Magnus/Bluestreak: First Crush.
Title: A First Time Flying.
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei.
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Ultra Magnus/Bluestreak
Content Note: Romantic interactions between commanding officer and subordinate.
Summary: Bluestreak has just received his adult upgrades and, while trying to figure out his new interface drive, meets Ultra Magnus, his new base commander, and falls head over heels.
Author's Note: I wrote this thinking it was a prompt for this week, then went to post it and realized it was a prompt for last week. Oh well.
It was coincidence, perhaps---a bare joor after Bluestreak had awoken from his adult upgrades that Ultra Magnus had shown up at their base. Bluestreak had spent it trying to sort out all the new protocols having to do with his (finally!) properly-upgraded body, especially the confusing flashes of desire that popped up at random for things he'd never considered before. Ratchet's smiles, Jazz's exuberant posturing, Tracks' cool poise, even the movements of his own doorwings when he watched them in the mirror. They were all people he knew, and was friends with, and he had never had the capacity to desire them before, to want to think strongly about what they often paired up and went off to do behind closed doors. He could do that too now, and had some idea of why they did it so much, and yet it was a new thing in play that couldn't help but change things, and for the life and spark of him he couldn't process how.
Ultra Magnus, on the other hand, was new.
His first sight of him was in the rec room; Magnus had called them in unit by unit, to give a short speech and greet them, get to know them by sight at least, and Bluestreak had gone in with his unit; Magnus was standing there, tall and confident, plating well-polished but not gleaming as brightly as Tracks, scars and damage here and there that did not interfere with his capabilities, as though a meaningless repair was disdained. He was significantly bigger than Bluestreak, and more formal than Optimus Prime, though still polite and genuinely respectful of the mechs who served under him.
And Bluestreak didn't know him.
The attractiveness of the mech struck Bluestreak not like a hammer blow, but like radiation, seeping through his plating and into his circuitry and spark, slowly and inexorably as Magnus spoke to them, his voice resonant. It filled the silence, and Bluestreak, amazed, did not break in with questions; his processor busied itself with analyzing Ultra Magnus with its new programming, and when Magnus noticed his staring and greeted him personally, he was, for the first time since the roaring silence of Praxus had colored his world, he didn't know what to say.
"Yessir. I mean, hi, sir. I'm Bluestreak." And Magnus had nodded, smiled with his optics, and moved on, while Bluestreak watched and was silent.
His team expressed surprise at it later, and got into fights when people didn't believe them. Bluestreak, for his part, carried out his duties in a sort of detatched daze, talking to whoever was at hand without any recollection of just what he was talking about, his processor fixed on the new commander.
Magnus slid seamlessly into the workings of the base, directing its proceedings without interrupting them too much, and taking a polite interest in its inhabitants without getting too involved with them. At some point later in the evening, he happened upon Bluestreak again. This time Bluestreak was with Trailbreaker, babbling to fill the silence with no worries about boring Trailbreaker because Trailbreaker never yelled at him, when he suddenly became aware that Ultra Magnus had stepped into the room and trailed off midsentence, his circuitry seeming to fill up with something that he tentatively likened to awe, only more tingly.
"Am I interrupting something?" Magnus asked, his tone a bit frosty, and Bluestreak's field flushed hot. "No no no no, sir, we're watching the monitors checking the security perimiter to the northwest, where there's those cadmium deposits---"
Trailbreaker, Primus bless him, interrupted. "Say, Bluestreak, can you run a diagnostic quick on this sensor relay here? And tell me what you're seeing through it? I need to talk to Magnus a moment."
So Bluestreak did so, and described his findings out loud, but he could hear Trailbreaker speaking. "Don't mind him, please, sir---he was focusing, he just talks pretty much constantly. He was the sole survivor of Praxus and spent a few nights alone in the wreckage before we found him, and he just can't handle silence. He can work and talk about anything at the same time, and that's what he does."
Magnus said, "I see. Did I frighten him, do you think?"
Trailbreaker said, "I think you may have affected him a bit . . . be careful with him, he just got his adult upgrades this morning, so I'd guess he's got a lot to be confused about."
Magnus once again said, "I see," and Bluestreak, still chattering about signal degradation and false alarms, thought there was something significant in the tone of the words this time. He risked a glance over at the pair of them; Magnus' optics were resting on him, unjudging and thoughtful, and he had to look away, his plating seeming to tingle and burn.
Magnus said, "Good evening, Bluestreak. Trailbreaker." A moment after the door slid closed behind him the portable scanner module Bluestreak held in his hands slid through shaking fingers and impacted with the floor.
That night he slid into his berth and turned on his white-noise machine, and thought of Magnus, and wriggled, and his hands found the new things his upgrades had installed in him, and the resulting frenzied rise and sudden cascade of sensation left him burned clean, stunned, and wanting more.
--------------
The orns passed. Decepticons attacked and were repelled. Missions were called for, performed, analyzed. Monitor duty was endured, patrols run, and Bluestreak's attention hovered around Ultra Magnus.
At some point, his friends had brought it to his attention that they could all see how aft-over-skidplate he was, which brought sudden horror that he might be making a fool of himself in front of Magnus, but Magnus didn't seem to notice if he was. Shortly after that, the subject of how beautiful Magnus was, and how clever and strong and kind, formed a significant part of his chatter to certain people who could be counted on to listen and not laugh at him or tell him to go invite Magnus into his berth---the first time somebody suggested that, Bluestreak got a first-hand understanding of what Prowl felt like when his logic processors seized up, and his companions spread the word that it wasn't to happen again.
He was content to enjoy his crush, feeling his spark flutter every time Magnus came into the room or spoke to him, and retreating alone to his quarters to enjoy his new upgrades and nudge his memories of Magnus ever-so-slightly toward fantasies.
At some point, a paint-trap hidden in the rec room triggered itself on Magnus. Bluestreak was in the room, and immediately flushed, doorwings almost buzzing at the display of Magnus coated with paint, first surprised and almost flailing, then standing up to look sternly around the room for the perpetrator.
His gaze fell on Bluestreak, who had hands clapped to his mouth, optics huge, and Bluestreak had a sudden vision of how he must look from Magnus' perspective, like the mech who had done it, and that made it worse; he couldn't look away, nervous giggles threatening to escape his vocalizer as he shook his head. It wasn't me, he mouthed behind his hands, but couldn't get the words out.
Then Magnus smiled at him, softly, kindly, and continued looking around the room.
Bluestreak, though he chattered as much as ever, couldn't pay attention to anything for the rest of the shift.
At the end of it, Ultra Magnus called Bluestreak into his office.
"Magnus, sir," he managed to squeak as the door closed behind him, and then said nothing more, the silence as terrible as it always was but with a flavor to it like none he'd ever heard before. He could almost conceive of wanting more of it.
"Trailbreaker told me you had just received your adult upgrades when I arrived here."
Oh Primus. "Yessir." His doorwings tried to express confusion and dismay and the flutter that they always got when Magnus paid attention to him, and got tangled up between a flutter and a wave. He stilled them with a wince and realized that Magnus had been watching them; they fluttered again.
"I cannot help but notice I seem to be affecting you a bit."
Squeak. He tried again. "Yessir."
Magnus smiled at him fondly, and his circuitry seemed to melt. "You are welcome to enjoy your crush, Bluestreak. This can't help but be a confusing time for you, but you will figure things out."
"Yessir? I mean, ummm. I'm sorry I've been having trouble concentrating especially today I was just giggling at the thought of you getting pranked this morning I don't know why it's funny 'cause it's really not it just struck me somehow 'cause you're YOU, you know? and anyway I wasn't laughing 'cause I did it, I didn't do it and then I felt like you thought I did and it wasn't funny but I couldn't stop giggling anyway but I didn't do it but I mean if you think I did do it and were going to punish me for it that's okay and . . ."
Magnus stood up from his chair, and stepped around the desk, and laid a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, and Bluestreak stopped talking and nearly sprained his right doorwing hinge trying to get it to brush against Magnus' hand. Magnus was smiling down at him, and the nervousness slid aside, and something happy and bright and contented slid up to replace it.
"I don't suspect you of playing that prank, Bluestreak," he said, "And I'm not angry with you for anything. There is much for us to discuss, perhaps," and his optics were fond on Bluestreak and Bluestreak thought he might have risen and floated away if Magnus' hand were not on his shoulder. "But I think you are a bit overwhelmed right now. I think you ought to return to your quarters and take care of yourself," and here he smiled in a way that made Bluestreak wonder if he knew about those explorations Bluestreak always made thinking of him, and his other hand joined the first on Bluestreak's shoulder, and then the first one reached out to gently touch and still the doorwing that was still twitching in discomfort at being pushed beyond its flexibility. Not sensual, but gentle, and wonderful. "And if you want to have that discussion, and see where things might go," Magnus met Bluestreak's optics and smiled softly, "then come and see me tomorrow morning."
Doorwings were nothing like Seeker wings, but all the way home Bluestreak felt just like flying.
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei.
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Ultra Magnus/Bluestreak
Content Note: Romantic interactions between commanding officer and subordinate.
Summary: Bluestreak has just received his adult upgrades and, while trying to figure out his new interface drive, meets Ultra Magnus, his new base commander, and falls head over heels.
Author's Note: I wrote this thinking it was a prompt for this week, then went to post it and realized it was a prompt for last week. Oh well.
It was coincidence, perhaps---a bare joor after Bluestreak had awoken from his adult upgrades that Ultra Magnus had shown up at their base. Bluestreak had spent it trying to sort out all the new protocols having to do with his (finally!) properly-upgraded body, especially the confusing flashes of desire that popped up at random for things he'd never considered before. Ratchet's smiles, Jazz's exuberant posturing, Tracks' cool poise, even the movements of his own doorwings when he watched them in the mirror. They were all people he knew, and was friends with, and he had never had the capacity to desire them before, to want to think strongly about what they often paired up and went off to do behind closed doors. He could do that too now, and had some idea of why they did it so much, and yet it was a new thing in play that couldn't help but change things, and for the life and spark of him he couldn't process how.
Ultra Magnus, on the other hand, was new.
His first sight of him was in the rec room; Magnus had called them in unit by unit, to give a short speech and greet them, get to know them by sight at least, and Bluestreak had gone in with his unit; Magnus was standing there, tall and confident, plating well-polished but not gleaming as brightly as Tracks, scars and damage here and there that did not interfere with his capabilities, as though a meaningless repair was disdained. He was significantly bigger than Bluestreak, and more formal than Optimus Prime, though still polite and genuinely respectful of the mechs who served under him.
And Bluestreak didn't know him.
The attractiveness of the mech struck Bluestreak not like a hammer blow, but like radiation, seeping through his plating and into his circuitry and spark, slowly and inexorably as Magnus spoke to them, his voice resonant. It filled the silence, and Bluestreak, amazed, did not break in with questions; his processor busied itself with analyzing Ultra Magnus with its new programming, and when Magnus noticed his staring and greeted him personally, he was, for the first time since the roaring silence of Praxus had colored his world, he didn't know what to say.
"Yessir. I mean, hi, sir. I'm Bluestreak." And Magnus had nodded, smiled with his optics, and moved on, while Bluestreak watched and was silent.
His team expressed surprise at it later, and got into fights when people didn't believe them. Bluestreak, for his part, carried out his duties in a sort of detatched daze, talking to whoever was at hand without any recollection of just what he was talking about, his processor fixed on the new commander.
Magnus slid seamlessly into the workings of the base, directing its proceedings without interrupting them too much, and taking a polite interest in its inhabitants without getting too involved with them. At some point later in the evening, he happened upon Bluestreak again. This time Bluestreak was with Trailbreaker, babbling to fill the silence with no worries about boring Trailbreaker because Trailbreaker never yelled at him, when he suddenly became aware that Ultra Magnus had stepped into the room and trailed off midsentence, his circuitry seeming to fill up with something that he tentatively likened to awe, only more tingly.
"Am I interrupting something?" Magnus asked, his tone a bit frosty, and Bluestreak's field flushed hot. "No no no no, sir, we're watching the monitors checking the security perimiter to the northwest, where there's those cadmium deposits---"
Trailbreaker, Primus bless him, interrupted. "Say, Bluestreak, can you run a diagnostic quick on this sensor relay here? And tell me what you're seeing through it? I need to talk to Magnus a moment."
So Bluestreak did so, and described his findings out loud, but he could hear Trailbreaker speaking. "Don't mind him, please, sir---he was focusing, he just talks pretty much constantly. He was the sole survivor of Praxus and spent a few nights alone in the wreckage before we found him, and he just can't handle silence. He can work and talk about anything at the same time, and that's what he does."
Magnus said, "I see. Did I frighten him, do you think?"
Trailbreaker said, "I think you may have affected him a bit . . . be careful with him, he just got his adult upgrades this morning, so I'd guess he's got a lot to be confused about."
Magnus once again said, "I see," and Bluestreak, still chattering about signal degradation and false alarms, thought there was something significant in the tone of the words this time. He risked a glance over at the pair of them; Magnus' optics were resting on him, unjudging and thoughtful, and he had to look away, his plating seeming to tingle and burn.
Magnus said, "Good evening, Bluestreak. Trailbreaker." A moment after the door slid closed behind him the portable scanner module Bluestreak held in his hands slid through shaking fingers and impacted with the floor.
That night he slid into his berth and turned on his white-noise machine, and thought of Magnus, and wriggled, and his hands found the new things his upgrades had installed in him, and the resulting frenzied rise and sudden cascade of sensation left him burned clean, stunned, and wanting more.
--------------
The orns passed. Decepticons attacked and were repelled. Missions were called for, performed, analyzed. Monitor duty was endured, patrols run, and Bluestreak's attention hovered around Ultra Magnus.
At some point, his friends had brought it to his attention that they could all see how aft-over-skidplate he was, which brought sudden horror that he might be making a fool of himself in front of Magnus, but Magnus didn't seem to notice if he was. Shortly after that, the subject of how beautiful Magnus was, and how clever and strong and kind, formed a significant part of his chatter to certain people who could be counted on to listen and not laugh at him or tell him to go invite Magnus into his berth---the first time somebody suggested that, Bluestreak got a first-hand understanding of what Prowl felt like when his logic processors seized up, and his companions spread the word that it wasn't to happen again.
He was content to enjoy his crush, feeling his spark flutter every time Magnus came into the room or spoke to him, and retreating alone to his quarters to enjoy his new upgrades and nudge his memories of Magnus ever-so-slightly toward fantasies.
At some point, a paint-trap hidden in the rec room triggered itself on Magnus. Bluestreak was in the room, and immediately flushed, doorwings almost buzzing at the display of Magnus coated with paint, first surprised and almost flailing, then standing up to look sternly around the room for the perpetrator.
His gaze fell on Bluestreak, who had hands clapped to his mouth, optics huge, and Bluestreak had a sudden vision of how he must look from Magnus' perspective, like the mech who had done it, and that made it worse; he couldn't look away, nervous giggles threatening to escape his vocalizer as he shook his head. It wasn't me, he mouthed behind his hands, but couldn't get the words out.
Then Magnus smiled at him, softly, kindly, and continued looking around the room.
Bluestreak, though he chattered as much as ever, couldn't pay attention to anything for the rest of the shift.
At the end of it, Ultra Magnus called Bluestreak into his office.
"Magnus, sir," he managed to squeak as the door closed behind him, and then said nothing more, the silence as terrible as it always was but with a flavor to it like none he'd ever heard before. He could almost conceive of wanting more of it.
"Trailbreaker told me you had just received your adult upgrades when I arrived here."
Oh Primus. "Yessir." His doorwings tried to express confusion and dismay and the flutter that they always got when Magnus paid attention to him, and got tangled up between a flutter and a wave. He stilled them with a wince and realized that Magnus had been watching them; they fluttered again.
"I cannot help but notice I seem to be affecting you a bit."
Squeak. He tried again. "Yessir."
Magnus smiled at him fondly, and his circuitry seemed to melt. "You are welcome to enjoy your crush, Bluestreak. This can't help but be a confusing time for you, but you will figure things out."
"Yessir? I mean, ummm. I'm sorry I've been having trouble concentrating especially today I was just giggling at the thought of you getting pranked this morning I don't know why it's funny 'cause it's really not it just struck me somehow 'cause you're YOU, you know? and anyway I wasn't laughing 'cause I did it, I didn't do it and then I felt like you thought I did and it wasn't funny but I couldn't stop giggling anyway but I didn't do it but I mean if you think I did do it and were going to punish me for it that's okay and . . ."
Magnus stood up from his chair, and stepped around the desk, and laid a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, and Bluestreak stopped talking and nearly sprained his right doorwing hinge trying to get it to brush against Magnus' hand. Magnus was smiling down at him, and the nervousness slid aside, and something happy and bright and contented slid up to replace it.
"I don't suspect you of playing that prank, Bluestreak," he said, "And I'm not angry with you for anything. There is much for us to discuss, perhaps," and his optics were fond on Bluestreak and Bluestreak thought he might have risen and floated away if Magnus' hand were not on his shoulder. "But I think you are a bit overwhelmed right now. I think you ought to return to your quarters and take care of yourself," and here he smiled in a way that made Bluestreak wonder if he knew about those explorations Bluestreak always made thinking of him, and his other hand joined the first on Bluestreak's shoulder, and then the first one reached out to gently touch and still the doorwing that was still twitching in discomfort at being pushed beyond its flexibility. Not sensual, but gentle, and wonderful. "And if you want to have that discussion, and see where things might go," Magnus met Bluestreak's optics and smiled softly, "then come and see me tomorrow morning."
Doorwings were nothing like Seeker wings, but all the way home Bluestreak felt just like flying.