Hi there! Okay, so I know that I said I would wait for a beta, but this story couldn't get out of my head, so I had to publish it. The title is subject to change, since it kinda annoys me, but will try to make it better! *strikes a heroic pose*
This goes for every chapter until the end...I DON'T OWN TRANSFORMERS IN ANY WAY AT ALL! I don't even have the characters... :'(
And if I did own TFP...well...it wouldn't be rated Y7 anymore, thats for sure...
Knock Out breathed a sigh of annoyance as he walked off of the main bridge of the Nemisis. With Starscream in command, things had gone from deliciously devious to horrible havoc. Any and all mistakes were blamed on those under him; the Vehicons, Breakdown, Soundwave, and Knock Out himself. At least under Megatron's rule, everyone knew their place. Tasks were simple. There was no plotting involved, no need to be wary of ulterior motives. With Starscream, everything was a game; by doing something too perfectly, it was an attempt to show him up and threaten his power. But doing something half-aft would get you an audio receptor full of that annoying, screechy alto that Starscream called a voice. Knock Out briefly wondered if he would be "cosmetically punished" again if he medically advised to have Starscream's vocalizer looked at. Shuddering, he decided against it.
But Starscream was only number three on the list of things bothering Knock Out on this solar cycle. Number two was Megatron's prognosis. Having an active mind, but incapacitated body, was an easy fix. But having a completely dead mind and a perfect body? If Soundwave didn't suspect any foul play before, then he certainly did now. With Starscream parading around like a peacock, and Knock Out's sudden increase in power, it was understandable that Soundwave could just write it off as sparkling-ish displays of temporary power, as long as Megatron seemed like he was on the road to recovery. As Soundwave's suspicion rose, he started withholding information from Starscream, almost like trying to deter Starscream's would be successes, until he found out exactly what had happened to his precious leader.
"Whatever that slagging Autobot did in there, he may have just cost us the most resourceful Deception of us all!" Knock Out thought irritably. Still, he may have had at least an outlet for all of his problems if his number one issue didn't exist.
Breakdown. What was wrong with Breakdown? The one mech he could trust was completely avoiding him. After Knock Out's humiliating punishment that poor Breakdown had to witness, the red mech had seen less and less of his partner. In fact, nowadays, the only times he saw him were if they were out on patrol, or working over Megatron. Normally the dynamic duo would talk nonstop over their private com frequency, but Breakdown had recently taken to blocking his end of the link. And, seeing as their conversations consisted of bashing on their fellow Decepticons, it would be suicide to use the main com freq, where anyone could pick up their conversation. Being shut out from his partner was something that Knock Out was not used to. Sure, every mech was entitled to their secrets, but this was flat out, I'm going to pretend you don't exist so I don't have to face you, type of silence.
Thinking something was physically wrong with his partner, Knock Out would run scans over him when he was in recharge. It was an easy task, considering that they shared quarters. But nothing registered. Breakdown was just simply ignoring Knock Out.
Being given the silent treatment was wearing on Knock Out's nerves. The dark silence that greeted him whenever he opened their quarters took his processor down dark roads, delving deep into his past, dredging up memories of similar eerie silences, until Knock Out could only hold onto his sanity by completing menial tasks or slipping into recharge. That's why he talked non-stop, even going so far as to compliment himself when no one was around. Knock Out and silence did not go well together.
Palming open the door to his quarters, the red mech sighed, this time of depression. He couldn't help it. Every time he opened the door, he expected to see his partner lounging on the couch, or recharging on his berth, or even through the back door window, in the med bay working on Megatron. But there was nothing to suggest the blue truck had been here since the solar cycle began. Knock Out, processor already headed down dark roads, shuffled over to his berth and collapsed, flat on his back, slowly shutting down each of his extraneous systems to keep his processor busy until he was tired enough to try to sleep. When only his conscious mind was alert, he tried to shut it down, but the longing to find out what was wrong with his partner was too strong. He decided to start with the last time the both of them were together, thinking over the walk back to their quarters and the weird behavior that Breakdown exhibited once they were inside.
Whimpering, Knock Out clung to Breakdown, too ashamed of his appearance to walk back to their quarters by himself. Starscream hadn't damaged anything vital, except Knock Out's pride and finish. Half of his processor was trying to come up with ways to get back at the volatile seeker. Megatron himself would be thrilled once he was restored and brought back online, and maybe Knock Out would be promoted to SIC. The other half of his processor was busy trying to catalogue the damages, and estimate the amount of time that fixing all of this would take. If he only fixed the areas that were scratched, it would only take about half a joor; however he would look splotchy, and Knock Out was not one to go half-aft on anything, especially his finish. He would have to completely redo his entire finish, re-coat it all, but that whole process would take about 5 joors.
He was just about to say slag it all, when he suddenly calmed down. Onlining his optics, which he didn't remember offlining, he realized why he was suddenly so relaxed. The steady shifting of Breakdown's hips, coupled with the beat of his spark below Knock Out's audio receptor, had calmed his body. But what cut off all thought altogether was the servo stroking his helm fin.
Helm fins were similar to doorwings in that they were very sensitive, and when touched can either calm a mech down or rile them up into a state of sexual arousal. Feeling Breakdown's servo continue its path up the helm fin, and then starting back at the bottom again was starting to stop calm and start arouse. Just as his chassis started heating up, he jerked his helm away from Breakdown, fixing his red optics on his partners yellow ones with a frightened, questioning glare. They had arrived at their quarters, but Knock Out was closer to the panel to open the door. And it was clear that he wasn't going to open the door until he got an answer.
"Sorry," Breakdown quickly apologized, although if he knew exactly what he was doing or not, Knock Out was not entirely sure. "It's just, I could tell you were probably freaking out about all the work you have to do to fix the damages, and I wanted to do something to help you to calm down. I know how you stress about things like this, but you always come out on top. Now stop your plotting and complaining and open the door."
Knock Out's optics widened a fraction. He wasn't shocked that Breakdown had picked up on his inner ramblings (working with someone for a couple million stellar cycles will give you an intuitive feeling about them, or at least more sensitive to their moods). He was surprised that Breakdown had tried to calm him down. Most of the time, they offered each other support in non-physical ways; backup on the battlefield, handing over a tool, or lending an audio receptor when one needed to rant. But this was totally new. Knock Out usually didn't allow for physical contact because of his past experiences with mechs who touched him, but for Breakdown he would make an exception. Up until this point, he had only been touched in strictly professional ways, which was enough for him. Knock Out had an intense battle with his past demons as he was carried down the hallway, arguing that this was Breakdown, the one mech whom he could trust not to hurt him, and wouldn't try to take advantage of his weakened state.
Unsure of how to respond, Knock Out just leaned back into the wall, sliding his servo down until he reached the panel, keeping optic contact the entire time, while loosening the hold his legs had around Breakdown's waist. Knock Out didn't miss the faint vibration of Breakdown's engine that traveled through Breakdown's chassis and into his body, nor that his core temperature spiked up a few degrees.
Once the door slid closed, Knock Out all but jumped off of Breakdown, as if his life cycle depended on it. Desperately trying to get his dark thoughts out of his processor, he took a couple deep cycles of air before reaching onto the top shelf of his supply case to grab his paint, wax finish, airbrush, and towel.
He was so involved in trying to fix his finish that he failed to notice the soft pedsteps coming up behind him. Suddenly, there was an extra pair of arms reaching around him, and servos that started to repaint his thighs. Knock Out froze, staring down at the servos like they were a turbo-fox with a bad case of rabies. A small voice in the back of his processor noticed that this actually felt pretty good. More than good actually. It felt like a massage, coupled with a tender, almost reverent, touch that Knock Out saved for repairing his own finish, and the superficial nicks and dents that Breakdown had suffered over the stellar cycles. Knock Out liked to think that he was gentle because it was delicate work, but now he wasn't so sure. The touch felt almost…loving.
"Wh-wha…what are you doing?" Knockout inquired, cringing inwardly as his vocalizer trembled a bit. He was starting to lose the battle with his self-preservation, and it was showing in his tone.
"Helping you to relax and fix your finish. I know how you like to re-do everything when only a single area needs attention…figured I'd help you by lending my… services." Breakdown replied, his voice dropping to a husky timbre on the last word, not quite catching his partner's frame vibrating in fear, core temperature dropping.
At that, Knock Out jumped up and away from his partner, like the berth was spring loaded. Snatching the supplies out of Breakdown's servos and off of the berth, he hurried to the med bay and locked the door behind him. Breakdown was acting very weird, and Knock Out did not deal with weirdness very well. His darkness came up from the shadows of his mind, taunting him, saying that while Breakdown may seem different from all the other mechs, they all turned out to be the same in the end. Flashbacks of the mech he used to be crowded to his processor, and he hurried to black out the window so Breakdown wouldn't see him in this deplorable state.
Knock Out was about to return to his half started finish touchup, when he heard a soft sound coming from the other room. It was a small clicking sound, interrupted by short bursts of static; the closest Cybertronians could get to crying.
Shaking off his surprise, Knock Out just continued with his job until the sounds ended abruptly with the slamming of their quarter's door.
But what did that mean? Did Knock Out do something wrong? "Well clearly I did! He was crying for Primus sake!" Yet, Breakdown didn't seem like the type of mech to, well, break down, especially over something so trivial as a refusal for help. With the way Breakdown was going about the task, it almost felt like molestation! Knock Out was completely in the right to run aw- ahem, refuse help like that. But if he was so right, why did Breakdown react the way he did?
"Good for you! You kept him at an arms distance. Don't let him get close to you….you know how well that's ended in the past…" his inner demons crooned to him. Part of his processor wanted to give in to the siren's call, promising of safety in solitude, but the majority of his mind stood firm. Even if Breakdown was acting weird, Knock Out could give him a few more solar cycles before confronting the big mech, as long as no more touches were involved. Not that that would be a problem; Breakdown's sudden withdrawal was the issue here.
Determined with his new goals, Knock Out rolled over to his side and fell into a fitful recharge, completely unaware of the yellow optics watching him from the back corner of the room.
"Breakdown…" he called in his sleep, causing the silent mech in the corner to attempt a smile through his coolant tears.
Like it? Hate it? Love it?
leave me a review and lemme know! Cuz, while I have two more chapters already in the final stages of revising...I wanna let you know that I won't continue this story if there is a lack of response, or an overwhelming negative one.
ONE MORE THING! This is my first story...constructive critisism is appreciated, mostly focused on grammar and such...but flames will not be tolerated.