shadow_vector | Snow Aftermath

PG-13
Bayverse
Blackout/Barricade
for

tf_rare_pairing prompt 'post-battle interfacing' Every time I tried to write this prompt raunchy it got really dark and dubconny. And I need fluff today, so...instead have some cutesy fluff following this fic.

Blackout laughed, the sound rumbling through his frame, against Barricade’s, as he pinned him down in the churned-up snow. One hand pushed Barricade’s right wrist tire into the ground, the other held most of his weight off the little grounder.

“Cram it, copter,” Barricade snapped, tossing a ball of slushy-wet snow at his head. Fraggin’ copter. Fraggin’ snow.

“No way,” Blackout said. “I won. I want a prize.” The mission had sucked, but they were two yards away from victory, with no enemy in sight. Normally he didn’t believe in premature celebration but…sometimes you just had to seize opportunity. Good strategy.

“You did NOT win,” Barricade groused. “You ran into me.” Slipped on packed snow, actually, plowing headlong into Barricade before Barricade could unleash his latest salvo of snowballs.

Blackout shrugged, rotors flaring. “Same difference. You want to move again, you have to do what I say.” He leaned a little more heavily onto Barricade, until the grounder made a satisfying little ‘eurk’ sound. Heh. Squashy. One way to keep the restless little grounder in one place.

“I got your ‘move again’,” Barricade snapped. His one free hand lobbed more and more snow at Blackout’s face. Blackout simply shuttered his right optic, sliding his cheek flanges over his mouth.

“Gonna run out of snow,” Blackout said, from under his flanges. Already the snow Barricade was lobbing at his head was getting sparser and wetter.

“It’ll snow again. Eventually.” Barricade squirmed, trying to reach a patch of fresher snow.

Blackout laughed. Barricade would actually probably wait for the next snow, too. “Really. What you think I’m going to make you do?”

Barricade shrugged, his shoulder tire skimming the flattened snow. He’d run out of fresh stuff to throw at Blackout. “Something horrible.”

“Horrible, huh?” Blackout shook his head, scattering the slushy wet stuff Barricade had tossed at his face. He opened his cheek flanges, his wedge mouth parting in a grin. “I got your horrible for you.”

“I bet you do, copter.” Barricade squirmed again under Blackout. Blackout grinned. Kinda tickled.

“Probably think you can make me sing or something. Uh no. Not falling for that again,” Barricade muttered. No way. Not singing the theme song to Seeker Cadets in the middle of the maintenance facility again. Only so much a mech can take of that sort of thing.

Blackout laughed again, pinning the other wrist down. “I do. My prize is,” He pushed off, driving his weight through his hands, pushing the wrists flat into the ground. He allowed his gaze to travel down, then up, Barricade’s frame, “you.”

“Me? No way, copter. Not going to be your freaky prize or anything. Just some fraggin’ snow.” Which itched. Barricade squirmed again, trying to scritch between his window-wings with the ground.

Blackout purred. “Look at you, tryin’ to be all cute for me.”

Barricade went rigid. “Cute? For? You?” He sounded like he could not believe such a thing was even possible. Because, yeah, it wasn’t. Barricade was not cute. Maybe he’d hit Blackout with one too many snowballs to the head and frozen his cortex?

“Yeah.” Blackout ducked down, letting his glossa flick from his wedge-mouth at Barricade’s mouthplates. “For me. Since I won.” The look of confusion on Barricade’s face was priceless. Blackout took a flashsnap for later.

“I…uh…,” Barricade faltered. The copter had to be messing with him.

Blackout chortled. “Spoils of war, Barricade.” He moved his leg, pushing it between Barricade’s thighs.

Barricade blinked, his optics whirring to focus. “You, copter, are insane.” Seriously. Copter. Stop it, or Barricade’s going to get his hopes up. And when that happens, it’s always bad news. Still, he found his optics drifting longingly over the copter’s shoulders at those long, dangling rotors.

“And you? Fraggin’ adorable.” He drawled the adjective, just to watch Barricade squirm.

“Definitely insane.” Barricade snapped back from his rotor-lusting reverie, tugged up on his trapped wrists, wrapping his nervousness in business. “Come on, let’s get that energon already.”

“Time enough for that, later. Not done admiring all your ‘cute’.”

Barricade spluttered, trying to swing up with his legs, but Blackout hovered just low enough he couldn’t get any real force behind his kicks. His hopes…were getting up. This would be bad.

“Like…,” Blackout considered, squinting at Barricade. “Oh. These cute little tires,” he squeezed his hands around Barricade’s wrist tires, feeling the rubber yield. “And then these other cute little tires.” He prodded his thumb at Barricade’s shoulder tire, rotating it.

Despite himself, Barricade whimpered, optics dimming. “My tires are bigger than your tires,” he managed.

Aww, Blackout thought, trying to keep up the tough act. “Right. Big tires. Look how cute these huge tires are.” Blackout squeezed the rubber again, enough to make Barricade arch up.

Blackout’s rotors flared, gratified. “And then, let’s see. This grille thing you have, and look at these headlamps, huh? Super cute.” Without a free hand, he ducked down, nuzzling against the grille. “And,” he added, his words muffled against Barricade’s armor, “don’t even get me started on your tiny little feet.”

The feet in question clutched, reflexively, toeplates digging self-consciously into the ground. Copter must have had his systems fritzed somehow. Seriously. Kinda freaking Barricade out.

That really was kind of endearing, Blackout thought. He dropped his head lower down the groundframe, his cheekflare acting like a mouth, nipping at Barricade’s armor, until his glossa circled the interface hatch.

“The frag is wrong with you, copter?” Barricade managed. “Mission. War.” He quivered, even as he spoke. Hope and desire colliding with…you know…reality.

Blackout looked up from where he’d been teasing along the edges of the interface panel. “Yeah. Mission. War. But we have to make some time for, you know…what it’s all for.” He shrugged, one of his sonic wave generators clunking heavily against his rotormount.

“Interfacing?” A wisp of sarcasm, trying to bulwark itself against rising hope, but the optics burned, strangely intense. The talons curled, slowly, cupping desire, reaching hesitantly for Blackout’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Blackout said, freeing Barricade’s wrists, moving his hand down to open the grounder’s interface hatch, the grounder's desire ardent and melting the snow around him. “That’s a place to start."