Blackout, the Helpful Decepticon

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Verse: Bayverse
Rating: NC-17
Warning: sticky pnp, and crack.

 

Seriously, Blackout griped. Brawl had never been known for smarts, but even he had to know (even after all those head shots) that punching a plassteel bulkhead was not exactly a smart thing. Plus, it was making a lot of noise, in a recharge-station corridor, during recharge cycle. Also not a smart thing. Mech who couldn’t sleep were cranky mechs. And cranky mechs liked to rearrange the faces of other mechs. Which, if it took place right here (outside Blackout’s recharge station), would make HIM a cranky mech. And he didn’t like being cranky.

“Hey, uh,” he interjected as Brawl finally stopped swinging, sucking in air to cool his overheating frame.

“WHAT?!” the little tank yelled. Blackout winced. The tank was going to get his aft removed, dented and handed back to him if he didn’t keep it down. 

“Uh…hey, Brawl,” Blackout started again, quietly, hoping Brawl would follow his lead and tone it down a bit. “Ummm, something bothering you or…or something?”  

“Of course something’s bothering me!” Brawl yelled. “You think I go around punching fraggin’ walls because I’m in a good mood?” 

Well, actually, there was that one time…. It didn’t seem like it would help to mention that just now, though. “Right. Sorry. So, you, uhhh, want to talk about it or something?” Blackout looked around nervously. If he could get Brawl under cover before any of the other mechs on this corridor could get out here, he might be able to preserve some of Brawl’s original facial contours. Bonecrusher was just a few doors down, and he needed his beauty sleep. Blackout shuddered. He needed a LOT of beauty sleep, come to think of it.  

“No I do not want to talk about it,” Brawl snapped, hotly. “What good would that do?”

About as much good as punching a solid wall? Still, he wasn’t yelling any more. Progress. Yay! “I don’t know, but you might feel better?”

“Feel better?” the tank shrilled. “Feel better?!” 

Blackout heard a door code down the corridor. He snatched Brawl by his cannon and jerked him into his room. Brawl’s supraorbital plates ground so low in rage Blackout could barely see his optics. “Why, you…!”

“Shut it,” Blackout snapped. He was a patient mech, he thought, but he was exhausted and he really needed his recharge. What he did not really need was Brawl taking out his excess…whatever on the wall outside his recharge. “Now, what the frag is wrong with you?” 

Brawl’s lower mouth plate quivered. “I don’t know!” he wailed. “I’m ugly!” Well, no argument there. Brawl wasn’t exactly the hottest mech off the assembly line. But if this was like a newsflash or something for Brawl, Blackout wondered what else the tank hadn’t figured out 

“You’re not…umm, you’re not THAT ugly,” Blackout offered. What? He couldn’t LIE, could he?

“No! He said I’m so ugly that if you look up ‘ugly’ in the dictionary it has my picture but..but…it’s behind a warning lock rated NC-17 for hideosity!” Brawl wailed. 

Wow. Harsh. “Ummm, who is ‘he’?” If it was Barricade, Blackout might actually have to do what he kept threatening to do to him. See how mean the little pervert could be after he’d been interfaced into a coma. 

“Bonecrusher!”

Oh, right. Because Bonecrusher was the Adonis of the Decepticons. With his freaky wheeled feet and those arms so long he could pick his toes without bending over. “Why you care what Bonecrusher thinks, anyway?” As soon as he asked, he figured out the answer. Oh, dear. Seriously? Seriously.

“Because,” Brawl said, aggressively. Daring Blackout to say something. 

“Yeah, uhhh, okay.” Blackout said, hastily. “But, well, there’s plenty of other stuff you do have to offer, you know.”

“Like what?"

“Uhhhh, well….” Blackout ran a hand over his helm. Brawl was not hot. He wasn’t smart. He smelled bad. “Uhhh, you blow stuff up good?”

“I—yeah, I do, don’t I?” Brawl’s beetly face split into a grin, but then collapsed. “How do I get him to see that, though?” 

“I don’t know. Just talk to him?”

“Oh, shut up.” His hands curled into fists. Blackout’s own arms dropped to a low guard. Brawl had a penchant for groin strikes. “Already tried that.”

“Well, maybe he just needs to warm up to the idea?”

Brawl looked at him through slitted optics. “How’d you do it, Blackout?”

“Do what?”

“Come on: you’re not exactly Grade A Decepticon botcake yourself,” Blackout twitched. What? No, remember, keep in mind, Blackout, you’re here to help. “So…how’d you get to do Starscream?”

“Oh, I had help with that. You know. The first time, though. After that, though, totally me. ALL me.” Take that. 

“Who helped you?”

Blackout didn’t like the glitter in Brawl’s beady little optics.

 

****

Barricade nearly fell over laughing. As it was, he clutched his side, leaning heavily against his console, struggling to get control of his ventilation. “Uhhhh, no. I am NOT helping Brawl get laid. And NOT with Bonecrusher. Only thing I’d like to see happen to the two of them is a fight to the death. With them both dead.” 

“Come on,” Blackout said. “It’ll be fun.”

“We’ve previously discussed your weird idea of fun, haven’t we? This is not fun. This is…gross.”

“Okay, well, they’d owe you sooooo big if you did.” 

“That’s only if it went well. Look, Blackout: I did you and the fraggin’ jet because I figured that once the ball got rolling, I could count on both of you NOT to trip over the ball and knock your teeth out.”

“Well, this is just more of a challenge for you. You like challenges, right?” 

“’You like challenges, right?’” Barricade mocked. “Really. You think I’m that easy?”

Blackout grinned, leaning over Barricade. “Uhhh, yeah. You are pretty easy.” He ran a hand over one of Barricade’s upper arm tires. Barricade shivered.

“Not fraggin’ fair,” Barricade muttered.

“Oh, really, Barricade?” Blackout’s hand drifted down under Barricade’s grille, where his interface hatch was. “Like you’re all about playing fair.”

“Look,” Barricade said, backing away. “I—uh, I can’t help you. Okay? I concede defeat. Even my mighty powers are no match for—ohhhhhh….not….fraggin’….fair.” He whimpered as Blackout spun one upper tire, his other hand flicking open the hatch for Barricade’s interface module.

“Make it worth your while….,” Blackout sang. He ran a thumb along Barricade’s greenlit interface module. Barricade watched him, eyes wide, trembling, as Blackout opened his own hatch. The module pinged in Blackout’s hand.

“I—don’t need you,” Barricade blustered, weakly. “Can find another mech to ‘face.”

Blackout tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yeah, but how many find how you have to do it quite as hot as I do?” He lifted the module up to his mouth, touching the tip of it with his glossa. 

“I hate you,” Barricade whispered, clawing for Blackout’s module. Blackout could already feel the datastream pulse even before he plugged it into his shallow port. 

“So,” he said, as Barricade’s eyes flickered closed at the rush of sensation, “You’ll like totally help, right?”

 

****

“You’ve GOT to be kidding me,” Bonecrusher muttered. He wasn’t really talking to Brawl, but they were assigned duty together and Brawl kept himself close by. Because that’s what Blackout and Barricade had told him to do. They’d also told him to keep looking for things they had in common. Right.. Common things. Like they were both kind of beigy. He had hopes more would come to him. 

“Kidding about what?”

Bonecrusher shot him a look. Grunted. “Kidding about this ridiculous duty. This supply room doesn’t need inventorying.”

“It is kind of stupid,” Brawl agreed. 

“Who put us on this crap duty, anyway?”

“Barricade,” Brawl said, a little too quickly. It was somehow part of the plan. He wasn’t too sure how, though. 

Bonecrusher shot him another look. “I hate that fragger.”

“I hate him too!” Yes! Something else they had in common! Brawl reached for his datapad to tally another box of spare gyroscopic discs. 

Another look. “You sound…a little too happy about hating him.” 

“Uhhhh, should I hate hating him?” Brawl hated everything, except hating everything. That, he kinda liked. Oh, and blowing stuff up. 

Bonecrusher shrugged. “Love to hate away. Don’t fraggin’ care.”   

Brawl knew nothing except that The Moment seemed to be slipping away. “Uhhh, what else do you hate?”

Bonecrusher blinked as if Brawl’s question had given him an instant processor ache. “I hate stupid questions.” He cursed as a box from a high shelf slipped from his grip and knocked him on the shoulder. “I fraggin’ hate Barricade!”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Barricade’s voice cut over comm. “And for the record, don’t exactly have pinups of either of you hideous beasts on my wall locker, either.” 

Bonecrusher whirled to the comm speaker. “Enjoying this, are you? Wasting valuable skills like mine doing fraggin’ inventory?” 

“Wasting? Maybe. Enjoying? Not quite yet. Hold on a klik.” The two mechs spun to the door as it coded locked behind them. “Okay, now.” 

Bonecrusher knew better, but he tested the door anyway. Locked. Three different levels of override. “You know,” he said, tightly, “abusing your power this way is an outrage.”

“Oh, everything’s an outrage with you, Bonecrusher. Last deca you complained that the lighting in the refectory was an outrage. At least I’ve given you something worth complaining about.”

“Hey!” Brawl felt vaguely offended. And that he wasn’t upholding his part of the conversation. 

“Now, the deal is very simple. You want out; you two interface.” 

“WHAT?!” Bonecrusher’s hands curled into fists. He pounded on the door. “When I get out of here you little frag, I swear—“

“There’s one way out,” Barricade said, calmly. “And it involves your module.” 

Bonecrusher turned to Brawl. “Are you hearing this? He thinks trapping us in a room together and making us humiliate ourselves for his entertainment is…what, funny?”

“Uhhhh, yeah. Isn’t it?” Barricade snickered.

“ISN”T IT?!” Bonecrusher bellowed. “Brawl, do you really want to interface with me?” He thought, and then added, hastily, “Under these circumstances?”

Brawl looked up, hopefully. “Yeah? I mean, he’s kind of in on it.”

“In on it—Oh, you fraggin’ stupid IDIOT!” 

“Hey,” Barricade cut in. “That’s ‘fraggin’ stupid idiot who finds you hot’. I’d be nice to him if I were you. Not a lot of mechs get that sort of devotion. And your likelihood of seeing it ever again…?”

After a solid glare at the comm speaker, Bonecrusher sucked in a deep breath. “So. Brawl. Let me get this straight. You want to interface with me.” He waited until Brawl nodded assent. “Right. So, because you want to interface with me—and please explain this because I get a little lost, here—you enlisted this psychopath?” 

“Well, really, Blackout, but that was because he offered to help.”

“That idiot copter?!” 

“Hey!” Blackout cut over the comm. “That’s not very nice. I’m only trying to help.”

Bonecrusher squeezed his optics shut, his opening and closing fists rattling against the floor. “Brawl,” he said, through tight lips, “Does anyone on the damn ship NOT know you want to fuck me?”

Blackout cut in again. “Hrm. I told Starscream about three cycles ago, so…probably everyone by now.” 

Bonecrusher seethed.

“Come on,” Brawl said, “It won’t be that bad.” Wait. That didn’t sound right. Blackout told him he had to sell himself. “I…uh, I make good explosions?”

Bonecrusher blinked, shaking his head, as if wishing that this were all some horrible hallucination. But when he opened his optics, there stood Brawl, again, the little midget, red optics round and pitiful. “Why me?” he groaned.

“Why you? Because you’re cool and smart and you have the COOLEST alt mode—didja know I picked this one because of you? See? We go together.” He held up an arm, beaming. Bonecrusher found himself wondering if he put out his own eye with his tail. And if that would help. 

“Baawwwwwwww,” Barricade said. “That’s so fraggin’ adorable. He picked his alt mode so you’d match.” 

“Actually,” Blackout said, “That is pretty cute.” 

Cute? Bonecrusher felt his tanks swirl with nausea. 

“Did you do the redeco to match better too?” Barricade asked. Brawl nodded his head.

 Bonecrusher slapped his palm over his face. Surrounded by idiots. And sadists. And sadistic idiots. He gritted his teeth. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s do this.” 

“Really?” Brawl clapped his clawed hands together, excitedly. 

“Dammit, yes. I’ve done a lot of things I regret in my life. What’s one more?” He looked up at the comm. “Only doing this so you’ll unlock the door.”

“So,” Barricade said, calmly. “You’re only fucking him so you can kill me afterwards? Huh. I can live with that.” 

“Awww,” Blackout said, “A martyr to love. Always knew you were a romantic.”

“Ack! Get off me, copter—oooohhhhh not the wing fairiiiiiiings…..” A bump against the comm pickup. 

Brawl poked at Bonecrusher’s torso, where the interface module should be. He looked up, his face resigned to his own stupidity. “Ummm, where is it?”

Bonecrusher grunted. “Right. Took some damage a few vorns ago. Panel’s moved to the back.” He tapped roughly somewhere below his shoulder. Maybe it had been a while if even he had to think about where the component parts were. And maybe—now, here’s a distasteful thought—Barricade was right. Not a lot of mechs got the kind of open admiration he could see in Brawl’s stupid little eyes.    No one said he had to reciprocate the feeling, right?

Bonecrusher flinched away from the unfamiliar touch on his back, his tail whipping. He exvented sharply. “Sorry,” he said, grudgingly. “Not…umm, used to that.” 

“See, Barricade? That’s how you’re supposed to act. Not like that time you punched me in the face.”

“I,” Barricade’s voice was muffled, “cannot see a damn thing right now because once again, your chest gun’s got me right in the…ooooohhhhhh, stop doing that.” His voice went melty. 

“Ummm,” Brawl ran his small hands over Bonecrusher’s module. Green lights only slowly staggered up the indicator panel. “Can I like kiss you or something?”  

“Very well,” Bonecrusher said. Those two idiots sounded distracted, and one of them would be dead before recharge cycle so, what dignity did he have left to lose?   He lowered his head to give Brawl a sedate peck on the cheek. 


Brawl’s surprisingly strong (for a runt) arms grabbed him, bracing his head against the treads on his shoulders, as his mouth pushed against Bonecrusher’s. Their cheekplates rubbed together and Brawl’s glossa slid against his in a way that wasn’t…entirely…unpleasant. 

Well, no sense making this more unpleasant than it absolutely had to be, right? There was plenty to hate about the scenario already. And it really wasn’t (and Bonecrusher really didn’t believe he was saying this himself) this idiot’s fault. Why take it out on him when Barricade was a much better target?

Brawl squealed as he felt Bonecrusher’s mouth move on his, his optics widening, before his hands clutched at Bonecrusher’s arms again. Bonecrusher felt an unexpected and unfamiliar sensation as his module pinged him. It sent off a test-pulse of the datastream that almost staggered him. Had it been so long that the whole system booting up needed to test?

He jerked the smaller mech against him, roughly, heaving him off his feet. Brawl squirmed, making little grunting noises. Bonecrusher remembered how this went, but he’d need the smaller mech’s help. Damn relocation. How do you plug in a mod in your own back? Fraggin’ repair bots. Wouldn’t surprise him in the least to discover that slagger Barricade was behind that, too. 

Still, his module pinged its readiness to him again, and Brawl squirming over his armor felt, actually, kind of unhateable. This was new territory. Bonecrusher reflexively hated new territory. He especially wasn’t fond of the tingles it sent through his sensor net, the light wiggling touches of Brawl’s armor over his. 

“All right, I’m ready,” he said, putting Brawl back down on his feet. The tank looked down, disconsolate. “What? Aren’t you?”

“Wow,” Blackout commented. “Someone needs lessons in foreplay.”

“Think he needs lessons in any kind of play, really. Now, look, you stop doing that or I’m gonna be forced to—“

This time, the copter’s deep voice moaned over the comm. “Ha!” Barricade barked. “Teach you to distract me.”

“What did I walk in on here?” A new voice shrilled across the comm. “This hardly looks like an appropriate use of surveillance resourc---is that who I think it is?”

“Yeah,” Blackout explained. “They’re currently having foreplay issues.”

“Then my arrival was most timely. That is my specialty.” Bonecrusher could practically hear Starscream’s smirk. He wanted to rip it out of the air and shove it down his face.

“Difference between foreplay and teasing,” Barricade muttered. His voice seemed…a little odd.

“Only because you never come to collect, Barricade.”

“Oh try me, Starscream,” Barricade said. His voice was definitely weird. Bonecrusher decided it was because he was trying to sound seductive. Bleurgh.

“Later. Now we have much more pressing matters. Allow me to get a chair.” A hesitation and some dragging noises. “Ah yes, let us see. Brawl. Perhaps you could pet Bonecrusher’s tail? I suspect that might be sensitive.” 

Brawl nodded at the comm and reached for Bonecrusher’s tail. Bonecrusher hissed at him. “What the frag are you doing?”

“He, uh, knows what he’s doing? Well, more than I do.” Brawl’s red optics were wet and pleady.

Bonecrusher rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He whipped his tail closer to Brawl, his face set, as Brawl tentatively stroked the tines. His optic shutters twitched. It did feel…not bad. Fraggin’ Starscream. He felt he should be doing something, so he ran a hand over the treads near Brawl’s face. Brawl shivered, his clearing combs on the front of his chassis rippling with pleasure against Bonecrusher’s side. 

“That is adequate, Brawl. Now, Bonecrusher, perhaps you could lick his cannon?”

“No.” The minesweeper had some dignity.

“I AM THE VOICE OF PRIMUS,” Barricade belted, then collapsed, giggling. “DO IT.”

“Blackout, I am rather upset with you: You have broken Barricade,” Starscream said, mildly. 

“I didn’t break him, look. He’s fine!”

“BRAWL,” Barricade bellowed again. The tank jumped. “YOU SHALL PLEASE PRIMUS MIGHTILY IF YOU CAN DISCOVER WHICH ARE BONECRUSHER’S DRIVETRAIN TIRES.”

“Case in point, Blackout: Barricade is not normally this…giddy.” 

Brawl’s eyes were wide, his smaller claws flexing as he eyeballed the array of tires Bonecrusher had to offer. “How, uh, how many guesses do I get?”

A pause. “NINE.” Barricade collapsed giggling again.

“But, he…only…has…?” Well, Brawl didn’t want to waste any of his guesses.

“Now, Blackout, seriously. What have you done to Barricade?”

A sad hrumph from the copter. “Fine. There’s a reset button at the mounting brace of the module. If you hit it just as the mech is fading out, it more or less rolls him right into another overload. Without resetting the other to pulse again.”

“So…you’ve had Barricade more or less continually overloading for…how long?”

“Half a cycle.” 

“Ah, in that case, he’s keeping himself together admirably.” A crashing sound. “You might want to pick him up, though: Your cables are getting tangled.” They heard a distant singing ‘dooot dooodooootdooot’ in the background. Oh Primus, Bonecrusher thought. If that’s what overloading does to a mech, I don’t want any part of it.

“And how did you discover this interesting series of factlets?”

“I read the manual. What? Doesn’t anyone read the manual?”

“I,” Starscream said, defensively, “am more of a kinesthetic learner.”

“I can’t read so good!” Brawl volunteered.

“Manuals are for losers, copter,” Barricade slurred. Another semi-crashing sound. “Oh, Starscream. Where you been hiding these hot little toes?”

“An—oh!—ANYway,” Starscream continued. “Brawl: drivetrain tires are good, if you can find them. But we might need to escalate, as Bonecrusher appears impatient. You may get his module now.” Brawl nodded obediently. Bonecrusher stood, numb. This was the most insane thing he’d ever seen, much less somehow gotten himself involved in. 

“Verrrry shtrategic!” Barricade chirped.

“Blackout, I think it might be time to disconnect Barricade. I do not think any of us could handle him any more….”

“Goofy? I kinda like it.” 

“I hate it,” Bonecrusher snapped.

“You hate everything, Bonecrusher. It makes you seem, apparently, rather unidimensional.”

Bonecrusher flinched. Did the jet just call him shallow? He was about to protest when Brawl’s smaller hands wrapped around his module. His objections kind of…evaporated. Brawl brought the module around to the front, holding it up to the comm’s blinking eye. “Good?”

“Yes, that looks adequate. Do you need instructions from here?”

“No,” Bonecrusher snapped, swiping the module from Brawl’s grasp. “We do not.” He grabbed for Brawl’s hatch. Hesitated, looking into Brawl’s eager face. “You ready to get this over with?”

“Yes? No?”

Close enough. Bonecrusher handed Brawl the tank’s own module. “You’re gonna have to….” Brawl leaned behind him. Hesitated. “What now?!” Bonecrusher said, impatiently.

“I—thought maybe you wanted to take lead?”

Great. Someone else who probably read the manual. Or had it acted out for him in hand puppets or something. “Fine,” Bonecrusher said, plugging his module into Brawl’s port. Brawl whimpered for a moment, before connecting his own module. Bonecrusher rocked back at the feel of his module’s datastream, and then at the faster, higher rhythm of Brawl’s against his sensornet. He felt his own long arms curve around, pulling Brawl against him, leaning his weight on him as his own servos seemed unable to support his frame’s mass. Bonecrusher found himself shuddering against Brawl, resting his chin on the tank’s head, while Brawl’s arms scrabbled for the sensitive cables under his arm plating. The datastreams fought for synchrony, Brawl’s forcing itself slower, Bonecrusher’s racing ahead just a bit, flares and tingles of light and color and heat and sensation bursting across Bonecrusher’s sensornet like odd, short-lived stars. 

“Ghuh!” Bonecrusher cried out, falling forward, barely managing to catch himself on his hyperlong arms as the overload swept over him. Beneath him, Brawl slithered to the floor, quivering and whimpering in his own overload. 

Bonecrusher rested on his knuckles, feeling his cooling fans roar on. That felt impossible and out of control. He hated feeling out of control.

He looked up at the comm. “Reset at the base of the module plate?”

“Yeah,” Blackout responded. “Why?”

“No reason.” He reached down to the still-quivering form of Brawl, half in fade out, one long talon searching for, and finding, the reset. Brawl moaned softly. Bonecrusher could feel, through their connected modules, another build through the smaller mech. This felt…better. Not out of control. Good.

Brawl clambered up Bonecrusher as the mine destroyer dropped to his knees, pulling Bonecrusher into a fierce kiss, biting at Bonecrusher’s mouth with his larger underplate.

“Awwwwww,” Barricade burbled. “Would you look at that? Sooooo hot. Cute li’l sub Brawlie.” 

“You,” Starscream’s voice murmured, “are not in much better condition, Barricade.”   A desperate moaning sound, and then a barely audible, “what is it with you flyboys and  doorwings….seriously…..”

Brawl whimpered against Bonecrusher as another overload hit and he started to fade out. “Again?” Bonecrusher asked. The beady red eyes nodded, glowing in naked adulation, the small claws locking into the arch of Bonecrusher’s pelvic frame as Brawl faded out. Bonecrusher reached for the reset again. His own module was building only slowly, just swirling with pleasant shared wash, not even ready to datapulse. This, he liked, actually. 

“So, Blackout,” Starscream’s voice was quiet, sly. “What else have you learned from the manual?”

A smile that even carried through the comm. “Only up to page thirty-six.” 

 

Next: Civilizing Barricade

Comments

[mmouse15.livejournal.com]

Oh. My. Primus! NOW I get your icon (iz slow) and I'm grinning as I type this. It was hilarious! Brawl's cute, and Blackout overloading Barricade over the comm and just a;lskdjfadslf. I love humourous sexual interludes!