Starscream was late.
This was not at all surprising to Blurr. It was too optimistic to believe that a meeting with the council members would do anything but drag into infinity. By the time Starscream arrived, he was in no state for the promised tour.
He tried to apologize. Blurr cut him off before he could.
“It’s fine,” he said with a kiss to Starscream’s cheek. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on. So long as you don’t miss the grand opening, I won’t complain too loudly.”
“Complaining is pretty much my job anyway,” Starscream said with a chuckle. He smiled, but he couldn’t hide the shiver of exhaustion in his field.
His wings drooped, his armor was loose, not because he was unguarded, but because he didn’t have the energy to spare in being restrained. He needed rest, not to be running around New Iacon. But then, he wouldn’t be Starscream if he happily constrained himself to a berth.
“Well, you’re allowed to do that every now and again,” Blurr said. He grabbed Starscream’s hand and towed him into the apartment, the balcony door sliding shut behind him. “Though maybe you should think about not flying for once.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Starscream ex-vented noisily. “Primus, I’m exhausted.”
“Good thing I’m prepared then.” Blurr tugged Starscream to the futon in the main room and gave him a nudge toward it. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”
Starscream sat, for once obeying without question. He really must be tired then. Then again, he probably hadn’t recharged well.
He never did answer Blurr’s question about nightmares.
Blurr hustled into the storage room, grabbed the tray of treats and energon he’d set aside, and returned to the main room. Starscream had motivated himself enough to turn on the big vidscreen and some kind of show played quietly in the background. Obsidian might have brought New Iacon temporarily to its knees, but they still had decent programming.
“Find something good?” he asked as he set the tray on the table.
Starscream leaned forward, grabbing a handful of goodies. “It’s noise,” he said.
Blurr nudged the cube toward him. “It’s not medical grade this time. Promise.”
“I’m trusting you,” Starscream said with a side-eyed look, but he accepted the cube and leaned back.
Blurr chuckled, grabbed his own cube and handful of treats, and leaned back as well. He was not at all surprised when seconds later, Starscream tilted against his side, wings flicked back and out of the way. His frame hummed softly, his field a quiescent purr against Blurr’s.
“As they will be for the next several months, I imagine,” Starscream said dryly. “My so-called council can’t stand me or each other. I anticipate many processor aches in my future.”
Blurr sipped at his energon. He rested his free hand on Starscream’s nearest thigh, stroking slowly toward his knee. “You’ll make it work. You all want the same thing, at least.”
“There is that.” Starscream’s helm rubbed against his shoulder before he sighed an ex-vent. “What about you?”
Blurr chuckled before he could stop himself. “Funny you should ask because Jazz was acting really weird today.”
Blurr shifted his weight and slung an arm over Starscream’s shoulders, tucking his Seeker against his side. It was nice to sit like this, Star warm and peaceful next to him. No arguing. No fussing. No worries.
“He was skittish. Clumsy. Tripping over his words and himself.” Blurr shook his helm. “Weirdest thing I’d ever seen.”
“Hmm.” Starscream snuggled in closer, his free hand sliding across Blurr’s belly, claws tickling into his seams. “What were the circumstances?”
“I was interviewing a new bartender. Hired him as a matter of fact.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Former Autobot Sniper. Name of Bluestreak.”
“No, don’t know him. That is odd though.” Starscream chuckled, the amusement rumbling in his chassis. “I might have to meet this Bluestreak if he can turn Jazz into a jabbering idiot. I might be able to use that.”
Blurr rolled his optics. “I will never understand you two,” he said as he let his fingers drag across the back plane of Starscream’s nearest wing.
“It’s complicated,” Starscream murmured. His helm rested on Blurr’s shoulder, his vents slowly softening.
“So you’ve said.”
Blurr stroked Starscream’s wing again, feeling them thrum beneath his fingertips. It was less arousal and more warmth. Comfort. The movie, whatever it was, continued to play in the background, a constant noise.
Starscream burrowed closer. His wings pushed toward Blurr’s fingers, his hand cupping Blurr’s side and simply resting there. “You know, I keep waiting for something to happen,” he murmured. “It’s quiet right now and I’m not comforted by that.”
“I could always come up with an argument if that makes you feel better,” Blurr offered.
Starscream pinched him in the side, though it barely stung. “No, thanks,” he drawled. “I’d rather just recharge, if it’s all the same to you.”
“What an exciting and eventful life we have.” Blurr chuckled, but honestly, he had to agree with Starscream. He was exhausted, too.
“Tomorrow is going to be as draining as today,” Starscream sighed. “I think we only got through half the items on the agenda, and I plan on opening tomorrow with a discussion about the memorial service.”
“For all those Obsidian killed.” Starscream’s grip briefly tightened on him. His field washed with a mix of anger and regret. “My task force, Sky-Byte, the mechs who happened to be nearby when he bombed my office. All of them. I can’t let the people of this city think that their sparks should be forgotten.”
Blurr’s spark throbbed with warmth. “That’s a very good idea.”
“You’re surprised I thought of it, aren’t you?”
Blurr cycled a ventilation. He gently stroked Starscream’s wings. “I’m learning to expect the unexpected when it comes to you,” he said diplomatically, choosing his words with care. “But no, I’m not surprised. You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”
Starscream’s frame hummed next to his. He turned his helm, face buried against Blurr’s shoulder. His wing pushed harder against Blurr’s hand, and Blurr took the unstated request, petting it gently.
Blurr settled into the futon, turning his attention to the vidscreen and the soft sounds of whatever show Starscream had selected. Starscream was warm next to him, his field quietly humming, but nothing in it betraying his thoughts.
Until, a few minutes later, he said, “Thank you.”
Blurr leaned his helm against Starscream’s. He didn’t say anything.
He suspected he didn’t have to.
Blurr onlined slowly, muzzily, his frame enveloped in heat, and this time, he wasn’t alone. Starscream was sprawled atop him, fingers hooked into seams as was his wont, his helm pillowed on Blurr’s shoulder. Their legs tangled, their fields even more so.
Blurr’s spark fluttered.
Starscream was still out, his vents even, his optics shuttered. He barely twitched as Blurr’s free hand stroked him, down his back and across his aft before sliding up again.
Blurr chuckled softly. He stroked Starscream again, his field drizzling along Starscream’s as well. Starscream was so hot, his frame billowing the heat of someone whose self-repair was working in overdrive. Blurr’s fans clicked on, trying to ease the temperature increase.
“Star, wake up.”
Talons hooked harder into Blurr’s seams, stinging the cables beneath. Starscream’s optics remained shuttered. But the quiet hum and click of his systems grew a little louder.
“You have work to do, and I’m overheating,” Blurr said with a pinch to Starscream’s aileron flap.
The wing twitched in his grip. Starscream wriggled atop of him, but made no moves to get up. His face didn’t so much as twitch.
“I’m going to grope you if you don’t wake up,” Blurr warned and put action to words, sliding his hand down until he cupped Starscream’s aft, giving it a light pat.
Nothing. Well, unless he counted the quiet little purr that Starscream’s engine started. Starscream’s fans clicked on, whirring softly.
If that was how he wanted to play it…
Blurr shifted minutely beneath Starscream, working a knee between Starscream’s thighs, and both of his hands around Starscream’s frame. There were benefits to Starscream being lighter than him.
It was awkward, clumsy, and Starscream nearly ended up on the floor, but in the end, Blurr succeeded. He had Starscream pinned beneath him, wings pressed to the berth cover, and talons miraculously still hooked in Blurr’s seams.
“Star, wake up,” Blurr said a bit louder as he nuzzled Starscream’s face.
“No,” Starscream murmured without unshuttering his optics.
He knew the fragger was awake. He was just being difficult.
Blurr chuckled and nudged his knee higher, rubbing it against the apex of Starscream’s thighs, which parted to accommodate him. Here it was even warmer. How curious.
Blurr pressed a kiss to the tip of Starscream’s nasal ridge. “Stop being cute.”
Amusement hummed in Starscream’s field. His hips rolled just a smidge, rubbing over Blurr’s knee. His wingflaps fluttered.
“Is this your way of asking for incentive to get up?” Blurr asked as he shifted his weight, freeing up one hand to slide down Starscream’s side.
He briefly flirted with Starscream’s hip joint before scrubbing the heel of his palm over Starscream’s interface array. Here it was very hot indeed, and Blurr grinned as he traced the seams with his fingertips, trying to coax them open. Not that they needed much coaxing.
A few passes of Blurr’s fingertips and both panels spiraled open, a very eager spike pressurizing into Blurr’s palm as the sweet scent of lubricant floated to his nasal ridge.
“Well, someone is eager to see me this morning,” Blurr teased as he nuzzled into Starscream’s intake, laving it with nips and kisses.
He squeezed Starscream’s spike in greeting, flirted with the crown of it, before he allowed himself to tease Starscream’s valve. The Seeker was already wet and swelling with arousal, the first ring of calipers fluttering around Blurr’s fingertips.
“Mmmm.” A low moan rose in Starscream’s intake, his ex-vents fluctuating.
Blurr slid two fingers into his Seeker, up to the second knuckle, and curved them just right, rubbing over a cluster of nodes he’d discovered awhile ago. Starscream’s backstrut arched, his talons tightening to a scrape on Blurr’s cables. He shivered.
But he didn’t unshutter his optics, the little sneak.
Blurr nipped at his intake cables before he dragged his mouth back to Starscream’s. “Star, wake up,” he said against Starscream’s lips. “Can I get a little participation here?”
“Mmm, you’re doing fine on your own,” Starscream murmured, but his optics unshuttered into narrow slits of crimson.
“Lazy aft.” Blurr captured Starscream’s lips for a soft and sweet kiss, the tips of their glossa touching as their lips moved together.
Blurr slid his fingers free and cupped Starscream’s aft, stroking the barely-there curve of it. He shifted his weight, nudged himself between Starscream’s thighs, and finally freed his spike to the humid air between them. The head of it nudged at the swollen rim of Starscream’s valve, lubricant wetting the crown.
“See? Doing just fine,” Starscream murmured as he canted his hips upward, his legs enclosing Blurr’s lower half, urging him onward.
Blurr chuckled. “Guess I’m stuck doing all the work then.” He rocked forward, spike easing into the welcome embrace of Starscream’s valve.
He shivered as warm, slick heat enveloped his spike. His sensor nodes lit with pleasure, and a heated ex-vent escaped his lips. His field throbbed with warmth, pulsing in tune to Starscream’s.
There was something to be said about taking it slow and steady.
Blurr pressed his forehelm to Starscream’s, ventilating evenly as he slowly pushed deeper and deeper, until the base of his spike notched against Starscream’s rim, and he nudged Starscream’s ceiling node. And then he lingered, he waited, just throbbing within Starscream’s valve as calipers fluttered around his spike and wreaked havoc on his sensor nodes.
Starscream made a humming noise in his chassis. His talons unhooked from Blurr’s seams, his arms encircling Blurr’s chassis instead. He shivered, optics fully unshuttering.
“I’m pretty sure this is medically inadvisable.” Starscream murmured, however, his backstrut arched until their chestplates touched, and Blurr could feel the steady pulse of Starscream’s spark through the armor separating them.
Blurr nuzzled Starscream’s face. “Oh? Is that so? I should stop then.” He shifted his weight, made to pull back, only for Starscream’s arms and legs to clamp around him.
“Don’t you dare,” Starscream hissed. His hand slid up, curving around the back of Blurr’s helm. “I’m fine.” He tugged Blurr’s helm down, until their mouths collided again.
Blurr moaned into the kiss, his glossa tangling with Starscream’s. He started moving again, slow and steady pushes into Starscream’s valve, charge echoing between receptors and nodes.
“I thought you’d say that,” Blurr said against Starscream’s lips. He rolled his hips forward, less thrusting and more rocking into Starscream.
Every tiny retreat was a pull against the grip of Starscream’s calipers. Every small push forward was a surge of charge that sent tingles racing up his spinal strut, and heat drizzling down his lines.
Starscream’s grip on him tightened, pulling him so close he could barely move, could barely do anything more than tiny rocks. Until every inch of them was pressed together, hot metal to hot metal, and Blurr ex-vented warm gusts of air into Starscream’s intake.
His Seeker smelled of hot metal and weldfire and that fancy cleanser he insisted on using. Blurr swore he could hear Starscream’s sparkbeat, steady and strong, and it was such a relief. It chased away the last echoes of that terrible image, the one seemingly burned into his memory core, and the moment Blurr realized that Starscream had ceased being a political partner for him, and had instead become something more.
Starscream’s engine purred, vibrating their frames, and Blurr’s own responded in kind, a deeper, resonating growl. Pleasure unspooled inside of him, soft and sweet and blazing hot, until it throbbed through his spark as much as it throbbed through his array.
Starscream moaned, his field pulsing with need as it burrowed into Blurr’s, until he couldn’t see the edges between them anymore. Blurr panted and dragged his mouth back to Starscream’s, his entire frame shaking, not that he could put a reason on why. He pressed his forehelm to Starscream’s again, his optics shuttering as he focused on sensation and little else.
Starscream ventilating beneath him, making little breathy, pleasured noises. His hands gripping Blurr, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to keep him right where he was. His valve fluttering and spitting charge at Blurr’s spike, as he rocked his hips and ground deep, circling a steady pressure against Starscream’s ceiling node.
Until his ex-vents became Starscream’s in-vents and vice-versa, and their fields pulsed in synch. He barely moved, save to rock into Starscream, and the heat building between them was almost suffocating, save that it embraced rather than stifled.
Blurr claimed Starscream’s mouth again, for another soft and sweet kiss, and heard Starscream moan beneath him. Arms and legs clamped tightly around him, fingers sinking into a seam on his dorsum, talons scraping his cables as if in claim. Starscream shuddered and his valve rippled, squeezing oh-so-tight.
Blurr’s spark throbbed. Overload took him by surprise, not because it came so suddenly, but because it poured over him in waves of liquid heat that flooded his frame from his pedes to his crest. He moaned into the kiss, spike spilling deep into Starscream, even as his Seeker’s embrace tightened to the point of armor creaking, and Starscream overloaded, too.
Blurr pressed his forehelm to Starscream’s shoulder as his frame trembled and his cooling fans roared, struggling to find cooler air in the middle of the heat. Starscream’s valve remained snug and welcoming around his spike, but the embrace eased, giving him some ventilating room.
That had been… different.
Starscream’s hand slid from the back of his helm to cup the back of his neck. His thumb rubbed soothing circles at the base of Blurr’s helm. Blurr’s engine purred and he lifted his helm to look into Starscream’s optics.
“Good morning,” Blurr said, for lack of anything else to say. Because honestly, he didn’t have any words. Except, apparently, the awkward ones.
Starscream cycled his optics, and then his lips curved. He laughed. “Good morning,” he echoed and laughed again. “Yes, it is.” He lowered his legs from Blurr’s waist, pedes resting on the berth again. “I should have you as an alarm clock every morning.”
“Something tells me that’s not very efficient.” Blurr rubbed their nasal ridges together. “Feel okay?”
“Oh, no, I feel terrible,” Starscream said, deadpan. “Clearly that very vigorous and aggressive round of interfacing popped a weld or two.”
Blurr rolled his optics. “Excuse me for caring.” He shifted his weight, bracing a hand on the berth to lift his weight off Starscream. “You are still healing, you know.”
“I know.” Starscream cupped the back of his helm firmly, stopping his retreat. “For the record, I feel fine.” He leaned up and brushed his lips over Blurr’s. “Could use a run through the washracks and a cube of energon – not medical grade – but otherwise, I’m fine. I’ve survived worse.”
“That’s not the point.” Blurr bit back a sigh, and swallowed down a retort. No use in pressing the issue.
He pressed a kiss to Starscream’s forehelm and gently slid back, his softening spike easing from Starscream’s valve. They could both use a swing through the washrack, along with a polish session or two.
“I know, it’s not,” Starscream said. His other hand drifted down, cupping Blurr’s left hip gently. “What about you?”
Blurr cycled his optics again. “Not in any pain,” he answered, hoping that he hid his surprise. He cracked a grin. “Though maybe next time you do all the work.”
“Sounds fair. For now…” Starscream squirmed on the berth, his wings twitching. “I need to get clean and my chronometer has been flashing at me for five minutes.”
Blurr slid back and free of the berth, giving Starscream room to sit up and scoot his way free as well. “Another meeting?”
“Yes. Endlessly.” Starscream sighed and offered him a crooked smile. “Huzzah for another day of listening to a half-dozen mechs squabble and bicker like younglings.”
Blurr slid an arm around Starscream’s waist and nuzzled the Seeker’s helm. “You could always take them over a knee.”
Starscream barked a laugh. “Prowl could certainly use a swat or two, but can you imagine me fitting Soundwave over my lap?”
Blurr shrugged. “He’d probably like it.” Though honestly, thinking of Soundwave in any kind of sexual capacity sort of broke Blurr’s brain a little.
“Ew. No. This conversation stops right here.” Starscream shuddered and slid free of Blurr’s hold, only to grab his hand and start tugging on it. “Come on. I need to get clean.”
Bemused, Blurr let himself be pulled. “And you expect me to scrub you, is that?”
“Yes.” Firm, no nonsense, not even leaving room for discussion.
Blurr chuckled. He’d go along with it this time. But he’d add it to the tally of things Starscream owed him. He’d get his pampering eventually. For now, though, that web of weldlines and patchwork armor was enough for Blurr to obey.
Starscream had been through the Pit.
Blurr could stand to spoil him a little longer. Besides, he had work of his own to do. He couldn’t stand in the penthouse snarking with Starscream all day.
One of them had to earn a paycheck.
Less than an hour later, the lift beeped and deposited Blurr on the ground floor. He scrubbed a hand down his face and forced himself to step out. He had work to do, despite the desire to spin on a heelstrut and go love on his Seeker some more.
The washrack had turned into round two but Blurr entirely blamed Starscream for that. How was he supposed to resist when he was putting his hands all over silky crimson armor in desperate need of a scrub? How could he pretend disinterest with Starscream giving him flirty looks and inciting smiles?
“There he is! The mech I’ve been looking for!”
Blurr groaned. That voice and it felt like someone had doused him in a bucket of icy solvent. He dropped his hand.
“What do you want, Swindle?” he asked as he turned to greet the conmech, who shouldn’t have been allowed into New Maccadams in the first place. They weren’t even open!
Whoever had allowed Swindle inside was going to hear it from Blurr.
Swindle grinned and made a broad gesture. “Now is that any way to greet the mech financing half of this venture?” He sparkled and shone, all but blinding in the overhead lights.
But of course! Swindle was one of the few to come out of the Obsidian debacle better than he’d gone into it. He’d actually profited, the leech.
Swindle held out his arms and Blurr glared at him. No. Not anymore.
“Touch me again and lose a hand,” Blurr said coldly. “You’ve got half my debt, but that’s it.”
Swindle never lost a stride, nor did his smile falter. “Never said I wanted anything more, my mech.” His visor half-darkened in a wink. “You’re getting awfully paranoid there. Been spending too much time cozied up to your Seeker?”
Blurr folded his arms over his chest. “What do you want? And talk fast, I have work to do.”
“Want? Oh, you misunderstand me.” Swindle’s smile was sugar-coated. “I just came to check on the progress. See if you had a date for a grand opening. That sort of thing. You know, curious about how my creds were spent and all.” He bounced on his heelstruts. “What about a private tour, eh?”
Blurr ground his denta. “No.” He jerked his helm toward another one of his new hires, a former Con with a tank alt-mode who was utterly delighted to be working security. “Brawl would be happy to show you around if you want.”
Oh, and he also happened to be Swindle’s former teammate. No love lost there.
Blurr would never admit aloud how much satisfaction he took in watching Swindle pale under his visor. His smile dipped at the edges.
“I’m not that curious,” he said with a nervous smile. He planted his hands on his hips and looked up at Blurr. “You know, it’s not wise to threaten the mech who owns half your aft.”
Blurr arched an orbital ridge. “Who said anything about threats? I’m trying to get my business running here. So sorry that I don’t have time to give you a personal tour.” He grinned, and if it was razor-sharp, all the better.
Swindle huffed a ventilation. He peered at Blurr. “Your Seeker is rubbing off on you.”
“Failing to see how that’s a bad thing.” Blurr dropped his arms and half-turned. “I’m sure you can see yourself out the same way you conned yourself in. I’ve got work to do.”
He let that stand as dismissal, and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the aft later. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to draw up a contract that Jazz approved before Blurr let himself borrow creds from Swindle. He wasn’t in danger of losing his bar, or being forced to pay it all back in a sudden lump sum.
But it also meant he didn’t have to pretend to cater to Swindle either. Yeah, he was grateful Swindle pulled his aft out of the fire once upon a time. Gratitude, however, didn’t mean he had to put up with Swindle being a sleaze.
He left Swindle behind him, ignored how much his back armor twitched, and went in search of a distraction. He found it in Wheeljack, who was behind the DJ stage and fiddling with the fuse box.
“Something wrong?” Blurr asked.
Wheeljack startled and whirled around, as the box crackled and spat sparks behind him. In one hand, he held a fistful of wires. And now a guilty look.
“Uh, there wasn’t,” he said with a sheepish laugh. He lifted his hand, the wires dangling from his fingers. “Now there is.”
Blurr palmed his face. “Were you making improvements?”
“I had an idea!” Wheeljack’s winglets fluttered, his field bursting with amusement. “It hit me late last night, and I figured, well, who doesn’t want the ability to control colored lights for a dance floor. Right?”
Blurr nibbled on his bottom lip and tried not to laugh. “Isn’t there something more important for you to do?”
Wheeljack shrugged and tucked the wires into a compartment on his other arm. “Well, yes. I mean, our infrastructure is shot, we need a better holding cell for Megatron, and two of the energon processors are down.” He cycled a ventilation and rubbed the back of his helm. “But this was easy. And quick. And fun. And… better.”
In that moment, Blurr felt like an aft. He cycled a ventilation and grinned. “Feel free to poke around then,” he said, and made a wide gesture to the whole of his bar. “Anything you want to play with, you have my permission.”
“Really?” Wheeljack’s winglets wriggled, his indicators lighting up brightly.
Blurr’s grin widened. “Of course. I trust you.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth then he got an armful of Wheeljack, an enthusiastic embrace of hands patting his back and Wheeljack squeezing tight.
“Thank you!” Wheeljack all but gushed before he drew back from Blurr, his hands on Blurr’s shoulders. “You would not believe the ideas I have.”
“I think I have a notion.” Blurr coughed into his hand and squirmed out of Wheeljack’s reach. His face heated and he chanced a look over his shoulder, hoping none of his new employees caught that embarrassing moment.
No. No one was looking their way. However, he did see something very interesting instead. Blurr’s orbital ridges lifted as he half-turned to get a better look.
Bluestreak was behind the primary bar, practicing his cocktails. Not that he really needed it. He was a bit of a natural already. He looked entirely focused as his hands moved among the different engexes, mixes, and flavors.
He wasn’t what had caught Blurr’s attention.
It was Jazz.
Jazz who had come around the corner, spotted Bluestreak, and nearly tripped over his own pede as he slammed to a halt. He looked left and right, as if checking for witnesses, before he squared his shoulders and approached the counter.
Bluestreak looked up as Jazz got closer and smiled brightly. He said something Blurr couldn’t catch from this far away, but it was probably a greeting.
“What’re you looking at?” Wheeljack asked as he stepped up next to Blurr.
“A trainwreck,” Blurr said with a laugh.
Jazz grinned back at Bluestreak, and Blurr knew that grin. It was Jazz’s super-confident, super-sly grin. He leaned forward, one hand reaching for the counter.
And he missed.
Blurr watched, with a sense of both horror and amusement, as Jazz realized his mistake a nano-second too late. He grasped for the counter, missed it by millimeters, and fell to the ground, knocking over several stools in the process, with a loud, echoing clatter.
“Did… did Jazz just fall?” Wheeljack asked. “I’ve never known him to be clumsy.”
Bluestreak’s optics rounded. He leaned over the counter, mouth moving, his expression one of concern.
“It’s a new thing apparently,” Blurr commented with a chuckle.
He watched as Jazz scrambled to his pedes, dusting off his frame with all the grace and dignity someone who’d just made a fool of himself could muster. He righted the stools, nearly tipping another one over in his haste.
Bluestreak said something and Jazz shook his helm, grin lop-sided, and backed away from the counter. One thumb gestured over his shoulder, in a vague direction, before Jazz spun on a heelstrut and walked away.
Rather quickly, if you asked Blurr.
“Huh. Never thought I’d see the day Jazz fell head over heels,” Wheeljack said only to pause and laugh. “Literally,” he added.
Blurr cocked his helm.
He supposed Wheeljack was right.
Bluestreak cycled his optics before he shrugged and went back to mixing. His lips remained curved in the suggestion of a smile. Blurr suspected he was probably humming to himself. It seemed like something Bluestreak would do.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Blurr said.
“If that isn’t the truth, I don’t know what is.” Wheeljack clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to the fuse box. “Starscream’s leading Cybertron, working hand in hand with Bumblebee and Soundwave. Megatron’s in handcuffs. Optimus is off doing Primus knows what.”
Wheeljack’s vocals echoed as he buried his helm in the fuse box.
“You’re dating Starscream. Jazz has a crush. And here I am, trying to wire flashing lights into a control panel. Ain’t nothing what anyone could have expected.”
Blurr chuckled. “You’re right about that.”
And Blurr was certainly glad for it.