2016-01-31 Keeping Crew
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Knock Out's Office - Science & Medical|
|Participants||Breakdown, Knock Out|
|Summary||Breakdown hunts down his husband for some extra big hugs.|
Breakdown came away from his encounter with the Decepticon Justice Division largely intact. He's a little scraped up when he turns up in the medibay, rendering assistance in the carrying of others as is his general wont as the big, bluff grunt, but he doesn't stick around the actual treatment center long, because his injury is so comparatively minor, and he took more incidental harm from Brainstorm's cure for the problem than he did during the actual battle.
However, there is a very serious wound he is here to demand treatment for, and it requires the finest surgeon's hands the Lost Light has to offer.
Scraping through the door into Knock Out's office, he doesn't waste time. He stomps into the room, stomps across the floor without saying hello, snags Knock Out by both arms and hauls him up out of his chair by main strength to crush him against the broad bulk of his chest. Sorry, were you working?
Knock Out /is/ working! Knock Out has a bunch of work, in fact! He /should/ be in the OR, and he's probably on his way, but then his conjunx is there /lifting him into the air/ in an /entirely undignified fashion/. "Breakdown!" he complains, wriggling in the larger bot's grip. "I have work to do! If you hadn't noticed, you all got the frak beat out of you!"
Breakdown doesn't immediately let him go. For a beat he seems intent on crushing him all the closer when it seems like he's trying to escape. He mumbles something in a low, rumbling grumble that sounds a lot like, "Thought you got blew up."
"Well, that sounds ridiculous," Knock Out declares, stilling in Breakdown's grip in a long-suffering sort of way. "Because I'm right here. And the ship is right here. /You/ were far more likely to get blown up. Or torn apart." He frowns.
"We saw this low orbit explosion and we lost contact with the ship--" Breakdown breaks off. He lets the intensity of his hold slacken a little when Knock Out no longer seems like he is trying for an immediate escape. He bonks his head against the side of Knock Out's head as the tension begins to hiss out of his systems in a long, ticking vent. "We couldn't reach you. We thought -- I thought-- well, I didn't have that much time to think about anythin' because the fraggin' DJD were right up our aft-- but I thought--"
Knock Out wriggles out his arms, at least, so that he can press his palms to Breakdown's cheek with a faint frown. "Well, you thought wrong," he declares. "Although I admit that I'm glad I wasn't aware the DJD were sniffing around until after you came back in one piece." He studies Breakdown's face with a certain fierceness, like Primus help the DJD if they'd busted him up. At this point he's entirely, familiarly casual about being held in the wind of his conjunx's arms.
"They were lookin' for Swindle, but. After what happened to Whirl and Blast Off, they woulda been comin' for all of us." Breakdown's expression turns extremely troubled. He grips hard at Knock Out's shoulder, while meanwhile easing off the pressure of his other arm so as to let him back to his own feet and his own power if he wants, and says, "Fought 'em. Didn't die. Brainstorm did somethin'. I dunno what. Fought 'em, though."
Knock Out actually doesn't attempt to set his feet back on the ground; now that he's not arguing, he seems quite comfortable in Breakdown's arms for the moment. "I don't think anyone /but/ Brainstorm ever knows what he's doing, but I guess occasionally he's useful." He snorts quietly. "I'm sure they /loved/ Whirl and Blast Off."
There's a brief pause wherein Breakdown is still, drawing what comfort he can from the warm closeness of Knock Out's gleaming metal skin against his own admittedly more battered sheen. His cyclopean gaze shifts with a restless flicker. "I ain't a traitor," Breakdown tells Knock Out with a sudden and vehement insistence.
"Tarn's a madman," Knock Out says flatly. "Every Con knows that drawing his eye doesn't mean anything about our loyalty. Just his own insanity."
Breakdown shifts and resettles his weight back on his heels. Barest hint of smile twisting his mouth, it's hard to tell that it's not a hundred percent grimace. "Do we all know that?" he says.
Knock Out cants his head, fingers sliding lightly along the side of Breakdown's face. "Are you worried about someone in particular?"
Breakdown hesitates for a moment, and then chuffs a low noise. "Stings," he admits lowly. "I'm nice to Autobots, Knock Out. A lot of 'em. Sure, sometimes I hit 'em. But I'm crew with 'em."
"Tch." Knock Out is more reluctant to claim the word. "We work on the same ship with them," he disagrees. "We're not here for them, Breakdown."
"I don't hate 'em," Breakdown tells Knock Out sorrowfully, like he's come to this appalling realization and he's so uncomfortable with it!!! "Arcee fights like a real Con. Some of the guys in haulin' are just like guys, you know? I've put my neck on the line for a few of 'em, like Brainstorm who's too pathetic not to help. Sometimes I forget to hate Whirl for like five whole minutes at a time and he's literally the worst one on the fragging ship. Sometimes even Cap'n Flashy makes me laugh."
Knock Out watches the shift of Breakdown's expression with something approaching disapproval. Or concern. "You know," he says, "I may need to run some tests. It seems fairly clear that you've been infected with something."
"Fix me, Doc," Breakdown says. He laughs a little, a weary, wan noise with the shake of his head. "Scrap."
Knock Out curls his delicate fingers at Breakdown's cheeks, leaning in to rest his forehead to his. "Alas," he says. "I think it's likely inherent to your character. I've never been able to cure you of this -- habit -- of forming families."
"Ugh. Autobots ain't my family. That's disgustin'. You take that back." Breakdown curls his arm in a close wrap around Knock Out's hips and noses gently against his nose before resting his head, helm to helm, there in a moment's stillness.
"Well, stop acting like it, then," Knock Out grouches back at him. But still he wraps his arms loosely about Breakdown's neck and sighs. "Ah, love," he says.
"Least I got you, even if I'm disgustin'," Breakdown mutters even as he vents the last lingering tension out through his systems. His shoulders slump somewhat. For a bowed instant, he seems at risk of tilting over on Knock Out entirely, but his native balance reasserts itself before any harm can be done.
"Yes, it does seem like I'm stuck with a disgusting Autobot-lover," Knock Out sighs again, but he does pat his conjunx's cheek all the same. He finally wriggles to settle his feet back on the ground, but his touch lingers on the big bot's frame.
"That's terrible. I bet you would never have become my conjunx if you knew this was going to happen." Breakdown is mournful. He lets Knock Out down, sure, but he doesn't immediately let go. His arm lingers in its warmth, reluctant to withdraw.
"Probably not," Knock Out says in breezy agreement. He makes no attempt to wriggle the rest of the way away, just settles his feet on the ground. "But what can you do?"
Breakdown presses a kiss to his snarky mouth, that's what he can do: still questing for some nameless assurance, no doubt. His fingers curl loosely along the curve of his wheel-well, his other hand still warm and solid at Knock Out's hip.
For all that Knock Out snarks, his present is solid and steady and /there/. He jokes about being stuck with Breakdown, but he shows no real sign of wanting to escape. "I'll survive, I suppose," he says into the touch of Breakdown's lips. Then, with a faint smile, he says, "We'll survive."
"Yeah." Breakdown noses gently against Knock Out's cheek, and then with one final sigh, he says, "I better let you get back to work," without making any immediate move to withdraw.
"I /am/ very busy and important," Knock Out agrees, although it doesn't have much weight when he makes no move to stop lingering in the wrap of Breakdown's arms.
"You are." Breakdown's smile is very slight. He leans there for a long moment still, and then finally, finally begins to draw back.
Knock Out leans in when Breakdown draws back just long enough to bomp his forehead against his one last time. "We're fine," he reminds his conjunx. "And if the DJD would like to start another argument, I've got a whole collection of saws to go through."
Breakdown's smile widens. "They don't stand a chance," he says. He catches Knock Out's hand in his, squeezes it, and then starts to shuffle off toward the door again. There's a looot of doctoring to do for the people who got hit harder than he did, after all.
Knock Out hates to see him leave, but loves to watch him go; he makes sure to get a good look as Breakdown makes his way out. Hey bb.