Morning after

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
TFA Inamorato AU
Blackout/Barricade
Sticky, Angst

Following Separation.  Just a bit of b'awwwwww. 

Barricade popped his optics open a few cycles before Blackout’s chrono alarm usually went off.  Time to face consequences, he thought.  The thought did not go down well on his empty fuel tank or his too-full conscience.  And it suddenly seemed like a total creep thing to do to crawl up on Blackout while he was recharging like this.  Just because you CAN do something, Barricade, doesn’t mean you should.  And just because you wanted to….

Words to fraggin’ live by. 

Before he could even start thinking what to do, though, the copter’s arms tightened around him, smooshing his doorwings against the broad chassis. 

“You’re back!” Blackout’s voice rumbled against his back kibble.

Barricade felt a firm kiss on his helm.  He waited for the inevitable questions or blame. Or at least guilt.  Frag, he was so primed for a guilt trip he had his luggage all packed and a tip for the skycap.  He was eight different flavors of dirtbag and the copter deserved something much…better tasting.

Huh, he should stop with these metaphors when he just woke up.  Not at the top of his verbal game. 

He waited some more, stiff.  Come on, copter. Bring it. I’m ready.  Just…hit me already.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Blackout asked. 

Barricade blinked. Wow. Okay. The copter was just pulling his punch. Waiting for the right moment. Play along.  “I, uhhh, have no plans.”

“Well,” Blackout said, leaning back, pulling at one of Barricade’s shoulders so they could face each other, though he kept his one arm curved protectively around the smaller mech, “I don’t gotta work tonight so we can do just about anything.”  He leaned over and pecked at one of Barricade’s shoulder tires.  “Unless Onslaught needs you.”

Barricade winced. Yeah, like that wasn’t deliberate. “Onslaught can go frag himself!”

Blackout drew back at the vehemence in Barricade’s voice.  Very, very cautiously he asked, “You…okay, Barricade?”

No of COURSE I’m not okay! Barricade wanted to yell. No. Not fair. You’re the jerk here. Do NOT, for once, take it out on someone else. Least of all Blackout. “Yeah,” he said, tightly. “Fine.” 

“Kinda hot, too,” Blackout teased, his hand coming back over to stroke down Barricade’s body.  Barricade squirmed in spite of himself. Frag but that copter could get his engines going.  “Missed you,” Blackout said, then cut himself short. As if that were too far. 

Barricade ground his hands together. “Look, I—“

“No, you don’t gotta tell me anything.  I understand. It’s cool.”  Blackout leaned over to plant a warm kiss on his mouth, effectively stifling further argument. 

“Mmmph!”  Barricade tried anyway, then gave up.  Why protest when you’re getting a face full of copter?  He let himself sink into it, the copter’s mouth warm and insistent on his, pushing, but not too hard, the glossa flirting with his. His entire interface system blazed on, almost audibly. Fraggin’ hot copter distracting him from his misery with his coptery hotness.

Blackout broke the kiss, gently, grinning down at him.  His olive facial plates quivered with emotion.  Trying not to say something too tacky.  He didn’t want to push Barricade away; not when he’d just gotten back.  His optics flicked over Barricade’s frame, taking him in, memorizing him.  His optics froze on a too-new tire. His trembling smile faded. “You got hurt!” he blurted. 

Frag!  Slaggin’ observant copter! “Nothing major. I’m fine.” He rotated the tire. “See? Everything’s cool.”  He frowned, a ball of worry bobbing around in his tanks at the hurt look on Blackout’s face.  “Really,” he said, lamely. “I’m…fine.”

He could see the war playing out in Blackout’s processor.  Slaggin’ easy-to-read copter.  Torn between wanting to know, and afraid of offending Barricade with his worry.  Barricade’s spark ached. 

Blackout leaned over, pressing his warm mouthplates gently over the too-new tire.  “I’m sorry you got hurt,” he said.  Struggling, Barricade knew, to understand.  To not ask what any decent reasonable mech would have already offered. 

“Fraggin’ Onslaught!” he blurted. 

Blackout’s facial crests went rigid. “Onslaught did this to you?” His optics lit with cold rage.

Barricade squirmed. An orbital cycle ago, he’d’ve gone with it. Let Onslaught take the blame. Not that the fraggin’ Combaticon was Mr. Innocent.  “No. Sorry. It was the mission.”  Which wasn’t really a mission. Which I didn’t need to go on.  But I did anyway.

“Nobody,” he said. “My own damn fault. Got sloppy.” Slaggin’ Slingshot and his slaggin’ rigged-to-blow cube.  And slaggin’ observant Blackout. And slaggin’ Onslaught.  Everyone’s fault. Except Barricade. 

“Sloppy?” Blackout poked the tire, tracing along the mounting rim that was still pocked with shrapnel.  “This looks like it coulda been bad.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not and I’m here and so what.” His tone was truculent. Back off, copter. Don’t want to talk about it. Not another bolo’d mission. Not…why I’d left.

“Oh.  Okay.  I just…I’m sorry,” the copter hung his head, brushing his mouth apologetically over Barricade’s chassis. “Sorry I worried. Just so glad you’re back, though.” He squeezed Barricade against him. 

Uh yeah, something else I, uh…had to do.  Barricade squirmed.   If Blackout’s optics had been any less worried, he might have been able to resist.  “I just…uhhhh,...,” he broke contact, dropping his optics to Blackout’s chassis, hovering inches over his own. “I fragged Onslaught!” he blurted.  His hands balled into useless fists.

“You…what?”  Blackout’s optics flew wide.

Barricade winced, keeping his optics shuttered for far longer than was necessary.  “I…I fragged Onslaught. Or he did me. I don’t even know.” His voice got scratchy and thin. “I’m sorry.”  He forced himself to open his optics, to see the hurt on Blackout’s face.  It was everything he’d dreaded.  He felt…something he’d never felt before, almost like an acid burn its way up his chassis from the inside. “I-I’m sorry,” he repeated, dumbly. What the pit was this slaggin’ awful feeling?  Oh, right. Guilt. It sucked. 

“W-why?”

Why do you think? Part of Barricade’s cortex snapped.  “I’m sorry because I…uhhh, didn’t want to get you…you know…upset like this.” 

“No, I mean, why you do it? Do Onslaught?”

Barricade writhed.  “Look, uh, do we really have to talk about it right now?”

Blackout frowned.  Struggling.  “No. Guess not.”  He looked miserably unhappy. 

Barricade could practically hear him struggling for something else to talk about. Barricade sighed.  “Look. I can’t really explain it. And it’s not like I wanted it to happen.” Oh, hello there understatement.  “He just started needling at me and I kind of lost my cool and….”

“And you ended up interfacing?”  From anyone else it would sound cutting. The copter merely sounded confused. Yeah, those dots were pretty hard to connect. 

“Yeah.” Barricade shut all four of his optics.  “Sounds ridiculous.”  He whimpered as Blackout shifted his weight, pushing off, sitting up.  When he opened his optics, he saw Blackout sitting, hunched over, petting one of his rotors, his face scrunched with some really sad emotion.  He rolled off the berth, curling around his misery. “Uhhh, I’ll just go, all right?” It was the rotor stroking that got to him—a simple, sparklinglike gesture, that told Barricade more than any screaming rage or tears how much he’d hurt Blackout. Frag.  Should have been killed by that explosion. Wouldn’t have had to face this. 

“Wh-what’s he got I don’t got?” Blackout asked, quietly enough that Barricade could pretend he didn’t hear it. 

Yeah. Barricade heard it.  He paused.  “Nothing.  It’s not him that’s the problem. It’s me.”

“I don’t understand,” Blackout wailed.  They struck Barricade as the saddest three words he had ever heard. Just a simple plea. Just the hardest question in the universe. From the copter who was so certain he was stupid. 

“I don’t either,” Barricade said.  He dropped back down onto the berth.  “I…uhh…just sometimes need it kind of rough.” There. He’d said it. Kind of. In the way he usually did: sort of glitching at the end. He studied his talons, embarrassed.  Stupid Barricade. Ruined the best thing that ever happened to him because of his stupid violence glitch.  Hurt Blackout, too, that was worse.

You suck, Barricade.  Least you can do is look him in the face.  See what you’ve done. Really.  He turned, leaning around his shoulder kibble.  Blackout’s face was streaked with lens lubricant, one or two drops trailing down his facial crests, glittering in the light.  Barricade burned with self-hatred.  Blackout looked up.  Wait for it, Barricade told himself. Let him yell at you, scream, punch you.  Let him do it.  Don’t even THINK of fighting back. 

“I-is that all?”

Barricade blinked. 

“I mean, is that all? Just like…how he interfaces?  Not because he’s like…smarter than me?”

“Frag no!” The words burst from Barricade with a vehemence he didn’t know he had.

“You sure?”

“Frag yes I’m sure!”  Barricade said, hotly.  “Want to punch him in the face on a regular basis.” 

He saw a tentative smile through the dripping lens lubricant. 

“Look, Blackout. I…I’m just wrong. It’s me that’s the problem. And I don’t know how to fix it.”  He wanted to throw his arms around Blackout. Which showed how glitched he was. Yeah, hurt the copter, then go rush to comfort him. That’s sane.  “Want me to leave?” he offered, quietly.

“No. Never.”  The copter’s arm swung out possessively, and Barricade went ‘oof’ against the dark grey chassis.  “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

You do not even know, Barricade thought, bitterly.  “I, uhhh, kill mechs.”

“So did I,” the copter shrugged, metal plates moving all around Barricade. “War.  Kinda happens like that and stuff.”

“No, I mean, like…I killed them and I liked it. Like…’liked it’ liked it.” Oh, that was coherent.  Marvelous.  Maybe you should start a debate team or something for your next trick. Assassin, wordsmith, jerk. Awesome.

Another shrug, the metal sliding against Barricade’s armor.  “Yeah? I like Seeker Cadets.”

Uhhhh, not the same, copter.  Like, at all.  Like….no one’s dead.  Barricade couldn’t even figure out how to approach this one when Blackout shifted and Barricade suddenly found himself sprawled face down on the berth, one of Blackout’s large hands pinning him between the doorwings.  Uh. What?

“Like this?” Blackout’s voice rumbled, over him.  He tweaked one door.

Barricade’s first instinct—to fight back—collided messily with his second instinct—don’t hurt the copter.  He more or less locked up.  “What are you doing?” he managed to squeak into the berth. 

The weight shifted, and he felt a chassis against his back kibble, and Blackout’s voice in his audio. “This what you like?”

“I…,” he winced as Blackout bit down onto his tire mount.  Mixed signals of pleasure and pain, confusion and desire, raced from the contact point, straight to his interface systems.  He whimpered as Blackout leaned further over, pushing his legs apart with one knee.  “What are you doing?” he repeated.

“Anything Onslaught can do, I can do,” Blackout said, with a firmness he didn’t really feel. This feels weird, Blackout thought.  But Barricade was worth being a little weirded out. And he could handle it.  For Barricade.   “Even more ‘cause I can fly and stuff.”  He raked a hand down Barricade’s side, skirting across his aft to the underside of his interface hatch.  Barricade shivered.  Blackout focused on Barricade’s reaction, the helpless way Barricade squirmed, the aft sliding against his palm.  He lightened the touch, brushing gently, lovingly, over the battered metal. Barricade sighed. 

Torn? No, not Barricade.  Frag.  His interface systems were flashing green at him, as if waving to get his attention.  But…he really didn’t want Blackout to see this side of him. Really.  Copter didn’t deserve that.  Blackout grabbed for a wrist tire, twisting it tentatively, experimentally.  Barricade could feel the copter’s optics, almost heavier than his weight, assessing his response. He felt like…a freak. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he gasped into the flat metal of the berth. 

“I’m not that fragile, Barricade,” Blackout said, softly. His voice was more than a little sad.  “Been through a war and all.”  He could feel the strange arousal from Barricade.  Something he’d never seen before.  That made him sad.  That Barricade had been…keeping this from him. Not like a secret or nothin’, but something he didn’t feel that Blackout could share.  It…hurt.  He didn’t want to be shut out.  He tightened his grip on the wrist, feeling the tire bulge around his talons.

Barricade felt his mouth quirk, almost against his will. Primus he didn’t want this, but part of him did.  That part that was Shadowblade, that reveled in pain, in violence.  Wanted this. Wanted Blackout to hurt him. Oh, he wanted that too—wanted Blackout to take it out on him, all his rage and frustration and pain he MUST be feeling. Punish me.  For my sins.  For my self.

 He spun into the copter’s grip, letting his wrist get twisted around, his shoulder kibble coming to strike Blackout across the face.  Goading, taunting, Shadowblade’s grin.  The copter flinched back from the expression on Barricade’s face as much as the blow.  Barricade froze, half on his side, staring at the dent he’d made.  “Told you there was something wrong with me,” he snapped, hoping the tone covered the panic and regret that were swarming all over him. Frag.  Can’t even apologize right. 

“Nothin’ wrong with you,” Blackout said, ducking his head to wipe his cheek against his chassis.  “You’re Barricade. It’s who you are.”  The honesty burned the air between them, along with what Blackout didn’t have the courage to say.  ‘And I love you. All of you.’ He pinned the arm between them, ducking in to kiss the back of Barricade’s neck.  “And I can do this if you need me to.”

“Don’t want you to have to,” Barricade said, grinding his mouthplates together.

Blackout shrugged, the rotors trailing along the berth.  “And I don’t want you to feel you gotta go to Onslaught.”  He loved Barricade. He was terrified to say it, not just now, not right now, when Barricade was on the verge of falling away from him.  But he would. He’d do anything for Barricade.  The only mech who didn’t make fun of him because he couldn’t read.  The only one who’d stood up for him.  The only one who ever told him he was hot. 

Barricade writhed. “Please? Come on.  I don’t want this.”  There was something like pain on his face, as if all of his desire that had tingled through him before had somehow changed, transmuted.  Blackout released him instantly, awash with regret. 

“Sorry,” Blackout said. He hung over the smaller mech, arms limp, wanting desperately to hold Barricade, but afraid he’d offended.  Their optics met for a long moment, each trembling in a lake of fear and vulnerability.  Barricade reached up, tentatively, pulling the copter down onto him, wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders, his body shaking with emotion against the larger frame.  Blackout scooped him against his chassis, feeling the smaller body curl around his bulk.  “I don’t wanna lose you,” Blackout breathed. The body shuddered against him and he could feel the smaller talons digging under his armor, clutching against him.

“Don’t want to be lost,” Barricade said, his voice very, very small, his face pressed into the copter’s armor. 



 

 

Comments

[zomgitsalaura.livejournal.com]

b'awwww. poor blackout (glee's at the rotor petting)
he'll really do ANYTHING to keep his little car.
poor barricade too :(



(snuggle antepathy due to authors comments.)

[playswithworms.livejournal.com]

The luggage! and the skycap! *roffles* Oh Barricade, you crack me up. And break my heart. Running off to work so sorry nothing more coherent, but GAH! *hugs 'em both*

[wicked3659.livejournal.com]

You must coin the term coptery hotness!! ^___^ these two one of my OTP's for sure. Blackout is awkwardly adorable and barricade is as always pure gold. Always get me squeeeing and melting into a puddle when you write these two.

[swordage]

Oh I love these boys. So much. The whole time I was thinking "Oh, Blackout, you darling, you are so wonderful but I am not sure you can be That Guy, I am not sure you want to do that to yourself at all," and then the end - oh, it's perfect. They're both hurt but they're hurt together and I feel like just maybe this will work out.

And seriously - props to Barricade for being honest. And for doing his best to not hurt Blackout with his honesty, even though I'm sure that little voice inside is screaming to push Blackout away by whatever means necessary.