Fic - Welcome Back
Title: Welcome Back
Warnings: implied smut
Continuity: G1 (part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU, pre-war)
Characters/Pairing: implied Onslaught/Blast Off
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: Onslaught thinks Blast Off is acting a little odd. He’s about to find out why.
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Written for the tf_rare_pairing 5 Firsts challenge.
Welcome Back
Onslaught was looking for something when he instead found something completely different, and totally unexpected, in the energon storage room.
Blast Off was stretching himself up to a higher shelf while roaming through different kinds of cubes.
When the door to the storage had been open and the noises of cubes being hauled around come from it, Onslaught had thought he’d find Brawl, searching for high grade.
Seeing the shuttleformer like this was weird. Though, they couldn’t use their thrusters to hover in there between all the easily set-off liquid, so it was quite common to have to find different ways to reach the upper energon. Onslaught might need to store them on lower shelves…
And it was still odd to see Blast Off like this.
“Blast Off?” Onslaught asked, voice firm, because he couldn’t remember that the shuttle had permission to be here this cycle.
The reaction was as unexpected as seeing him there. Blast Off winced, dropped back to his feet, and turned. Optics flickered once, before the quiet static of resetting his vocaliser echoed to Onslaught.
“Yes?” Blast Off replied, seemingly startled, the tone sounding as though he was a little out of it.
“What are you doing here?” Suspicion crept into Onslaught’s voice. Till now, he’d had no regrets in hiring the shuttle. He always appeared reliable, trustworthy, and hadn’t given any reason for doubt. It wasn’t that Onslaught suddenly mistrusted Blast Off, but this situation was just, well, unexpected.
“I was looking for a special sort of energon. I saw a few cubes listed in the last inventory.”
Onslaught frowned. “Okay, fine. And you wanted to take them without asking?”
Again Blast Off was bewildered, apparently, vocaliser hitching. “No, of course not. I would have asked if I’d found them. But since I didn’t find them, I won’t need to ask. My apologies. This won’t happen again.”
With a nod, and before Onslaught had the chance to respond, Blast Off passed him, muttering. “I’ll be in my quarters. Goodnight.” And with that, he was gone.
It took a few astroseconds until Onslaught’s scowl turned into another frown, and mild anger became confusion.
Goodnight? It wasn’t even noon.
---
A few joors passed. HQ was quiet as it was mid shift and the rest of the mechs were either busy or had time off.
Onslaught hadn’t expected running into a foggy hallway, and yet he did. The door opened in front of him, and a mist hung in the air, building condensation on his frame. He suppressed venting deeply, as he didn’t want to get the liquid into his system. He knew where the steam came from, and with his mood having dropped to a level of a certain degree of displeasure, he entered the washracks.
The door slid aside quietly, and when it opened, it revealed a wall of thick fog. It was almost impossible to see anything through the haze, and merely a dark figure standing at the wall under a shower was visible. The fog lifted a little through the open door, and after a few astroseconds, Onslaught recognised who was standing there.
Blast Off leant with his forehead against the wall, shoulders slumped, optics seemingly offline while the shower poured hot liquid over his frame. That he was tired was as obvious as the fact that he hadn’t noticed Onslaught.
Stepping closer to the shuttle, Onslaught activated his vocaliser, volume louder than usual to be audible over the shower. “Blast Off.”
He saw every joint in Blast Off’s body tensing. The purple optics onlined, appearing dim in the mist.
“Onslaught,” he said, tone blank, as he slowly detached from the wall. He deactivated the cleanser, and turned. His speech and motions weren’t as startled as before, he now seemed only exhausted.
“Is there a reason why you suddenly felt the need to fill the washracks and corridor with steam?”
“I’m cold. I’m sorry.” The voice was flat, and it made Onslaught’s optics twitch in anger.
“I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation.” He crossed his arms, staring at the shuttle who just stared back.
“Like I said, I’m cold.”
Onslaught raised an optical ridge. “Cold? You set the cleanser temperature so high, I’ll need to check if the lines melted, and you’re cold?”
The shuttle shifted slightly on his feet. “Yes, cold. It’ complicated…”
“Then explain,” Onslaught interrupted before Blast Off could find more excuses and leave. If it was complicated, it needed a longer explanation, a longer explanation needed more words and this was something Blast Off hated; causing the shuttle a little discomfort satisfied Onslaught only a bit.
Blast Off kept quiet for almost a klik, then huffed in defeat, “During re-entry, the heat of the plasma causes a reset of the sensor net, which allows it to function normally within an atmosphere and stop producing phantom sensations. If no re-entry occurs, the cold will linger in a shuttle’s system for a variable time, causing different kinds of side effects.”
With Blast Off, Onslaught mused, one always had to read between the lines. Even though this was an explanation, the shuttle was talented with stating general facts which in a way applied to him as well. Onslaught needed to find the connection himself, which wasn’t that hard with the processor power he had.
Blast Off had been away, only came back from a space station two cycles ago through the space bridge. Considered that neither entering a space station nor a trip through the bridge involved re-entry, it was logical that Blast Off was cold.
Though, sometimes Onslaught wished the shuttle would just explain clearly what was going on.
“This means the re-entry introduces the end of a space trip? Fine. What are the side effects?”
Blast Off shrugged. “Insomnia, most commonly. Less often sensor echoes or equilibrium glitches.”
Onslaught tilted his head. Well, that explained why Blast Off looked so tired.
The shuttle continued without being asked, which was as unexpected as most of the events of the cycle.
“The energon I was looking for is a special distillate which helps with the cold. It’s rare since HEX was disassembled.”
And this explained where the energon had most likely gone to. If it did weird things to your sensor net, Onslaught was sure Vortex was involved in its disappearance.
“I’ll fly to Altihex later to get some.”
Onslaught puffed a huff off his intakes. “Next time tell me beforehand what’s wrong. I’ll send someone else. I won’t let you fly like this when you tell me your equilibrium glitches and you haven’t slept in cycles. Is there only this energon that helps, or is there another way for you to get rid of the cold?” He didn’t know why, but Onslaught felt weirdly like talking to Brawl.
Blast Off’s answer didn’t help with this at all.
“No. Well, yes… but no,” the shuttle muttered, frame tensing, seemingly feeling awkward, and gave Onslaught an idea what else would cause the cold to vanish.
“I’m going to let you know where to get the energon. I’ll be in my room,” Blast Off said hastily, and stepped forward. But now, Onslaught could block the door in time, the shuttle coming to a halt a mere inch in front of him. It was amazing that even with the momentum, Blast Off was able to stop so close without letting their plating touch.
The heat radiating off Blast Off’s body was immense, and Onslaught wondered how he could not be warm. Their vents heaved moist air, blowing it over each other’s frames while both kept silent. Energy fields fluctuated slightly, touching and grinding, and they didn’t need to speak.
Onslaught would have been lying if he said he hadn’t waited for this opportunity. Vortex was in Praxus, together with Brawl, so Blast Off couldn’t go to the ‘copter. Letting his field flare a little stronger, the hint of what Onslaught thought would help with the cold was clear in his signature. He was testing, measuring, waiting for the shuttle’s response.
Blast Off tensed a little more, than visible relaxed, and being so close, Onslaught felt his intakes hitching as the shuttle could only suppress the sound of it. Then the field flared back, reluctantly, also a little unsure, but not put off.
On Onslaught’s lip plates built the tiniest grin. Leaning forward, carefully so as not to have their metal touch, he muttered close to Blast Off’s audial, “In my office in one breem.” With that, he left.
---
Also posted here.
Warnings: implied smut
Continuity: G1 (part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU, pre-war)
Characters/Pairing: implied Onslaught/Blast Off
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: Onslaught thinks Blast Off is acting a little odd. He’s about to find out why.
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Written for the tf_rare_pairing 5 Firsts challenge.
Welcome Back
Onslaught was looking for something when he instead found something completely different, and totally unexpected, in the energon storage room.
Blast Off was stretching himself up to a higher shelf while roaming through different kinds of cubes.
When the door to the storage had been open and the noises of cubes being hauled around come from it, Onslaught had thought he’d find Brawl, searching for high grade.
Seeing the shuttleformer like this was weird. Though, they couldn’t use their thrusters to hover in there between all the easily set-off liquid, so it was quite common to have to find different ways to reach the upper energon. Onslaught might need to store them on lower shelves…
And it was still odd to see Blast Off like this.
“Blast Off?” Onslaught asked, voice firm, because he couldn’t remember that the shuttle had permission to be here this cycle.
The reaction was as unexpected as seeing him there. Blast Off winced, dropped back to his feet, and turned. Optics flickered once, before the quiet static of resetting his vocaliser echoed to Onslaught.
“Yes?” Blast Off replied, seemingly startled, the tone sounding as though he was a little out of it.
“What are you doing here?” Suspicion crept into Onslaught’s voice. Till now, he’d had no regrets in hiring the shuttle. He always appeared reliable, trustworthy, and hadn’t given any reason for doubt. It wasn’t that Onslaught suddenly mistrusted Blast Off, but this situation was just, well, unexpected.
“I was looking for a special sort of energon. I saw a few cubes listed in the last inventory.”
Onslaught frowned. “Okay, fine. And you wanted to take them without asking?”
Again Blast Off was bewildered, apparently, vocaliser hitching. “No, of course not. I would have asked if I’d found them. But since I didn’t find them, I won’t need to ask. My apologies. This won’t happen again.”
With a nod, and before Onslaught had the chance to respond, Blast Off passed him, muttering. “I’ll be in my quarters. Goodnight.” And with that, he was gone.
It took a few astroseconds until Onslaught’s scowl turned into another frown, and mild anger became confusion.
Goodnight? It wasn’t even noon.
---
A few joors passed. HQ was quiet as it was mid shift and the rest of the mechs were either busy or had time off.
Onslaught hadn’t expected running into a foggy hallway, and yet he did. The door opened in front of him, and a mist hung in the air, building condensation on his frame. He suppressed venting deeply, as he didn’t want to get the liquid into his system. He knew where the steam came from, and with his mood having dropped to a level of a certain degree of displeasure, he entered the washracks.
The door slid aside quietly, and when it opened, it revealed a wall of thick fog. It was almost impossible to see anything through the haze, and merely a dark figure standing at the wall under a shower was visible. The fog lifted a little through the open door, and after a few astroseconds, Onslaught recognised who was standing there.
Blast Off leant with his forehead against the wall, shoulders slumped, optics seemingly offline while the shower poured hot liquid over his frame. That he was tired was as obvious as the fact that he hadn’t noticed Onslaught.
Stepping closer to the shuttle, Onslaught activated his vocaliser, volume louder than usual to be audible over the shower. “Blast Off.”
He saw every joint in Blast Off’s body tensing. The purple optics onlined, appearing dim in the mist.
“Onslaught,” he said, tone blank, as he slowly detached from the wall. He deactivated the cleanser, and turned. His speech and motions weren’t as startled as before, he now seemed only exhausted.
“Is there a reason why you suddenly felt the need to fill the washracks and corridor with steam?”
“I’m cold. I’m sorry.” The voice was flat, and it made Onslaught’s optics twitch in anger.
“I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation.” He crossed his arms, staring at the shuttle who just stared back.
“Like I said, I’m cold.”
Onslaught raised an optical ridge. “Cold? You set the cleanser temperature so high, I’ll need to check if the lines melted, and you’re cold?”
The shuttle shifted slightly on his feet. “Yes, cold. It’ complicated…”
“Then explain,” Onslaught interrupted before Blast Off could find more excuses and leave. If it was complicated, it needed a longer explanation, a longer explanation needed more words and this was something Blast Off hated; causing the shuttle a little discomfort satisfied Onslaught only a bit.
Blast Off kept quiet for almost a klik, then huffed in defeat, “During re-entry, the heat of the plasma causes a reset of the sensor net, which allows it to function normally within an atmosphere and stop producing phantom sensations. If no re-entry occurs, the cold will linger in a shuttle’s system for a variable time, causing different kinds of side effects.”
With Blast Off, Onslaught mused, one always had to read between the lines. Even though this was an explanation, the shuttle was talented with stating general facts which in a way applied to him as well. Onslaught needed to find the connection himself, which wasn’t that hard with the processor power he had.
Blast Off had been away, only came back from a space station two cycles ago through the space bridge. Considered that neither entering a space station nor a trip through the bridge involved re-entry, it was logical that Blast Off was cold.
Though, sometimes Onslaught wished the shuttle would just explain clearly what was going on.
“This means the re-entry introduces the end of a space trip? Fine. What are the side effects?”
Blast Off shrugged. “Insomnia, most commonly. Less often sensor echoes or equilibrium glitches.”
Onslaught tilted his head. Well, that explained why Blast Off looked so tired.
The shuttle continued without being asked, which was as unexpected as most of the events of the cycle.
“The energon I was looking for is a special distillate which helps with the cold. It’s rare since HEX was disassembled.”
And this explained where the energon had most likely gone to. If it did weird things to your sensor net, Onslaught was sure Vortex was involved in its disappearance.
“I’ll fly to Altihex later to get some.”
Onslaught puffed a huff off his intakes. “Next time tell me beforehand what’s wrong. I’ll send someone else. I won’t let you fly like this when you tell me your equilibrium glitches and you haven’t slept in cycles. Is there only this energon that helps, or is there another way for you to get rid of the cold?” He didn’t know why, but Onslaught felt weirdly like talking to Brawl.
Blast Off’s answer didn’t help with this at all.
“No. Well, yes… but no,” the shuttle muttered, frame tensing, seemingly feeling awkward, and gave Onslaught an idea what else would cause the cold to vanish.
“I’m going to let you know where to get the energon. I’ll be in my room,” Blast Off said hastily, and stepped forward. But now, Onslaught could block the door in time, the shuttle coming to a halt a mere inch in front of him. It was amazing that even with the momentum, Blast Off was able to stop so close without letting their plating touch.
The heat radiating off Blast Off’s body was immense, and Onslaught wondered how he could not be warm. Their vents heaved moist air, blowing it over each other’s frames while both kept silent. Energy fields fluctuated slightly, touching and grinding, and they didn’t need to speak.
Onslaught would have been lying if he said he hadn’t waited for this opportunity. Vortex was in Praxus, together with Brawl, so Blast Off couldn’t go to the ‘copter. Letting his field flare a little stronger, the hint of what Onslaught thought would help with the cold was clear in his signature. He was testing, measuring, waiting for the shuttle’s response.
Blast Off tensed a little more, than visible relaxed, and being so close, Onslaught felt his intakes hitching as the shuttle could only suppress the sound of it. Then the field flared back, reluctantly, also a little unsure, but not put off.
On Onslaught’s lip plates built the tiniest grin. Leaning forward, carefully so as not to have their metal touch, he muttered close to Blast Off’s audial, “In my office in one breem.” With that, he left.
---
Also posted here.