crux_fleet | (no subject)

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Who: Deadlock and Flashpoint
Where: Flashpoint's quarters
When: The day after the attack is repelled
What: Someone has been hit by the huggy happy virus.
Warnings: Huglock.

The plan was simple: Deadlock grabbed his trophy from his latest kick-aftery, to show it to Flashpoint and make the annoying Autobot realize how much more awesome he was than she was. Maybe even get her to etch that on the battered armor of the helmet he'd taken off the bad guy for good measure. He was wording exactly how she should phrase it when he bumped into the annoying squishy, but, whatever. Brownian motion took its course and the human boinged off him and back into the crowd, and Deadlock was in far too good a mood to chase after and threaten it. There was a Flashpoint to irk and he never let go of mission objectives.

Except fraggin' Flashpoint wasn't home. Primus dammit, how dare she not be here to receive her taunting?!

Fine. He could wait. He slumped on her couch for a while, tapping his foot, helmet beside him. Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting was boring. And you know what? That picture was fraggin' crooked and it was driving him nuts. And then, fraggit, the utensils in the drawer weren't all square to each other. And then....

....when Flashpoint finally arrives home, it will be to find him on his hands and knees in her bedroom, de-dustbunnying under the bed. He may, in fact, even be humming.

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Flashpoint feels weird. The whole situation had been weird. The infiltration, the audio attack, the...stuff that followed which she's not going to think too hard about...

It all comes together into a mix of mildly grumpy as she finally gets back to her place, hoping for a little respite from the insanity. She stops dead in the hallway when she sees the door to her quarters slightly ajar. Who would break into her place? Who would have access codes? What kind of security did they have around here? ... Did she forget to shut it in her rush earlier?

The agent's training kicks in, wrestling the paranoia to the ground. Clear then rooms first, then diagnose the problem. She inches up to the door, and though she sees no one through the crack there's noises coming from the bedroom. Frag. Flashpoint tends to squirrel away weapons and ammo in a lot of hiding places--you know, just in case--and the bedroom's got the best stashes. She quietly palms the front door the rest of the way open, drawing a blaster pistol and checking the front room before moving to the bedroom, back flat to the wall beside the door.

There is definitely someone in the room. But what the frag is that noise? Sounds like a trash compactor trying to carry a tune. Well whoever they are, if they're here to raid her weapons stash, they've got an ugly thing comin'.

She spins into the doorway, weapon trained on the infiltrator. "You better have a good..._explanation for this???" Is...that the aft she thinks it is?!?

Excuse you, but Deadlock's singing is entirely harmonious. Melodious. Awesome. You're just jealous.

Which Deadlock could totally understand. He's been so engrossed in digging under her berth that he didn't hear her till she spoke. Well, frag, that was kind of unfortunate, because it ruined the surprise.

He scoots back from under the bed, turning around. Good explanation? "You'd better have a good explanation for why these grenades weren't arranged according to charge and lethality."

It's all good now, because he's done it for you, Flashpoint, even tying up some extra det cord in a pretty bow.

Flashpoint's going to assume her audio is glitchy because there's no way that was Deadlock singing. In fact for several moments there's no movement from her at all, save the downward drift of the gun muzzle and the twitch of one of her optics.

S-she must be hallucinating now, right? That attack did something to her. She must be imagining this. Flashpoint's so stunned she doesn't even get to secretly appreciate that startling good view of his aft before it's gone. There's a part of her subprocessor that's huffing indignantly at his assessment of her weapons stash, but the rest of her is just trying to figure out what the frag is even going on.

"What. What are you doing here? Aside from pawing at all my munitions?" Huff. She's not going to admit that they don't always get out back properly, because she sometimes grabs for them in the middle of the night, just for reassurance that they're there. It's not like she has nightmares or anything.

Yeah just because he's not doing that stupid earth karaoke slag, doesn't mean he can't sing. And it's not really his fault the only songs he knows are Decepticon drinking songs. He can totally carry a tune.

"I'm not pawing at them, I'm organizing them. For you." Though he has half a mind to confiscate them until she proves she can take better care of them. That's right, Flashpoint: Deadlock is the reason you can't have nice things.

The under-the-berth acoustics didn't do your singing any favors Deadlock. Nor did Flashpoint's assumption that all surprises in her life are of the horrible variety. Clearly he'll just have to prove her wrong with a performance, done right and properlike.

"...for me?" Yeah that's the most inexplicable part of that statement really. "How...uh, thought. ful." It's like she stepped out of Weirdtown and into Unbelivableville.

Flashpoint's a right mess, cackled in mud, grass and energon, scored by plasma fire. But all that is distant concern now. She crosses into the room, weapon sliding back into her integrated hip holster, peering at him. "You....sure you're feelin' alright?" Because someone would have to be crazy to care about her. Uh. Her weapons. Or something.

Hnf. Keep your musical criticisms to yourself, Autotobot spy. Though he would admit his singing is probably best enhanced by several cases of engex.

If you offer him enough of the engex, he may even be convinced to stop singing.

You can just, you know, file that away for future reference. Because today, Deadlock is all about sharing!

"Yeah, well, you know. I owe you for...uh...something?" He tilts his head at the end, a little puzzled. He can't remember exactly why he's doing this. But that doesn't matter.

Especially in light of her appearance. He frowns, betting she tracked that dirt over the carpet which he'd JUST vacuumed. He pushes to his feet, grabbing her by the wrist, dragging her to the maintenance facility. "I'm fine. You, however. Hot mess."

There might be more singing today but it may actually be on Flashpoint's part, combined with a little victory dance. Because that's when it dawns on her.

"Ooooh. Of course!" She nods, it all makes sense now. Well mostly. "You lost the bet." Uh-huh. That must be it. She honestly doesn't remember the end of that night, (except wow it was really, really hot in that bar) but if he owes her something then it must that.

Which is cleeearly why he's dragging her towards the maintainence closet!?!

"Hot mess!?" She stumbles after him, shocked into obedience, optics searching the room for hidden cameras or one-way observation mirrors because this must be some weird behavioral experiment.

"What?" Blink. Hey, no way. He was totally drunk then, and that scrap didn't count. Besides, he'd won. Or at least he'd won the last conscious thought he'd had. "Looks like your face lost a bet."

Whatever. That wasn't the point. The point was she looked like bubbling scrap and that was not gonna happen.

Yeah, sorry, he's feeling all sorts of squirmy and happy and it hurts his face but that doesn't mean he somehow magically has social graces. "Hot. Mess." Both sides of it. "I mean, you could be kind of hot. Just not right now."

What? Don't refute her post-drunken logic! It is FLAWless!

"Ouch." Wow harsh. Her face has something to say about that, and it's mostly 'SHUTUP'. "Sucks for you then since you're stuck lookin' at it."

HA! Okay, that would feel more victorious if they weren't headed into the one room in this dumb apartment that had a mirror. And even if she pretends like she doesn't care, she still tries to sneak a peek at herself. Is it really that bad?

And did he just call her hot? Conditions not withstanding, it sounded like a compliment. "Maybe you're the one that's hot." Just let her reach out and feel the back of his neck. Or maybe under the arm. Anywhere that she can reach past the armor to the subdermal cabling and get his temperature because he must have a fever.

Only thing flawless around here is her ammunition collection and that's because Deadlock just polished it.

And yeah, truth hurts, Flashpoint. Get used to it. "Not gonna suck for me for long." Because you are gonna get cleaned up, and he will not be gentle with that scrubby brush.

"Hey, hey, no groping till you're clean." Deadlock has standards. And right now, they are white glove.

You can't deny that it wasn't pure perfection before though. Even the smudges were perfect, admit it!

And don't remind her. Flashpoint's had her fill of 'truth hurts' scenarios and then some. Mostly through her own undoing, but no one said she was the wisest mech.

Flashpoint's mouth works in all kinds of bizarre shapes, optics flicking from Deadlock to the scrub brush that he's wielding almost like a weapon. "And ^after!?" She squeaks out the question--she might be a little ticklish--because she's almost afraid what might come next. Especially if groping is involved.

Don't tell him what he can or cannot deny, Flashpoint. Or he'll resmudge your nose like it was after the drink.

That was really...probably about all he could remember about that particular escapade.

"After," Of course, if she survives, that is, "then groping." Now stop making weird face shapes and get under that cleanser. He's gonna smack the brush into his palm until you do.

Not that she would ever admit it, but that was her favorite part of that whole escapade. That and the bit where he said she wasn't so bad...

And if he smudges her nose again then that's just one more part of her he has to clean. She backs away slowly--no need to get aggressive with that brush!--thinking that she hasn't had nearly enough engex for this situation. She is, however, going to make a mental note of what is effectively Permission To Grope for use later. Because, you know, in hand-to-hand combat that could be useful. Uh. For something that is totally fighting.

She's backed up far enough now that the cleanser flows over her helm and into her face; the sputtering and rubbing of her optics leaving her defenseless for a moment.

He will deny that comment to the last shred of his Decepticon being. He never said that!

See the problem with being an Autobot? You always fall right into Decepticon traps. Like this, where he's successfully backed her into the cleanser. And being the Decepticon he is, he is going to take advantage. Of course. But he'll be kind of gentle. It just may be a little...ticklish.

Nope, sorry Deadlock, no taking it back, and she may quietly horde it so there's never the opportunity to either.

There are worse traps to fall into than this. She thinks anyway. This would be a horror of a different kind though if her comrades ever found out about it. She should probably be resisting or something, or offended he feels the need to coddle her, but no one's ever taken care of her before and if she's honest with herself...she kinda likes it.

Shhh. Don't tell anyone. Including yourself, Deadlock.

There's a startled noise as the brush goes to work, and though most parts of her are hardy enough why is it that Deadlock seems to find all the ticklish bits? She squirms under the treatment, hands trying to fend him off but it's entirely half-hearted. There's laughing and hissing in with the sputtering now, and some biting of the lip to try and act tough. The cleanser stings a little when it runs into rents or blaster holes in her armor, though thankfully none of the wounds are serious.

When this is all over, Deadlock's going to try to get her drunk enough to pass out, then apply magnets to her head to wipe her memory. That is the plan already forming in the back of his mind, but even as it moves to the front of his mind, his brain is putting the magnets in pretty, orderly patterns, the little butterfly one right on the tip of her nose.

The spluttering's....kind of cute, really, and he drops the brush after a few minutes, tickling up under her rib struts with his fingers, just to watch what she does.

That's going to be a loud day in her apartment complex, when she finds out she's been magnet-facialed. And he better not go spreading pics around the network, or there'll be some mighty retribution!

In some distant moment Flashpoint might think it complimentary that he thinks the squirming and sputtering are cute, but she's got a little too much of that very thing to do right now to consider anything else. Especially when Deadlock's hands get involved. That's unmistakable: smooth metal complete with EM field instead of the prickly brush. It gets a squeak of surprise and her peering at him through one squinty optic, the other still laden with suds. "Hey, you said no groping until after!" Unfair!

Would Deadlock spread compromising pictures of Flashpoint all over the network? Would he?

....of course he would.

"Yeah, no groping for you, with those dirty Autobot paws of yours. Mine are clean." See? Guess what? His mouth is clean, too. Guess how you're gonna find that one out?

C'mon Deadlock, she needs her hardcore reputation around here, don't go messing with it by plastering her already extremely dorky sleeping face made worse by magnets around the local social media hub. The laugh the senators alone would get is enough to make her hand out death glares to anyone that comes within 20 meters.

She's oddly got no issues with this close encounter though. Maybe it's the whole unbelievable quality of it or the weirdness from earlier, but she's reacting more than thinking now, her instincts pushing her in directions that may requite a little 'I'm very disappointed in you' sit down talk given by her logic centers when they're back in charge.

Which is definitely not now, when he's moving in with his mouth and she's got no idea what he even plans to do with it so just she does the first thing that comes to mind--lady of action like she is--which is to tip forward and intercept it with her own.

Uh. How'd that happen?

....yeah, okay, the Senators thing is a good point. But he'll keep video of it to play for himself, then. Can't steal all his fun.

There's a tiny part of Deadlock, probably his version of her 'logic centers' which would be remonstrating, except it's pretty much just doing a long wailing scream. The other part of him is recruiting more and more allies, as he leans into her, under the cleanser fall.

And into the kiss, pushing back, rising up onto his toeplates.

Until he pulls back, and looks, well, not horrified, but really confused.

She doesn't want to know what you do with your video of her in private Deadlock. Just like you don't want to know what she's done with your tech specs in private.

Flashpoint will figure out what the hell is happening later, for now though, her hands tug at his waist just as he leans in, bringing their chassis together as her helm tips down into the kiss, shielding it from the cleanser fall.

Her lips can't quite meet each other once he pulls back, a little too stunned, amber optics darting around like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't, expecting reprimand. From him or herself though, she doesn't seem too sure.

Edited 2014-04-11 07:19 (UTC)

Enjoy it, Flashpoint. That's what he'll do with video of you with the magnet facial. Same as he does with the video he has of when he wrote on your aft after that night of drinking.

What. Don't look at him like that while he's looking like that at you. That's like...stealing, or something.

Right. He's gonna do what he usually does after awkward moments.

He's...gonna...hug her, hands sliding down her door panels.

Wait. This doesn't seem right. Eh, frag it.

Oh she's got it all memorized already. For, you know, damage dealing purposes. Not for illicit tickling or groping or anything.

Hey, she got here first! Get your own half confused, half guilty expression.

Flashpoint's okay with breaking eye contact because yeah, that sure was an awkward pause. She's not expecting him to wrap his arms around her though, hands running down her flanks and over her door panels. It's...nice; the warm cleanser, the idle of his engine so near to hers. She purrs under the touches, nuzzling at his finial, a little timidly at first as her own arms circle around him.

She's not sure what's going on, but she's not going to question it. Nice things...don't happen to Flashpoint very often.

Deadlock was totally here first, which is the only reason those cleansing pads and waxes were arranged in alphabetical order.

But hey, he likes the doorpanels, the way they shiver under his fingertips.

Hugging's perfectly normal, okay? That's what Pinoko told him.

Still.

"Should finish cleaning you so we can fuel." Because, yes, huggy Deadlock would like that. "Maybe watch a vid or something."

Aw frag, Deadlock's gotten into her personal maintenance stuff too? Is nothing private, nothing sacred around here?

This is an awful, awful time for her to wonder when the last time was she got a hug. Because it makes her cling to him for just a second too long, snatching her hands away then and mumbling a weird apology. UGH why should she even be sorry!? Except that she knows exactly why. Mister 'Oh No My Things Have Autobot Cooties On Them' can't be here trying to hug her unless there's something wrong with him. (Oh for Primus sake why does that thought make her so sad?! Apparently people need to be messed up to want to hug her!)

But wait, that last part sounds like a totally normal social evening between two totally normal social people. She has to figuratively squint at her memory archive because the files of the last time she did anything of the sort were so long ago she can't even see the people's faces anymore. "Uuuuh. Yeah. Fuel would be good. And other stuff--A VID, I mean." Maybe some cuddles, that's safe right?

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I sadly lack any even remotely appropriate icon for this

akskdjksl I'M LAUGHING. And I don't think any icon could be appropriate enough

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wow forgive my tag mistakes I'm having issues today orz

hush just have fun :D

NGL you're making me want H/C with Deadlock singing someday

this has to happen at some point, then.

orz I think these tags were the only good part of today. ;-;

glad they did something positive?

Yes, thank you!!

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