Starscream froze. That was not the kind of sound one wanted to hear right after an earth-shaking overload. Not when he was still panting, struggling to find reason again, his frame limp and pliant where it splayed across his partner’s massive chest.
“Uh oh?” Starscream repeated, perhaps a touch too sharp. He pushed himself upright with wobbly elbows, shifting his weight and shifting the massive spike still filling his valve, Grimlock’s knot lodged just within his rim. “What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”
Grimlock’s visor turned a pale shade of red. His hands flexed on Starscream’s hips before they started to pet him gently. “My mod is not responding,” he said.
Starscream cycled his optics. “Come again?”
Grimlock chuckled, though faint it was. “I already did once. And I think that’s the problem.” He cycled a ventilation and stroked his hand down Starscream’s back, beneath his wings. “My mod is not responding. I can’t depressurize the knot.”
Starscream stared at him. He heard the words, but for some reason, they did not compute. His valve fluttered, twitching around the knot.
“We’re stuck,” Grimlock added, and his field fluttered around Starscream, warm with embarrassment.
Starscream’s mouth opened. His jaw worked. His claws dug into Grimlock’s chestplate. He felt a screech building and forced himself to ventilate instead.
“Stuck,” he repeated.
“Together,” Grimlock clarified and his field blushed even more. He shifted, jostling his spike a little in Starscream’s valve.
Starscream clutched him harder. “Fix it,” he hissed through gritted denta. For as pleasurable as this was, they couldn’t very well rule the Decepticons whilst joined at the interfacing array!
Grimlock’s vents coughed. “I can’t. Without a medic, I mean.” He tapped his helm with a free hand. “Error messages.”
“We are not calling Ratchet!” Starscream all but snarled. “And we’re not calling Knock Out either!”
Grimlock stroked down his back. “We have to call someone, Star.”
“Absolutely not.” Starscream fumbled at his dorsum and popped open his panel. “Show me your data port. Let me see what I can do.” A tangle of cables spilled into his fingers. Primus, they practically had dust on them. Clearly, he needed to cross cables more often.
Grimlock chuckled, but popped his dataport – in his hip of all places – and tapped his port in offering. “You’re welcome to try. But if you can’t do anything–”
“We’ll discuss which medic we want to laugh at us after I exhaust all other options,” Starscream huffed.
Honestly, he’d built weapons and energon converters and stasis bands. Surely he could figure out how to disengage a malfunctioning interface mod.
“And you’re going to make this up to me later,” Starscream added with a firm look at his partner.
Grimlock’s field pushed at his, embarrassed on the edges, but warm and syrupy in the center. “Whatever you want.”
“A wash and a wax and a detailing,” Starscream said as their systems connected and he started to concentrate.