My twins speak to me!
Prowl and Sideswipe have been trying to tell me that the current storyline isn't going to be handled in one chapter. I just realized it today, but I'm still arguing with them about it.
In the meantime....
Whee!!! Look what else I was plugging away at!
Title Rhythm & Hues: Interlude
Pairings/Characters Rhythm/Bluestreak, Prowl/Bluestreak, Jazz, Blaster
Warnings um..... a teeny bit of robo smut?
He pulled the nurse trainee into his quarters, pressing her onto the couch. She slid into the corner, tracing static over his frame and sending surges through his systems. He reveled in her touch and the feel of her engine rumbling at his bumper. He traced his own blue lines over her doorwings, nipping at her shoulder tires and running his lips over the edges of her chestplate. She wriggled under him, her legs scraping erotically against his thigh.
Such a wonderful distraction. To keep the silence and darkness from encroaching. To keep the voices locked in his memories, where they belong.
“What are you doing?”
Bluesttreak lifted his head, his vision blurred and his optics bright from his aroused surges. “Wha? What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I meant, what are you doing with your mouth?”
“Oh, that!” He pulled his fingers away. “Does it bother you? Maybe I’m not doing it right-“
She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “I never said that Blue. I was simply asking what you were doing.”
“Oh. Oh! It’s something Sunstreaker and Sides showed me. They used to watch Carly and Spike ‘make out’, although Primus knows what they were making, besides a mess on each other, until they started finding smaller hiding places. They wanted to see what was so appealing about mouthing someone.”
Her doorwings shifted and she tilted her head, arching her brow ridge. “And you volunteered?”
“Not exactly, no, they surprised me.” He pressed his lips together. “It doesn’t really do anything, though does it.”
She chuckled, sparking her fingers down his leg, reminding him of her reason for being there. “No, not really.”
“Ah, ok. Well, I guess I’ll stop. I don’t know what humans seem to find so enticing about it.” He chuckled at himself, doorwings shifting with amusement. “I was thinking that maybe a femme would be better equipped to enjoy it then a mech.”
Rhythm grabbed hold of Bluestreak’s doorwings, gripping them tightly and pulling him closer. She laughed, her systems whirring with giggles. “Now, whatever made you process that, Blue? Primus, you should know better than that. Don’t they teach you youngsters anything these days?” Her hands busied themselves on his doorwing, sending sparking surges through the sensitive panels.
He lost track of time, his chronometer fading out of his HUD in lieu of other much more pleasurable things. He cradled the femme to his chestplate after his systems reset, humming softly, unable to stay quiet for too long. They stayed like that for several breems, merely enjoying each other’s presence.
Her doorwings twitched to his tuneless humming, her hands stroking circles over his paint job. Then she sat up, pushing away from his embrace.
“Are you leaving? Have I done something wrong?” He couldn’t quite keep the plaintive note out of his tone.
Her doorwings drooped a little and she stroked the back of his hand. “I don’t stay, Blue.”
That was a first to him, and he told her as much.
Her optics dimmed and she slid further away. “It’s easier this way, Blue.”
She stood, a sad smile on her face. “I’ll see you with the day cycle.”
Her footsteps melded with the hiss of the door and receded down the hallway.
The dim lights lashed the room in shadows. They reached out for him, black fingers, slick with oil, mouths opened in silent screams.
Bluestreak curled up on the couch, hiding his optics from the darkness, but nothing could hide him from his memories.
It didn’t even occur to him to turn the lights on.
****
Seeing Prowl step through the door of the rec room had Bluestreak staring in surprise.
The tactician’s cobalt optics focused with singular intent upon the grey Datsun; his presence a warm beacon that reached out to caress Bluestreak’s spark. Sideswipe and Jazz turned their gazes away out of respect for the reunion of the bondmates.
Prowl turned, his actions as verbal as a spoken command.
Bluestreak pardoned himself from the table and followed the black and white mech out. They walked side by side, doorwings brushing with a pleasing chime.
“I wanted to speak to you before you left for patrol.”
“I didn’t even realize you returned. I would have met Skyfire if I’d known.”
Prowl’s engine revved in a huff. “I wanted to surprise you.” Prowl stopped and turned Bluestreak to face him. A white hand caressed the gunner’s face and Prowl pressed his chevron against Bluestreak’s. “Surprise,” he murmured.
The gunner couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face and he pressed back. “I like surprises.”
“I know.” Voices and footsteps announced the approach of others. Prowl pulled away, and his smile faded to a slight tug of his lips. The two Datsuns resumed their slow pace through the corridor, both of them nodding at Ironhide and Skyfire. The other two moved out of the way of the two Datsuns, returning the nods with a grumpy ‘good morning.’
“Has everything been going well?”
Bluestreak frowned at his bondmate’s formal tone. A query sent over their connection revealed nothing but a sour look from the tactician. “Yes, you know, everything’s been normal. Megatron did his weekly energon raid. Sides managed to crash into Sunstreaker. Ripped him right off his legs. Sideswipe was inconsolable. Ratchet had to kick him out of the med bay. I think Hues invited him to her and Rhythm’s quarters, since we didn’t see him for several megacycles, but he seemed to be doing better. He never thinks about things like that, does he? I wonder what Hues did. Rhythm… well, um. Sorry.” Bluestreak drooped, realizing he was babbling (again) when Prowl had just returned from a conference.
Prowl halted and turned toward the gunner. “Why did you stop?”
“Well, I- um. You said you wanted to speak to me not hear me ramble.”
Prowl squeezed the grey gunner’s arm. “Blue, if it had bothered me, I would have asked you to stop.”
Bluestreak ducked his head in embarrassment. Of course he knew that, he and Prowl had been bondmates for a long time now. Still, he knew he rambled and it rubbed circuits the wrong way sometimes, even Prowl’s.
Prowl sighed, air hissing from his vents. “Very well then. I was hoping you would answer without me having to ask the question.” Prowl cast a quick glance up the corridor, he pulled Bluestreak into a nearby storage closet. The gunner giggled at the unorthodox move by the black and white mech.
The enclosed space and their doorwings scraping against the shelves had the two mechs pressed together, bumping and pushing. They settled into the comfort of one another’s arms.
“Now, then Blue,” Prowl’s tone dropped into the much more casual one he used for Bluestreak alone. “What disturbed you so badly last week?”
“Ah, well, um, you see,” The gunner really didn’t know how to proceed. He knew Prowl didn’t mind- even encouraged- the time spent with others, but never had the tactician requested any details from his bondmate, outside of who and when. Even though he encouraged Bluestreak’s dalliances, the grey Datsun knew that Prowl really didn’t like it, and viewed it in the same light as the twins: a necessary evil.
“You were alone, weren’t you?” Prowl’s frown was lightly accusing. “How many times have I told you that if you need someone there when I can’t be, you’re welcome to seek it out among the crew. Even Jazz.” The ‘even Jazz’ bit was a new piece to this vorn old scolding. “I won’t have you lapsing into your old ways again. Primus knows Ratchet will fritz if you start sending mechs to his med bay.”
Bluestreak resisted the urge to roll his doorwings.
“And if you need to talk, then babble away. They’re your friends, they understand.” Prowl rested his hand right over the gunner’s spark chamber. “You know I’m here, always here, even when I’m not by your side.”
“Yes, but, well. I didn’t plan on being alone.”
A snarl from the normally quiet tactician stalled Bluestreak into silence. “Someone left you by yourself?”
“Yes, well, it’s not like I have any right to make her stay-“
“Her?” Prowl’s optics flashed with anger Bluestreak was unaccustomed to seeing. “Which one?”
Bluestreak leaned away from the tactician, alarmed by his bondmate’s sudden anger. “Prowl, please. Don’t make such a big deal out of this?”
“Which one, Blue?”
Bluestreak winced at the outright fury that flooded their bond. He whimpered, pressing against the shelves, overwhelmed, even a little intimidated. “Rhythm,” he whispered.
Bluestreak stumbled out of the storage closet, pulled in the tactician’s wake.
“Rhythm, state your location.”
The gunner shook off the remnants of Prowl’s anger and chased after the swiftly moving tactician.
“I’m in the control room with Blaster and Jazz. Did you need something?” Rhythm’s tone was full of stiff formality, despite her casual words.
Prowl’ didn’t answer and Bluestreak quickened his pace, all but running through the corridors. He smiled at the bots he passed, not stopping to chat as he normally would. He saw Prowl’s doorwings disappear into the control room and he lurched to a stop at the door.
Prowl already had the blue femme pulled off to one side, a moot point in the presence of Blaster and Jazz. The two other officers seemed taken aback by Prowl’s sudden confiscation of the dancer. They gave Bluestreak a questioning look that the gunner shrugged off as he approached his bondmate.
“…To that effect, I do care what you do to Bluestreak. You leave him alone, do you understand?”
Rhythm tensed, her doorwings riding high and quivering. “I don’t suppose you’ve asked his opinion on this matter? He’s his own mech. What right do you have to-“
Prowl’s low growl cut the dancer off. “I have every right, because you do not understand.”
Bluestreak scowled, unnoticed by the tactician, although Rhythm’s optics flicked toward him. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Prowl, but I’m not going to turn him away when you’re not ther-“
“Do not go there,” the tactician all but growled. Prowl gripped Rhythm’s forearm, metal groaning under his fingers. “Do not use me against him. Keep your wily hands off of Bluestreak. I will not tolerate it.”
Rhythm tugged her arm out of Prowl’s grasp. “You’re sounding like a Decepticon, get over yourself.”
It was so quick that Bluestreak wasn’t even sure he did it, but Prowl’s anger pounded through their bond. His hand flashed out, his knuckles impacting against the dancer’s cheek seam. She staggered back as the three observers finally lurched into motion.
Jazz steadied Rhythm, his slack jaw the only indication of how appalled he was by Prowl’s action. Blaster and Bluestreak latched onto Prowl, dragging him away from the blue femme as he spat invectives at her.
“What would a worthless piece of rusted scrap know of how a Decepticon talks?” Prowl’s snarl twisted his face into an unfamiliar form. “How dare you say that when we were fighting for the megavorn while you and your sister lay inactive here.”
Bluestreak finally found his vocalizer. “Prowl, what are you doing? I don’t care if you’re concerned about me. It’s not her fault. I could have asked Sides or Sunstreaker to come instead. You don’t have to do this Prowl. Calm down!”
Prowl snatched himself out of the two mech’s grasp, his cobalt optics never leaving Rhythm. “Yes, I do! She abused your trust, Bluestreak. She abused the trust that is placed in every dancer who opens themselves to others.
Rhythm’s optics narrowed. Her doorwings quivered as Jazz whispered into her audio receiver. She glared at him. “I didn’t do any different than I’ve done for vorn.”
Jazz winced. “Y’ left him?” The tilt of his head indicated a glance toward Prowl. “Yer on yer own, babydoll. Ya brought this on yerself.” He stepped away from the blue dancer.
“On my-“ Her doorwings tightened further, her dental plates squeaking together. She turned her optics to Bluestreak and then back to Prowl. “I still don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. I’m permitted to move about the Ark as I wished, or so I thought.”
Prowl’s doorwings drew back, but he softened his tone. “What you did wrong, Rhythm, is to walk into a situation without taking the time to know the mech you’re dealing with.”
Bluestreak crossed his arms under his bumper. “It didn’t really bother me, Prowl. It’s not something she has to deal with-“
“Blue, shut up.”
The gunner tensed, his optics widening as he dropped his hands to his side. “Shut up? Shu-“
Prowl glanced at his bondmate, and silenced him with a command over their bond. It was an ability Bluestreak hated, even though Prowl only used it rarely. So rarely, that he’d almost forgotten it.
“I’m sorry, Blue. We can talk about this later. You need to go on patrol, you’re already late.”
Bluestreak glared at the black and white mech. He couldn’t find the words to express his outrage, and so sent the emotions over his bond. Prowl’s optics dimmed in apology, but Bluestreak would have none of it. He turned and stormed out, dropping into his car mode and peeling out of the Ark, unable to articulate himself any other way.
When he returned from patrol, Rhythm stopped him in the corridor. She didn’t meet his optics, but kept her gaze firmly on his headlights. She pressed her lips together, doorwings dipping slightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
The grumble of his engine halted her apology. “You have no reason to apologize. Prowl can just get very … protective. Too much, sometimes.”
She looked up in surprise, but he stepped around her, storming down the hallway, intent on giving his bondmate an audiofull.
I so badly want to work on the 3rd Arc. Agh!!!! And I still have the next Arc (I keep typing Ark, bah!) and the next Interlude before I can get here . :cries:
..... I should almost make this my fic journal. My life just isn't worth commenting on. --;; Even to squee about my children (which is truly truly sad).
In the meantime....
Whee!!! Look what else I was plugging away at!
Title Rhythm & Hues: Interlude
Pairings/Characters Rhythm/Bluestreak, Prowl/Bluestreak, Jazz, Blaster
Warnings um..... a teeny bit of robo smut?
He pulled the nurse trainee into his quarters, pressing her onto the couch. She slid into the corner, tracing static over his frame and sending surges through his systems. He reveled in her touch and the feel of her engine rumbling at his bumper. He traced his own blue lines over her doorwings, nipping at her shoulder tires and running his lips over the edges of her chestplate. She wriggled under him, her legs scraping erotically against his thigh.
Such a wonderful distraction. To keep the silence and darkness from encroaching. To keep the voices locked in his memories, where they belong.
“What are you doing?”
Bluesttreak lifted his head, his vision blurred and his optics bright from his aroused surges. “Wha? What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I meant, what are you doing with your mouth?”
“Oh, that!” He pulled his fingers away. “Does it bother you? Maybe I’m not doing it right-“
She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “I never said that Blue. I was simply asking what you were doing.”
“Oh. Oh! It’s something Sunstreaker and Sides showed me. They used to watch Carly and Spike ‘make out’, although Primus knows what they were making, besides a mess on each other, until they started finding smaller hiding places. They wanted to see what was so appealing about mouthing someone.”
Her doorwings shifted and she tilted her head, arching her brow ridge. “And you volunteered?”
“Not exactly, no, they surprised me.” He pressed his lips together. “It doesn’t really do anything, though does it.”
She chuckled, sparking her fingers down his leg, reminding him of her reason for being there. “No, not really.”
“Ah, ok. Well, I guess I’ll stop. I don’t know what humans seem to find so enticing about it.” He chuckled at himself, doorwings shifting with amusement. “I was thinking that maybe a femme would be better equipped to enjoy it then a mech.”
Rhythm grabbed hold of Bluestreak’s doorwings, gripping them tightly and pulling him closer. She laughed, her systems whirring with giggles. “Now, whatever made you process that, Blue? Primus, you should know better than that. Don’t they teach you youngsters anything these days?” Her hands busied themselves on his doorwing, sending sparking surges through the sensitive panels.
He lost track of time, his chronometer fading out of his HUD in lieu of other much more pleasurable things. He cradled the femme to his chestplate after his systems reset, humming softly, unable to stay quiet for too long. They stayed like that for several breems, merely enjoying each other’s presence.
Her doorwings twitched to his tuneless humming, her hands stroking circles over his paint job. Then she sat up, pushing away from his embrace.
“Are you leaving? Have I done something wrong?” He couldn’t quite keep the plaintive note out of his tone.
Her doorwings drooped a little and she stroked the back of his hand. “I don’t stay, Blue.”
That was a first to him, and he told her as much.
Her optics dimmed and she slid further away. “It’s easier this way, Blue.”
She stood, a sad smile on her face. “I’ll see you with the day cycle.”
Her footsteps melded with the hiss of the door and receded down the hallway.
The dim lights lashed the room in shadows. They reached out for him, black fingers, slick with oil, mouths opened in silent screams.
Bluestreak curled up on the couch, hiding his optics from the darkness, but nothing could hide him from his memories.
It didn’t even occur to him to turn the lights on.
****
Seeing Prowl step through the door of the rec room had Bluestreak staring in surprise.
The tactician’s cobalt optics focused with singular intent upon the grey Datsun; his presence a warm beacon that reached out to caress Bluestreak’s spark. Sideswipe and Jazz turned their gazes away out of respect for the reunion of the bondmates.
Prowl turned, his actions as verbal as a spoken command.
Bluestreak pardoned himself from the table and followed the black and white mech out. They walked side by side, doorwings brushing with a pleasing chime.
“I wanted to speak to you before you left for patrol.”
“I didn’t even realize you returned. I would have met Skyfire if I’d known.”
Prowl’s engine revved in a huff. “I wanted to surprise you.” Prowl stopped and turned Bluestreak to face him. A white hand caressed the gunner’s face and Prowl pressed his chevron against Bluestreak’s. “Surprise,” he murmured.
The gunner couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face and he pressed back. “I like surprises.”
“I know.” Voices and footsteps announced the approach of others. Prowl pulled away, and his smile faded to a slight tug of his lips. The two Datsuns resumed their slow pace through the corridor, both of them nodding at Ironhide and Skyfire. The other two moved out of the way of the two Datsuns, returning the nods with a grumpy ‘good morning.’
“Has everything been going well?”
Bluestreak frowned at his bondmate’s formal tone. A query sent over their connection revealed nothing but a sour look from the tactician. “Yes, you know, everything’s been normal. Megatron did his weekly energon raid. Sides managed to crash into Sunstreaker. Ripped him right off his legs. Sideswipe was inconsolable. Ratchet had to kick him out of the med bay. I think Hues invited him to her and Rhythm’s quarters, since we didn’t see him for several megacycles, but he seemed to be doing better. He never thinks about things like that, does he? I wonder what Hues did. Rhythm… well, um. Sorry.” Bluestreak drooped, realizing he was babbling (again) when Prowl had just returned from a conference.
Prowl halted and turned toward the gunner. “Why did you stop?”
“Well, I- um. You said you wanted to speak to me not hear me ramble.”
Prowl squeezed the grey gunner’s arm. “Blue, if it had bothered me, I would have asked you to stop.”
Bluestreak ducked his head in embarrassment. Of course he knew that, he and Prowl had been bondmates for a long time now. Still, he knew he rambled and it rubbed circuits the wrong way sometimes, even Prowl’s.
Prowl sighed, air hissing from his vents. “Very well then. I was hoping you would answer without me having to ask the question.” Prowl cast a quick glance up the corridor, he pulled Bluestreak into a nearby storage closet. The gunner giggled at the unorthodox move by the black and white mech.
The enclosed space and their doorwings scraping against the shelves had the two mechs pressed together, bumping and pushing. They settled into the comfort of one another’s arms.
“Now, then Blue,” Prowl’s tone dropped into the much more casual one he used for Bluestreak alone. “What disturbed you so badly last week?”
“Ah, well, um, you see,” The gunner really didn’t know how to proceed. He knew Prowl didn’t mind- even encouraged- the time spent with others, but never had the tactician requested any details from his bondmate, outside of who and when. Even though he encouraged Bluestreak’s dalliances, the grey Datsun knew that Prowl really didn’t like it, and viewed it in the same light as the twins: a necessary evil.
“You were alone, weren’t you?” Prowl’s frown was lightly accusing. “How many times have I told you that if you need someone there when I can’t be, you’re welcome to seek it out among the crew. Even Jazz.” The ‘even Jazz’ bit was a new piece to this vorn old scolding. “I won’t have you lapsing into your old ways again. Primus knows Ratchet will fritz if you start sending mechs to his med bay.”
Bluestreak resisted the urge to roll his doorwings.
“And if you need to talk, then babble away. They’re your friends, they understand.” Prowl rested his hand right over the gunner’s spark chamber. “You know I’m here, always here, even when I’m not by your side.”
“Yes, but, well. I didn’t plan on being alone.”
A snarl from the normally quiet tactician stalled Bluestreak into silence. “Someone left you by yourself?”
“Yes, well, it’s not like I have any right to make her stay-“
“Her?” Prowl’s optics flashed with anger Bluestreak was unaccustomed to seeing. “Which one?”
Bluestreak leaned away from the tactician, alarmed by his bondmate’s sudden anger. “Prowl, please. Don’t make such a big deal out of this?”
“Which one, Blue?”
Bluestreak winced at the outright fury that flooded their bond. He whimpered, pressing against the shelves, overwhelmed, even a little intimidated. “Rhythm,” he whispered.
Bluestreak stumbled out of the storage closet, pulled in the tactician’s wake.
“Rhythm, state your location.”
The gunner shook off the remnants of Prowl’s anger and chased after the swiftly moving tactician.
“I’m in the control room with Blaster and Jazz. Did you need something?” Rhythm’s tone was full of stiff formality, despite her casual words.
Prowl’ didn’t answer and Bluestreak quickened his pace, all but running through the corridors. He smiled at the bots he passed, not stopping to chat as he normally would. He saw Prowl’s doorwings disappear into the control room and he lurched to a stop at the door.
Prowl already had the blue femme pulled off to one side, a moot point in the presence of Blaster and Jazz. The two other officers seemed taken aback by Prowl’s sudden confiscation of the dancer. They gave Bluestreak a questioning look that the gunner shrugged off as he approached his bondmate.
“…To that effect, I do care what you do to Bluestreak. You leave him alone, do you understand?”
Rhythm tensed, her doorwings riding high and quivering. “I don’t suppose you’ve asked his opinion on this matter? He’s his own mech. What right do you have to-“
Prowl’s low growl cut the dancer off. “I have every right, because you do not understand.”
Bluestreak scowled, unnoticed by the tactician, although Rhythm’s optics flicked toward him. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Prowl, but I’m not going to turn him away when you’re not ther-“
“Do not go there,” the tactician all but growled. Prowl gripped Rhythm’s forearm, metal groaning under his fingers. “Do not use me against him. Keep your wily hands off of Bluestreak. I will not tolerate it.”
Rhythm tugged her arm out of Prowl’s grasp. “You’re sounding like a Decepticon, get over yourself.”
It was so quick that Bluestreak wasn’t even sure he did it, but Prowl’s anger pounded through their bond. His hand flashed out, his knuckles impacting against the dancer’s cheek seam. She staggered back as the three observers finally lurched into motion.
Jazz steadied Rhythm, his slack jaw the only indication of how appalled he was by Prowl’s action. Blaster and Bluestreak latched onto Prowl, dragging him away from the blue femme as he spat invectives at her.
“What would a worthless piece of rusted scrap know of how a Decepticon talks?” Prowl’s snarl twisted his face into an unfamiliar form. “How dare you say that when we were fighting for the megavorn while you and your sister lay inactive here.”
Bluestreak finally found his vocalizer. “Prowl, what are you doing? I don’t care if you’re concerned about me. It’s not her fault. I could have asked Sides or Sunstreaker to come instead. You don’t have to do this Prowl. Calm down!”
Prowl snatched himself out of the two mech’s grasp, his cobalt optics never leaving Rhythm. “Yes, I do! She abused your trust, Bluestreak. She abused the trust that is placed in every dancer who opens themselves to others.
Rhythm’s optics narrowed. Her doorwings quivered as Jazz whispered into her audio receiver. She glared at him. “I didn’t do any different than I’ve done for vorn.”
Jazz winced. “Y’ left him?” The tilt of his head indicated a glance toward Prowl. “Yer on yer own, babydoll. Ya brought this on yerself.” He stepped away from the blue dancer.
“On my-“ Her doorwings tightened further, her dental plates squeaking together. She turned her optics to Bluestreak and then back to Prowl. “I still don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. I’m permitted to move about the Ark as I wished, or so I thought.”
Prowl’s doorwings drew back, but he softened his tone. “What you did wrong, Rhythm, is to walk into a situation without taking the time to know the mech you’re dealing with.”
Bluestreak crossed his arms under his bumper. “It didn’t really bother me, Prowl. It’s not something she has to deal with-“
“Blue, shut up.”
The gunner tensed, his optics widening as he dropped his hands to his side. “Shut up? Shu-“
Prowl glanced at his bondmate, and silenced him with a command over their bond. It was an ability Bluestreak hated, even though Prowl only used it rarely. So rarely, that he’d almost forgotten it.
“I’m sorry, Blue. We can talk about this later. You need to go on patrol, you’re already late.”
Bluestreak glared at the black and white mech. He couldn’t find the words to express his outrage, and so sent the emotions over his bond. Prowl’s optics dimmed in apology, but Bluestreak would have none of it. He turned and stormed out, dropping into his car mode and peeling out of the Ark, unable to articulate himself any other way.
When he returned from patrol, Rhythm stopped him in the corridor. She didn’t meet his optics, but kept her gaze firmly on his headlights. She pressed her lips together, doorwings dipping slightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
The grumble of his engine halted her apology. “You have no reason to apologize. Prowl can just get very … protective. Too much, sometimes.”
She looked up in surprise, but he stepped around her, storming down the hallway, intent on giving his bondmate an audiofull.
I so badly want to work on the 3rd Arc. Agh!!!! And I still have the next Arc (I keep typing Ark, bah!) and the next Interlude before I can get here . :cries:
..... I should almost make this my fic journal. My life just isn't worth commenting on. --;; Even to squee about my children (which is truly truly sad).