TITLE:
Conversations
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by
people with a lot more money :)
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can do. Any
mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okama_myrrhibis
Sometimes you need to talk about it to get a better perspective...
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It was a hot day. The sun was burning in the August
sky. There was hardly any insect life. All lay still, waiting for the sun to
set, for temperatures to drop.
“Did you ever really freak out?“
Sam looked up from his frozen mocha and frowned a little at the question. “Over Bee?”
Beads of perspiration hung on the clear plastic cup that contained his
beverage. Sam had opted for short sleeves and light pants. He liked sun and
warmth, had grown up in it, but today was especially hot.
“Yeah,” Will now said.
The ex-Army Ranger stirred his tall coffee, two sugars, no milk. They were
sitting outside a tiny store in the middle of the desert. It had a wrap-around
porch, was painted in fading blue and white, and there was no one around but
them for miles. The owner was a thin old man of undetermined age, bushy
eyebrows over alert eyes, bent over from ‘old war wounds’ as he always claimed,
and who couldn’t care less who sat on his porch.
Sam had been the one who had found this place on his long rides with Bumblebee.
It had fantastic coffees and the ice cream was to die for. Will had been rather
reluctant to leave the base and with it his safety against prying eyes, but Sam
had convinced him that there would be no one around.
And there wasn’t.
Cars passed by only now and then. They seemed to shimmer and blur on the
heat-beaten road. The road was a good mile from the little shop and casual
looks wouldn’t reveal Will’s ‘skin problem’. He had opted for long sleeves
despite the heat and a pulled down baseball cap. The sunglasses hid another
portion of his face. In the shade of the porch the glyphs all but disappeared
from curious eyes.
“I freaked,” Sam now said, thumb running through the water droplets on his cup.
“Multiple times. First time in
Will nodded. He had been there. Busy with staying alive, with saving people,
the whole damned planet, but he had been there.
“I didn’t know how painful it was; if it was painful at all. I didn’t know if
he might die of it. I had no clue.” Sam shrugged. “I also freaked at having an
alien car. It was a small freaking. More of a mild panic
sometimes. I was afraid the government might take him away, that he
might tire of being just a car, of sitting in the parking lot and waiting for
me at school. Silly stuff.”
“Not silly,” Will contradicted softly. “Normal.”
Another shrug. Sam stirred his mocha. “Up until the
day I stumbled around Bobby B’s dealership I was a normal guy.” He chuckled.
“At least as normal as you are with seventeen, hormones running wild, no
girl-friend in sight, and the joke of the jocks.”
Will nodded again. He knew seventeen and high-school,
senior year. He had been a jock, he had had a girl. Still, he knew.
“Then came the technopathy. That was a full freak-out.
I could feel him, hear him, touch him… all of them. After
I got a handle on that… getting together wasn’t really such a problem.” Sam
smiled.
Will chuckled. “I bet.”
“It’s not like you just switch from human to mech, Will. I had the advantage of
getting to know him technopathically before we found there’s something more. I
couldn’t even say what the ‘more’ is. It’s just… nice. To
have someone close, to be understood, to share something.”
“And the sex ain’t bad either,”
Sam didn’t really flush, but there was a little head-ducking involved. “It’s
not sex,” he finally said. “It’s something else. It touches something inside
me.”
“And it feels good.”
Another head duck. “Yes. Very.”
Will gazed at his coffee. “I’m still not sure what
this is between me and Ironhide.”
“A connection?” came the guess.
“In a way. We share something. It’s not technopathy.
It’s more… physical, without being physical for real.”
“And it freaks you?”
“Sometimes. It feels good, Sam. Never doubt it. It’s
really good.”
“Then there’s no harm.”
“But it’s…” Will exhaled and shook his head. He took a long swallow from his
coffee. “I don’t know who I am, Sam. I don’t know what I feel.”
“There’s nothing wrong in sharing with one of them, Will. It’s not a
commitment.”
“Feels like it.”
“Because you’re human.”
“Did you commit to Bumblebee?”
Sam nodded silently. “Yeah,” he then said. “It’s different for us, though.
It’s… more than sharing. It’s not a spark bond, but it feels like it sometimes.
I know what’s between Jazz and Barricade. I touched it often enough. This is…
similar. Not the same, but similar. It’s really good and fun, but also intense
and warm and just us.” He made a vague gesture. “Hard to
explain.”
“I get it.” Will squinted into the sun, glasses still on his nose. “Humans
and mechs have different emotions. I loved Sarah. A lot.
It was head-over-heels and just as intense. The sex was great, actually. And
when she got pregnant it was like everything was suddenly perfect.”
“Ironhide’s not Sarah. Just like Bee’s not Mikaela.”
“I know that!”
“Ironhide’s not just someone, Will. He understands more than any human would.”
“Aside from you.”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”
Will chewed on his lower lip, clearly agitated. He looked at one hand, the
runes faint and lazy against the tanned skin.
“I freaked the first time when his name showed up,” he finally said. “It was
there, on my wrist, like some blatantly obvious hint at something I was too
stupid to understand. I freaked more when his touch became comforting. How the
runes reacted to it. How I felt when he did it.”
“Nice?”
“Really nice. No sex involved.”
Sam watched dust blow across the desert ground. “I know how it feels.”
“And then he overwhelmed me with the sharing stuff. From one moment to the next
we left out several steps in the relationship and had landed in bed, so to
speak.”
“Will…”
He threw up a hand and waved off the comment. “Yeah, yeah, no
sex. I understand that. It’s not sex. Humans have sex, biological
imperative and messy fluids and all. But I am human, Sam. I have these messy
fluids. My biological imperative doesn’t include making out with giant robots,
though.”
Sam snorted with laughter and then broke out in bursts of it. “Gawd, that
sounds so bad,” he hiccupped.
Another fit of laughter almost had Sam choking. Will gave him a few pats on the
back.
“Would be easier, though. To understand all this,” he
finally added. “The size is a problem. The metal stuff.
The alien way of thinking.”
“You’d kiss a robot?”
A shrug.
Sam grinned. “You would!”
“Hey!”
Sam leaned back a little, eyes on the blue sky. “They’re
different. The two of us are different. We both have different ways of being
with two aliens who find we match them somehow. Of course I have an advantage
with the technopathy, but you can become a protoform, be Ironhide’s size. You
can share, which is natural for them.”
“You have almost a spark bond. You understand what everything means,” Will
countered.
“We have different partners,” Sam pointed out. “Ironhide would probably freak
over technopathic contact.”
“So would I,”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
A huff. “No clue. I hadn’t gotten laid since… Sarah,”
he confessed, wondering why he discussed his sex life, or lack thereof, and
relationship with Ironhide in such detail with the only human being who could
actually have an idea what he was talking about.
Okay, that was the answer already: there was no one else and Sam wouldn’t call
him weird or perverted.
“I enjoy it, plain and simple. I like it, Ironhide likes it…”
“No harm done,” Sam concluded. “Which is pretty much the
philosophy of Cybertronians. It’s casual. Committed
and casual. No danger, no harm, no foul, no nothing.”
“Just one confused human.”
“You’re less confused than you think, Will.”
“Am I?” the former Major asked.
“Yeah. We wouldn’t be talking otherwise. Have you ever
thought of initiating sharing yourself?” Sam suddenly asked.
“Huh?”
“You said it’s usually Ironhide. He starts it.”
“Uh-huh. I mean… I wouldn’t know where to… touch.”
“Ask him.”
Sam just grinned at him, unrelenting, clearly enjoying this.
“Dating Sarah was easier,”
“Like you making up your mind?”
“Probably.” A shrug. “I
already told him that I like it. I’m not running away screaming.”
“You just have deep conversations with me.”
“Does it help?”
“In a way.”
“Good.”
Sam let his eyes wander over the blue sky once more, then back to the desert. His
frozen mocha was empty, so was Will’s coffee. Around the porch Bumblebee was
waiting patiently for the two humans. He hadn’t tried to peek and he hadn’t
listened in. He was a solid, reassuring presence in Sam’s mind.
This was how such a relationship should be, he thought. Safe and secure. Able to trust the other one, have
a true partner. Ironhide was giving Will the necessary time to adjust
because there was no technopathy, but a lot of cultural clashes and different
understandings of the subject matter. Sam had long ago stopped thinking like a
human about this. He had stopped used words like ‘love’ and ‘sex’, had replaced
them with the Cybertronian equivalent. It was like learning a new language that
consisted of emotions instead of solely words. Cybertronians understood the
meaning of love in all its different shades, but they didn’t experience it like
humans. Bee had never said it to Sam, but Sam knew that the mechanoid felt
something equally strong.
It was so difficult to explain to another, so hard to put into words that
didn’t get across what this meant. There was no translation, just the fact.
And Ironhide had told Will already that he thought of them as compatible. They
had shared. It was close and scary and wonderful and hard to accept and so
very, very new to Will.
::He’ll understand one day:: Bumblebee sent.
::Part of him does already. It’s just a lot. The
accident was only a year ago, Bee. All that fell together and almost smothered
him. Ironhide means well and he wants Will close, but Will is still
struggling::
::Ironhide is patient::
Sam smiled. Yeah, he was. You wouldn’t believe it, but the weapons specialist
had an incredible patience when it came to
::And Will has you:: Bumblebee added.
°°° °°° °°° °°°
They drove back after another frozen mocha and an iced
latte. The old man in the shop didn’t even blink at their continued presence,
about Will looking like he was in the middle of a snow field instead of a
desert.
Bumblebee was playing the radio on the way back, easy listening. Sam was
driving, though not really. His hands were on the wheel, his mind half leaning
against Bumblebee’s, half keeping an eye on their passenger. Will had tipped
back the seat, closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He wasn’t. He was wide
awake, as Bumblebee had informed his friend.
Back at the base
Nothing more was said in any way, verbally or otherwise.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The whole of yesterday had been nice,
Because one part of the whole mess hadn’t figured into it
before. It was something he had forgotten about.
His whole body was changing. He was changing. What was a hybrid system now
might one day become totally alien when compared to a human. Sam was already
genetically no longer from Earth. His make-up was different and Ratchet had a
few theories. With Will the theories were coming with proof – he had left the
human genetic pool, too. His cells were a mix of Allspark and organic stuff, as
if partial humanity had been added as an afterthought. When
he shape-changed, his body was even more alien.
And he had stopped aging the normal human way. Ratchet had found no sign of
cell degradation anywhere in his body the last few times he had been checked. He
was frozen in time, like the Cybertronians, and the hybrid cells showed no sign
of deteriorating either.
So he was… ageless.
Sharing, he repeated to himself. They were sharing. Totally
different kinda thing.
One day he might even think about it that way. For now, a year into his change
and a few months into this new relationship, he was still too much set in his
human way of thinking.
Because he was human and always would be, no matter what his body decided came
next.
“So you’re stuck with me,” he said concluded neutrally, looking at the black
mechanoid next to him.
Almost on the same level. Ironhide was standing, Will was on top of the low building at the other
end of the airfield.
“I can think of worse,” was the teasing reply.
“Oh, thank you!” was the sarcastic reply. “I feel so loved.”
Blue optics gleamed with amusement.
“But seriously,” Will added, not really looking at his friend. “If Ratchet is
correct, I’m becoming more and more like you guys. Still organic, but part of
me decided that living your life-span might be a perk.”
Ironhide regarded him solemnly. “I won’t say no to that perk.”
“Sure?”
“I would mourn your passing, Will Lennox. Like any comrade’s.”
“I see.”
Ironhide tilted his head. “Would you regret being with me
that long?”
“No,”
“I think that can be arranged,” came the wry rumble.
Will snorted. “I think so, too.”
A single digit carefully touched him, gentle and careful. It stroked over his
tense back and
“Compromises,” he said softly, repeating what had been said so often before.
“Compromises,” Ironhide confirmed.
“I can live with that.” Already do. So many of them.
And I care less about each new one. Because it works, Will mused to himself. No
technopathy needed.
Runes swirled lazily over his skin and his eyes fell on the delicate ‘bracelet’
of glyphs around his wrist.
Near-forever sounded scary. The loss of so much looming on the horizon made Will want to cower in a corner and cry for days. He wanted
to lose it, scream and rant, but the prospect of having something steady and
permanent at his side gave it all a lighter note. Not much, but a little.
Ironhide let his finger run over the marked forearm. The glyphs danced in his
wake.
Ironhide opened his hand in an offer and Will climbed onto the palm. He was
lowered back to the ground, smiling briefly as a thank you. They walked back to
the base where Ironhide went back to his weapons lab,
off to tinker with whatever he had set his mind on next. Will switched on the
TV, got himself a bag of chips and a large bottle of too sweet, very unhealthy
soft drink, and let mindless shows wash over him. The runes were almost docile
now, barely moving, tattoos without life on his body.
Maybe he could get Epps to play chess with him tonight. It would be a nice
distraction. His former second-in-command usually wiped the floor with him, but
it was nice to spend time with people from his past.
I need to get a job, he thought wryly. I’m starting to sound like my
own grandfather.
Laughing to himself, he went in search for Sam. The younger man was about to
start on organizing his move to the base. He would need help and Will needed
something to do.