2016-01-22 Race Aftermath
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-01-22 Race Aftermath|
|Location||Lost Light: Command -- Drift's Office|
|Summary||Drift makes good on the bet he lost to Rodimus.|
There is a bookshelf behind the desk that looks like it contains important documents. Upon further examination it becomes apparent that it is all manga. The office reeks of nag champa. On the desk sits a meticulously trimmed bonsai tree. The base is painted with flames for some reason.
Rodimus won. That means the law -- where the law is a stupid bet made by two stupids, but still, THE LAW -- says that Drift has to buff him. The law does not also say that Drift has to paint him, but Rodimus is acting like that's part of it, because how else can Drift buff him if he's not already painted, and the stripped paint of repairs has got to be fixed one way or the other. So here he is, here they are, and anyway Drift's probably done with the paint by now. Buff him. Buff him so good.
Some might ask if Drift's office is the appropriate place for this, but some can just go shut up. Clearly the soothing crystal vibrations and calming incense have helped a lot to steady and center Rodimus -- or maybe it's just having Drift around. Shhh. Never tell if he's a softie. At one point Drift snuck his anime on to a viewscreen, but Rodimus didn't let him turn the volume up that much, mostly because he refused to have it be any louder than him, and he's talking now: "--'shuttlemuffin', Drift. He called him 'shuttlemuffin' with no irony. I'm so glad to be back where things make sense."
The volume level is meaningless as Drift always watches his anime with subtitles but his focus isn't on whatever filler episode of Bleach is playing at the moment, rather it's on the buffing and polishing he's obligated to do as a result of his loss in the race. For this part, Drift had Rodimus sit facing him on his desk so he could work on his chest from the relaxed angle of his chair.
"That's actually kind of cute, good for them." Drift applies some polish to a rag, probably the same one he uses for his swords, and applies it to Rodimus' torso, rubbing in circles to properly cover those ridiculous(ly awesome) flames. "That said, I'm glad you're back too. I don't mean to imply you can't take care of yourself, but I was crazy worried about you." A little smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he recalls something. "You looked pretty cool in those advertisements though, I admit.."
"Cute." Rodimus scoffs. "Can you imagine me calling you -- I don't know, carmuffin?" He grins at Drift with the same unconvincing smile that he wore before kissing him and says the same thing he said then: "It'd be kind of weird, right?" Literally exactly what he said. Someone obviously is jealous of how cute their stupid nicknames were.
He basks under the attention. Rodimus's engine purrs warm beneath the hood of his chest. The flames serve as warning for the content heat of his frame. "I bet they didn't show the part where I flipped Crazy Eight off, or Whirl and I carved the words 'fuck you' into the ground with gunfire."
"So weird," Drift says in a way that suggests it's not weird at all. "I mean, could you imagine me calling you some ridiculous pet name? Like, I don't know, Captain Cutie? Or.. Hot Lips? Or.. Fire Butt. Or, haha, I could get really ridiculous and start calling you Rodi-kun. Ha ha.." Clearly Drift has put a lot of thought into this. He continues buffing and polishing Rodimus' chest, making sure to cover every inch and really get into all those little nooks and crannies.
"No, they definitely didn't show that in any of the advertisments. That sounds pretty amazing though, I bet it went over real well." As he finishes up Rodimus' chest he leans back and ponders which part to do next. He applies more polish to the rag and then pats his lap with his other hand. "Give me your leg."
"Yeah, that sounds pretty awesome. I mean awful. Awesomely awful." Literally no one could possibly believe that Rodimus finds the idea of a pet name anything but amazing.
For someone who's not doing anything but sit there and let Drift pamper him, Rodimus is sure running pretty warm. He grins, dimming the glow of his eyes to something softer, and pulls his foot up to slide his leg into Drift's lap. This would be way sexier if his feet weren't the size of a minibot. He hooks his heel just off the edge of Drift's hip, leg angled across his body. "It went over pretty terrible, actually. He knocked us out. Let us finish first, though. That was very sporting of him. It was infuriating knowing that no matter what we did, he could put us down, and Mercy wasn't really in much shape to focus on stopping it. I should've been able to get through to her, but -- I don't know."
Rodimus isn't the only one running a bit warm, Drift certainly is but he's actually doing something so he has an excuse to fall back on. A sly little grin crosses his face when that oversized, coven foot comes to rest against his hip and he takes it in his hands, starting to buff the armor there and work his way up Rodimus' leg. "You shouldn't blame yourself for not being able to 'get through' to Mercy," he says after a moment of consideration. "The whole situation was incredibly stressful for everyone, perhaps even traumatizing especially in Mercy's case." Because she's such a sweetheart and everything. "There's only so much you can do, you're not trained in that sort of thing. You're a Captain, not a psychiatrist. You did the best you could, that counts for something."
"I need to do better, though." Rodimus is serious as he looks down at Drift, and his smile is faint, crooked. "Besides, being a Captain sure seems like a lot fewer heroics and a lot more time pretending to be a psych. Best isn't good enough when it's for my crew. I've got to be -- better." Better than best. Prime.
Rodimus's leg flexes as Drift's hands buff their way up. With the hook of his heel holding, he pulls Drift and his chair just a little closer. "I still don't know if I made the right call with Whirl."
"You should always strive to do better. The worst thing you can do is become complacent, you know?" Drift is at Rodimus' knees at this point, hands moving skillfully over the sharp angles and edges there. Rodimus is going to be so damn shiny by the time he's done. "That said, you shouldn't forget to give yourself credit where credit is due."
His hands stop for just a moment when he realizes he's being pulled closer but in no time at all he's back to the task at hand. He passes the rag over Rodimus' inner thigh, his movements slow, delicate, and perhaps even teasing. "What makes you say that?"
"Yeah. Complacent. Stagnant. Might as well just rust in place." Rodimus shudders, and it's not entirely feigned. "You're probably the only person on this ship who thinks I need to be reminded to give myself credit." He grins down at Drift with an admitted fondness. Once he's pulled the chair right where he wants it, he plants his other foot on the other side of the chair, resting on the arm rather than Drift's leg. It could get pretty crowded, but he leans back, hands braced on the desk behind him, and lets gravity pull his knees apart to leave Drift room to work between his legs. "Whirl did great, don't get me wrong. That guy was a beast. But I let him get way more hurt than the rest. Part of me feels like it should've been me. Part of me feels like that would've just been -- I don't know. Grandstanding. Making it about me, not the team."
Drift takes advantage of the space and gets right up inbetween Rodimus' legs, finishing up one leg and moving to the other, repeating the foot-to-hip buffing process as before. "The part of you that worried about grandstanding was right. I know you care about your crew, but you can't heroically throw yourself in harm's way everytime something happens. You have a whole crew on this ship, a whole crew made up of people with various skill sets and experience. Part of being a Captain is knowing when to utilize your crew to the best of their abilities and I think you did exactly that by having Whirl take on Crazy Eight."
Rodimus grunts a disappointed little noise. That isn't the answer he wanted. But then again -- Drift is validating the choice he made. He looks back over Drift's head, weighing it. He settles on, "Yeah, I guess it was pretty Captainly of me to be able to give that up and step to the side. Humble, you know? Kind of self-sacrificing, really." So basically he's great one way or the other. He deflates a little, then says, "He still came pretty close to not getting back up again. It'd be nice if no one else had to die, but that's probably pretty unrealistic, isn't it."
"So humble," Drift manages to say without even a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He works his rag into the seams along Rodimus' thigh, making sure to be excruciatingly thorough. He must really be focused on his work because he's unusually quiet now, or maybe it's that comment about death and how unrealistic it is to expect it not to happen. "Death is.. inevitable," he says finally. "Sometimes you are going to have to make tough calls and sometimes people are going to die." As evidenced by all the deaths that have happened on their ship since they first set off on their Quest. "The important thing is that you don't let those deaths happen in vain."
"I know." Rodimus is a little quieter now, too, and his focus on Drift's hands seems absolute. He's restless. It is in his nature. But there are a few things that can still him, a few things that ground his attention: touch is the strongest, and perhaps kindest, way to get him to settle down. So maybe he's restless, but for now, he's also still. It's only his gaze which burns. "I've promised myself -- so many times -- that I never wanted to be responsible for anyone but myself. And I could do whatever I wanted, then. But now, yeah, I make tough calls. And I have to let other people do the things I want to do, sometimes. Because maybe they're better at it or -- you know. Not as much of a loss." Who cares if Whirl dies, right?
Drift pulls a face at that. "Er, maybe 'not as much of a loss' is a little.." He tries to think of an appropriate word to describe how wrong that sentence was. "Harsh? Yeah, harsh. Not entirely untrue but I would disagree and say that any loss of life is, well, a loss. You're Rodimus, you're the world to me but the crew member that dies in the line of duty could be someone else's Rodimus." His hands still for a moment as he considers something. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that with great power comes great responsibility. Or something."
Drift rolls his chair backwards and grabs another bottle of polish off a shelf. "Alright, lay down on the desk spoiler up. I'm gonna do your back."
"It is harsh! Of course it's harsh! It's terrible! But--." But maybe it's true. Maybe. Rodimus breaks off, listening intently to Drift's wisdom, and he widens his eyes in appreciation. "Wow. Yeah. That's -- that's really true, about power and responsibility. That from the Cricle of Light?" He's so impressed with Drift.
When Drift rolls away, Rodimus tries to scoot after him, which ends with him slipping from his perch on the desk and scrambling to hit his feet. His disappointment lasts just as long as it takes for Drift to continue, at which point he flashes a wide grin. "Oh, good." The bonsai has been relocated. That picture frame that's always face down for some reason when Rodimus stops by is in a drawer. So there's plenty of room for him to do just as Drift asks, acting the part of a spoiled and lazy pet Captain demanding all of Drift's attention.
"Uh.. yeah, it's something Dai Atlas told me once," Drift lies. Rodimus must never know! He rises out of his chair and approaches the desk. Now, the logical way to polish Rodimus' back would be to stand at the side of the desk and lean over but that's not what happens. What actually happens is Drift climbs up onto the desk and swings a leg over Rodimus so he can straddle his aft and lean over his back.
"For what it's worth," he says, squirting some polish onto Rodimus' spoiler and starting to rub it in with the rag. "I think you're an excellent Captain."
"I figured. Sounds like Dai Atlas. Too bad about him." Rodimus just buys Drift's lies so easily. He stretches and gets comfortable as Drift swings into place, flattening with clear intent to go nowhere. He's happy right here. He twitches in surprise at the first splash of polish, spoiler flicking before he steadies. Rodimus rolls his head down as Drift begins to rub the polish in; he presses his mouth against the side of his arm to smother a groan just this side of obscene. "Ah, that's good," he breathes happily. "Yeah. I'll really be in trouble if you ever stop thinking that. What do you think that'd take?"
"Yeah.." Drift says quietly, memories of Dai Atlas swirling in his head, including the one where he watched him die at the hands of Star Saber. His movements begin to slow the more he thinks about but Rodimus' muffled groan brings his focus back to the present. A devious grin spreads over his lips and his polishing begins anew, albiet with more vigor than previously. He works his way from the center of Rodimus' spoiler to the very tip, his efforts making it shine like it just came off the assembly line. "Hmm.. I'm not sure. It would have to be something really bad. Something like... I don't know, bringing Megatron on board and making him your co-Captain? I think that would make me reconsider my opinion."
Rodimus's spoiler quivers with the crackle of a laugh that swiftly mutes into some other teeth-bitten sound. There's still a bit of a snicker to warm his voice as he says, "That is completely ridiculous. I mean, we're kind of a ship of the ridiculous and the unbelievable, sure, but even for us, that'd be pretty crazy. Might as well make him an Autobot while you're at it. Soundwave's visor would pop right off." After a thoughtful pause, Rodimus goes, "Hey, did you ever see what Soundwave looks like under that? Does he have a face under there or is it all gears and diodes?"
Once Rodimus' spoiler has been shined to perfection, Drift starts making his way down the rest of Rodimus' back. Not a single inch of red armor goes without a firm polishing, Drift even putting his weight into it at some points to really bring that finish out. He scoots himself a little downward on Rodimus legs and applies some more polish to the rag. "I actually haven't! Soundwave is a very private person, I'm not even sure if he has a face under there. I guess you could try asking him yourself, I'm sure it would go over real well."
Drift then begins polishing Rodimus' aft, making sure to use both hands for maximum surface coverage. Yeah, that's plausible, right? "Dude, you're going to look so good when I'm done."
"Soundwave would probably just stare at me. Like one of those really intense stares. Worse than Ultra Magnus frowning. At least you know what he's thinking. No one knows what Soundwave is thinking. He could be thinking about how many parts he could leave you in. He could be recharging Who knows." Rodimus wiggling to make sure that Drift really gets a good grip can't plausibly be defined as helping. And yet--. "Halfway there. I already feel pretty great. Should race you all the time. Make you do this constantly. Add it to your duties."
Drift rather enjoys the wiggling but eventually it gets to the point where if he has any intention of getting this done right, he's going to have to put a stop to it. He takes a firm hold on Rodimus' hip and holds him still against the desk, his other hand working the rag into the seams with a delicate swiftness anyone who's spoken hand with him would expect. "Heh, I'm that good, am I? You know, if you ever want me to just rub my hands all over you and shine me up, all you have to do is ask. Not to say I don't enjoy racing you, I do. That reminds me, we need to have a rematch at some point."
Once Drift is finished, he tucks the bottle of polish and the rag into a drawer and straightens up. "Okay, flip over."
"What are you, fishing for compliments?" Rodimus twists to flash a smile over his shoulder, spoiler dipped low. "You've got amazing hands, Drift. Probably why you're so good at talking hand." He starts to flatten again with a pleased, "Rematch you any time," except Drift wants him to flip over. He just makes a long and really unattractive whining noise. "I can't. You melted my struts."
"I don't like to brag but you're right, I do have amazing hands." Drift wiggles his fingers around on Rodimus' aft before giving it a few firm but affectionate slaps. "Alright, seriously. Flip over, I'm almost done." Except he already put his polishing stuff away so..?
"I'd say you could give Ratchet competition, but since he kind of sacrificed his hands and I really would rather have you here than him, maybe I won't." Rodimus rolls over with a grudging shift of weight. He doesn't quite sit up, but he lifts his shoulders and leans on his elbow. He reaches for Drift with his other hand, fingers wiggling impatiently.
As soon as Rodimus rolls over, Drift leans in and presses a kiss to his lips. He deepens it with the tilt of his head before pulling away, though he doesn't go very far and ends up closing the gap with a forehead bonk. He takes outstretched hand in his, stilling the impatient wiggling with the entwining of their fingers.
Once he has Drift's hand, Rodimus uses it to pull him closer. It seems like he thinks about saying something in hand but never really gets there. He falls back flat on the desk again, and reaches with his free hand to pull Drift in for another kiss -- by grabbing hold of the finials of his helm.
Drift offers no resistance as he's pulled down for another kiss though he does place an elbow beside Rodimus' head to brace himself, not wanting to tumble on top of him and blemish the polish job he just spent so much time and effort on. He keeps the kiss going for a bit longer and then breaks it just long enough to say "I'm so glad we started doing this."
Rodimus moves his hand up Drift's arm after loosing the lace of their fingers. He slips the tips of his fingers under the armor plated over his chest, stroking the edges of the shielded components. "Definitely one of my better ideas." Of course he would take the credit. He slips his hand from Drift's helm to the back of his neck to pull him back down in a hard kiss. It's a good thing that Drift is looking out for that polish job, because Rodimus just arches up against him like he's aiming to undo all of Drift's work in an instant.
Now that his hand is free, Drift is quick to join Rodimus in the gropefest he's started. He slides his hand down along the length of Rodimus' side, still mindful of his finish, before coming to rest at his hip. He gives it a firm squeeze before his fingers begin exploring, slipping into the gap where the joint of Rodimus' leg meets his hip. It's a good way to get a finger pinched but Drift is willing to take that risk.
Rodimus makes a promising sort of noise, all low and throaty and rumbling around in his chest to wrap with the purr of his engine. He slides his knee up alongside Drift's thigh and shifts to roll and switch their positions--
Apparently he forgot that they are on top of the desk.
Drift is really starting to get into it, deepening their kiss with an aggressive growl while his hand roams over Rodimus' frame. Then suddenly he's getting up close and personal with the floor as the two of them go tumbling off the edge of his desk. He stares at Rodimus with a surprised look on his face and then breaks out into laughter. "That's what I get for doing this on the desk. I should really get a couch in here or something."
Rodimus sits back and rubs his elbow with a muttered, "Ow." He looks back at Drift with a reluctant laugh answering, then moves forward to complete his earlier maneuver and put Drift under him. "Well, we could call a halt until you fix that, or we could improvise."
"Hmmm..." Drift makes a show of thinking even though he already knows his answer. He gives Rodimus a goofy grin and reaches his arms up to wrap around his shoulders. "I say we improvise."