leaves Hoist more frustrated than the last.
'I say, Grapple -- why don't we walk down further, where there aren't any tourists? Surely it would afford us a better view, and we wouldn't have to worry about stepping on the humans.'
The giant robots are providing just as much of a tourist attraction as the Wall itself, the humans scurrying beneath their feet, trying to decide what to photograph first, clutching the Autobots' legs while smiling and waving to the cameras. Normally Hoist would be happy to play along, but, quite frankly, he's getting desperate.
'Actually, Hoist, I'd like to see if Skyfire would be willing to take us for a flight over it. It's supposed to be visible from space!'
Hoist sighs. 'He's not your personal taxibot, you know.'
Grapple doesn't even take his optics off the Wall, peering at a signal tower with interest and taking notes. 'Oh, he's into all this xeno stuff. He'll enjoy it.'
'It isn't even visible from space! That's just a human myth.'
'Well, maybe we would be able to see it from space.' Grapple waves happily to a camera-wielding tourist.
'I thought that maybe since we get so little leave from our Autobot duties, we might spend some time just relaxing -- '
'Oh, hello, Skyfire! It's me, Grapple. Listen, I was wondering....'
*
'The humans say that Paris is one of their most romantic cities.'
The dazed, goofy expression on Grapple's face can only mean love... and it's all for the latticed metal spire that pierces the heavens before them.
Grapple runs off for a closer inspection, practically bouncing in his excitement, and Hoist trails along like a reluctant leaf in his wake.
'And they say romance is dead.'
*
Grapple peers around in confusion. 'What are we going to see today, Hoist?'
'Absolutely nothing.' With that, Hoist plonks himself down on the hillside and flops onto his back.
Grapple stares down at him from above, looming impossibly large from this angle. 'But... we're not a hundred hics from the place the humans call Stonehenge! I must say, it sounds fascinating. Did you know that the humans aren't even certain who built it?'
'By all means, Grapple -- if you wish to go, then go. But I, for one, am in need of some refreshment.' With that, he unsubs two cubes of energon, offering one up and praying to Primus that Grapple will get a clue and take it.
Grapple blinks, making no move to accept the proffered cube. 'Is that... ultra highgrade?'
'Yes, and I'm going to be paying Smokescreen back for a very long time, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just get your idiot aft down here and drink, already.'
Grapple's idiot aft does no such thing, and so Hoist retracts his mask and takes a sip, which rapidly turns into a good, long swig that briefly sends his colour perception into negatives. Thus emboldened, he hooks his foot behind Grapple's knee, bringing his friend crashing down awkwardly on top of him with a most undignified yelp.
'I -- what? Hoist, what is the meaning of this?' Grapple struggles a little, but it's only a token effort. Hoist's grip, though firm, is easily breakable, should Grapple wish to extricate himself.
'The meaning of this is that you are absolutely, utterly unable to take a hint, and so I am taking matters into my own hands.'
'I'm sorry?' Despite everything, Grapple's expression is still one of pure confusion, and, oh, that is it.
'How fragging long do I have to flirt with you before you notice, you oblivious fool?'
'... What?' Comprehension slowly filters through into Grapple's expression. 'Oh.'
'Yes! Oh!'
Grapple quirks an optic ridge in perplexity. 'If you wanted to interface, why didn't you just ask?'
The impulse to whap Grapple over the head is strong, and so Hoist settles for grabbing his aft, instead. 'Where's the romance in that?'
Grapple responds most effectively with his lips, working them up Hoist's neck. 'Where's the romance in driving yourself insane for... how long has it been, now?' There's a pause as things obviously fall into place within his processor. 'All these times you've dragged me along to sites, just because I have a passion for architecture? Ever since we met?'
'It's romantic.' He is not pouting, Primus damn it.
'It's idiotic,' Grapple says cheerfully, and all this stupid dancing around each other is suddenly worth it, because getting a smile out of Grapple is an achievement as monumental as any architectural feat. 'I told you to stop reading those silly pink human novels, but would you listen to me?'
'Are you going to sit around and insult my reading habits, or are you going to actually do something?'
'My, aren't we the pushy one.' Grapple looks around at the scenery, at the gently rolling hills that hide a not-too-distant town. 'Isn't interfacing out here where the humans could catch us a little... unseemly?'
Hoist pulls Grapple's head down for a kiss. 'It's romantic.'
Grapple grins wickedly, engine purring. 'Weren't you the one complaining that the humans in those romance novels never interfaced in any interesting ways?'
'... True.' Without warning, Hoist yanks on Grapple's hook, eliciting a startled gasp. 'Unseemly it is, then.'