dracoqueen22 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dracoqueen22) wrote2015-12-23 05:31 pm
dracoqueen22) wrote2015-12-23 05:31 pm
Entry tags:
[TF AU] Nobody's Home
Title: Nobody's Home
Characters: Kup/Ironhide, Jazz, Sentinel Magnus, Alpha Trion
Universe: Defiance, TF AU
Rating: M
Warning: sticky, political maneuverings
Description: Kup and Ironhide discover that their ward is missing, and that's not something they're going to accept lying down, no matter what their Magnus says.
Part Two of a Commission fic for Anonymous.
Waking up to darkness was nothing new. Here beneath the surface, there was nothing of natural light and conservation of energy was the rule.
But waking up to pleasure shooting through his frame, the sensation of warmth wrapped around his spike, and an energy field surrounding him, thick with mischief… that was different. Uncommon, but welcome.
Ironhide didn't even have to look down to know who was giving him the best alarm on the planet.
All he did was gasp, tilt his helm back against the berth pillow, and rock his hips up, urging his spike deeper into the welcoming intake.
His lover purred a laugh, the vibrations from his vocalizer tickling over the crown of Ironhide's spike. Ironhide shivered and dug his heels into the berth. He reached down, stroking the blunt projections of Kup's helm, encouraging him.
“Mm,” Ironhide said, his vocals raspy until he rebooted his vocalizer. “What did I do ta deserve this?”
Hands slid across his thighs, fingers dipping into the wide seams of his plating, and stroking the cables beneath. Kup drew back off his spike, nipping at the crown with his denta as he let Ironhide slip from his mouth.
“No reason,” he purred, his ex-vents ghosting over Ironhide's damp length, making his sensory nodes sing with delight. “Just felt like it.”
“Then feel like it more often,” Ironhide teased as he rolled his hips upward, his optics gradually acclimating to the lack of light, until he could make out the curve of Kup's smirk. “And finish what ya started.”
Kup chuckled and ex-vented again, a hot and moist burst that made Ironhide shiver. “I'm thinking of finishing this elsewise. Maybe riding this eager thing. What do ya think?”
Ironhide's engine growled. He tilted a knee inward, tapping it against Kup's side. “I think ya better get up here before I reach down and finish ya myself.”
Lips mouthed at the rounded head of Ironhide's spike before they wandered away. “I think I can do that,” Kup said.
The berth rattled as he moved and Ironhide could just barely make out the shifting of the shadows. Kup's biolighting announced his movements and Ironhide watched the blinking yellow lines around his interface approach and descend over Ironhide's spike. Even more enticing was the sight of his red and black banded lights being slowly consumed by the dark of Kup's valve, his anterior node pulsing dimly.
Ironhide's helm threw back, hitting the pillow, as he groaned. His hands sought out Kup's hips, holding on, as Kup sank down until Ironhide was fully hilted within him. His spike throbbed, charge flicking between his spike nodes and Kup's receptors. His partner's calipers were cinching tight, spiraling down to lock on Ironhide's spike.
“Don't fall back into recharge now,” Kup drawled as he rocked his hips, moving Ironhide's spike incrementally within him. “I ain't had my overload yet.”
Ironhide laughed and planted his pedes on the berth, all the better to brace himself with. “Don't worry. You'll get your overload.”
Kup leaned forward, the weight of his palms landing on Ironhide's chestplate, just beneath his windshield. “Or I can take it.”
Ironhide licked his lips and groaned as Kup clenched down on him, calipers rippling up and down in his spike in a controlled wave. “That, too.” He tried not to pant, but his vents started working full bore, rattling the berth.
Kup was as cold as nitrogen above him, but he was always like that. Had been as long as Ironhide knew him. Nothing perplexed him, nothing made him lose his cool. Not even their younglings, adopted though they were.
Kup rolled his hips, lubricant trickling free and soaking Ironhide's array. His engine rumbled, vibrating Ironhide's frame, ticking his arousal into the redzone. Kup had done such a good job revving him up that Ironhide's stamina was now in question. Fragger.
And Kup knew it, too. The shape of his smirk was visible in the dim. “Or maybe it ain't ya fallin' into recharge I should worry about,” he purred as he rocked harder, the berth creaking beneath them.
Ironhide huffed. “Ain't my fault ya worked me up good and proper,” he argued and reached down, his thumb finding and flicking over that pulsing anterior node.
He heard, more than saw, the clicking-shuffle of Kup's armor plates, a clear sign of his pleasure, before a wave of desire struck him in the form of a flare of Kup's energy field. Hands scraped on Ironhide's chestplate as Kup dropped down and ground hard, Ironhide's spike rubbing firmly against his ceiling node.
Kup leaned forward, pressing their forehelms together. “Maybe yer just gettin' old. Ever think about that?”
Fragger.
Ironhide's optics narrowed and he grabbed Kup's hips, squeezing tight. “We'll see who's old,” he muttered and heaved upward.
Kup's knees clamped around his hips, reading Ironhide's intentions no doubt, which made it easier for Ironhide to flip them over. Kup's back hit the berth as Ironhide slammed back into him, their arrays chiming together.
Kup groaned, helm tossing back, as his legs locked around Ironhide's waist, valve cycling in eager arousal. Ironhide pushed into him, harder and faster, as he stole his mate's lips for a deep kiss. Their fields clashed and meshed, heat and desire fighting together, ramping up the pleasure.
The berth creaked. The younglings were going to start complaining soon.
They'd get over it.
Ironhide chuckled into the kiss and nipped at Kup's lips, his vents shoving heat into the room, erasing any lingering chill. Fire pooled at the base of his spinal strut, his spike throbbing without pause. He knew he was close.
Kup was, too. He'd shoved a hand between their frames, gripping his spike and working it vigorously, as he only did when he was inches from overload and too impatient to wait for it.
“This ain't a race, Kup,” Ironhide teased as he tightened his grip on Kup's hip, his other hand pressed to the berth for balance.
His mate's vents strained, frame rising up to meet each one of Ironhide's rapid thrusts. “It is when I want my overload, slagger.”
Ironhide chuckled and kissed him again, their glossa lashing together in another teasing fight. Kup bucked upward, his valve cinching tight, and he grunted as his spike started to spurt, stripes of transfluid painting both of their frames. Kup's engine raced, heat pouring off his frame, but it was the arrhythmic pulling and gripping of his calipers that did Ironhide in.
Pleasure built up inside of Ironhide, arousal tightening and tightening, until it was a coil that burst. Overload rolled over him, first in his field, then in his frame. Ironhide panted as release sent a wave of charge across his circuits. He spilled deep into Kup's valve, pulse after pulse, making quite the mess.
Ironhide sagged forward, forehelm pressed to Kup's. His fans whirred, though one with a clunk he'd probably need to get check.
“Best wake up call,” Ironhide murmured, kissing his way down to Kup's lips.
His partner chuckled and wrapped his arms around Ironhide's neck, deepening the kiss. His thighs squeezed Ironhide's waist before he loosened them and dropped his pedes back to the berth. Ironhide slipped free, leaving a trail of transfluid and lubricant behind.
“Tell ya what,” Kup said with a brush of their olfactory sensors. “Ya can wake me up tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
~
They emerged from their shared habsuite clean and ready to face the cycle. Or, to be fair, the off-cycle.
They had the luck of being off-shift today and Ironhide intended to enjoy it. He intended to park himself in the entertainment room, flick on the vidscreen, and not move until Kup dragged him off the futon. Or one of the younglings convinced him to do otherwise. Roddy had been whining about wanting to get some more training in so Ironhide might be willing to do that.
Otherwise, nope. He wasn't moving. He worked hard. He deserved a cycle off. And if he was lucky, he could convince Kup to join him. Roddy would just have to deal with seeing two old mechs snuggling.
Kup went to their shared office first, leaving Ironhide free to park himself on the futon. He clicked through the few entertainment channels available, but when nothing looked appealing, he switched to a datapad instead. There was one he'd been meaning to read for what felt like orns now, and it was high time he got to indulge.
“Have you seen Orion or Hot Rod?” Kup called out to him, vocals easily carrying through the small hab-suite.
“Not in a couple cycles,” Ironhide replied absently. Which wasn't all too unusual. Orion often worked long hours in the Archives, going so far as to bunk there for several cycles in a row. He would often board with Jazz on occasion as well.
Or, much to Ironhide and Kup's dissatisfaction, he would berth with Megatronus.
In fact, both of their younglings were prone to not coming home. At this rate, their rooms were little more than storage spaces. Maybe it was time Kup and Ironhide had a discussion with them about moving out.
Then they could finally get around to fragging on every surface of their hab-suite, as they hadn't been able to do since agreeing to take in the two orphans.
Haha.
Ironhide grinned and turned his attention back to his datapad. Not that he was able to enjoy it for long because Kup's energy field – thick with worry – struck him moments before his mate emerged from the hall.
“The lad's not gone, he's missing.”
Ironhide looked up from his datapad, his tank churning. “Which one?”
“The one who rarely misbehaves,” Kup answered as he came out of the adjoining hallway, his steps careful and measured. “I just heard back from Jazz. He ain't seen him.”
“Orion then.”
Kup sat down next to him, plucking his cygar from his lips. The tip burned red. “Aye. No one's seen or heard from in a week. Finally got hold of Roddy, too. He says he last saw him heading for the Ramp.”
Ironhide growled. “And he didn't say anything?”
“Ya know how those two are. Closer'n brothers and always coverin' for one another. He knew about Megatronus first, too,” Kup reminded him.
Ironhide grimaced. Orion and Hot Rod were close, he had to admit. Orion looked out for Hot Rod as his younger brother, and Hot Rod kept Orion's secrets, few though they were. Hot Rod should have known better though! It was dangerous above, a danger Orion was not equipped to handle.
Ironhide hissed a ventilation through his vents and leaned back. He scrubbed his palm down his face. “We shoulda seen it.”
“Lad always was curious.”
“Megatronus know?”
Kup scoffed and bit back down on the end of the cygar. “No. You know what he'd do if he did.”
“Keep cowering in the dark?” Ironhide rolled his optics.
He was not fond of Orion's suitor. He'd never been fond of Orion's suitor. Mech was more than a little useless. No good at anything but spouting pretty words and making Orion stumble home covered in filth. Orion deserved better.
Orion had dreams. And those dreams probably took him right up to their world.
“He's made of sterner stuff, Ironhide.” Kup's cygar shifted from one side of his mouth to the other. His hands were flat on his thighs, but Ironhide read the restraint in them. Kup was furious. “But I'm not talkin' about Megatronus. I'm talkin' about Orion and the fact he ain't home where he's supposed to be.”
Ironhide sighed. “Sentinel won't like us goin' after him.”
“Ain't Sentinel's choice to make. Any fool who wants to take their chances up there is welcome to it. He knows it. He can't stop it.” Kup's gaze softened, no doubt reflecting Ironhide's own. “I can't fault Orion his curiosity. But I can't leave off without knowing what happened to him.”
“Hot Rod's goin' ta want ta come.”
Kup scoffed. “Like I need another curious pup on my skidplate.” He scraped a hand down his face, stressed gears creaking with age. “Ah, what a mess.”
“Ya tell Hot Rod ta come on home?”
“Course.”
“And?”
Kup tossed him a sideways glare. “Ya tell me what ya think he said.”
Ironhide's engine rumbled and he pushed himself to his pedes. “I'll bring 'im back. And see what else I can find out. Maybe Jack's brat knows somethin'.”
“Ratchet?”
“Yeah.” Ironhide swept a hand over his helm and headed to his weapons locker, keying in the combination to pull out his blaster and spare clips. He wasn't supposed to carry them when off-duty, but this was more important than Sentinel's regulations. “They study together sometimes. I swear they're attached to their datapads.”
Kup hauled himself out of the chair, smoke rising from the end of his cygar. “Then I'll see what's up at the citadel.”
Ironhide caught his partner's arm as Kup passed. “Ya do that and they'll know we mean ta go after him.”
Kup turned into the hold, tilting his helm. “It's sweet that ya think I don't know anythin' about subterfuge, sweetspark.” He winked and shifted his cygar to the other side of his mouth, leaning in to pop a quick kiss to Ironhide's cheek. “Almost like ya think I'm innocent or somethin'.”
Ironhide snorted. “Ya ain't been innocent since the day ya were sparked.” He caught Kup's lips for a quick kiss that tasted of hot metal before he let his partner go. “After today, we go AWOL, so get anythin' ya think we might have trouble gettin' later, yeah?”
“Don't be so hasty. We can't leave until we know more otherwise we're just as foolish as the younglings. We can go AWOL anytime. But we can only do it once.”
He was right, of course. He always was. It was one of the reasons Ironhide loved him.
Ironhide nodded and strapped on his blaster, grabbing his ID and badge as well. They would both have to be careful to avoid Sentinel. The Magnus wasn't going to like two of his top officers vanishing to look for their wayward youngling.
Speaking of…
“What about Hot Rod?” Ironhide asked as he watched Kup open his own weapons locker, pulling out his armament. “We gonna take him, too?”
“Might not have a choice. Unless we leave 'im with Ultra.”
“He'll hate that.”
Their optics met and both of them chuckled in unison. Yeah. It was settled. They would contact Ultra and see if he'd look after Hot Rod. That was, once they extracted Hot Rod from where he'd been hiding the last week, mostly likely at Springer's hab. Mech was a bad influence on the kid.
Silence fell as they finished arming up, just in case they didn't end up coming back home. If they had to go off grid, they would.
Ironhide closed his locker and shut it. He leaned against the door and watched as Kup finished stashing various weapons on his frame.
“We're gonna find him,” he said.
Kup gave him another one of those sideways look. “Course we are.” His field rippled out, touching against Ironhide's with pride and affection. “We made a promise.”
Ironhide grinned.
Yeah, they did.
~
Ironhide found Jazz in the Archives, Orion's usual haunt but far from where Jazz liked to spend his days. Then again, the dark and dusty place was probably like home to Jazz, who often crept into unimaginable places all in the name of the Magnus.
He did his mentor proud, that was for sure.
“I don't know where he is,” Jazz said before Ironhide could get a word in. The spy's plating had clamped down tight, his energy field unreadable. “I told Kup that already. I dunno why ya think Imma change my answer now.”
Ironhide leaned against a workbench, staring down at the small mech. “Mebbe ya don't know where he is fer sure, but ya got suspicions, right?”
Silence.
Ironhide stared.
Jazz's backplating ruffled. He turned his helm so that Kup could see the gleam of his visor from the side. “I hear rumor,” he said. “That the Winglord caught a playmate. A grounder.”
Ironhide's ventilations stalled.
“I don't know that it's Orion,” Jazz was quick to say and he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his faceplate. “But the timestamps match.”
Nausea settled in Ironhide's tank, though it was quickly joined by fury. “Why? They don't keep prisoners. They toss us back or kill us.”
“I don't know, 'Hide. I'm doin' the best I can here with what I got. And my hands're tied.”
Ironhide stalked forward, looming over the smaller mech. “Orion is your friend,” he growled. “Why weren't ya looking after him?”
“Cause I ain't his keeper! And he's a grown mech!” Jazz lifted his chin, every inch his mentor's trainee. “If ya want to point fingers at who shoulda been watchin' him, maybe ya oughta look at Megatronus.”
Ironhide's optics narrowed. “Believe you'n me, I will. But mebbe ya could stop and take a moment to spare some concern for the mech ya call friend.”
Metal creaked as Jazz's hands pulled into fists. “And maybe you shoulda been looking after yer own brat, yeah?” He lifted a hand, shoving a finger toward Ironhide's chestplate. “I ain't the one to blame here, Hide. Don't go takin' your worry out on me or you'n me gonna have more than words, got me?”
Ironhide backed down. Not because he was afraid of Jazz, but because Jazz's mentor had a nasty habit of inviting himself into a mech's house without their permission. He was protective of his initiates, too.
“The moment ya find anything, ya'll comm us,” Ironhide said, and he let some of his concern bleed into his vocals. He was a mentor looking for his ward, not just a security officer.
Jazz cycled a ventilation. “Course. Woulda done that without the posturin'. Ya know that.” He quirked a grin, one that made him so popular all through the city. “Though mebbe I'll comm Kup instead.”
“Maybe ya should.” Ironhide bared his denta in a grin. “Nice talk, Jazz. I'll see ya later.”
“Hah,” the spy-in-training called out after him. “Not if Whip don't see ya first.”
Ice crept down Ironhide's spinal strut. But he didn't give the threat any weight than he could afford. Not right now.
He had his ward to find.
And it seemed the worse they feared had come to pass.
~
Ironhide knew what to expect the moment he walked out of the Archives and found Prowl waiting for him. Sentinel's Enforcer in black and grey looked casual, but there was a leashed violence beneath his polished plating and nitrogen-blue optics.
Ironhide could have taken him. But it wasn't to that point yet. They needed information more than they needed to go aboveground. They couldn't find Orion if they didn't know where to look.
“Lemme guess,” Ironhide drawled as he folded his arms. “Sentinel wants to see me.”
“Sentinel Magnus,” Prowl corrected in that cool voice of his. “And yes. You don't need me to tell you why.”
“No, I don't.” Ironhide cycled a ventilation and gestured for the Head Enforcer to lead the way. “Let's go then.”
Prowl's lip quirked upward. “Thank you for not making this difficult.”
“Yet,” Ironhide corrected.
Prowl did not respond. But the cutting look he gave Ironhide spoke volumes. Which was fine as Ironhide preferred silence.
As cold as the data he seemed to love, that was Prowl. Ironhide wasn't fond of the mech. Then again, most Security Officers weren't fond of Enforcers because the Enforcers were loyal to Magnus. Which wasn't a bad thing.
Unless that Magnus was Sentinel.
Ironhide followed Prowl through the dark tunnels, toward the massive hollowed out space that served as the Magnus den. It was a place that could easily and comfortably house at least twenty mechs and femmes, but the Magnus had claimed it for himself, and didn't even have the decency to justify it by having a large family.
No, Ironhide wasn't bitter. Much.
But the previous Magnus had been a mech worth following. He'd been a mech Ironhide had been proud to call Magnus.
Prowl deposited Ironhide in front of Sentinel's audience chamber where Kup was already waiting, having been retrieved by Prowl's second in command, another doorwinged mech by the name of Smokescreen. This one, Ironhide liked, because Smokescreen actually had a personality and a sense of humor. He and Kup were laughing it up, though Smokescreen was quick to wipe away his grin when he saw Prowl.
Mech could suck the joy out of any gathering.
“Ya knew this was comin', 'Hide,” Kup drawled as he gnawed on the end of his cygar, the tip glowing red.
He'd actually lit it. Damn. He was anxious.
“Ya tryin' to tell me we shoulda just skipped off?” Ironhide asked as they waited for the door to open and admit them to Sentinel's judgment.
“When have I ever said 'I told ya so'?”
Ironhide arched an orbital ridge. “Last week. When I tried to drag Roddy home and ya said to give him space.” He touched his left eye, where the scrape of paint gave testament to Hot Rod's irritation at having been embarrassed.
“Oh? That soon was it?” Kup smirked and winked.
The door chimed, letting them know they could enter. Well, if they were going to be punished, at least they could be punished together. So long as Sentinel did something about Orion, Ironhide would take whatever punishment he was given.
They traded a glance and stepped into the room.
Sentinel was seated upon his throne, his audience chamber so brightly lit that Ironhide had to squint. It was a waste of energy, a waste of resources. But Sentinel had to have his luxuries.
Council Member Alpha Trion was present as well, which Ironhide hadn't expected. He didn't look at either Ironhide or Kup, however, and something in his posture suggested he'd been trying to speak to the Magnus to no avail. Curious.
Sentinel's optics narrowed as the door closed behind them, giving them a measure of privacy. “I hear rumor,” he said, without any kind of preamble. “Rumor that my two best security officers are making plans to go to the surface.”
“Our younglin' is missin',” Kup said as he crossed his arms over his chestplate, highlighting his scars. “Of course we are.”
“You don't know that he's there,” Sentinel said with a frown.
“Gotta reliable source,” Ironhide corrected. “That's good enough for us.”
“But not for me.” Sentinel's frown deepened and his field flushed out, deep and heavy, like a weight on Ironhide's shoulders, trying to bear him to the ground. “Do you have any idea the trouble you could cause? The danger you will put all of us in if you tread upon their territory?”
Ironhide's plating bristled, though he kept his snarl to a minimum, well aware that Prowl and Smokescreen and the rest of the Enforcers were in shouting distance.
“That's my youngling out there. I'll do what it takes to get him back,” he growled.
“And risk war with the Seekers? With the Winglord?” Sentinel shook his helm and pushed to his pedes, towering over them with his presence and his field. “No. Absolutely not. If Orion Pax wandered to the surface, it was by his choice, and he must face the consequences of that.”
Kup's cygar flared a dark crimson. “We ain't askin' your permission… sir,” he said, the last a pointedly belated addition. “We're goin'.”
Sentinel Magnus lifted his chin. “No, you are not.” His optics narrowed. “One mech is not worth the lives of everyone else. One mech is not worth war. And should you try to step one pede toward the Ramp, I will have you both incarcerated, am I clear?”
Ironhide gritted his denta so hard he felt the metal squeal. He could see Kup's cygar lighting up, curls of smoke rising.
They couldn't do anything if they were in prison. They had to at least pretend to cooperate, to buy time until they could find a way to get to the surface without arousing Sentinel's suspicion.
“As the high grade you fuel with,” Kup said, his tone too cheerful for his gravelly-vocals.
“Yeah,” Ironhide added, knowing Sentinel would expect agreement from him as well. “We get it.”
Sentinel stared at them and slowly lowered himself back to his throne. “Good.” He flicked a hand at them. “Then you're dismissed. And remember to enjoy the rest of your off-cycle. They don't come often.”
For once, Ironhide knew better than to argue. Something that Kup learned a lot quicker as he snapped off a salute and spun on a heelstrut.
Ironhide's salute was sloppier and half-sparked before he followed his mate out the door. His last glance over his shoulder revealed that Alpha Trion was stepping up to speak with Sentinel, but whatever the topic, it was lost to the closing doors.
In the hall, Smokescreen was gone, but Prowl lingered.
“Ya know I can't ignore this, Prowl,” Kup said, his voice low but his tone firm. “That's my ward. My youngling.”
Prowl pinched his olfactory sensor, his doorwings flattening against his backplate. “I know, Kup, but you have to understand the Magnus' position. We are ill-equipped to defend against the flyers.”
Che. Cowards.
Ironhide bit back the comment, swallowing it down.
“So I've heard,” Kup replied, and it was short of politeness. He pushed past Prowl, dismissing without words. “Come on, Hide. We have work to do.”
Prowl dropped his hand, his cold optics staring at Ironhide as though in warning. “So long as that work is Magnus-sanctioned, then none of us will have any problems.”
It was a pointless warning. They already knew they would be watched.
And honestly, it didn't matter. Kup and Ironhide were going to do whatever it took to find Orion, with or without the Magnus' permission.
Though they would have to delay their departure for a little while longer.
“Yeah, we'll keep that in mind,” Ironhide said before he followed his mate out.
~
A week later, Megatronus vanished, too.
Ironhide was forced to adjust his opinion of the mech's character. He still didn't like Megatronus, but if the miner was willing to risk certain death just to find Orion, Ironhide couldn't hate him too much.
A little bit, but not much.
Mixed in there, perhaps, was also a touch of irritation with himself. It should have been he and Kup who ventured out of the dark to find their ward. They should not have allowed the Magnus to hold them back. They should not have let his threats sway them.
And now Megatronus had gone, no doubt after Orion.
Ironhide didn't know whether to hate him or be grateful.
“That shoulda been us,” Kup said in the dark of their shared quarters, their frames pressed together, seeking comfort as the worry of their missing youngling reached critical mass.
“I know.” Ironhide's frown deepened. “And if we don't do somethin' soon, Roddy's gonna go on his own, too.”
Hot Rod was sneaky. He would find a way out, just as Megatronus had done, though the miner surely had used one of the mining tunnels to slip by both Enforcer and Sentinel's spies.
Either that, or Jazz had purposefully turned a blind optic. He was as worried as the rest of them. He'd all but confirmed the rumor that Orion had been taken by the Seekers, and worse, by the Winglord's trine.
What he couldn't confirm was whether or not Orion lived.
Ironhide nuzzled into Kup's intake, drawing in the scent of his mate, the hot metal and ordinance scent of him.
“We can leave tomorrow,” Ironhide said with great conviction. “And if Roddy wants to come, too, we should let him.”
“So we can lose both?”
“Cause we ain't gonna lose either,” Ironhide retorted. He offlined his optics, listened to the steady pulse of Kup's spark. “You 'n me. Ain't nothin' can stop us, remember?”
Kup's hand stroked down his backplate as though measuring the length of his spinal strut. “I remember. Better that we bring Roddy anyway. Chances are, we ain't gonna be able to come back.”
Ironhide cycled a ventilation. “I never liked Magnus much anyway.”
Kup chuckled tiredly. “Yeah, me neither.”
Nothing more needed to be said.
***
a/n: And the plot thickens, the world builds, and the surprises keep on coming. ^_^
I'll be opening commissions up again in January so if you were hoping to snag a slot, keep your eyes open. :)
Characters: Kup/Ironhide, Jazz, Sentinel Magnus, Alpha Trion
Universe: Defiance, TF AU
Rating: M
Warning: sticky, political maneuverings
Description: Kup and Ironhide discover that their ward is missing, and that's not something they're going to accept lying down, no matter what their Magnus says.
Part Two of a Commission fic for Anonymous.
Waking up to darkness was nothing new. Here beneath the surface, there was nothing of natural light and conservation of energy was the rule.
But waking up to pleasure shooting through his frame, the sensation of warmth wrapped around his spike, and an energy field surrounding him, thick with mischief… that was different. Uncommon, but welcome.
Ironhide didn't even have to look down to know who was giving him the best alarm on the planet.
All he did was gasp, tilt his helm back against the berth pillow, and rock his hips up, urging his spike deeper into the welcoming intake.
His lover purred a laugh, the vibrations from his vocalizer tickling over the crown of Ironhide's spike. Ironhide shivered and dug his heels into the berth. He reached down, stroking the blunt projections of Kup's helm, encouraging him.
“Mm,” Ironhide said, his vocals raspy until he rebooted his vocalizer. “What did I do ta deserve this?”
Hands slid across his thighs, fingers dipping into the wide seams of his plating, and stroking the cables beneath. Kup drew back off his spike, nipping at the crown with his denta as he let Ironhide slip from his mouth.
“No reason,” he purred, his ex-vents ghosting over Ironhide's damp length, making his sensory nodes sing with delight. “Just felt like it.”
“Then feel like it more often,” Ironhide teased as he rolled his hips upward, his optics gradually acclimating to the lack of light, until he could make out the curve of Kup's smirk. “And finish what ya started.”
Kup chuckled and ex-vented again, a hot and moist burst that made Ironhide shiver. “I'm thinking of finishing this elsewise. Maybe riding this eager thing. What do ya think?”
Ironhide's engine growled. He tilted a knee inward, tapping it against Kup's side. “I think ya better get up here before I reach down and finish ya myself.”
Lips mouthed at the rounded head of Ironhide's spike before they wandered away. “I think I can do that,” Kup said.
The berth rattled as he moved and Ironhide could just barely make out the shifting of the shadows. Kup's biolighting announced his movements and Ironhide watched the blinking yellow lines around his interface approach and descend over Ironhide's spike. Even more enticing was the sight of his red and black banded lights being slowly consumed by the dark of Kup's valve, his anterior node pulsing dimly.
Ironhide's helm threw back, hitting the pillow, as he groaned. His hands sought out Kup's hips, holding on, as Kup sank down until Ironhide was fully hilted within him. His spike throbbed, charge flicking between his spike nodes and Kup's receptors. His partner's calipers were cinching tight, spiraling down to lock on Ironhide's spike.
“Don't fall back into recharge now,” Kup drawled as he rocked his hips, moving Ironhide's spike incrementally within him. “I ain't had my overload yet.”
Ironhide laughed and planted his pedes on the berth, all the better to brace himself with. “Don't worry. You'll get your overload.”
Kup leaned forward, the weight of his palms landing on Ironhide's chestplate, just beneath his windshield. “Or I can take it.”
Ironhide licked his lips and groaned as Kup clenched down on him, calipers rippling up and down in his spike in a controlled wave. “That, too.” He tried not to pant, but his vents started working full bore, rattling the berth.
Kup was as cold as nitrogen above him, but he was always like that. Had been as long as Ironhide knew him. Nothing perplexed him, nothing made him lose his cool. Not even their younglings, adopted though they were.
Kup rolled his hips, lubricant trickling free and soaking Ironhide's array. His engine rumbled, vibrating Ironhide's frame, ticking his arousal into the redzone. Kup had done such a good job revving him up that Ironhide's stamina was now in question. Fragger.
And Kup knew it, too. The shape of his smirk was visible in the dim. “Or maybe it ain't ya fallin' into recharge I should worry about,” he purred as he rocked harder, the berth creaking beneath them.
Ironhide huffed. “Ain't my fault ya worked me up good and proper,” he argued and reached down, his thumb finding and flicking over that pulsing anterior node.
He heard, more than saw, the clicking-shuffle of Kup's armor plates, a clear sign of his pleasure, before a wave of desire struck him in the form of a flare of Kup's energy field. Hands scraped on Ironhide's chestplate as Kup dropped down and ground hard, Ironhide's spike rubbing firmly against his ceiling node.
Kup leaned forward, pressing their forehelms together. “Maybe yer just gettin' old. Ever think about that?”
Fragger.
Ironhide's optics narrowed and he grabbed Kup's hips, squeezing tight. “We'll see who's old,” he muttered and heaved upward.
Kup's knees clamped around his hips, reading Ironhide's intentions no doubt, which made it easier for Ironhide to flip them over. Kup's back hit the berth as Ironhide slammed back into him, their arrays chiming together.
Kup groaned, helm tossing back, as his legs locked around Ironhide's waist, valve cycling in eager arousal. Ironhide pushed into him, harder and faster, as he stole his mate's lips for a deep kiss. Their fields clashed and meshed, heat and desire fighting together, ramping up the pleasure.
The berth creaked. The younglings were going to start complaining soon.
They'd get over it.
Ironhide chuckled into the kiss and nipped at Kup's lips, his vents shoving heat into the room, erasing any lingering chill. Fire pooled at the base of his spinal strut, his spike throbbing without pause. He knew he was close.
Kup was, too. He'd shoved a hand between their frames, gripping his spike and working it vigorously, as he only did when he was inches from overload and too impatient to wait for it.
“This ain't a race, Kup,” Ironhide teased as he tightened his grip on Kup's hip, his other hand pressed to the berth for balance.
His mate's vents strained, frame rising up to meet each one of Ironhide's rapid thrusts. “It is when I want my overload, slagger.”
Ironhide chuckled and kissed him again, their glossa lashing together in another teasing fight. Kup bucked upward, his valve cinching tight, and he grunted as his spike started to spurt, stripes of transfluid painting both of their frames. Kup's engine raced, heat pouring off his frame, but it was the arrhythmic pulling and gripping of his calipers that did Ironhide in.
Pleasure built up inside of Ironhide, arousal tightening and tightening, until it was a coil that burst. Overload rolled over him, first in his field, then in his frame. Ironhide panted as release sent a wave of charge across his circuits. He spilled deep into Kup's valve, pulse after pulse, making quite the mess.
Ironhide sagged forward, forehelm pressed to Kup's. His fans whirred, though one with a clunk he'd probably need to get check.
“Best wake up call,” Ironhide murmured, kissing his way down to Kup's lips.
His partner chuckled and wrapped his arms around Ironhide's neck, deepening the kiss. His thighs squeezed Ironhide's waist before he loosened them and dropped his pedes back to the berth. Ironhide slipped free, leaving a trail of transfluid and lubricant behind.
“Tell ya what,” Kup said with a brush of their olfactory sensors. “Ya can wake me up tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
They emerged from their shared habsuite clean and ready to face the cycle. Or, to be fair, the off-cycle.
They had the luck of being off-shift today and Ironhide intended to enjoy it. He intended to park himself in the entertainment room, flick on the vidscreen, and not move until Kup dragged him off the futon. Or one of the younglings convinced him to do otherwise. Roddy had been whining about wanting to get some more training in so Ironhide might be willing to do that.
Otherwise, nope. He wasn't moving. He worked hard. He deserved a cycle off. And if he was lucky, he could convince Kup to join him. Roddy would just have to deal with seeing two old mechs snuggling.
Kup went to their shared office first, leaving Ironhide free to park himself on the futon. He clicked through the few entertainment channels available, but when nothing looked appealing, he switched to a datapad instead. There was one he'd been meaning to read for what felt like orns now, and it was high time he got to indulge.
“Have you seen Orion or Hot Rod?” Kup called out to him, vocals easily carrying through the small hab-suite.
“Not in a couple cycles,” Ironhide replied absently. Which wasn't all too unusual. Orion often worked long hours in the Archives, going so far as to bunk there for several cycles in a row. He would often board with Jazz on occasion as well.
Or, much to Ironhide and Kup's dissatisfaction, he would berth with Megatronus.
In fact, both of their younglings were prone to not coming home. At this rate, their rooms were little more than storage spaces. Maybe it was time Kup and Ironhide had a discussion with them about moving out.
Then they could finally get around to fragging on every surface of their hab-suite, as they hadn't been able to do since agreeing to take in the two orphans.
Haha.
Ironhide grinned and turned his attention back to his datapad. Not that he was able to enjoy it for long because Kup's energy field – thick with worry – struck him moments before his mate emerged from the hall.
“The lad's not gone, he's missing.”
Ironhide looked up from his datapad, his tank churning. “Which one?”
“The one who rarely misbehaves,” Kup answered as he came out of the adjoining hallway, his steps careful and measured. “I just heard back from Jazz. He ain't seen him.”
“Orion then.”
Kup sat down next to him, plucking his cygar from his lips. The tip burned red. “Aye. No one's seen or heard from in a week. Finally got hold of Roddy, too. He says he last saw him heading for the Ramp.”
Ironhide growled. “And he didn't say anything?”
“Ya know how those two are. Closer'n brothers and always coverin' for one another. He knew about Megatronus first, too,” Kup reminded him.
Ironhide grimaced. Orion and Hot Rod were close, he had to admit. Orion looked out for Hot Rod as his younger brother, and Hot Rod kept Orion's secrets, few though they were. Hot Rod should have known better though! It was dangerous above, a danger Orion was not equipped to handle.
Ironhide hissed a ventilation through his vents and leaned back. He scrubbed his palm down his face. “We shoulda seen it.”
“Lad always was curious.”
“Megatronus know?”
Kup scoffed and bit back down on the end of the cygar. “No. You know what he'd do if he did.”
“Keep cowering in the dark?” Ironhide rolled his optics.
He was not fond of Orion's suitor. He'd never been fond of Orion's suitor. Mech was more than a little useless. No good at anything but spouting pretty words and making Orion stumble home covered in filth. Orion deserved better.
Orion had dreams. And those dreams probably took him right up to their world.
“He's made of sterner stuff, Ironhide.” Kup's cygar shifted from one side of his mouth to the other. His hands were flat on his thighs, but Ironhide read the restraint in them. Kup was furious. “But I'm not talkin' about Megatronus. I'm talkin' about Orion and the fact he ain't home where he's supposed to be.”
Ironhide sighed. “Sentinel won't like us goin' after him.”
“Ain't Sentinel's choice to make. Any fool who wants to take their chances up there is welcome to it. He knows it. He can't stop it.” Kup's gaze softened, no doubt reflecting Ironhide's own. “I can't fault Orion his curiosity. But I can't leave off without knowing what happened to him.”
“Hot Rod's goin' ta want ta come.”
Kup scoffed. “Like I need another curious pup on my skidplate.” He scraped a hand down his face, stressed gears creaking with age. “Ah, what a mess.”
“Ya tell Hot Rod ta come on home?”
“Course.”
“And?”
Kup tossed him a sideways glare. “Ya tell me what ya think he said.”
Ironhide's engine rumbled and he pushed himself to his pedes. “I'll bring 'im back. And see what else I can find out. Maybe Jack's brat knows somethin'.”
“Ratchet?”
“Yeah.” Ironhide swept a hand over his helm and headed to his weapons locker, keying in the combination to pull out his blaster and spare clips. He wasn't supposed to carry them when off-duty, but this was more important than Sentinel's regulations. “They study together sometimes. I swear they're attached to their datapads.”
Kup hauled himself out of the chair, smoke rising from the end of his cygar. “Then I'll see what's up at the citadel.”
Ironhide caught his partner's arm as Kup passed. “Ya do that and they'll know we mean ta go after him.”
Kup turned into the hold, tilting his helm. “It's sweet that ya think I don't know anythin' about subterfuge, sweetspark.” He winked and shifted his cygar to the other side of his mouth, leaning in to pop a quick kiss to Ironhide's cheek. “Almost like ya think I'm innocent or somethin'.”
Ironhide snorted. “Ya ain't been innocent since the day ya were sparked.” He caught Kup's lips for a quick kiss that tasted of hot metal before he let his partner go. “After today, we go AWOL, so get anythin' ya think we might have trouble gettin' later, yeah?”
“Don't be so hasty. We can't leave until we know more otherwise we're just as foolish as the younglings. We can go AWOL anytime. But we can only do it once.”
He was right, of course. He always was. It was one of the reasons Ironhide loved him.
Ironhide nodded and strapped on his blaster, grabbing his ID and badge as well. They would both have to be careful to avoid Sentinel. The Magnus wasn't going to like two of his top officers vanishing to look for their wayward youngling.
Speaking of…
“What about Hot Rod?” Ironhide asked as he watched Kup open his own weapons locker, pulling out his armament. “We gonna take him, too?”
“Might not have a choice. Unless we leave 'im with Ultra.”
“He'll hate that.”
Their optics met and both of them chuckled in unison. Yeah. It was settled. They would contact Ultra and see if he'd look after Hot Rod. That was, once they extracted Hot Rod from where he'd been hiding the last week, mostly likely at Springer's hab. Mech was a bad influence on the kid.
Silence fell as they finished arming up, just in case they didn't end up coming back home. If they had to go off grid, they would.
Ironhide closed his locker and shut it. He leaned against the door and watched as Kup finished stashing various weapons on his frame.
“We're gonna find him,” he said.
Kup gave him another one of those sideways look. “Course we are.” His field rippled out, touching against Ironhide's with pride and affection. “We made a promise.”
Ironhide grinned.
Yeah, they did.
Ironhide found Jazz in the Archives, Orion's usual haunt but far from where Jazz liked to spend his days. Then again, the dark and dusty place was probably like home to Jazz, who often crept into unimaginable places all in the name of the Magnus.
He did his mentor proud, that was for sure.
“I don't know where he is,” Jazz said before Ironhide could get a word in. The spy's plating had clamped down tight, his energy field unreadable. “I told Kup that already. I dunno why ya think Imma change my answer now.”
Ironhide leaned against a workbench, staring down at the small mech. “Mebbe ya don't know where he is fer sure, but ya got suspicions, right?”
Silence.
Ironhide stared.
Jazz's backplating ruffled. He turned his helm so that Kup could see the gleam of his visor from the side. “I hear rumor,” he said. “That the Winglord caught a playmate. A grounder.”
Ironhide's ventilations stalled.
“I don't know that it's Orion,” Jazz was quick to say and he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his faceplate. “But the timestamps match.”
Nausea settled in Ironhide's tank, though it was quickly joined by fury. “Why? They don't keep prisoners. They toss us back or kill us.”
“I don't know, 'Hide. I'm doin' the best I can here with what I got. And my hands're tied.”
Ironhide stalked forward, looming over the smaller mech. “Orion is your friend,” he growled. “Why weren't ya looking after him?”
“Cause I ain't his keeper! And he's a grown mech!” Jazz lifted his chin, every inch his mentor's trainee. “If ya want to point fingers at who shoulda been watchin' him, maybe ya oughta look at Megatronus.”
Ironhide's optics narrowed. “Believe you'n me, I will. But mebbe ya could stop and take a moment to spare some concern for the mech ya call friend.”
Metal creaked as Jazz's hands pulled into fists. “And maybe you shoulda been looking after yer own brat, yeah?” He lifted a hand, shoving a finger toward Ironhide's chestplate. “I ain't the one to blame here, Hide. Don't go takin' your worry out on me or you'n me gonna have more than words, got me?”
Ironhide backed down. Not because he was afraid of Jazz, but because Jazz's mentor had a nasty habit of inviting himself into a mech's house without their permission. He was protective of his initiates, too.
“The moment ya find anything, ya'll comm us,” Ironhide said, and he let some of his concern bleed into his vocals. He was a mentor looking for his ward, not just a security officer.
Jazz cycled a ventilation. “Course. Woulda done that without the posturin'. Ya know that.” He quirked a grin, one that made him so popular all through the city. “Though mebbe I'll comm Kup instead.”
“Maybe ya should.” Ironhide bared his denta in a grin. “Nice talk, Jazz. I'll see ya later.”
“Hah,” the spy-in-training called out after him. “Not if Whip don't see ya first.”
Ice crept down Ironhide's spinal strut. But he didn't give the threat any weight than he could afford. Not right now.
He had his ward to find.
And it seemed the worse they feared had come to pass.
Ironhide knew what to expect the moment he walked out of the Archives and found Prowl waiting for him. Sentinel's Enforcer in black and grey looked casual, but there was a leashed violence beneath his polished plating and nitrogen-blue optics.
Ironhide could have taken him. But it wasn't to that point yet. They needed information more than they needed to go aboveground. They couldn't find Orion if they didn't know where to look.
“Lemme guess,” Ironhide drawled as he folded his arms. “Sentinel wants to see me.”
“Sentinel Magnus,” Prowl corrected in that cool voice of his. “And yes. You don't need me to tell you why.”
“No, I don't.” Ironhide cycled a ventilation and gestured for the Head Enforcer to lead the way. “Let's go then.”
Prowl's lip quirked upward. “Thank you for not making this difficult.”
“Yet,” Ironhide corrected.
Prowl did not respond. But the cutting look he gave Ironhide spoke volumes. Which was fine as Ironhide preferred silence.
As cold as the data he seemed to love, that was Prowl. Ironhide wasn't fond of the mech. Then again, most Security Officers weren't fond of Enforcers because the Enforcers were loyal to Magnus. Which wasn't a bad thing.
Unless that Magnus was Sentinel.
Ironhide followed Prowl through the dark tunnels, toward the massive hollowed out space that served as the Magnus den. It was a place that could easily and comfortably house at least twenty mechs and femmes, but the Magnus had claimed it for himself, and didn't even have the decency to justify it by having a large family.
No, Ironhide wasn't bitter. Much.
But the previous Magnus had been a mech worth following. He'd been a mech Ironhide had been proud to call Magnus.
Prowl deposited Ironhide in front of Sentinel's audience chamber where Kup was already waiting, having been retrieved by Prowl's second in command, another doorwinged mech by the name of Smokescreen. This one, Ironhide liked, because Smokescreen actually had a personality and a sense of humor. He and Kup were laughing it up, though Smokescreen was quick to wipe away his grin when he saw Prowl.
Mech could suck the joy out of any gathering.
“Ya knew this was comin', 'Hide,” Kup drawled as he gnawed on the end of his cygar, the tip glowing red.
He'd actually lit it. Damn. He was anxious.
“Ya tryin' to tell me we shoulda just skipped off?” Ironhide asked as they waited for the door to open and admit them to Sentinel's judgment.
“When have I ever said 'I told ya so'?”
Ironhide arched an orbital ridge. “Last week. When I tried to drag Roddy home and ya said to give him space.” He touched his left eye, where the scrape of paint gave testament to Hot Rod's irritation at having been embarrassed.
“Oh? That soon was it?” Kup smirked and winked.
The door chimed, letting them know they could enter. Well, if they were going to be punished, at least they could be punished together. So long as Sentinel did something about Orion, Ironhide would take whatever punishment he was given.
They traded a glance and stepped into the room.
Sentinel was seated upon his throne, his audience chamber so brightly lit that Ironhide had to squint. It was a waste of energy, a waste of resources. But Sentinel had to have his luxuries.
Council Member Alpha Trion was present as well, which Ironhide hadn't expected. He didn't look at either Ironhide or Kup, however, and something in his posture suggested he'd been trying to speak to the Magnus to no avail. Curious.
Sentinel's optics narrowed as the door closed behind them, giving them a measure of privacy. “I hear rumor,” he said, without any kind of preamble. “Rumor that my two best security officers are making plans to go to the surface.”
“Our younglin' is missin',” Kup said as he crossed his arms over his chestplate, highlighting his scars. “Of course we are.”
“You don't know that he's there,” Sentinel said with a frown.
“Gotta reliable source,” Ironhide corrected. “That's good enough for us.”
“But not for me.” Sentinel's frown deepened and his field flushed out, deep and heavy, like a weight on Ironhide's shoulders, trying to bear him to the ground. “Do you have any idea the trouble you could cause? The danger you will put all of us in if you tread upon their territory?”
Ironhide's plating bristled, though he kept his snarl to a minimum, well aware that Prowl and Smokescreen and the rest of the Enforcers were in shouting distance.
“That's my youngling out there. I'll do what it takes to get him back,” he growled.
“And risk war with the Seekers? With the Winglord?” Sentinel shook his helm and pushed to his pedes, towering over them with his presence and his field. “No. Absolutely not. If Orion Pax wandered to the surface, it was by his choice, and he must face the consequences of that.”
Kup's cygar flared a dark crimson. “We ain't askin' your permission… sir,” he said, the last a pointedly belated addition. “We're goin'.”
Sentinel Magnus lifted his chin. “No, you are not.” His optics narrowed. “One mech is not worth the lives of everyone else. One mech is not worth war. And should you try to step one pede toward the Ramp, I will have you both incarcerated, am I clear?”
Ironhide gritted his denta so hard he felt the metal squeal. He could see Kup's cygar lighting up, curls of smoke rising.
They couldn't do anything if they were in prison. They had to at least pretend to cooperate, to buy time until they could find a way to get to the surface without arousing Sentinel's suspicion.
“As the high grade you fuel with,” Kup said, his tone too cheerful for his gravelly-vocals.
“Yeah,” Ironhide added, knowing Sentinel would expect agreement from him as well. “We get it.”
Sentinel stared at them and slowly lowered himself back to his throne. “Good.” He flicked a hand at them. “Then you're dismissed. And remember to enjoy the rest of your off-cycle. They don't come often.”
For once, Ironhide knew better than to argue. Something that Kup learned a lot quicker as he snapped off a salute and spun on a heelstrut.
Ironhide's salute was sloppier and half-sparked before he followed his mate out the door. His last glance over his shoulder revealed that Alpha Trion was stepping up to speak with Sentinel, but whatever the topic, it was lost to the closing doors.
In the hall, Smokescreen was gone, but Prowl lingered.
“Ya know I can't ignore this, Prowl,” Kup said, his voice low but his tone firm. “That's my ward. My youngling.”
Prowl pinched his olfactory sensor, his doorwings flattening against his backplate. “I know, Kup, but you have to understand the Magnus' position. We are ill-equipped to defend against the flyers.”
Che. Cowards.
Ironhide bit back the comment, swallowing it down.
“So I've heard,” Kup replied, and it was short of politeness. He pushed past Prowl, dismissing without words. “Come on, Hide. We have work to do.”
Prowl dropped his hand, his cold optics staring at Ironhide as though in warning. “So long as that work is Magnus-sanctioned, then none of us will have any problems.”
It was a pointless warning. They already knew they would be watched.
And honestly, it didn't matter. Kup and Ironhide were going to do whatever it took to find Orion, with or without the Magnus' permission.
Though they would have to delay their departure for a little while longer.
“Yeah, we'll keep that in mind,” Ironhide said before he followed his mate out.
A week later, Megatronus vanished, too.
Ironhide was forced to adjust his opinion of the mech's character. He still didn't like Megatronus, but if the miner was willing to risk certain death just to find Orion, Ironhide couldn't hate him too much.
A little bit, but not much.
Mixed in there, perhaps, was also a touch of irritation with himself. It should have been he and Kup who ventured out of the dark to find their ward. They should not have allowed the Magnus to hold them back. They should not have let his threats sway them.
And now Megatronus had gone, no doubt after Orion.
Ironhide didn't know whether to hate him or be grateful.
“That shoulda been us,” Kup said in the dark of their shared quarters, their frames pressed together, seeking comfort as the worry of their missing youngling reached critical mass.
“I know.” Ironhide's frown deepened. “And if we don't do somethin' soon, Roddy's gonna go on his own, too.”
Hot Rod was sneaky. He would find a way out, just as Megatronus had done, though the miner surely had used one of the mining tunnels to slip by both Enforcer and Sentinel's spies.
Either that, or Jazz had purposefully turned a blind optic. He was as worried as the rest of them. He'd all but confirmed the rumor that Orion had been taken by the Seekers, and worse, by the Winglord's trine.
What he couldn't confirm was whether or not Orion lived.
Ironhide nuzzled into Kup's intake, drawing in the scent of his mate, the hot metal and ordinance scent of him.
“We can leave tomorrow,” Ironhide said with great conviction. “And if Roddy wants to come, too, we should let him.”
“So we can lose both?”
“Cause we ain't gonna lose either,” Ironhide retorted. He offlined his optics, listened to the steady pulse of Kup's spark. “You 'n me. Ain't nothin' can stop us, remember?”
Kup's hand stroked down his backplate as though measuring the length of his spinal strut. “I remember. Better that we bring Roddy anyway. Chances are, we ain't gonna be able to come back.”
Ironhide cycled a ventilation. “I never liked Magnus much anyway.”
Kup chuckled tiredly. “Yeah, me neither.”
Nothing more needed to be said.
a/n: And the plot thickens, the world builds, and the surprises keep on coming. ^_^
I'll be opening commissions up again in January so if you were hoping to snag a slot, keep your eyes open. :)