Missing You 2/2
Jul. 1st, 2010 09:18 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
niyazi-a.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shadow_vectorTFA: Inamorato AU
Barricade/Blackout, Megatron, ensemble
no warnings
This, Barricade thought, sourly, from where he perched in the ventilation duct, could go on forever. Nothing quite as ponderous and dull as two ginormous tungsten-alloyed egos ramming at each other. Frag. They should get a room. He shifted his position, his optics searching out Blackout. The copter stood by, either bored senseless or completely hung up in his role. Copter took his job seriously.
But look. He's safe. He's safe. Relax. Barricade felt some of his restlessness ebb. He wished he believed in that woo woo nonsense these ninjabots allegedly did. He’d give anything to be able to reach out and touch the copter. He had the comm freq but…yeah. That would be like admitting he was a little crazy. Oh hey Blackout. Look up. No, a little to the left. Little more. Little more. Okay, there. I stalked you here.
Fraggin’ copter would ditch him so fast his last words would dopplershift.
He shifted his position, drying energon itching into his claws. It had been a real act of will, and far more than the fraggin' wannabe Elities deserved for him NOT to just up and kill them, but, well, he didn't know how this would go down; he KNEW Onslaught wouldn't cover his aft again, especially not for yet another rogue mission; and frag, the copter must be rubbing off on him because he couldn't justify killing them because they hadn't really done anything to deserve it. And now. Frag.
He'd probably live to regret that act of 'mercy'. But right now, it was worth everything to see Blackout safe and looming ominously, optics tracking Sentinel's every move. And to know that he was here to help in case things went even further down.
He'd spotted a bit of...what might be evidence on his way in. Which honked him off because it meant he'd have to take it to Onslaught to have it interpreted, so his whole little emo-tantrum would come to light sooner or later. Which would be its usual brand of Onslaught's Very Special Un-Awesome. Still, he was a jerk but he knew better than to lie to Onslaught. Especially about this kind of thing. He'd taken flashsnaps like crazy. Here, I bring you evidence. Chew on conspiracy theories rather than my aft. For a change. One thing he could tell even without the spectrum analysis a full intel lab could pull from his cortical memory was that this was not a Decepticon job. It had all the hallmarks of an alien attack to him. Including the inability to follow up on what was obviously chaos.
Which made him wonder what the motive was. Maybe it was just chaos. But it couldn’t just be an accident that so many of the bombs had gone off near the Magnus’s hall. And the timing was pretty slaggin’ fishy too. The first meeting Megatron had in Iacon? Barricade wondered what the real topic of the meeting was supposed to be. Both of the leaders were sniping around each other, slapping ego to ego. Which was obviously not the real agenda—they could have done that just as well from vidscreens.
No. There had to be some reason they had to come face to face. Ewww, not that, you randy little freak.
Before he could think about that further—beyond how he didn’t want to think about thinking about THAT, the delegation broke up. Apparently the little disturbance he caused was the last sprocket. Good enough! He rejoiced. Time for everyone to blow this cyberclambake. Time, moreover, for hot coptersex.
The thought struck him—and it was a bad thought, that struck kind of like a wet rag splat across the windscreen—that Lugnut, Megatron and Blackout could all fly. And he…could not. Which mean Blackout would be home before he got there. And…that would suck. In ways he didn’t want to think about. Copterhotness ways. More than that, copter-worrying ways.
Frag.
He slithered on his belly down the ventilation shaft, his shoulder tires engaged against the duct’s low ceiling, pulling him along. Not pleasant, but fast. He had to get out of the building before the copter did. He popped out into the abandoned corridor he’d crawled in on, feeling a brief flare of competence. Oh look Barricade, something you didn’t frag up: didn’t get lost in the vent ducts. Yay you. You know what your prize is for that? NOTHING. Because that’s basic sparkling competence. Now stop patting yourself on the back kibble, or more likely, beating yourself up about not fragging stuff up and GET OUT of here!! Before, you know, you frag something up.
He bolted down the disused corridor, pausing at the window at the end. Something…wasn’t right. The same feeling he’d had that something was about to go down was…back up.
Barricade narrowed his optics, scanning the area, easing the window open. He found nothing. Then again, he didn’t know what this place usually looked like so trying to spot what was out of place was impossible. Right, option B: if he were to plot some Dirty Business, where would he have it go down?
He picked three spots that were likely for snipers. One, far left, a little almost gully of an alley between buildings, the pavement sunk down. Two, almost directly in front of the main door—too clear a shot, really, so he discounted it. Third, right side, two stories up. A window that gaped open. Frag, frag and frag.
Nothing to do but wait. Exit plans, forgotten. Barricade was going to listen to his inner systems this time. They’d never let him down.
Below him to left, a door cycled open. His intakes halted, as he saw Blackout and Lugnut, in perfect combat synchrony, step out. Megatron followed, after, presumably, one last barb at Sentinel.
Barricade’s tension spiked. He balanced himself on the window frame, glad for once of his slight stature. Blackout would barely be able to fit out the window, much less be able to squat on the frame. Come on come ON, he thought.
And it came. From the left, from the gully, the flash of what had to be a rifle sight catching in the security lights by the door. Aiming to hit Megatron but the round's path would go...straight through Blackout.
Barricade moved without thinking, launching himself into the air as though he could fly. The laser rifle cracked the air. He landed, hard, on Blackout’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground, just as the the shot sailed over, clipping Barricade’s heel. He heard Lugnut shout, and then the sound of Lugnut racing toward the sniper’s location, his feet tearing chunks of pavement as he ran.
Blackout shoved him off, roughly, and Barricade looked up to see the mech’s forearm guns aimed at him for…less than a klik before the red optics blinked, startled, quivering. “Barricade?”
He didn’t care. Didn’t care if Megatron got hit. DIdn’t care that he was leaking energon and his pain net was flaring angrily at him for the heel-shot. Didn’t care that this probably looked…really bad. All he cared about was that Blackout was safe.
In a classic case of Too Fraggin’ Little, Too Fraggin’ Late, the Elite Guard burst through the door, bristling weapons.
“I got him, bossmech,” the white ninja said, obviously on comm, as he sidled to Barricade. “I got the attacker.”
“Not the attacker,” Blackout said, his optics unreadable. “He saved me—Megatron. He saved Lord Megatron.”
Barricade blinked. Did…Blackout…just…lie?! For HIM? He felt something that may have been the prickle of tears.
“He’s not on the list you sent us,” another guard said. “You requested only these two.”
Megatron gave something that may have been as much sneer as smirk. “Yes. I requested that many. In some instances, I do not wish to be hampered by such…tedious paperwork.” His optics glinted. “Had my agent been on the list, he would not have been able to perform his duties as effectively. As effectively as…saving my life. From your security perimeter breach.” Definitely a smirk by the end, but Barricade was too in awe at the glossy smooth magnitude of the lies as they rolled off their leader’s vocalizer to react. His…agent? Megatron didn’t even know who he was! At best he’d seen the ‘con insignia on Barricade’s chassis.
Blackout stooped to pull Barricade to his feet. “Sorry,” Blackout murmured. “And sorry I gotta play dumb right now.” Meaning, no copterhug. Fine. Barricade balanced awkwardly on his injured foot, not trusting himself to do more than nod in acknowledgement.
Jazz’s visor gazed pointedly at Barricade. Doubtless, Barricade thought, remembering him from the museum escapade. Jazz was a little faster on the uptake than Sentinel. “Your…agent,” he repeated, dubious.
Barricade managed a saucy grin. Delirium that Blackout was safe and that Megatron wasn’t ripping his head off, which meant that Onslaught would probably not rip his head off either was making him a bit giddy. “Agent,” he echoed.
Megatron nodded. “I have not gotten where I am, Elite Guard, by trusting only one line of defense.”
Lugnut swore, lumbering back at them with a sparking half-frame of a mech dangling from his claw hand. “My lord! They succeeded in escaping!” He brandished the grey frame. “I...uh...attempted to take a prisoner.”
Megatron's expression was aggrieved, but he forced a patient tone. “You did...very well, Lugnut. As always.” Lugnut perked up under the compliment.
“Thank you, Lord Megatron!” He attempted to salute, the dangling limbs from the offlined mech thwacking him in the face.
“We shall take this as evidence, of course.”
“It shall stay here, in Iacon!” Sentinel stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind him, hands on hips, looking, presumably, heroic. After the fact, of course. When it was safe to show his face. “This attack took place in Iacon and thus is an Autobot affair.”
“The attempt was on my life,” Megatron said, coolly. “Which means that the investigation is my business.”
Sentinel puffed again. Barricade growled. Not again. His foot was hurting and leaking a disturbingly large pink puddle onto the ground. The giddiness was fading, probably leaking from his foot. This would take all night if something didn't happen. He didn’t have that much giddy—or energon.
“If you control the evidence,” Barricade snapped, “It certainly looks like you're covering for a conspiracy.” He shrugged, as Sentinel's outraged optics lit upon him. “Just saying how it looks.” The blue optics glared at him. He swiveled all four of his to meet them, knowing how unsettling the effect could be. One thing he liked about the copter—Blackout thought his optics were cool. It was, he remembered—what a slaggin' weird time to remember this one—that was the first sign he'd ever had that the copter was interested. A random comment he overheard. He blinked at the memory.
“He's got a point, bossbot,” Jazz said. Barricade's favorite kind of Autobot: unhappy but sensible.
He liked it more when Sentinel's face wore the same expression.
***
“Not upset that you got hurt, are you?” Blackout was kneeling on the floor of their apartment, the field kit open next to him. Barricade winced as the cleanser stung into the wound. He lay sprawled on the repair cradle. It had been...a loooooong night. First a debriefing on the trip back by Megatron himself. Yeah, any chance Barricade had of being Mr Disappear Into the Woodwork? Gone. THEN an especially grueling round of fun times with Onslaught and Vortex, who had only asked the obvious questions—so, why were you there again, Barricade?--when they wanted to rile him up. They both knew exactly why he was there. Fraggers. The both of them. Onslaught had offered him treatment, but Barricade had pulled himself up and insisted he was fine and limped out of there, leaving a leaking trail of dignity.
They could spend the rest of the wee hours speculating about Neuts and Gypsies and Quintessons (oh my!) if they wanted: Barricade had different priorities.
“No,” he said, quietly, watching the olive crest furrow in concentration as Blackout worked a pair of pliers into the bent armor to fasten the hose clamp to stop the leak “Sorry I had such a lame endgame. As usual.” Throwing himself bodily at the copter wasn't exactly a prize-winning strategy. Well, not for THAT kind of prize.
Blackout looked up, a tentative grin on his face. “Field expedient.”
Barricade tried to grin back, but the smile faded. “Uh...sorry I, you know, stalked you all the way over there. Not cool.” Just couldn't take knowing something was happening. War's fine, but watching helpless from the sidelines? Barricade couldn't do that.
Blackout lay the pliers down, taking one of Barricade's hands. “I'm not sorry.”
“It's, uh, not that I don't trust you, though. I mean. You can handle yourself. It's just that...frag. I, uh, missed you.” He lowered his gaze. Barricade, you suck at relationships. Pretty sure that 'I missed you so I followed you and watched you through a ventilation duct' was fairly high on the scale of crazy.
Blackout's optics glowed. He lay the pliers aside and clambered onto the repair cradle. Barricade sighed as the heavy arms wrapped around him. “Good thing you didn't miss when it counted,” Blackout said, quietly, squirming down for a kiss.
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Date: 2010-07-01 09:45 pm (UTC)It was great to see some more Inamorato! ^^
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Date: 2010-07-02 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-04 04:43 pm (UTC)i absolutely adored how Megatron totally pulled the Best Bullshit Ever out of his aft to cover for Barricade. way to make himself look better and Sentinel look worse. *thumbs up*
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Date: 2010-07-08 04:26 am (UTC)I scrolled back something like 135 posts on my f-list HOPING to find this. And I did. X3
AND Barricade oh you're so... so cute even when you're being tough and Blackout weee and WHOA MEGATRON PLAYED ALONG HEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!!!!!!!!
...Lol, sorry, I'm tired. But I love this story so yay and thanks for writing it!!!!!!!