The Best Reason
Jul. 20th, 2010 08:17 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
fluffiness.
written for
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tf_rare_pairing 'celebrations' challenge.
Barricade whisked the Café Outrage bags under the cabinet as he heard the door to their cube code open. Yeah, he had no chance of passing the food off as anything like what he could do, which was more in the realm of, you know, heating up ration packs. But if Blackout saw the bags first he’d start asking questions about the expense. Not in a bad way—Blackout was always the one pushing that they should ‘live a little’, and with Barricade’s own income, added to Blackout’s, and both of their veterans’ stipends, well, yeah, they could totally afford a splurge like this.
And they needed a splurge right now: Blackout had been doing double shifts between his usual job at Inamorato, and doing security duties for Megatron. Blackout would never complain, of course, but the tension was showing. Copter needed a night to relax and…you know. Get some wild hot coptersex.
Frag yeah. Coptersex…. Barricade’s thoughts drifted for a klik, only to come back as he heard the copter’s approach.
Right: the point was, this was free splurge. Which to Barricade, was the best kind. Onslaught had asked him to name a small reward for his, you know, not-so-small role in saving Megatron’s life from the assassination attempt. And yeah, maybe it did look weird to ask for a voucher for a fancy-schmancy caterer and a night off for both of them as a reward, but, so what? Barricade considered it as a thumb to the nasal plating at Onslaught, a statement that he was definitely Still With the Copter.
Not that Onslaught had ever even obliquely referred back to, you know, that one time, but Barricade still felt himself on edge every time he was alone with the Combaticon commander. So any invocation of Blackout was a good thing.
And Bonecrusher’s cooking, he hated to admit, was a wonderful thing. Frag, who knew the hideous mine-destroyer could do anything useful? Still, Bonecrusher had handed over the bags with only minimal disgust, but noting that this time he had included utensils so that Barricade could at least pretend not to be a complete savage. Yeah, whatever. Barricade was tempted to eat the food with his face right there in the shop, maybe smear it over his chassis for good measure.
But then he’d thought of Blackout and had restrained himself. Which had led him to the depressing possibility that Blackout was…really starting to change him. He did not know if this was a good thing or not.
What was a good thing—a very big and very sexy and sheepishly good thing—was Blackout, who was blinking in the doorway, his olfactory sensors quivering at the smell of the food. Barricade stifled a grin. Already working. Project Destress the Copter was going forth on all cylinders.
“What’s…all this?”
“This,” Barricade said, grinning, “is food.” He’d laid it out according to Bonecrusher’s rather lengthy and testy instructions, by the number, setting a few on heat pods and one container in a chiller. Not because he gave half a frag about Bonecrusher’s persnickety notions of haute cuisine, but because he wanted maximum deliciousness for the copter.
“Uhhh, yeah. I know that. I mean like…what’s it for?”
“Uhhhh, eating?” Barricade shrugged. Yeah, he had no idea what half the stuff was called. He’d just told Bonecrusher to whip up something extra-delicious with a side of scrumptious. And from the looks of the contents of the cartons he’d spread out on the counter, Bonecrusher had thrown in the chi-chi decorations and garnishes and stuff as a bonus. “I don’t know. It’s delicious. That’s all you need to know.” Well, it was all he needed to know, at any rate.
“Yeah, but, I mean, like…why?”
And just like that, all the suave, charming, really sexy speeches Barricade had practiced, to explain how much the copter meant to him, and how he couldn’t ever say it enough and he’d hoped that this would at least help Blackout to understand…kinda fell out of Barricade’s vocalizer and clattered to the floor at his feet. “I, uhh,…for you?” he squeaked. Then gritted his optics shut. Frag, that sounded stupid. Face it, Barricade, you are SO not romance material.
The optics under the copter’s olive crest quivered. “You, uhhh, don’t have to do stuff like this.”
“Yeah, I know. Just…you know?” LAME, Barricade. He turned and grabbed for a plastic tray Bonecrusher had labeled ‘1’ and thrust it toward the copter. “Here.”
Blackout took the tray obediently, blinking. He looked worried, his rotors drooping. “Barricade?” he asked, quietly. “I’m super sorry.”
It was Barricade’s turn to blink, surprised. “Sorry for what?” He felt his spark sink. Did…Blackout have bad news? It would totally be Barricade’s luck that he’d make this big deal surprise feast just as Blackout finally realized he could do so much better and ditched him. Maybe Blackout finally realized that Barricade, you know, stalking him halfway across the planet to Iacon made him…less-than-sane-or-terrific relationship material. Barricade snatched one of the fried energon sticks from the tray and crammed it in his mouth, barely tasting it, determined to get some of it down before the bad news broke and ruined everything. No sense mourning on an empty tank, after all.
“I…uhh,” Blackout looked around the laden counters. “It’s…not your online day, or mine, so…,” his head drooped. “I don’t know what day it is we’re celebrating and stuff. And so I, uhhh, don’t have anything for you. He stared at the tray in his hands. “Not even a crummy card or nothin’.”
Oh. Barricade felt his smaller set of optics prickle. Fraggin’ copter. “It’s not any day in particular,” he said, quietly. “Nothing like that. Just, you know…I wanted to give you a good time,” he finished lamely.
Blackout’s mouth quivered. “You don’t gotta do all this stuff for me to have a good time with you, Barricade.”
Barricade ducked his head. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled. Well he didn’t really know that. It seemed to make good sense to, you know, remind the copter how much he meant. It’s how you worked confidential informants, right? Gotta keep reminding them what they get out of it too.
Wow, Barricade. That’s a…pretty bad analogy. But he didn’t really know anything different. His entire life had been the war. Which was what made him just so…pathetically awful at this. Probably a stupid idea. His doorwings drooped.
“Just…wanted to, is all.”
Blackout put the tray down carefully on the counter, and gathered Barricade up in his arms. Barricade melted against the chassis. Barricade sighed, feeling the familiar contours of Blackout’s olive facial armor warm and beloved against his. “That’s the best reason of all to celebrate.”
Epilogue
Bonecrusher would have imploded at the wreck they made of all of his hard work—sitting on the floor, surrounded by the containers, feeding each other nibbles with their fingers. Yeah, whatever. That’s what made it fun. “Your turn,” Barricade said.
“Okay!” Blackout picked up the datapad and hit the random number generator. “Seven!” he said, his rotors flaring happily, as though he’d won a prize. “Uh-oh.” He lifted the empty container. “We’re out of seven.”
Barricade leaned over. “So we are. Hunh.”
“What do we do now?” The ‘eating them in random order just to honk off Bonecrusher’ had been Barricade’s idea, so…yeah, emendations to the rules probably did belong to him, too.
Barricade grinned. “We have to substitute.”
“Oh!” Blackout looked over the containers. “So like…number eight or maybe number six or since it’s a prime number it should be five or something?” His crest was ridged with concentration as he stared along the row.
“Better substitution,” Barricade said, pulling the copter’s hand away from the datapad. “Me.”
A slow grin, like a sunrise, spread over Blackout’s face. The smile burned, like a mirror was catching the light of it in a place near Barricade’s spark, as the copter rolled over, following Barricade’s motion, looming over him. “You,” Blackout said, dropping in for a fast kiss. “are the best substitution there is.” A moment’s hesitation. Blackout looked up, his head tilting. “Only, you’re not a substitution for anything. You’re just, like…the best and stuff.” He looked worried. Yeah, it was a pretty awful joke, but, whatever. Of all the things he got from the copter, he could totally deal with a less-than-witty sense of humor.
“I am,” Barricade grinned, wiggling one foot, which was right by the copter’s interface hatch. “And I will so totally prove it.”
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Date: 2010-07-20 01:27 pm (UTC)*sits in corner with a glee*
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Date: 2010-07-22 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 01:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 05:04 pm (UTC)Love it! X3
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Date: 2010-07-22 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-21 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 01:13 pm (UTC)Glad you liked!
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Date: 2010-07-21 03:56 am (UTC)More fluffy things to flail about!
*flails wildly*
Foooooooooood and feeding each other is totally the best date ever!!!
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Date: 2010-07-22 01:14 pm (UTC)