[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]How To Buff A Truck For Complete Beginners [ Avalanche ]

[Avalanche]

Ava snorted, amusement gleaming in her dark brown eyes as she glanced over at Sunny's avatar. "Cloud watching doesn't do a damn thing for anyone but me. It was good, though. Spend a while in the Cythidian Hive, you're grateful for a clear sky over your helm." The zero-gee labyrinth of the Hive, secreted and held together by innumerable strings of solidified spittle and other, less identifiable organic secretions over a base of whatever boulders and asteroids had drifted nearby over its long existence... it wasn't a sight for the weak of spark. Not from the inside.

Approaching a sharper turn beside a handful of faded wooden buildings, she gripped the gear lever and downshifted, the note of her engine changing as she decelerated, then rumbling more loudly as she pulled back up to speed through the sweeping curve of the corner. It felt good to work her engine, to feel the tug and sway of the wind against her hide as it blew inland from the wide and trackless sea. The descending sun slanted long shadows across the tarmac from little roadside fences, and the sky had begun to colour yellow-gold at the horizon.

"...Solus Herself couldn't have hammered a better sky," Ava murmured, half to herself. She wasn't one to be demonstrative in her faith, but she'd always felt a strong bond to the ancient femme in ways that she just didn't feel towards Primus. It used to be common enough to follow the teachings of one or another of the Thirteen, though endless war had either cracked most faiths or turned them to blind zealotry.

The tarpaulin over Sunstreaker flapped a little in the breeze as the big truck accelerated, the road straightening to a long, sweeping expanse that stretched out before them. Her hair shifting and dancing in the wind flowing in from the open driver's window, Ava shook her head and laughed. "Taller? No. I looked up photographic temples until I found one suitable, and patterned myself after it. Matched weight and height. This is how tall the body's meant to be."

It took Avalanche a moment to fully register 'awfully cute'. Cute? Her?

Was she against the persistent flirting that had brewed up from nowhere today?

Well, it was – harmless. It was fine. And she was in a good mood. Harmless teasing was fine.

"Into humans, Sunny?" Ava flashed a playful grin at her passenger, one corner of her lips hooking higher than the other. "Didn't take you for the type."

[Sunstreaker]

Entire laboratories and agencies had been devised in the hopes of creating a military weapon capable of delivering the raw impact that Avalanche's words could. A shockwave of stunned revulsion crossed Sunstreaker's face at the realization she'd royally stepped in it. She had two brains. One maintained its distaste for humans and their disgusting functions. The other thought the concept of a tall Sunny next to a short Ava was a welcome change of pace. See, what Ava had said had now smashed both of her brains into one another, with the debris spread across her expression.

The holomatter avatar frowned, its nose scrunched up in indication of its owner's displeasure. Sunny's entire posture stiffened, becoming rigid as the mere thought of being attracted to a (real) human was repugnant enough to calcify her entirely.

She made a noise, not unlike one that would usually accompany disgust.

"Eugh..."

"No. No..."

"No no!"

Her hands crossed through the air in an 'X'.

"Girl no!"

The not-human made another sound as if she had a real throat to gag with.

"No!"

Sunny flushed the thought as best she could, yet even she was surprised at how profoundly foul of a taste it had left. She pressed her palms to the depressed sockets of her eyes, and groaned as if hungover.

"Avaa.... that's gross..."

[Avalanche]

Oh, the absolute, utter horror that overcame Sunstreaker was a beautiful thing. And for once, she felt free to express herself without worrying about relative rank; they'd already broken through that wall for today. Tomorrow, who knew? But right now-

The holographic woman laughed, loudly. It was both familiar and not; Avalanche's voice, but from a human, lacking the bone-shuddering bass reverb her sheer size leant it. Tremors ran through the frame of the heavy truck in sympathy with her laughter, the strange vibrations of a vehicle chuckling.

"The look on your face. Recoil any harder, you'd have leapt out of my bed in horror." Solus, but she was in a good mood. She didn't usually tease people that much, but Sunny was just too entertaining when messed with. "Not leapt," she added. "Cartwheeled." Couldn't forget to tease her acrobatic side.

Her right hand moved on the gear lever, sliding it down and across the gate as she slipped it into a lower gear. Her engine rumbled as the revs picked up, accelerating smoothly as she rode the long, sweeping curves across the coast road. White spray flecked the air as it leapt from the wave tops, and she felt the subtle tingle of salty droplets on the wind against her hide.

A quick huff of amusement escaped her lips, and she went on conversationally, "Imagine me, gold painted. Metallic, reflective as chrome. I'd be blinding. Like being beaten up by a huge, angry gold bar. That's not an invitation to paint me."

[Sunstreaker]

The counterattack.

Up to this point, Sunstreaker had been thoroughly hammering Avalanche. Her arsenal had consisted of teases, jests, the odd giggle, and gloriously overt/covert flirting. She had visibly and audibly demonstrated the joy she'd felt at watching the bigger, tougher femme's words break and twist around her own. Sundae Streaker was not an easy woman to rib. How could she be, when all of her vital conversational areas were closed off and triple-fortified? Of course, Ava, or rather the experience of being around Ava, had prompted Sunny to lower these time-worn defenses.

And now?

Game, meet prize.

"You-" A verbal counter-counter punch had reflexively welled up in her fleshy human throat, ready to metaphorically smack Ava in her perfectly-cut human jawline. Avalanche then calmly reached into her throat, and shoved it back down.

"Cartwheeled".

The counter-counter-counter punch.

Sunny's blue, bunker-like eyes had been blasted wide open as though they'd been struck by a bomb. Her lips gave a breathless, dying sputter before falling ajar. Ava Larch had slowly pushed the dagger in, and was now happily, gleefully twisting the handle out of revenge. Her passenger had no right to be upset. It was only fair, considering the verbal beating she'd dished out earlier in their day. These past few weeks had established two of Sunstreaker's weak spots -- dirty, filthy humans, and her own kinesthetic sense of euphoria.

And Avalanche had just hit her with both barrels.

The look of sheer horror had blended well with the one of potent indignation. Her companion had turned her face into an impressionist art piece with only a few well placed words.

And then her companion smart-aft had the audacity to saunter on as though she'd been innocent of the crime.

Recover, girl, she demanded of herself. Your mouth is still open.

She silently processed Ava's words as her expression began to slowly un-fudge itself. Her control and processing systems were still thoroughly out of whack from the lightspeed double-dunk; she wasn't sure if this was about to become the legendary and feared triple-dunk. Even if she'd been lucid, Sunstreaker didn't entirely know where Ava was going with this.

A light, playful smack of indignation struck Ava's bicep.

"I oughta paint you, smart-ass!" A threat made in good jest, and good faith as the lips of her previously horrified mouth began to crinkle into a grin. But... ass? This was not a familiar word. Still, she thought nothing of it, ascribing its sudden inclusion into her lexicon to the translation package that came with her holo 'tar.

[Avalanche]

Oh, Solus's hammer, every second that passed brought a new and gloriously comedic variation on Sunny's expression. Horror, indignation, wide-eyed, a magnificent rainbow of Sunny being on the losing end of a conversation, and oh, she wasn't used to that. She was not. Avalanche knew exactly where to strike to get the advantage, while never, ever using Sunny's deeper, more profound wounds for the same purpose.

Sunny's mouth slowly closed. Speechless? Avalanche made a note to put the event on a calendar when they got back. The playful smack against Ava's arm was nice, she liked the casual physical contact and she wasn't going to think too hard about that, no sir. Then Sunny spoke.

"I oughta paint you, smart-ass!"

No one could do stone faced like Commander Avalanche. A towering wall of black and blue metal, topped with the fierce glow of her burning orange optics, she could be as intimidatingly inscrutable as a waiting smelting furnace. Her humanoid avatar might not be made of the same unyielding metal, but her expression could lock down just the same way.

She knew what she had to say. Oh, she shouldn't do this, but it was just too good...

Avalanche glanced at Sunny, her expression unreadable. Then her lips parted in a lascivious leer, and she leaned towards Sunny, brow raised. "With what?"

[Sunstreaker]

Yeah, with what?

Avalanche had turned the tables so thoroughly one could have described her as having played a set with them. The correct answer was 'Paint, idiot!', but for some unknowable reason, the words froze just as they formed. The axiomatic response gears attempting to churn out an answer had been jammed, all by the rhetorical wrench Ava had just shoved into them. Sunny was thoroughly surprised at her lack of immediate response, as she was never one to shy away from a good clap-back.

The automatic functions and processes were no longer responding. Her internal chronological processing center froze time itself, stretching seconds into years, demanding her to invent a brand new response, lest the silence in the air incapacitate her.

The familiar look of 'Oh god. Oh god, she's intimidating me.' crawled across her face, replacing the inimical grin as she fought with herself for a retort.

Her holo-skin did not quite broadcast the fact that she was blushing, but it was fairly easy to see. The way her cheeks crinkled, lips quivering gently with uncertainty. Her deep, complex eyes.

That's why they looked like bunkers.

She gazed over each of the replies her subconscious had prepared for her. All of them were found wanting.

"Uh... I..." She sputtered, feeling her offensive capabilities deflate.

[Avalanche]

Okay, the joke she'd just levelled? It was so far over the appropriate line, it was a tripping hazard in the next galaxy. But Avalanche couldn't really bring herself to regret it, watching Sunstreaker completely break down as she fumbled for a reply. Her avatar broke into a grin as she settled back into her seat and focused on the road again, a warm tingle in her spark. Yes, she definitely hadn't had this much fun for a long time.

When she'd been reassigned away from Cybertron, Sunny had already been transferred out of her unit. She'd mildly regretted the golden femme's departure, but she'd been proud all the same. A transfer showed that she was rehabilitated in some ways, no longer black marked deeply enough to keep her in Avalanche's command of unofficial exiles.

They'd had a bond, back then. But this – whatever all this was, it was different. It felt different. Perhaps, in another world without a shattering war, they'd have met and been friends. Perhaps not. She was a rough, straight-talking bruiser, and Sunny was sleek, shiny and former police.

It was nice to have her here. Nice to feel the presence of her vehicle form within the safe confines of her dump bed.

"Not like you to be speechless, Sunny. Guess we've been apart for too long. Maybe you're a bit rusty." Another twist of the knife, given Sunny's fastidious self-care. She scolded herself for enjoying baiting Sunny so much, but her grin remained.

[Sunstreaker]

Avalanche probably thought she was being hilarious. The ball was in her court, and she'd been hogging it for the past thirty or so seconds. Sunny was beginning to fear she'd never get it back. But, this possibility was not entirely a negative one. Even if they both could get a bit possessive over whose turn it was to rib the other, they were at least trading turns still. This could have been an entirely one-sided affair for either of them, had they not been so comfortable trading blows and flirts. If nothing else, the now triple-dunked woman could appreciate the dichotomy between them.

This understanding managed to help her reclaim her composure, to a small degree. She would not let herself be quadruple-dunked this day.

Her lungs took in a breath, or rather, they simulated it.

She smiled.

"To be fair," To be faaair. "I've been totally alone since the war ended." Since it left Cybertron, more accurately. In spite of her reservations, Sunstreaker had fought beyond the bitter end. After the artillery guns fell silent. After the lights went out. After the power switched off. And after she could no longer hear voices on the wind.

A few years or millennia of sweet silence had made her isolation feel more akin to solitude than anything. But, she was correct in her assessment. She was a bit rusty.

Metaphorically.

She smiled, her eyes pulling most of the weight. The tension dissolved in her shoulders as she leaned back to accept the support of the seat beneath her.

"You're better at this than I gave you credit for." She didn't mean to imply Avalanche was a tactless brute, incapable of wit of course. She had never thought so, but wished doubly that it wasn't assumed. Few could match Sunstreaker's cutting tongue when she really got going. And yet, here came Avalanche, rendering her speechless.

She directed a cocky finger towards Ava as she dipped her chin, eyeing her warmly.

"I'd best keep in shape, at this rate."

[Avalanche]

Alright, she acknowledged inwardly, that was enough of that. Big brute she might be – and she liked it – but she could tell by Sunstreaker's shift in tone that the little game was over for now. "I like the shape you are now," she remarked with a smile.

Another statement she wasn't thinking too hard about.

Jerking her head back and to the right slightly, she went on, "Comfortable back there? New at playing a carrier."

Before hitting Earth like a confused comet, she'd not had any sizable cargo capacity. Her original design was closest to a bulldozer, with an articulated pile driver at the rear. Later, she'd been through a few variations, ending in a bridge layer. Nonetheless, she was finding the form comfortable enough, and hauling was as valid a use for her vast strength as pushing rock with her blade.

Carriers, though. It wasn't an opinion she'd generally share, but she'd always found them a bit creepy. There was being close to your comrades and old friends, there was the whole endura thing, but to physically be part of someone else, that felt weird and unhealthy. A few cassettes had a decent streak of independence and kept themselves out and working most of the time, but far more spent their time nestled inside the mechanisms of their carrier, a creepy symbiote suckling on their energon.

Primus's spark, she remembered being invited to undergo carrier conversion way, way back, when she was still on Cybertron. She had a powerful frame, plenty of energon, and room under her plating for modifications. She'd refused, politely, firmly, and with absolutely no room for further discussion. Still, that was a very different prospect than having Sunny riding in her truck bed. She might have suggested it as a teasing joke, but now they were together, she liked it. Bearing the smaller femme, it felt comfortable. Warm.

Mentally, she experimented by swapping Prowl into Sunny's position.

...yeah, she definitely wouldn't have the same warm, fuzzy feelings.

"Wouldn't let just anyone ride back there," she added.

[Sunstreaker]

There was no awareness of the 'view' back there, not while Sunstreaker's eyes were up here. And that wasn't just a play on her newfound height. Four walls and a tarpaulin ceiling letting a small trickle of sunlight in -- there, done. View imagined. On comparison, she preferred the view in front of her. The bland environs of the truck bed were not nearly as conversationally stimulating, of course.

Ava may not have put much conscious stock into her words, though they were still capable of eliciting a mental double-take.

Sunny scrolled the feed.

Unless she was wrong (which was itself a mathematical impossibility), that had the first bit of direct flirtation she'd received today. There were the subtle teases, the hidden innuendo -- but this was overt. Weapons-grade, baby. There was something else, though. It was a tandem warhead, two stages of impact. The casual flirting she could incorporate with no problem. Whether intentional or not, Ava had managed to score a direct hit in a most critical area. She scrolled the feed further, and found the archived footage.

Despite the popular preconception that Sunstreaker was the vainest of vain creatures, the deciding factor in her current aesthetique had not been the approval of others. Above all else, she had done this for herself.

Before the yellow-gold paint, before her reformatting, she had been a different creature.

She had been filthy.

That was no commentary on her morals, despite being similarly filthy. The process of simple ablution had been anathema to her. Him, at the time. Despite how much Sunstreaker had tried to convince himself otherwise, despite how deeply he searched, he could never find the energy to wash. Why bother? Feeling the hard, angular contours of his form beneath his digits had always produced a stinging sense of disgust. It was always unpleasant, and it would never not be, so what purpose did the wash rack serve?

Sunstreaker would work every day wearing the events of the day before. Scorch marks, dirt, rust, grime. Eventually, as if on a schedule, his peers on the force would compel him to wash. She would catch herself thinking in narratives from time to time, his subconscious generating little 'errors'. She screamed at every little pronoun slip, wailing like a trapped animal.

The gold-yellow paint had been his first attempt to rectify this growing dissonance. Perhaps if he looked better, or tried to present himself as such, the inner turmoil would abate. Like the first, his subsequent attempts met the same ignoble end.

Then, for over half a year, Sunstreaker vanished. Gone. Got up. Left. Zero contact, save for the odd text message to his twin.

Then, at some otherwise unimportant time of the year, she returned.

She remembered clandestinely breaking into her twin's room as he recharged (she had a key, of course), waiting for him to awake, which he did. Sideswipe had hollered to high heaven at the unexpected presence of an unfamiliar (and quite striking) femme materializing in his room in the dead of night. From what he'd told her after the fact, she had been utterly breathtaking.

Sunstreaker had been bathed in the soft glow of Luna-1, ice-blue eyes and iridescent grin slicing through the erstwhile undisturbed darkness blanketing the room. Legs crossed, an incredibly pleased tilt of her head. Her lips plush, sure, and smooth. There was still a boxyness to her form, a voice that had been husky with a solid masculine edge. Now, her boxy from was now buttressed by a healthy set of curves, with an unmistakable feminine candor blended into her husky tone.

Happiness did not begin to describe her experience of the reveal. It was every bit as euphoric as she'd hyped herself up for it to be.

Then the war had happened, all in a blink.

Which left her at today.

"Thanks..."

Sunny's reply had been unusually free of its typical pride and bravado content. Their conversation earlier during the buffing, her casual slip of a very private piece of her history, had wedged a stake into her stony emotional armor. Avalanche's relatively mundane flattery had burst it wide open, like a stonecutter splitting a block of marble in twain on only the hundredth blow. Nothing slipped out, visibly. Perhaps that was the tell, though. This was not the creature whose ego demanded she lap up and digest every bit of praise as though she'd been starved of it, no. That thing would gobbled Avalanche's words up with greedy abandon.

This was Sunstreaker.

She blinked, quickly noticing how sheepish her reply had been. Her face straightened itself out into something more casual, and not at all madly enamored with the woman beside her. For sure.

It didn't work.

"Yeah...?" The reply that came a full two seconds after the short blue roller's comment, her voice uncharacteristically soft and demure. An eternity's worth of emotional processing for her. Her body had stopped responding to her commands and was now acting autonomously. She watched her driver, watching her watch the road. Making sure they didn't crash. 

Coincidentally, she also imagined how things would have looked had it been Prowl in her spot.

Nope.

Not processing that further.

She smiled.

"Guess I wouldn't let anyone else carry me around, either."

[Avalanche]

The soft, almost meek response from Sunny's lips was so uncharacteristic of her brash 'fuck you, boss' energy that it immediately drew Avalanche's gaze. Her avatar blinked, betraying a mild flash of surprise, then she looked back to the road. The sun was sinking behind the ocean to their left, streaking the water with brass and gold, and casting long, exaggerated shadows across the road from every rock and fencepost.

It was beautiful. There was no knowing when the ever-present war would sweep up behind them and wash all this away; all she could do was enjoy it in the moment, and take it deep into her spark.

...and that's when she realised her real train of thought was running along a parallel track, just waiting to ambush her. Time and time again, she'd been clear that she was a blunt instrument when it came to emotional acuity, and what skill she'd developed in reading other mecha had been hard-won. But she wasn't stupid. The look on Sunstreaker's face – perhaps betrayed more easily by the avatar she was unpractised with – was infatuation. Clear and bright as a signal flare.

Frack.

She'd seen it before, though not for a long time. War made a wreckage of your feelings, and it wasn't rare to end up latching onto someone you relied on, for those feelings of trust and safety to turn into something more intimate. She'd had to get exhaustingly good at shutting down those feelings when they focused on her. She was the Commander, she was in charge. That ended things before they began.

But she wasn't. Not now. She'd felt a few fluttery feelings since she'd landed on Earth, and as she struggled to find work to fill her time, they hadn't been as easy to push away as they usually were. And here was Sunny, with all that shared history. Objectively, she'd already crossed several of her personal red lines with the smaller femme, with some vague concept of pulling herself together the next day and settling back to business as usual. The look on Sunny's avatar spelled out, with devastating clarity, how stupid that had been.

Retreat and fortify, or advance into unknown territory. Holding her current position wasn't an option, not now.

And there, at last, was the ambush. She had no idea how long this would even be possible; when the tides of war would pull them apart, or take one or the other to the all-spark. Wasn't it time to enjoy what she could in the moment?

...and besides. Retreating meant letting go of the warmth she felt. The smile that came so readily to her lips beside the other femme. She had so little left; that flickering glow was too precious to let go.

Avalanche's avatar had been gazing at the road as her thoughts circled their tracks, slightly preoccupied, her habitual reserved expression shaping her features as she thought. Now, there was a change; a flash of decisiveness. Ava's hand moved to the gear lever, shifting down, letting her heavy engine slowly brake her momentum. The sound of her deeply treaded tyres changed as she pulled off the road, onto a high rocky outcrop that overlooked the cliffs and ocean below.

Her engine rumbled to silence, leaving only the hiss and rush of the surf below and the plaintive cry of sea birds.

Ava settled back in her chair, her hazel eyes focusing on Sunstreaker's face. Her hand moved from the gear lever, covering Sunny's, warm and intimate. A wry little smile curved her lips. "So," she murmured.

[Sunstreaker]

A look of confusion flashed across Sunstreaker's poorly regulated human face as her driver took all four tires off the road following an unannounced downshift. Although certainly unheard of for someone like Sunny, a pang of panic suddenly surged through her. It was impossible, but had she done something wrong? Said something she shouldn't have? Oh god. Oh god oh god. Her avatar blinked. She'd just been on autopilot. Ava had taken it poorly. That had to be it. She wasn't thinking, her glossa had instead followed the natural course of the conversation.

That had to be it!

Mad at her!

Crossed a line!

Though, Sunstreaker could not quite imagine just what line she'd crossed. In the process she'd managed to conflate genuine anxiety with chaotic panic. It had only freaked her right the hell out because of how silent her former commanding officer had been about it. Her reflexes had pulled the old axiom out of mental storage. She made a quip --> It was met with silence --> It was followed by an unexpected physical response.

That's just how these things went.

Until today...?

Her train of thought cut out with the engine. Its dull rumble had done much to provide accompaniment to their drive, and the ensuing conversation. Sunny had grown used to it, and now in its absence the world came flooding in. The cab was quiet, save for the distant foamy ambience of the beach below. Sunstreaker was ambivalent about beaches. The last time she'd been to the beach, she'd been shot at -- a lot. Time would tell if this experience raised her opinion on them.

Sunstreaker would have liked to have been able to recount later about how time froze the instant Ava pressed her hand upon her passenger's. Any such tale would have been a total fabrication. Time did not stop. That was not a real thing that could happen to people. Instead it marched on, the very real events continuing to unfold despite its witnesses disbelief.

Avalanche and Sunstreaker were not the same type of person, and that was by and large a good thing. Had they both been impulsive hot heads, Sunny would've been much more shallow about the gesture rather soon after the fact. She had only ever known Ava to be deliberate. The femme did not make snap judgments without having processed all the outcomes first. And even if she had to make such a quick decision, she had a sound fund of common sense to fall back on.

She searched herself as eons passed between them silently. She would have kicked herself later for not doing so in the moment. They hadn't both bumbled accidentally into their current predicament. It had been a hike to this moment, not a mad dash or a lost expedition. It was very real, something that both terrified and mystified Sunstreaker.

She placed the palm of her free hand over Ava's, reciprocating quietly. The confusion that had colored her features earlier had been bled from her face. Her thumb drew small, slow circles on the back of her driver's hand. "So..." She repeated softly, producing a single quiet chuckle at how abruptly the mood had shifted.

Several seconds passed. The world became irrelevant in the background.

A strange feeling filled her chest. It was the sensation of not breathing, or at least the simulation of it. Her avatar had simply cut off the process. She screamed briefly to herself about not being better with words, but quickly soothed herself with the knowledge that even if she had been, it would've just made her a real nerd. 

Instead she decided to be direct.

"Ava," she spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper. "May I kiss you?"

[Avalanche]

Of all the things Avalanche could have done, Sunstreaker very much hadn't been ready for that one, and the shocked confusion was writ large across her face. The big femme watched her expressions shift, quiet and without any desire to hurry her. Sunny had all the time she wanted.

Even so, it did feel like a long, long moment before Sunny's other hand covered hers. A reply in kind, an affirmation. It was strange, so strange, to feel the softness of skin against skin. A sensation she wasn't used to, especially when her thick plating left her a little physically insensitive. The gentle circling of Sunny's thumb against the back of her hand raised goosebumps down her arms, a reaction she didn't understand but felt like a tingling across the skin.

Sunny spoke. Asked the question.

Avalanche exhaled a little sound of amusement, hazel eyes gentle in a way that she'd never shown Sunstreaker, avatar or not. Her lips hooked up at one side in a fond little smile, hearing the echoes of her old self incredulous and laughing in disbelief that it could have come to this.

Rule one of being a leader. If you weren't sure what to do, make a decision and commit. She'd made her decision before she touched Sunny's hand, and that was the end of her inner doubts. She could feel the gentle weight of Sunstreaker's chassis on her back, felt the whispering wind against her hide as it bore spray from the ocean below. The fading warmth of the setting sun on her plating. The softness of the worn seat beneath her. The way her clothes shifted against her with her breathing. Sunny's hand.

"Start as you mean to continue," Avalanche replied softly, still with that small, crooked smile.

She leant forward, with a soft creak of the seat beneath her.

Their lips met.