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2018-05-11 Escort Service

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Escort Service
Date 2018/05/11
Location Lost Light - Habsuites
Participants Fortress Maximus, Fritz
Summary Max comes to pick up his boyfriend from Swerve's; Fritz acts pretty different when he's wasted.

After walking back quietly with Sunstreaker and Bob, Fortress Maximus got a message from Fritz at Swerve's. He's noticed the increased tension all over the ship, not immune to it himself, and is a little nervous for Fritz's sake if he's been hitting the bar that hard. Then again, Whirlwind's a champion drinker; he's probably fine.

The big mech steps into the doorway of the bar and glowers at the flashing blue and grey colors as he always does, looking around for a little four-armed secretary among all the big rowdy drunks. He is fully prepared to save the former from the latter if need be. He may have come up with disaster scenarios in his head along the way. Increased tension!

Thankfully, Fritz is not in a disaster situation, and doesn't need rescuing from a large foe. What he does need is rescuing from himself; when the flashing lights announce Max's arrival, Fritz looks up from the table he's still sitting on, several tankards adding to the army of empty glasses. He waves an arm to catch Max's attention, and in doing so overbalances himself, falling over and nearly sliding off the edge of the table.

He's clearly had a bit more than he should have.

"Oh, hey! There you are! Your escort is here." Max breathes a little sigh of relief mixed with faint, selfish regret that he didn't get to show off like his fantasy scenario. Whirlwind is fine! Just tipsy. He lumbers over to the table and offers Fritz a hand for balance, gawking at the tankards. "Those are nearly as big as you are. Are you sure you don't have a little black hole in your fuel tank? That much would knock me out for a week..."

Hiccupping, Fritz uses Max's hand to pull himself to his feet, where he sways gently. "I don't know," he says, squinting over at the tankards. "But they tasted good..." The smell emanating from them, even empty, hints at a rather harsh liquor. "Thanks for coming to get me, Max " He flumps forward against Max's arm, nuzzling gently.

"O-of course! Anytime." Max frowns with mild concern that's briefly derailed by a blush from the nuzzle. With little effort he scoops up Fritz and lets him rest against his chestplate where, hopefully, it'll be a lot harder for him to fall over. He feels a little shy about the public affection until he remembers they're in a bar full of drunks; no one will notice. "You celebrating anything?" he adds as he ducks back out of Swerve's, smaller mech in his arms.

"Working with Hound," Fritz slurs, nestling into the curve of Max's arm. Two hands curl into the chassis armor he's resting against, and he lets his optics dim. "Rodimus was here...think I annoyed him..." Fritz heaves a sigh, doorwings twitching. "He's too good Max...he doesn't think so though."

"Oh, right! I'm happy about that too. Hound's kind, he'll be a great boss." Max smiles gently as Fritz seems to settle in, looking down at him as he walks on. "Somehow I doubt that. He tends to make it kind of obvious if he's annoyed with someone, doesn't he? Though, I know what you mean. He's a good friend. Every time I try to say that he deflects it. For a guy who used to give out medals with his face on it he can be surprisingly self-depreciating."

"I think it's an act," Fritz says miserably. "He wants everyone to think he's arrogant and self-assured so they don't know how he really thinks...I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. But he won't listen to me when I tell him how good he is!" Fritz huffs, and his doorwings flick violently, smacking against Max's arm.

"Sounds a little like someone I know," Max teases as he gently rubs a finger against Fritz's cheek, politely ignoring the little ting-ting-ting of Fritz's doorwings against his arm plating. "But yeah, I think it's an act too. He's got us, right? We can both look after him when he needs it. But it's good of you to care so much..."

Fritz leans into the touch, engine rumbling with a light purr. "You're the only one who can look after him. The only thing I can do is paperwork after he comes back from a mission. I don't think he liked when I said that though..."

“Well, because it’s not true. You look after me. I can keep him safe in battle, if that’s what you mean, but you’re better at-at people, I think.” Max slows his steps, more so he can prolong the moment, but also for the sake of Fritz’s balance.

Fritz snorts. "Better at irritating people, maybe. Making them pity me. My social skills consist of looking harmless so I'm left alone, and even that barely works." Sighing again, he slumps further into Max's arms. "At least I can do the paperwork, I suppose."

Max frowns as Fritz slumps into him, shaking his head. “Is that really how you see yourself? I don’t want you to think I pity you or anything...besides, all I do is either intimidate people or make them feel uncomfortable half the time because I can’t keep my feelings to myself.”

Fritz shakes his helm, turns to the finger Max has closest to his face and gently bites at it. "That's not true and you know it. If people are intimidated by you it's because you're so handsome they don't know what to do with themselves."

Max turns a glowing pink-red, surprised and flustered. "Ah-uh, I don't know about that..." Oh no, he's getting flirty. He looks around to make sure no one in the hall is watching. But flirting back playfully is fine, right? "But! Too bad for them, I'm taken by a very handsome secretary."

It's Fritz's turn to blush, more out of pleasure than embarrassment. He's toasted, he doesn't care the way he usually would. Instead, he tips his helm back to look up into Max's face, a flirtatious smile curling his lips. "A very lucky secretary," he purrs. "Sometimes I like that. Thinking they might be jealous of me, because I have you all to myself."

Oops. Shouldn't flirt back when Fritz is intoxicated like this, Max realizes a little too late. "We-we should get you some sleep," he stammers, hoping he can find Chimera's room soon. She'll be able to look after him. "And I'm a very lucky soldier, because I have someone wonderful to come home to."

"Sleep? I'm not tired." Fritz trails the fingertips of one hand down Max's arm, sitting up slightly. "Hehehe, I should make it special next time you come back from a mission. Give you a reward~"

"Whirlwind," Max whispers through a deeper blush, "we'll attract attention! Also, I'll...I'll talk to you more about that when you're not drunk on more Enjex than your collective body mass, maybe...notthatIdon'tliketheidea..."

"So what?" Fritz waves one of his free hands, two of the remaining three now engaged in teasing little touches along Max's plating. "It's late and the halls are practically deserted, anyway. And it's not like we're making out right on the spot."

The flirting earns a whir of Max's treads and a very nervous laugh. "You're drunk," he reminds Fritz. "And I can stay up next to your bed and talk to you before you doze off, unless it'll disturb Chimera, but nothing more than that, okay? Like how you talk me into going home when I'm too drunk. Even if you can't carry me like this."

Fritz's doorwings droop, and he pulls his arms in to cross over his chassis, lower lip sticking out in a pout. "Alright, alright. I guess I should just be grateful you came to get me at all."

"Of course I came to get you," Max insists, giving Fritz a kiss on the helm. "I'll always come when you need me, I promise. As long as I can." He pauses. "Hey, by chance do you remember what you like to put in those hangover kits you bring me sometimes? Just out of curiosity."

Fritz sighs and leans against Max again, relaxing out of his sulk. "I know you will," he says quietly. "I don't remember right now, but I might have an extra one in my hab. Or at least the materials for one."

"Oh good! Just, you know, as an aside." Max's own engine purrs a deep, low rumble as he enters the passcode Fritz gave him and enters the hab, gently setting Fritz on his bed slab. "Come on, time for you to get some rest. Maybe we can get something sweet in the morning."

"That would be nice." Fritz stretches out on his berth, resting his cheek on one extended arm. "I told you I'm not very tired, though. Will you stay and talk for a while?"

No matter Max's answer, Fritz's lie will soon become apparent; within a few moments his optics dim and he drops into recharge, doorwings shifting minutely in time to his soft, drunken snores.

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