Advent Adventures - Day 7
Dec. 9th, 2012 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camfieldAaaaaaand day 7!
Prompt: Mandatory participation
Char/Pairing: Bluestreak/Frenzy
Time limit: 15 min.
Rated: R
“You have to.”
“I don’t WANT to!”
“Yeah, not the point, you have to. Mandatory participation. You don’t get a choice here bub.”
Bluestreak glared at the tiny cassette. His arms were crossed over his chassis, a defiant look in his optics. “The Prime hasn’t ordered it, I’m not going to do anything.”
Frenzy mirrored his defensive pose from atop the table he was standing on. “Don’t tell me you’re scared now...”
“Hard not to be scared when you might die.”
“And here I thought you were a warrior, not a wimp.”
“I’m not putting myself in danger so you can go get high again Frenzy. I refuse.”
“Frag you. I need it. Wasn’t it you who said that we’d be together through thick and thin? Something like that in those goddamned vows you made me recite?”
“I’m sorry Ratchet even gave you that first dose. I’m sorry that I helped you go out there before, and I’m SORRY that you even needed it in the first place, Frenzy, I’m sorry. But I can’t go back down there knowing that you’re one step closer to deactivation every time you download that program.”
“I’ll go myself then. Good to know you really meant you’d stick by me.”
Bluestreak held his glossa as he watched Frenzy walk away.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Frenzy’s helm lolled back, a grin on his faceplates as the virus took hold of his motor functions. Lighting up neural pathways in patterns that alternated between ghost-like streams of data and torrents of sensation that pushed his systems into redlining. The heat pouring off his frame an incredible roiling stream that started to melt the rubber that protected wire endings. Joint lubricant dripped from a ruptured line in his elbow, but Frenzy just laughed at the drops of cloudy fluid. Optics surging with flares of energy that would flicker down to nothing, leaving them dim and nearly colorless.
He stared into the shadowed alley, watching as mecha walked past the entrance with quick steps. Trying to get to wherever they were going without attracting the wrong attention, ignoring the calls of ‘merchants’ that called out into the noise of the streetway.
The cassette watched all of this, giggles erupting out of him.
There were pedes walking toward him, and part of his processer connected that they were a match, that they were familiar. The hazy black and gray metal and alley blending together as he let his helm loll to the side. Not really protesting when arms scooped him up and held him close to a chassis that was shockingly cool compared to his own.
“Wassa... wassa matter? Can’t a bot-ot ev-v-v-v-ven haaaave a little down-down time alo--ne?”
The arms gripped him tighter, the hold bordering on pain, and Frenzy just let his helm drop back and watched the dark sky. Laughing at the bright lights that zipped back and forth in the air.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Frenzy woke up it was to Bluestreak, Soundwave and Ratchet talking quietly. He looked around, more than a little disoriented. His frame ached, nothing new after a ‘treatment’ and he shifted. Trying to stretch out kinked cables and lines and wincing at the residual soreness that came with overheating one’s systems for a period of time.
“How are you feeling?”
Ratchet. He would have known the klick Frenzy had come out of stasis, seeing as how the monitor information was transmitted directly into his processor. Frenzy swiveled his helm and looked at the mech, dialing down his audial sensors and optical feed until it was just uncomfortable, rather than painful.
“‘Bout the same as I usually do Doc.”
“That wasn’t a prescribed treatment Frenzy.”
Like he didn’t know that. Pit, like any of them didn’t know that.
“I know.”
Bluestreak was carefully standing away from the medberth, back turned to the cassette and doorwings quivering. Soundwave rested a hand on his shoulder briefly before coming to stand by Ratchet.
“Frenzy: Found by Bluestreak, very close to stasis lock.”
The cassette kept his optics firmly on his hands. Flexing his fingers and watching each joint move, deliberately not looking at Soundwave or Ratchet. Not saying anything, but really, what was there to say? They knew that he was downloading, they had from the start. With Ratchet, it had been carefully controlled runs of the virus, here in the medical bay. Rationed doses, rationed time. Only letting it run long enough to overheat Frenzy’s calibration system to the point of resetting, then going in and purging it completely.
Except, of course, for the craving it ignited within the cassette.
There was never enough time. Never enough sensation. Frenzy’s sessions with Ratchet only gave him a taste and when the medic had pronounced him cured it had taken very little to skip to a dark corner of the city and pay for a real fix. For something to take away all of the damn memories. For something to leave him in a hazy bliss that meant he didn’t have to deal with the world any more.
Bluestreak had gone with him at first, had tried to convince him to give it up and leave it be. Frenzy had scoffed, had looked his lover right in the optic and inserted the chip into a slot in his arm.
When he’d come to in the medical bay that time, it had been the first time he’d ever heard Bluestreak cry. Frenzy had pretended to be in recharge until the gunner had left, uncomfortable feelings swirling within him. He’d never meant to hurt Bluesteak, but it was abundantly clear that he had, and badly.
“We’re stopping this, Frenzy. You’re going to be under constant watch, and you won’t be allowed to leave the building without a chaperone.”
His hands tightened, but what could he say? Technically downloading was illegal unless it was medically administered, fighting would only make it worse if he had to serve time. That didn’t stop the thoughts from bubbling up. Nasty and malicious words that rested right at the edge of his glossa and threatened to spew out. Soundwave probably wasn’t even upset that he was downloading, knowing what he did of the mech’s past, just that he’d been caught. Not just caught, but had let himself go in a public place where any and all who came across him would have been able to see.
Ratchet was understanding. Condescending, but understanding. The fact that the Decepticons had lost the war and Frenzy was still here because of the deal Soundwave had made with Ratchet made him their legal guardian. He took care of them out of obligation more than affection, but Frenzy knew that that affection wouldn’t keep him from turning the cassette over to Prowl’s enforcers.
And then there was Bluestreak.
Guilt creeped in, silencing some of his mutinous thoughts. Bluestreak was probably the best thing that had happened to him in eons. Rumble had fallen in the final battle and Frenzy had raged. Raged against Soundwave when he’d surrendered to Ratchet, raged against Ratchet for daring to accept them. Raged against anyone and everything until his destructive tendencies had kept him in the brig and on punishment detail nearly full cycle. Bluestreak had worked with him, Frenzy had later found out that he’d asked to be put on those shifts, and slowly he’d calmed down. Slowly he’d reached out.
Slowly he’d fallen in love.
The hurt surrounding his spark was a sharp pain.
“Could... Could you give me a bit?” Frenzy asked quietly. “With Bluestreak?”
Soundwave gave him a pointed look, but deferred to Ratchet. The medic looked at him with appraising optics, but shrugged and turned. Walking past the gray mech and out the door, Soundwave on his pedes.
Apologizing was hard for Frenzy. It was an admission of being wrong, and in that, an admission of weakness. There had been no room for that in the Decepticon army, and letting go of old habits was hard.
The silence stretched on. Frenzy trying to force the words out of his vocalizer, Bluestreak standing stiffly with his back turned. Arms crossed and helm lowered, still and silent and it was the fact that not even his doorwings were fluttering that finally broke the cassette. Bluestreak was always in motion, always talking. Open and happy.
“I, uh...” His hands twisted themselves together. “I’m-I’m sorry Blue.”
It seemed trite. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could force out. It wasn’t that he wasn't’ sorry, just that the words didn’t come out right and he sat there, wondering if Bluestreak would even acknowledge him.
“Ratchet told me why he thinks you kept doing it,” Bluestreak didn’t turn around as he spoke, “but I want to know from you why you kept doing it. Why Frenzy?”
That question wasn’t fair. They didn’t ask why Optimus Prime overindulged in high grade so often. They didn’t question it when Jazz flitted from mecha to mecha, interfacing with anything that had a sparkpulse. They didn’t question Perceptor’s quiet request to have the memories of the war repressed. They didn’t question Beachcomber’s decision to terminate himself and donate his body for spare parts.
But Bluestreak questioned him. Why.
“Why.” He repeated the word and resentment colored the glyphs. “Why.”
Bluestreak finally turned, looking at him with dim optics.
And how could he answer such a question when anything he said could be echoed back to him from the other bot? Who hadn’t lost someone to the other side? Who didn’t have the scars that war left?
Who wasn’t broken?
“Sometimes... I just... don’t want to remember.” Such a short answer to such a loaded question.
There was a sigh and Bluestreak walked over and sagged on the berth. Reaching out to grasp one of Frenzy’s in his hand and squeezing hard enough to make the metal creak. Looking off into the distance and relaxing a bit against the padding.
“Sometimes I don’t either.”
They sat like that for a long time. Neither speaking, holding the other’s hand tightly.
Prompt: Mandatory participation
Char/Pairing: Bluestreak/Frenzy
Time limit: 15 min.
Rated: R
“You have to.”
“I don’t WANT to!”
“Yeah, not the point, you have to. Mandatory participation. You don’t get a choice here bub.”
Bluestreak glared at the tiny cassette. His arms were crossed over his chassis, a defiant look in his optics. “The Prime hasn’t ordered it, I’m not going to do anything.”
Frenzy mirrored his defensive pose from atop the table he was standing on. “Don’t tell me you’re scared now...”
“Hard not to be scared when you might die.”
“And here I thought you were a warrior, not a wimp.”
“I’m not putting myself in danger so you can go get high again Frenzy. I refuse.”
“Frag you. I need it. Wasn’t it you who said that we’d be together through thick and thin? Something like that in those goddamned vows you made me recite?”
“I’m sorry Ratchet even gave you that first dose. I’m sorry that I helped you go out there before, and I’m SORRY that you even needed it in the first place, Frenzy, I’m sorry. But I can’t go back down there knowing that you’re one step closer to deactivation every time you download that program.”
“I’ll go myself then. Good to know you really meant you’d stick by me.”
Bluestreak held his glossa as he watched Frenzy walk away.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Frenzy’s helm lolled back, a grin on his faceplates as the virus took hold of his motor functions. Lighting up neural pathways in patterns that alternated between ghost-like streams of data and torrents of sensation that pushed his systems into redlining. The heat pouring off his frame an incredible roiling stream that started to melt the rubber that protected wire endings. Joint lubricant dripped from a ruptured line in his elbow, but Frenzy just laughed at the drops of cloudy fluid. Optics surging with flares of energy that would flicker down to nothing, leaving them dim and nearly colorless.
He stared into the shadowed alley, watching as mecha walked past the entrance with quick steps. Trying to get to wherever they were going without attracting the wrong attention, ignoring the calls of ‘merchants’ that called out into the noise of the streetway.
The cassette watched all of this, giggles erupting out of him.
There were pedes walking toward him, and part of his processer connected that they were a match, that they were familiar. The hazy black and gray metal and alley blending together as he let his helm loll to the side. Not really protesting when arms scooped him up and held him close to a chassis that was shockingly cool compared to his own.
“Wassa... wassa matter? Can’t a bot-ot ev-v-v-v-ven haaaave a little down-down time alo--ne?”
The arms gripped him tighter, the hold bordering on pain, and Frenzy just let his helm drop back and watched the dark sky. Laughing at the bright lights that zipped back and forth in the air.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Frenzy woke up it was to Bluestreak, Soundwave and Ratchet talking quietly. He looked around, more than a little disoriented. His frame ached, nothing new after a ‘treatment’ and he shifted. Trying to stretch out kinked cables and lines and wincing at the residual soreness that came with overheating one’s systems for a period of time.
“How are you feeling?”
Ratchet. He would have known the klick Frenzy had come out of stasis, seeing as how the monitor information was transmitted directly into his processor. Frenzy swiveled his helm and looked at the mech, dialing down his audial sensors and optical feed until it was just uncomfortable, rather than painful.
“‘Bout the same as I usually do Doc.”
“That wasn’t a prescribed treatment Frenzy.”
Like he didn’t know that. Pit, like any of them didn’t know that.
“I know.”
Bluestreak was carefully standing away from the medberth, back turned to the cassette and doorwings quivering. Soundwave rested a hand on his shoulder briefly before coming to stand by Ratchet.
“Frenzy: Found by Bluestreak, very close to stasis lock.”
The cassette kept his optics firmly on his hands. Flexing his fingers and watching each joint move, deliberately not looking at Soundwave or Ratchet. Not saying anything, but really, what was there to say? They knew that he was downloading, they had from the start. With Ratchet, it had been carefully controlled runs of the virus, here in the medical bay. Rationed doses, rationed time. Only letting it run long enough to overheat Frenzy’s calibration system to the point of resetting, then going in and purging it completely.
Except, of course, for the craving it ignited within the cassette.
There was never enough time. Never enough sensation. Frenzy’s sessions with Ratchet only gave him a taste and when the medic had pronounced him cured it had taken very little to skip to a dark corner of the city and pay for a real fix. For something to take away all of the damn memories. For something to leave him in a hazy bliss that meant he didn’t have to deal with the world any more.
Bluestreak had gone with him at first, had tried to convince him to give it up and leave it be. Frenzy had scoffed, had looked his lover right in the optic and inserted the chip into a slot in his arm.
When he’d come to in the medical bay that time, it had been the first time he’d ever heard Bluestreak cry. Frenzy had pretended to be in recharge until the gunner had left, uncomfortable feelings swirling within him. He’d never meant to hurt Bluesteak, but it was abundantly clear that he had, and badly.
“We’re stopping this, Frenzy. You’re going to be under constant watch, and you won’t be allowed to leave the building without a chaperone.”
His hands tightened, but what could he say? Technically downloading was illegal unless it was medically administered, fighting would only make it worse if he had to serve time. That didn’t stop the thoughts from bubbling up. Nasty and malicious words that rested right at the edge of his glossa and threatened to spew out. Soundwave probably wasn’t even upset that he was downloading, knowing what he did of the mech’s past, just that he’d been caught. Not just caught, but had let himself go in a public place where any and all who came across him would have been able to see.
Ratchet was understanding. Condescending, but understanding. The fact that the Decepticons had lost the war and Frenzy was still here because of the deal Soundwave had made with Ratchet made him their legal guardian. He took care of them out of obligation more than affection, but Frenzy knew that that affection wouldn’t keep him from turning the cassette over to Prowl’s enforcers.
And then there was Bluestreak.
Guilt creeped in, silencing some of his mutinous thoughts. Bluestreak was probably the best thing that had happened to him in eons. Rumble had fallen in the final battle and Frenzy had raged. Raged against Soundwave when he’d surrendered to Ratchet, raged against Ratchet for daring to accept them. Raged against anyone and everything until his destructive tendencies had kept him in the brig and on punishment detail nearly full cycle. Bluestreak had worked with him, Frenzy had later found out that he’d asked to be put on those shifts, and slowly he’d calmed down. Slowly he’d reached out.
Slowly he’d fallen in love.
The hurt surrounding his spark was a sharp pain.
“Could... Could you give me a bit?” Frenzy asked quietly. “With Bluestreak?”
Soundwave gave him a pointed look, but deferred to Ratchet. The medic looked at him with appraising optics, but shrugged and turned. Walking past the gray mech and out the door, Soundwave on his pedes.
Apologizing was hard for Frenzy. It was an admission of being wrong, and in that, an admission of weakness. There had been no room for that in the Decepticon army, and letting go of old habits was hard.
The silence stretched on. Frenzy trying to force the words out of his vocalizer, Bluestreak standing stiffly with his back turned. Arms crossed and helm lowered, still and silent and it was the fact that not even his doorwings were fluttering that finally broke the cassette. Bluestreak was always in motion, always talking. Open and happy.
“I, uh...” His hands twisted themselves together. “I’m-I’m sorry Blue.”
It seemed trite. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could force out. It wasn’t that he wasn't’ sorry, just that the words didn’t come out right and he sat there, wondering if Bluestreak would even acknowledge him.
“Ratchet told me why he thinks you kept doing it,” Bluestreak didn’t turn around as he spoke, “but I want to know from you why you kept doing it. Why Frenzy?”
That question wasn’t fair. They didn’t ask why Optimus Prime overindulged in high grade so often. They didn’t question it when Jazz flitted from mecha to mecha, interfacing with anything that had a sparkpulse. They didn’t question Perceptor’s quiet request to have the memories of the war repressed. They didn’t question Beachcomber’s decision to terminate himself and donate his body for spare parts.
But Bluestreak questioned him. Why.
“Why.” He repeated the word and resentment colored the glyphs. “Why.”
Bluestreak finally turned, looking at him with dim optics.
And how could he answer such a question when anything he said could be echoed back to him from the other bot? Who hadn’t lost someone to the other side? Who didn’t have the scars that war left?
Who wasn’t broken?
“Sometimes... I just... don’t want to remember.” Such a short answer to such a loaded question.
There was a sigh and Bluestreak walked over and sagged on the berth. Reaching out to grasp one of Frenzy’s in his hand and squeezing hard enough to make the metal creak. Looking off into the distance and relaxing a bit against the padding.
“Sometimes I don’t either.”
They sat like that for a long time. Neither speaking, holding the other’s hand tightly.
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Date: 2012-12-10 05:11 am (UTC)