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ajremixTitle from Meat Loaf's Sailor to a Siren. Here's a series I wasn't expecting to add to but I just had an image in my head that I need to get out of Vortex and Brawl snarking over Onslaught's flirting. And also Blast Off's agonizing over his terrible decision because he should.
Title: Like a Sailor to a Siren, like a Moth to a Flame
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG
Warning: mind violation/memory manipulation
Word Count: 2637
Characters: Blast Off, Onslaught, Vortex, Brawl
Summary: Set after The Weight of My Mistakes. Blast Off's crisis of conscience continues despite Onslaught's flirting and Vortex and Brawl's constant interruptions.
It had been nearly a week since the Combaticons were allowed to 'return' to their apartment though Starscream suggested they keep inside unless otherwise necessary, at least until things were in place for him to publicly announce that the Combaticons had been absolved of their crimes. "No need for concerned citizens to think some convicts had escaped to the lap of luxury," he'd joked on one of his many visits to their apartment, finalizing the Combaticons taking over Starscream's security detail with Onslaught. Or just making sure he was still loyal, Blast Off thought bitterly to himself.
He already knew Ironhide was skeptical of the entire thing but Blast Off couldn't help wondering if the others would believe it, if the Tankors would still be as friendly, if they'd be able to look him in the optics despite knowing how many innocent mechs died in Bruticus's rampage.
"Are they annoying you?"
Blast Off's panels nearly flared out in surprise, so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Onslaught come up to where he sat, the tablet he'd been reading the news on having gone into suspension at some point. He was suddenly aware of the sound of Vortex and Brawl bickering over something or other. As loud as they could get, Blast Off had gotten used to ignoring them to the point it was second nature.
"Ah, no." He couldn't help feeling anxious under Onslaught's cool gaze. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Onslaught's voice took on a dry tone, "I wouldn't even give you a curfew if you needed to step out for a bit." Unlike Vortex and Brawl when they got stir crazy enough to reach the end of Onslaught's patience. The amount of trust Onslaught showed him, even in a throw away line like that, made Blast Off simultaneously swell with happiness and shrink internally, knowing how he'd taken advantage of it.
That had been another thing that Blast Off mentally wrestled with: asides from a wry or sarcastic comment, Onslaught had been as professional and distant as ever. Part of him couldn't help thinking that Starscream had lied, offering up Onslaught to hook Blast Off with no intention of following through. How could he argue that Airachnid hadn't nudged him? A nudge wasn't a sure thing. Even if she made Onslaught notice Blast Off could be more than a subordinate, that didn't mean Onslaught would be attracted to him. That was just the kind of loopholes Starscream lived for, likely expecting Blast Off to be too humiliated to admit what promise Starscream would have broken to bring it up.
And part of Blast Off was relieved by this. That, despite his intentions, maybe he hadn't completely sold his soul. The other part of him, the selfish, possessive part that knew Onslaught could never be his any other way, was furious at Starscream reneging on their deal.
"You keep retreating to your thoughts, I'm starting to think you'd rather be somewhere else."
Blast Off was jolted back to the present by Onslaught's lightly amused tone. "N-No," he stuttered, "just... thinking."
The larger mech hummed through his vents. "Anything I could distract you from?"
Blast Off was so focused on watching Onslaught's hand, on the way his fingers skimmed over the surface of the table- slow and deliberate, until he'd covered Blast Off's hand and there was no force in the universe strong enough to make Blast Off pull away -that he was certain he misheard. "Uh, what?"
"Ons wants to swap paint with you!" Vortex called out helpfully and if Onslaught's grip hadn't tightened, Blast Off would've jerked his hand away by reflex.
"Don't be crude," Onslaught said, with all the importance of unveiling a new battle plan. "I intend to court him properly."
Blast Off could've sworn he'd fallen into a daydream because, "Uh, what?"
"'Court'? Who 'courts'? Who even says that word? 'Court'," Vortex sneered fairly conversationally for someone half climbing Brawl's back in an attempt to steal the remote.
For his part, Brawl barely seemed to notice Vortex's antics asides from swatting at his reaching hands. "Boss, just talk like a normal mech, huh?"
"I can still recommend Starscream have you two reassigned to janitorial work," Onslaught shot back though his optics never left Blast Off.
"I-I... that," Blast Off stumbled, emotions warring between elation and guilt. "Are you sure? About the courting thing."
"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have said it."
"But... isn't that fraternization?" Internally he winced- he'd been hoping for some kind of progress and now he was trying to discourage Onslaught? Blast Off wished he'd make up his own mind.
Onslaught chuckled. "I'm not your boss anymore, Blast Off. That's Starscream now."
Hearing Onslaught say that- proud, ambitious Onslaught -made Blast Off's spark sink and he couldn't help saying bitterly, "He can think that but you're the only one that gives us orders."
"That may be so," a hand cupped gently to Blast Off's chin drew his head up so he was looking up at Onslaught, not even realizing when he'd turned away, "but there are no ranks here."
"That mean I don't gotta listen to you anymore?" Vortex called out, his legs locking Brawl's arm in a painful looking hold so he could grab the remote.
"You two do," Onslaught almost sounded bored. "or you'll end up in a ditch with a spike through your brain module."
"But what if I want to end up in a ditch with a spike through my brain module?"
"I don't care, it's not happening." Vortex's 'awww' was cut off by Brawl slamming him into the ground. The remote popped out from his grip and the wrestling for it began anew. Onslaught simply ignored them, turning his full attention back to Blast Off. "I hear they've restored Iacon's largest opera house. Even replaced the crystal acoustics. Would you like to see a show?"
Before Blast Off could say anything, Brawl yelled, "An opera? Why don't you just take him into your room and frag him? Get to the good part and skip all the dumb shrieking!"
"Just because you don't have a romantic circuit in your body doesn't mean the rest of us are equally inept."
"You? A romantic?" Vortex scoffed. He suddenly froze, then jumped to his feet, the battle for the remote forgotten. "I knew I saw a Purple Prose anthology in your subspace!" He ignored Onslaught's growl of, "When were you rooting through my subspace?" "Slag, when is Swindle going to be alive again? He bet me 50 shanix I was wrong!"
Blast Off was momentarily bewildered. Was that for real or was Starscream really so petty he'd make Onslaught believe he liked such overwrought drivel? He didn't know enough about Airachnid to tell if she'd go along with it or not. To distract himself from following that spiral, he grabbed Onslaught's hand and asked, "Should we have that date right now?" At Onslaught's surprised expression, Blast Off remembered that he hated improvising and amended it to, "Or just go for a walk together? Away from these two."
"Ah," he chuckled, ignoring the whistles and cat calls as he took Blast Off's hand and put it into the crook of his arm. "That is a fantastic idea." The edges of Onslaught's battlemask softened with a smile that had Blast Off's spark spinning and Onslaught led him out of the apartment.
~*~*~*~
They didn't have to go far for their walk, about a third of the way up from the ground their building had a concourse- more of a plaza, really, with plenty of small, swanky shops to browse through. In addition to that there was a skyway that connected to similar concourses of two other buildings though, at Blast Off's prompting, they stayed clear of the building in which Starscream made his home.
It had been so long since Blast Off had any real downtime and someone to spend it with that he'd momentarily forgotten what any of his hobbies were, had forgotten how to have an actual conversation that wasn't mission related or verbal sparring with one of his teammates. Thankfully the long, awkward silence that was growing more awkward the longer it stretched was easily dissipated when they found a book seller, reminding the two Combaticons of their shared love of literature. It had been reading that caused Blast Off to see Onslaught as something other than his brilliant, unflappable commander in the first place. Back when it was more accessible, when they had the time to delve into it, they'd traded recommendations, Onslaught lending out his favorite histories, both fiction and non, and Blast Off introducing him to various poets and playwrights and they'd spent more than a few transits to new outposts debating their favorite classics. The influx of colonists onto Cybertron saw their own works added to the market and Blast Off and Onslaught spent a good hour or more discussing the ones that seemed interesting and ridiculing those that weren't. It wasn't as if Blast Off had forgotten that Onslaught had a sense of humor- cutting and drier than most, certainly -but it was one thing to actually listen to and Blast Off couldn't stop snickering as he eviscerated cliche storylines and stilted writing. He still noticed as Onslaught paid for their shared purchases, insisted on doing so, that Onslaught had picked up a couple of the titles he'd been mocking. Apparently he found them ridiculous enough to potentially be entertaining. Blast Off couldn't help finding that endearing.
They stayed out for hours, browsing through shops, sipping drinks by the fountain, watching fliers and public transit making their way between buildings, walking lap after lap around the skyways until it got dark. They took a balcony seat at one of the available restaurants, both with a glass of Visco garnished with iron filings while lights and images were projected into the air around them. Blast Off could have spent days like that, thoroughly enamored by any conversation Onslaught brought up. He was certain he'd never seen his commander so carefree and relaxed before and Blast Off ate up every nano-klik of it. At least until the lights dimmed and the news was projected into the air. As always, Starscream was the topic of discussion and Blast Off was painfully reminded that none of this would have been possible if not for Starscream's violation. Or Blast Off's agreement to it.
He wondered, yet again, about this 'nudge'. Onslaught had never displayed any romantic interest in anyone as far as Blast Off was aware. How could he tell if this was normal behavior for Onslaught or not? For all he knew, Starscream had Airachnid manipulate Onslaught into believing he was completely in love with Blast Off while repackaging it as a 'suggestion' to make it more palatable for Blast Off to agree to the deal. Starscream wouldn't care, especially if he thought Blast Off would be too busy with his 'reward' to cause problems.
Onslaught offered his arm again and Blast Off took it with a somewhat heavier spark. They went back to their apartment building in another silence, brittle and thin. As they rode the lift to their flat, Onslaught finally spoke, "Did you have a good time?"
It took a moment for Blast Off to recognize the strange, uncertain tone in Onslaught's voice: he was nervous. He must have picked up on Blast Off's mood and thought it was something he'd done rather than Blast Off himself.
"Yes!" He took a moment to collect himself, holding Onslaught's arm a little tighter. "Of course, I just... I never thought something like this would happen." He could compartmentalize. He'd gotten good at it over the millennia. Especially where Onslaught was concerned. "Though considering how well this went, I'm wondering how our actual first date will compare."
"Are you doubting me?" Onslaught asked as if insulted, barely casting a glance at the security pad he placed his hand on to let them back into the apartment.
"Not at all, I know you rarely disappoint."
"You never did answer me about the opera."
Blast Off laughed a little self-consciously. He knew few mechs enjoyed the opera, especially the ones that actually made use of crystal acoustic arrangements to amplify and redirect sound. Where he'd lived, before the war, in the upper echelons of society, it had been a popular and easy way to flaunt one's status. So few actually paid attention that you could say anything on the subject at all and so long as you were confident, no one would argue. Blast Off had actually like it, enjoyed the productions and the blending of music and science and story. "It's alright. I know it's a very acquired taste. I don't want you making yourself suffer on my behalf."
"I recall you were upset when your only copy of Coloratura's Symphonic Oratorio was irreparably damaged in a raid. It's something you enjoy. It's something you might be able to teach me to enjoy."
Blast Off's spark pulsed hard in his chest. That was such a minor, random observation that he couldn't believe Airachnid would bother, likely wouldn't have even thought to find that particular memory. That was Onslaught's himself, noticing innocuous details like that and maybe... maybe he did pay attention to Blast Off. "Yes! I'd love to!" His smile was blinding and genuine. "Honestly, Boss, I'd be happy to go wherever you wanted."
They came to a stop outside Blast Off's room, Onslaught lightly tugging at his hand until they were face to face. "Blast Off," he chided gently, "I told you. There are no ranks now. There's no point in calling me 'Boss'."
"Alright. Onslaught."
His visor glowed softly. "I like the sound of that," he said, engine humming.
Blast Off's internals flushed. "R-Really? I just said it normally."
"I know. But I've always liked hearing you say my name." Onslaught pulled back his mouthplate and Blast Off couldn't help a little gasp. It was hardly the first time he'd seen Onslaught without it but those had always been for practical reasons- refueling or injury- he rarely retracted it otherwise. But here he did so without prompting, leaning in close, head angled precisely and Blast Off stretched himself upward, just enough-
Onslaught suddenly ducked his head to the side, bringing up Blast Off's hand to brush a lingering kiss against the knuckles. Then he pulled back, mask snapping back into place but only after giving Blast Off a second to memorize the soft curve of Onslaught's mischievous grin. Blast Off just stood there, starring at him, utterly thunderstruck.
"WHOOOO, YEAH BOI! GIT IT!"
So enthralled by Onslaught, Blast Off hadn't even noticed Vortex- and Brawl, whistling and cackling next to him -still sprawled on the couches. Blast Off automatically jumped back, slamming into his door and then nearly falling backwards as it opened up beneath him. He caught himself on the frame, too overwhelmed with embarrassment to do much else.
Onslaught huffed, somewhere between amused and endeared. "Goodnight, Blast Off," he said, ignoring the two boisterous Combaticons with well-practiced ease, though his voice was tinged the resigned annoyance.
"G-Goodnight, Onslaught." Beyond flustered, Blast Off ducked into his room, missing Onslaught casually reaching over to grab Vortex's head and shove him off the couch as he walked by. Vortex's new position on the floor didn't stop his crowing in the slightest. He leaned back against his door- locked, though that was little deterrent when Vortex was determined -and took a moment to calm down. He'd spent so long hiding his attraction that getting so blatantly caught like that left him somewhat rattled. But then... the fact that anything like today had happened at all... Blast Off fell onto his berth, smothering his giddy smile into it as he forcibly ignored the dark thoughts in his head.
Title: Like a Sailor to a Siren, like a Moth to a Flame
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Rating: PG
Warning: mind violation/memory manipulation
Word Count: 2637
Characters: Blast Off, Onslaught, Vortex, Brawl
Summary: Set after The Weight of My Mistakes. Blast Off's crisis of conscience continues despite Onslaught's flirting and Vortex and Brawl's constant interruptions.
It had been nearly a week since the Combaticons were allowed to 'return' to their apartment though Starscream suggested they keep inside unless otherwise necessary, at least until things were in place for him to publicly announce that the Combaticons had been absolved of their crimes. "No need for concerned citizens to think some convicts had escaped to the lap of luxury," he'd joked on one of his many visits to their apartment, finalizing the Combaticons taking over Starscream's security detail with Onslaught. Or just making sure he was still loyal, Blast Off thought bitterly to himself.
He already knew Ironhide was skeptical of the entire thing but Blast Off couldn't help wondering if the others would believe it, if the Tankors would still be as friendly, if they'd be able to look him in the optics despite knowing how many innocent mechs died in Bruticus's rampage.
"Are they annoying you?"
Blast Off's panels nearly flared out in surprise, so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Onslaught come up to where he sat, the tablet he'd been reading the news on having gone into suspension at some point. He was suddenly aware of the sound of Vortex and Brawl bickering over something or other. As loud as they could get, Blast Off had gotten used to ignoring them to the point it was second nature.
"Ah, no." He couldn't help feeling anxious under Onslaught's cool gaze. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Onslaught's voice took on a dry tone, "I wouldn't even give you a curfew if you needed to step out for a bit." Unlike Vortex and Brawl when they got stir crazy enough to reach the end of Onslaught's patience. The amount of trust Onslaught showed him, even in a throw away line like that, made Blast Off simultaneously swell with happiness and shrink internally, knowing how he'd taken advantage of it.
That had been another thing that Blast Off mentally wrestled with: asides from a wry or sarcastic comment, Onslaught had been as professional and distant as ever. Part of him couldn't help thinking that Starscream had lied, offering up Onslaught to hook Blast Off with no intention of following through. How could he argue that Airachnid hadn't nudged him? A nudge wasn't a sure thing. Even if she made Onslaught notice Blast Off could be more than a subordinate, that didn't mean Onslaught would be attracted to him. That was just the kind of loopholes Starscream lived for, likely expecting Blast Off to be too humiliated to admit what promise Starscream would have broken to bring it up.
And part of Blast Off was relieved by this. That, despite his intentions, maybe he hadn't completely sold his soul. The other part of him, the selfish, possessive part that knew Onslaught could never be his any other way, was furious at Starscream reneging on their deal.
"You keep retreating to your thoughts, I'm starting to think you'd rather be somewhere else."
Blast Off was jolted back to the present by Onslaught's lightly amused tone. "N-No," he stuttered, "just... thinking."
The larger mech hummed through his vents. "Anything I could distract you from?"
Blast Off was so focused on watching Onslaught's hand, on the way his fingers skimmed over the surface of the table- slow and deliberate, until he'd covered Blast Off's hand and there was no force in the universe strong enough to make Blast Off pull away -that he was certain he misheard. "Uh, what?"
"Ons wants to swap paint with you!" Vortex called out helpfully and if Onslaught's grip hadn't tightened, Blast Off would've jerked his hand away by reflex.
"Don't be crude," Onslaught said, with all the importance of unveiling a new battle plan. "I intend to court him properly."
Blast Off could've sworn he'd fallen into a daydream because, "Uh, what?"
"'Court'? Who 'courts'? Who even says that word? 'Court'," Vortex sneered fairly conversationally for someone half climbing Brawl's back in an attempt to steal the remote.
For his part, Brawl barely seemed to notice Vortex's antics asides from swatting at his reaching hands. "Boss, just talk like a normal mech, huh?"
"I can still recommend Starscream have you two reassigned to janitorial work," Onslaught shot back though his optics never left Blast Off.
"I-I... that," Blast Off stumbled, emotions warring between elation and guilt. "Are you sure? About the courting thing."
"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have said it."
"But... isn't that fraternization?" Internally he winced- he'd been hoping for some kind of progress and now he was trying to discourage Onslaught? Blast Off wished he'd make up his own mind.
Onslaught chuckled. "I'm not your boss anymore, Blast Off. That's Starscream now."
Hearing Onslaught say that- proud, ambitious Onslaught -made Blast Off's spark sink and he couldn't help saying bitterly, "He can think that but you're the only one that gives us orders."
"That may be so," a hand cupped gently to Blast Off's chin drew his head up so he was looking up at Onslaught, not even realizing when he'd turned away, "but there are no ranks here."
"That mean I don't gotta listen to you anymore?" Vortex called out, his legs locking Brawl's arm in a painful looking hold so he could grab the remote.
"You two do," Onslaught almost sounded bored. "or you'll end up in a ditch with a spike through your brain module."
"But what if I want to end up in a ditch with a spike through my brain module?"
"I don't care, it's not happening." Vortex's 'awww' was cut off by Brawl slamming him into the ground. The remote popped out from his grip and the wrestling for it began anew. Onslaught simply ignored them, turning his full attention back to Blast Off. "I hear they've restored Iacon's largest opera house. Even replaced the crystal acoustics. Would you like to see a show?"
Before Blast Off could say anything, Brawl yelled, "An opera? Why don't you just take him into your room and frag him? Get to the good part and skip all the dumb shrieking!"
"Just because you don't have a romantic circuit in your body doesn't mean the rest of us are equally inept."
"You? A romantic?" Vortex scoffed. He suddenly froze, then jumped to his feet, the battle for the remote forgotten. "I knew I saw a Purple Prose anthology in your subspace!" He ignored Onslaught's growl of, "When were you rooting through my subspace?" "Slag, when is Swindle going to be alive again? He bet me 50 shanix I was wrong!"
Blast Off was momentarily bewildered. Was that for real or was Starscream really so petty he'd make Onslaught believe he liked such overwrought drivel? He didn't know enough about Airachnid to tell if she'd go along with it or not. To distract himself from following that spiral, he grabbed Onslaught's hand and asked, "Should we have that date right now?" At Onslaught's surprised expression, Blast Off remembered that he hated improvising and amended it to, "Or just go for a walk together? Away from these two."
"Ah," he chuckled, ignoring the whistles and cat calls as he took Blast Off's hand and put it into the crook of his arm. "That is a fantastic idea." The edges of Onslaught's battlemask softened with a smile that had Blast Off's spark spinning and Onslaught led him out of the apartment.
~*~*~*~
They didn't have to go far for their walk, about a third of the way up from the ground their building had a concourse- more of a plaza, really, with plenty of small, swanky shops to browse through. In addition to that there was a skyway that connected to similar concourses of two other buildings though, at Blast Off's prompting, they stayed clear of the building in which Starscream made his home.
It had been so long since Blast Off had any real downtime and someone to spend it with that he'd momentarily forgotten what any of his hobbies were, had forgotten how to have an actual conversation that wasn't mission related or verbal sparring with one of his teammates. Thankfully the long, awkward silence that was growing more awkward the longer it stretched was easily dissipated when they found a book seller, reminding the two Combaticons of their shared love of literature. It had been reading that caused Blast Off to see Onslaught as something other than his brilliant, unflappable commander in the first place. Back when it was more accessible, when they had the time to delve into it, they'd traded recommendations, Onslaught lending out his favorite histories, both fiction and non, and Blast Off introducing him to various poets and playwrights and they'd spent more than a few transits to new outposts debating their favorite classics. The influx of colonists onto Cybertron saw their own works added to the market and Blast Off and Onslaught spent a good hour or more discussing the ones that seemed interesting and ridiculing those that weren't. It wasn't as if Blast Off had forgotten that Onslaught had a sense of humor- cutting and drier than most, certainly -but it was one thing to actually listen to and Blast Off couldn't stop snickering as he eviscerated cliche storylines and stilted writing. He still noticed as Onslaught paid for their shared purchases, insisted on doing so, that Onslaught had picked up a couple of the titles he'd been mocking. Apparently he found them ridiculous enough to potentially be entertaining. Blast Off couldn't help finding that endearing.
They stayed out for hours, browsing through shops, sipping drinks by the fountain, watching fliers and public transit making their way between buildings, walking lap after lap around the skyways until it got dark. They took a balcony seat at one of the available restaurants, both with a glass of Visco garnished with iron filings while lights and images were projected into the air around them. Blast Off could have spent days like that, thoroughly enamored by any conversation Onslaught brought up. He was certain he'd never seen his commander so carefree and relaxed before and Blast Off ate up every nano-klik of it. At least until the lights dimmed and the news was projected into the air. As always, Starscream was the topic of discussion and Blast Off was painfully reminded that none of this would have been possible if not for Starscream's violation. Or Blast Off's agreement to it.
He wondered, yet again, about this 'nudge'. Onslaught had never displayed any romantic interest in anyone as far as Blast Off was aware. How could he tell if this was normal behavior for Onslaught or not? For all he knew, Starscream had Airachnid manipulate Onslaught into believing he was completely in love with Blast Off while repackaging it as a 'suggestion' to make it more palatable for Blast Off to agree to the deal. Starscream wouldn't care, especially if he thought Blast Off would be too busy with his 'reward' to cause problems.
Onslaught offered his arm again and Blast Off took it with a somewhat heavier spark. They went back to their apartment building in another silence, brittle and thin. As they rode the lift to their flat, Onslaught finally spoke, "Did you have a good time?"
It took a moment for Blast Off to recognize the strange, uncertain tone in Onslaught's voice: he was nervous. He must have picked up on Blast Off's mood and thought it was something he'd done rather than Blast Off himself.
"Yes!" He took a moment to collect himself, holding Onslaught's arm a little tighter. "Of course, I just... I never thought something like this would happen." He could compartmentalize. He'd gotten good at it over the millennia. Especially where Onslaught was concerned. "Though considering how well this went, I'm wondering how our actual first date will compare."
"Are you doubting me?" Onslaught asked as if insulted, barely casting a glance at the security pad he placed his hand on to let them back into the apartment.
"Not at all, I know you rarely disappoint."
"You never did answer me about the opera."
Blast Off laughed a little self-consciously. He knew few mechs enjoyed the opera, especially the ones that actually made use of crystal acoustic arrangements to amplify and redirect sound. Where he'd lived, before the war, in the upper echelons of society, it had been a popular and easy way to flaunt one's status. So few actually paid attention that you could say anything on the subject at all and so long as you were confident, no one would argue. Blast Off had actually like it, enjoyed the productions and the blending of music and science and story. "It's alright. I know it's a very acquired taste. I don't want you making yourself suffer on my behalf."
"I recall you were upset when your only copy of Coloratura's Symphonic Oratorio was irreparably damaged in a raid. It's something you enjoy. It's something you might be able to teach me to enjoy."
Blast Off's spark pulsed hard in his chest. That was such a minor, random observation that he couldn't believe Airachnid would bother, likely wouldn't have even thought to find that particular memory. That was Onslaught's himself, noticing innocuous details like that and maybe... maybe he did pay attention to Blast Off. "Yes! I'd love to!" His smile was blinding and genuine. "Honestly, Boss, I'd be happy to go wherever you wanted."
They came to a stop outside Blast Off's room, Onslaught lightly tugging at his hand until they were face to face. "Blast Off," he chided gently, "I told you. There are no ranks now. There's no point in calling me 'Boss'."
"Alright. Onslaught."
His visor glowed softly. "I like the sound of that," he said, engine humming.
Blast Off's internals flushed. "R-Really? I just said it normally."
"I know. But I've always liked hearing you say my name." Onslaught pulled back his mouthplate and Blast Off couldn't help a little gasp. It was hardly the first time he'd seen Onslaught without it but those had always been for practical reasons- refueling or injury- he rarely retracted it otherwise. But here he did so without prompting, leaning in close, head angled precisely and Blast Off stretched himself upward, just enough-
Onslaught suddenly ducked his head to the side, bringing up Blast Off's hand to brush a lingering kiss against the knuckles. Then he pulled back, mask snapping back into place but only after giving Blast Off a second to memorize the soft curve of Onslaught's mischievous grin. Blast Off just stood there, starring at him, utterly thunderstruck.
"WHOOOO, YEAH BOI! GIT IT!"
So enthralled by Onslaught, Blast Off hadn't even noticed Vortex- and Brawl, whistling and cackling next to him -still sprawled on the couches. Blast Off automatically jumped back, slamming into his door and then nearly falling backwards as it opened up beneath him. He caught himself on the frame, too overwhelmed with embarrassment to do much else.
Onslaught huffed, somewhere between amused and endeared. "Goodnight, Blast Off," he said, ignoring the two boisterous Combaticons with well-practiced ease, though his voice was tinged the resigned annoyance.
"G-Goodnight, Onslaught." Beyond flustered, Blast Off ducked into his room, missing Onslaught casually reaching over to grab Vortex's head and shove him off the couch as he walked by. Vortex's new position on the floor didn't stop his crowing in the slightest. He leaned back against his door- locked, though that was little deterrent when Vortex was determined -and took a moment to calm down. He'd spent so long hiding his attraction that getting so blatantly caught like that left him somewhat rattled. But then... the fact that anything like today had happened at all... Blast Off fell onto his berth, smothering his giddy smile into it as he forcibly ignored the dark thoughts in his head.
