ep. 1 Washracks-Pure Agian. (Closed)

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((Blue and Legion Fuff. Takes place around the same time as Afterparty.)

It has been almost TOO easy to escape the med bay. Damage to doorwings patched up, nothing serious this time not like the last time...The heat damage to hir plates nothing time couldn't repair on it's own.

Easier still to dodge the noise of celebration happening else were on base. It may have been a bit odd for Bluestreak to avoid a party. Usually one to be right in the centre of such things. Loving the sounds, the distraction the press of others around hir.

Not this time though. This time Bluestreak pinged Legion to meet hir in the wash racks and made hir way there hirself. They had talking to do and really both of them probably needed to get scrubbed. Primus only knew what the larger mech had picked up while lost in space.

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Legion was- and there was no other word for it- sulking. Sure, he knew the dozens of reasons why the base needed guardians while its compliment of aft-kickers was off making life Pit for the Cons, knew precisely how dead he'd be if Ratchet caught him so much as thinking of firing up weapons systems so soon after a fairly sizable repair job, knew it all and couldn't bring himself to care. His place was on the field, the foul-mouth distraction to Blue's whisper-silent sniping, and not being where every instinct and memory insisted he should be tied his coding in knots like nothing else.

...it also left him in the Mood from the Pit, which is precisely why he'd stumped off to the base's rarely-occupied back rooms the moment he wasn't needed on-deck. Better to mope far from the party lest his sour mood infect the rest of the revelers.

...or, y'know, Blue could start chirping nonsense about 'cleanliness' and 'wash my back for me?' and turn his crankiness into something equal parts curiosity, worry and fond resentment. That worked too.

Blue could've been worse off, but ou could've been a Pit of a lot better too. There was no major structural damage to contend with, at least, no severed lines to frantically solder off, but none of that stopped Legion from all but enveloping the little sniper in a deathgrip-tight hug the moment he strode into the washracks, field abuzz with worry/fear/doubt and protected/safe.

"So who do I get t'slag seven ways from Sunday fer dingin' y'up?"

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Bluestreak had suspected Legion would be sulking and if ou was completly honest ou would admit it felt odd not to have his solid bulwark of power beside hir in a fight. In hind sight ou SHOULD have expected the near crushing embrace he wrapped hir in as he entered the racks but really ou'd had worse!

Ou laughed and held on just as tightly. It had been too long since they'd had some time alone. The feel of him, his filed against hir own was something like coming home.

"Hmmm Some big aft ugly flier. Not that THAT narrows it down any for you. I'll tag him with something next time i spot him so you can return the favour."

And really they should get down to scrubbing, Ou could still smell the ash of Teyonu on him (and didn't THAT bring up memories.) But... it felt so good. Snuggling a little further into his arms and deciding to wait just a little bet longer.

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"'Some big-aft ugly flier'," Legion repeated, his tone laden with disbelief and bewildered amusement. "Blue, lil' bot, y'do realize tha' fits, oh, 'bout half th'fokkin' Con army, righ'? I mean, 'm more'n happy t'plow through jes' as many Seekers as y'ken find t'point me at, but really? I ain't got th'time or th'energy t'waste tha' many fokkers, sweetspark."

His words were thoughtless and empty, a litany of pointless chatter meant to direct attention away from his anxiously-searching servos. Sensor suites and scanners could insist that the gunner all but crushed against his chassis was fine and dandy all they wanted, there was no way in the Pit he'd believe it until he'd seen it, felt it for himself. ...and in his present state he wasn't sure he'd believe it then, either. Who knew what sort of filth Blue had slogged through on the Nemesis, and how much of that had wound up ground into the gouges and scraps scattered across hir frame?-

Nope. Those were the sort of thoughts that soured precious moments like this one, dark, dank things best saved for any other time and place. For now he'd just have to content himself with a thorough examination, a slew of muttered curse words and the best scrubdown he could manage on short notice.

"Arrigh'," He huffed at last, carefully setting his armful of cuddlebuddy gunner down. Talented though he might have been, not even Legion could manage the washracks no-servo'd. "So big-aft ugly flier. Do I wanna know what he looks like now that yer done wif 'im? Or would I be lookin' fer pieces?"

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Bluestreak was only slightly more subtle in hir examination of Legion. Ou knew better than to doubt Ratchet's work but Legion had been in less than stellar shape when ou had attached hirself to him in the control room on his arrival and ou need the confirmation, That he was here, that he was okay not a figment of hir spark broken imagination. His voice, the chatter washing over hir like a balm easing hir hurts like nothing else. Pressing hir face against his plating for a moment before reluctantly allowing him to set hir down.

"He's slagged for sure after that wall fell on him but with less holes in him than I'd have liked. Like I said I'll tag him for you. Now sit down so I can wash your back."

Really Legion was worse off than hir in the way of dirt and this wasn't at all an excuse to touch him more. Of course not.

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Legion considered himself halfway-proficient at a dazzling array of tasks, drinking, fragging and swearing foremost among them, but he'd never quite mastered the fine art of ignoring orders straight from Bluestreak's vocoder. Sure, he could delay obedience, sometimes even wriggle out of the finer points of a request, but avoiding it altogether? Not gonna happen, on this world or any other. That was precisely why the tall bot abandoned all attempts at grace or pride and parked his aft right where he stood, masterfully ignoring the little pings of discomfort fresh welds and wounded ego insisted on throwing up on his HUD. Nope, joints stiff from repair had nothing to do with it, nothing at all!

"...Y'collapsed a wall on him?" Legion repeated incredulously, boggling up- and what a change that was- at Blue. "Tha's all kinds o'cold, lil' bot, even fer you. P'rolly woulda been kinder t'jes' shoot 'im straight than t'fok up 'is ego like tha'." A beat's pause, a most devious grin, then- "Or was that yer plan all along? Shame 'im, let th'Cons take care o'their own?"

Never let it be said that Legion, densest of thick bricks, wasn't capable of overthinking something. Especially when the other option involved a screaming case of the heebie-jeebies, because a Bluestreak desperate enough to bring down walls in an escape attempt didn't bear thinking about.

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Bluestreak took hir time in formulating a response. Hands busy recommitting ever bit of metal and wire ou could touch to memory. The welds, old and new remembering all the times they've done this before. Strong dexterous hands worked their way down from the base of his neck. Soothing stiff joints and gently freeing the grime out from familiar plating. Taking hir time and just enjoying the contact. Field warm and content.

"It's a long story, I didn't do it intentionally but the wall did have help coming down. We were setting up explosives all over the place remember?"

Clever, devious hands slid along his sides and playfully ran along sensitive connecting cables. A ghost of contact and gone back to cleaning away the dirt and massaging away the hurt.

"I got lucky, poor Bee nearly got tossed out of an air lock and Jazz ran into Ravage while crawling though the vents."

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Blue and explosives. Now there was a combination Legion had never had cause to consider, and wasn't too keen on contemplating ever again. The little sniper was terrifying enough with a rifle, a hidden perch and an unobstructed view of whatever 'con needed exploding- factor building-grade explosives into that equation and the probability of incendiary disaster skyrocketed.

...maybe it was a good thing Blue had hir servos full trying to scrub space-dust off him. Even if they were doing their level best to entirely derail his train of thought, busy servos couldn't juggle bombs.

"...Who th'fok tosses somebot as cute as Bee?" He spluttered abruptly, the sheer absurdity of Blue's statement finally penetrating layers of distraction. "I mean, I know th'Cons are desperate, but chuckin' 'im out an airlock? Tha's all sorts o'fragged up." ...then again, everything Ravage got himself into wound up going bearings-up in a big way. The little glitch had an enviable talent for pulling discord and trouble out of his aft.

"An' yet despite th'lil slaghelm makin' trouble, y'all came back. Most of yas in one piece." Quite finished being scrubbed, the big bot dragged his dedicated scrubbot lil' bot back into hugging distance. "I could stand seein' a few more fights turn out like tha' one."

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Bluestreak really only put up some token resistance as ou was pulled back around and into another hug. The warm spray falling onto hir plates almost as soothing as being in Legions arms. Though that didn't stop hir from beginning to scrub around his chest. Fingers slipping into seams to clean out the grim AND tease the sensors beneath. Let it never be said that the sniper couldn't multi task.
"I think with Bee it was a misunderstanding, we'll hear the full story later I'm sure."

Head leaning in to bump hir head against him ou's doorwings drooped just a little.
"If only they all could end this way..."

But they couldn't in fact they rarely did. Memories of Teyonu burning, loosing everything again. Bluestreak didn't want to remember but they had to talk about this.

"But they don't. Teyonu didn't. Legion tell me what happened I need to know."