Title: The Answer
Date: 30 January 2015
Summary: Not long ago, Whirl asked Blast Off to consider sharing an interface and an exchange of memories. There are so many reasons why they shouldn't do this. This is so, so wrong. This is also Whirl and Blast Off.
Whirl had quite the time the other cycle, he got black out drunk and woke up strapped down to a table in a creepy room surrounded by terrifying medical machines. Basically, the very thoughtful Panacea forced him to detox and scrubbed his systems of the dangerous illicit things he puts inside of them. They had an.. interesting conversation, one that Whirl hasn't been able to put out of his mind. He sits inside a dingy bar at a table all the way in the back (though it doesn't quite fit the 'shadowy corner' thing so common in dingy bars.) There's a bottle of high grade, or the highest grade this place could get, in front of him though it hasn't been totally and completely drained like bottles usually are after being placed in front of the cyclops. Seems he's trying to slow his consumption, or at the very least pace himself. Weird, right??
Speaking of weird, Blast Off has been feeling *extremely* weird since ...well, since a LOT of things. But right now the weirdest thing of all? The fact that he can't quite get WHIRL out of his mind. Nor Whirl's unanswered question. His unusual proposition - to interface and share the memories of Shiftlock that Blast Off had been so jealous of. That had lead to Blast Off shooting Whirl in the HEAD about. And then their reconciliation somehow- Whirl actually trying to *comfort* him- and even Whirl's visit to Blast Off's side in the hospital when he was recovering from his OWN head injury. Whirl's attempt at revenge on Quickswitch, the one who did that to him. Blast Off's little pang of... regret as Whirl disappeared shortly therafter. And his realization that the war is indeed coming, time is running out, and he owes Whirl an answer. One way or another.
But first- he wants to get drunk. Or a drink. Like- SERIOUSLY. Yes, a good stiff drink has to happen before he can do /anything/ else. So he slips into a bar to order the stiffest drink he can find. Which, given the way these things go, just so HAPPENS to be the dingy bar Whirl is currently at RIGHT NOW. Imagine that.
Since Whirl has such a great view of the whole bar from his sad one person table in the back, it doesn't take long for the cyclops to catch sight of Blast Off after he enters. There's a twitch of his claws as his gaze follows the Combaticon and suddenly he can't help but think of the conversation they had in the hospital. Oh yeah, and the failed attempt at extracting his revenge on Quickswitch for the little stunt he pulled that caused the whole thing. Ugh, he's still sore about that.
Nevertheless, Whirl puts those thoughts aside and rises from his table to make his way over to the other mech. He's not exactly stealthy about it (guy is blue as all heck and weird looking so he always sticks out in crowds) so Blast Off will probably see him coming. "Well well well, what do you have here? You trying to get wasted, Blast Off?"
Blast Off is just ordering his drink when a familiar voice speaks up. The Combaticon tenses immediately, optics widening. OH SLAG. Already? Can't he at least get plastered first? He glances towards the door, suddenly debating fleeing, drinking somewhere else, then returning later and insisting he SAW and HEARD NOTHING earlier. But... Whirl's already too close. The shuttleformer stifles a *gulp*, straightens, and turns to give Whirl his best *aloof and unimpressed* look. Whether he succeeds is debatable.
"Oh! Whirl." He drawls, "What a surprise! I wasn't thinking of you at ALL." Wait, why'd he say THAT? Pfft, try again. "I.. I was just coming in to have a small, light, relaxing drink." The bartender comes over and hands him what he actually ordered: a super-heavy-duty grow-hair-on-your-chest (despite being a robot) kind of drink. He tries to take a delicate sip, coughs right afterwards.
"What." That's all Whirl can say when Blast Off blurts out that embarassing, totally unconvincing line. Whatever, he's not going to draw too much attention to it right now, instead he just lets the Combaticon continue. Then that drink comes out and Whirl just /stares./ No doubt if he had a face, there would be a very dubious look on it. "Oh yeah, that doesn't look like it will knock you out on your aft or anything." Another long stare as the mech takes a sip and immediately has a coughing fit.
"..Right, okay. You want to get wasted, that's totally cool. I dig it." He gestures to the little table he was previously sitting at, "but if you're going to do that, at least come join me. It's always more fun to get drunk with company, am I right?" Whether Blast Off accepts or not is irrelevant as Whirl begins pushing him towards the table anyway. "Go ahead! Sit down! It'll be great!"
Blast Off blinks at Whirl. "/JOIN/... with YOU?" There's an edge of panic to his otherwise cultured voice. Then Whirl points out the table. "/Oohh/." Blink. Stare. Then he is nearly flailing as Whirl shoves him towards the table, but eventually just gives in to it- he doesn't want to spill that drink, after all, and finds himself sitting down at the table, staring at Whirl. And that's about it, since suddenly he can't think of what to say. But he does take another, longer swig of that drink, coughing once but getting over it more quickly this time.
Okay, Whirl has definitely noticed that Blast Off is acting really, really weird. More so than usual. It's a little alarming but also adorable seeing him trip all over his words and just be awkward as all hell. "Yeah, join me at the table. What did you think I meant?"
Once Blast Off is seated, Whirl joins him on the other side of the table, rapping his claws against the glass bottle of his enerhol. He doesn't say anything for a while, foolishly expecting the Combaticon to start talking about something like how dingy the bar is, and how great it is being a space shuttle and all the usual things he usually goes on about. It never happens however and the increasing silence between them starts to make Whirl antsy. The tapping of his claws grows louder and more rapid. "SOOOOOOOO...... How's your head?"
Blast Off doesn't answer that first question. Instead, he takes another drink. And another. Staaare. As Whirl starts tapping those claws, his violet-hued gaze drifts down to begin staring at those now instead. Staaare. Tap tap. Staaare. Staaaaaaaaaaaare. Then suddenly he flinches a little as Whirl finally speaks. "OH! It's fine never better." Another swig of his engex. Back to staring. "How's...uh, yours?"
Oh, Blast Off. Don't think Whirl doesn't notice the intense staring at his claws. He does and it's okay, he's totally into it. "Good, good. I'm.. glad." The rapid tapping of his claws against glass lessens, the mech feeling less anxious now that the incredibly awkward silence has been broken. "Mine? Oh, it's fine. It's been fine for a while." Not true, he actually has a bit of a headache; a symptom of the detoxing he went through the cycle before, but Blast Off doesn't need to know about all that. Not yet at least.
Uh oh, that awkward silence is back. Whirl's optic flickers and he blurts out "SO, how's that drink treating you?" Primus what is going on right now, this is such a mess.
Blast Off nods. "Oh, uh, good." Nod nod. Wait, stop nodding. Too much nodding. He goes back to drinking. "Yes... it's... good." So eloquent tonight. This is followed by another long bout of staring at Whirl's claws, his drink, or just at Whirl. Sometimes the shuttle stares off into the distance just to break the pace. Eventually he finds more than three words he can string together at a time. "So... uh, how've you been? Ever see Quickswitch again? Or has he finally stopped pestering mechs this side of Cybertron?"
"Eh, I have no idea where the freak of nature is," Whirl replies, a certain venom in his words. He really hates that Quickswitch guy, he hated him even before he tried to murder one of his buddies. "He's probably off being totally insane and eating people, hell if I know. Hell if I care."
Whirl stares directly at Blast Off, his yellow optic piercing into the other mech's violet ones. "Let's cut the crap, Blast Off. What's really going on here? First off, you're in /this place./ I know Nyon doesn't have the fanciest bars, but this one is probably the crappiest one a guy like you could pick. And that drink? What are you trying to forget? Second, you're being really cagey and weird. It's making me nervous. Just relax, okay?"
He leans in, chest scraping against the edge of the table. "And you keep staring at me. What's up with that!? Creepy staring is MY thing! What's going on with you?"
The news concerning Quickswitch is met with more nodding- until Blast off remembers to stop doing it, followed by yet another swig of that drink. At least now he's starting to feel a bit of a buzz. Thank Primus. And just in time, too, as Whirl points out his odd behavior. His first response isn't that odd at all: pure denial. "What? I have NOT been staring. That would just be rude. And I'm NOT rude. I'm /sophisticated/." Another drink. There's a slight twitch of his wing elevons as the other mech leans in.
Blast off quiets down, going back to his previous staring. After a moment, his stare breaks and he glances away. "I... I'm not... I... well, I'm just trying to get plas-I mean a nice quiet drink and this was the most convenient spot, and also I thought maybe there was a chance that perhaps it's possible that I might, you know, find YOU here." Then he sort of gulps because he just admitted something. Add a full-wing twitch to that nervousness.
"Oh yes you have been staring! You think I don't notice it because I only have one optic?" Whirl leans in closer to stare even HARDER at Blast Off. "I'm not blind you know. Not anymore. I mean, I was once. You know, after you shot me in the face." His intense stare stays on the Combaticon as he waits for the mech to fess up and really explain what's going on here. Then he does and it's not really what Whirl was expecting.
"W-what?" The cyclops slooowly lowers himself back into his seat, all sorts of scenarios flying through his head. Why would Blast Off be going out of his way to find him? Why would Blast Off /want/ to find him anyway? The last time they actually talked it was.. kind of embarassing and Whirl said a few things that maybe he shouldn't have said. He hesitates for a few moments, staring at that bottle for a bit before returning his gaze to the mech. "Is there something you need to tell me?"
Blast Off goes from staring at Whirl to looking anywhere BUT at Whirl. Yes, suddenly that stain on the table or random hole in the wall is just *fascinating*. Deserving of MUCH scrutiny. "Well... I... NO NOT at ALL. I just... I just... well, maybe sort of."
He takes another long swig of that drink, and sadly for him he's starting to reach the bottom of the glass. He stares morosely at it for a moment before continuing. "Well... it's just you... asked me that question, and after everything that... well, happened, and the medbay, and Quickswitch, and..." No, he's not even going to mention the *hug*. "I... felt you deserved an answer."
Oh.. oh no. This is it, isn't it? This is really going to happen. It all starts to make sense now. The nervousness. The staring. The need to get totally wasted. Whirl's seen this before, he knows the signs. He's about to get seriously rejected.
It would make sense for Blast Off to get really drunk before breaking the news, to keep himself from feeling too guilty about the whole thing. The staring? Probably sizing Whirl up, watching him to make sure he doesn't completely flip out after hearing the bad news. The nervousness? Well, that's normal. Wouldn't you be nervous if you were about to shoot down a mentally unstable mech?
"...I see." Whirl looks away, staring REALLY hard at a half-empty glass sitting on a table on the other side of the room. "I.. I understand, Blast Off. Really, I do." He sighs and looks back at the mech. "I'm not really your type, and I'm.. kind of dangerous. Not to mention how embarassing it would be for you if anyone were to find out.." Uuuugh, he doesn't feel too good. "We can, uh.. still be friends though, right?"
Blast Off blinks, and despite himself he turns to stare at Whirl- in confusion this time. "...Huh?" He watches as Whirl looks increasingly miserable and pitiable there. Poor mech. Blast Off finds himself *feeling* for the guy, and that's quite a feat in and of itself for the aloof shuttle. But wait, why's Whirl so sad?
"Uh... I didn't say no." Stare. Then he's flustered again. He grabs his drink and takes the last of the engex, emptying his glass. "I...I didn't say YES either! I ...I just..." Uh. "I just..." He gazes back to the other mech, then suddenly his nose goes up into the air and he shrugs and looks away again. All aloof and haughty and all that, yes, that's it. "I just meant... what exactly did you... you know.... have in mind?"
Sideways glance to Whirl. "...Exactly."
Whirl visibly slumps in his chair, claws flat on the table. He has no idea why he thought Blast Off would take him up on his offer. Why would he? Blast Off is sophisticated and cultured and.. and a Decepticon. Whirl is an unhinged, ex-Senate, ex-cop, all around terrible person who's responsible for the war that's about to break out. He's the 'bad guy,' he's the one guys like Blast Off beat on. He's.. he's stupid for ever thinking this would ever go beyond what it currently is.
"I don't know." THAT'S A LIE. Whirl knows exactly what he had in mind, he's thought about it multiple times in extreme detail ever since they had that fateful conversation. "..Well, okay. I thought we would just.. you know, try to enjoy what time we have left together. Interface, obviously, I think that was pretty obvious. Maybe get to know eachother better. Maybe.. hardline. A few times. A lot of times." He scratches at the back of his head. "It sounds stupid when I say it out loud."
There's another nervous wing elevon twitch when Whirl goes and says it OUT LOUD. Interface. However, beyond the twitch, a glance away, and some slight swaying (though that's probably the hard engex he's just ingested finally starting to affect him.... he doesn't react anywhere near as flighty as he usually might. He just sits there, and sways a little, and looks thoughtful. And something he's realizing... right here, right now? The thing that makes Whirl an outcast to so many- so ugly to prejudiced optics? His lack of a face, lack of hands, those dreadful claws and unmistakable look of an empurata survivor? They are a much needed safety net for the traumatized shuttleformer. As much as he would like to get close to someone, his experiences with Feint have made him gunshy- especially towards femmes, towards faces- towards hands. Whirl isn't a femme, and his lack of face or hands is oddly attractive- and safe, if that's the right term- to Blast Off.
Whirl is Blast Off's perfect storm.
However, Blast Off wouldn't be Blast Off if he could easily admit to such things. Instead, he glances around as he takes all that in. Oh my.~ The shuttle suppresses the cooling fans that are already threatening to kick in. "I... see. Well." One of his hands finds it's way to his other arm's heat shields, and he starts idly picking at it. "What, you mean here? Or... like, somewhere else? What? You think you could take me on?" Again he looks over at Whirl with that sideways glance, and it almost looks like a challenge.
It's been a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time since Whirl has had to, you know, actually work for intimacy. Usually it's a quick introduction, a trip to an alleyway or behind an abandoned building, and then that's it; he never sees the other person again. There's no /talking/ about it. There's no /discussion of feelings/ or /gentle propositions./ It was always fast, impersonal, and selfish. Hell, even with Shiftlock they had all of five minutes to get to know eachother before they were plugging cables into eachother. This thing with Blast Off, it was so unlike what Whirl normally experiences.
Then Blast Off gives him that look. That's the look of a challenge and Whirl can't say no to a challenge.
Whirl's optic flickers for just a second, the only warning Blast Off gets before Whirl stands up, /grabs the table and throws it to the side like it was nothing/ and /pounces/ on the Combaticon like some kind of robot animal.
Blast Off notices that flicker and...wait, what was that? Then suddenly Primus he's THROWING THE TABLE AWAY. Ok, the Combaticon wasn't quite expecting THAT to happen. He has to do a bit of a double-take, and reboot his optics just to be sure, since he's definitely starting to feel that buzz now. But nope, there goes the table and ...OH MY- here comes Whirl. There's a startled AWP as he suddenly finds a tangle of helicopter on top of him. Violet optics go wide, and his first reaction is the usual when someone gets so totally INTO his personal space. He braces and starts struggling to get free. "GET OFF! GET-" But that's about as much as he says, before his own engines begin revving up.
Anyone else is going to think it's an angry rumbling of protest- maybe even Whirl at first. And he does begin fighting back, his hands reaching up to grab at Whirl's claws and try shoving them away. However, just as he does this, he pauses one moment to lean in and whisper near Whirl's audio receptor. "....So you DO think you can take me, eh? But what if I take YOU first?" Those engines rev again and he kicks a leg into Whirl's abdomen, trying to dislodge the stronger mech off him and scoot to the side on the floor.
Surely Blast Off knows Whirl well enough at this point in their friendship to realize that issuing ANY sort of challenge to the cyclops will result in an epic competition. An uproarious laughter overtakes Whirl as he keeps the Combaticon pinned against him. "YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME!? HAHAHAHA!" The other mechs struggling and yelling only makes Whirl laugh harder, though the words whispered to him make him pause. Oh, so Blast Off is into this sort of thing then? Yeah, Whirl can work with this.
Oof! He takes the right to the robogut, sending him toppling off the shuttleformer. At this point a few patrons of noticed the commotion but they keep mum about it, content with watching for now. Everyone likes to watch a fight every now and then, right?
"Uggh, damn it. That kind of hurt.." Whirl flashes a glance at Blast Off. "Good! I love it!" He jumps up onto his feet and takes a few steps back only to come charging forwards, jumping at the last second to slam right on top of Blast Off, elbow first. "Give me everything you've got! Ahahahahaha!"
Blast Off finds himself not only fighting Whirl but fighting his own inner conflicts- the part of him that tends towards *extreme* uncomfortableness when someone gets so close. Part of him wants to flee even now. But the other part is winning so far. That's the part that is so, so lonely and so ready to finally have someone *get* close. Be close, be there... share everything. Even if they have to /knock the wind out of him/ to do it. In fact, it might even be better this way.
The Combaticon's kick succeeds in dislodging the other mech. He manages to scoot back and get on his hands and is *just* getting on his feet when Whirl comes slamming down on him again. "GAH!!!" Ouch, Ok, that defininitely hurt. And will hurt even more the next day when this buzz wears off. The shuttle's not actually built for this. It doesn't stop him, though. Slammed back down on the ground, his ventilation systems cycle and sputter momentarily, wheezing out a sharp huff or two. Then his optics narrow and those engines rev up again. "How 'bout I give you THIS!" And he slams his head up, trying to smack his helmet against the helicopter with a *clang*! And yes, indeed, the bar patrons have hushed and are either watching the fight(?) or drifting away to avoid possible further flying tables.
Whirl is a messed up guy. Seriously, that cannot be stressed enough. He has a very strong relationship with violence, to him it's not just an act of aggression; it's a stress reliever, it's a fun activity, it's something he truly enjoys doing. It's also a great bonding activity, at least to him. Some of his other partners weren't really into it (he had to goad Shiftlock into it and that ended about as well as it sounds like it would) but this.. this is /awesome./ Blast Off isn't afraid to hurt him and he doesn't seem to mind taking a few hits himself, this is everything Whirl wanted.
Whirl twists his elbow to really grind it into the Combaticon but he finds himself taking a hard smack to what used to be his chin courtesy of Blast Off's helmet. This manages to put a dent in the more delicate paneling around the mech's 'face' and he can't help but roll off the shuttleformer with a pained groan. "Hnnn, is that all you got?" He pushes himself up onto those bizarre digitigrade legs of his. He takes a moment to stretch, joints popping loudly as he does so. "I know you can do better than that. Come on!" He throws his arms out to the sides, puffing his chest out which is barely noticeable considering how much it sticks out already (kibble is funny that way) but it's the thought that counts. "COME AT ME, BLAST OFF!"
Now, Blast Off doesn't have the exact same relationship with violence that Whirl does. All that talk he's always pontificating about, regarding how "civilized" and "sophisticated" and "high class" he is? It's not all hot air. He really DOES strive to be those things. He really does tend to look down at what he sees as pointless rabble-rousing. He WANTS to be a high-class, elegant and aristocratic shutleformer, as his upbringing and much of his base programming tells him he SHOULD be.
However, that's not the full story. The conflicted Combaticon is STILL a /Combaticon/, and like it or not, violence is hard-wired into his circuitry. He's trained as a soldier and he is (as Whirl has already noticed) quick to draw out his gun when he feels threatened. This might even be a clue to Whirl given he hasn't yet brought out his gun yet, despite his otherwise aggressive and annoyed expression. He's hesitant to fire at Whirl again, given what happened last time he shot the mech. No... not today. Not to say he won't mind shooting Whirl some *other* time, but... not today. Not right this moment, at least. Kill Whirl? No. But hurt Whirl? Sure, why not?
The shuttle's optics narrow as Whirl withdraws and beckons him closer. Blast Off studies him warily, wiping some grease form his neck before letting out a HUFF. "YOU ASKED FOR IT." With that, he leaps up into the air, using the full force of his anti-gravs to turn, angle, and then rocket in and RAM into the other mech as hard as he can, trying to knock him clear off his feet and grab his claws.
Whirl is having such a good time duking it out with Blast Off that he would actually be seriously offended and even a little hurt if the other mech was to whip out his gun. This is so much more than a fight for him, and perhaps Blast Off gets that or at the very least he's looking at this as /something./ Why else wouldn't he have started shooting?
The cyclops has only a moment to watch the Combaticon jump into the air before he finds himself on the receiving end of a rocket assisted slam. There's a grunt of pain and then the sounds of shattering glass, the canopy of Whirl's alt mode and subsequently his chest breaking into pieces from the impact. Blast Off's attempt at knocking the mech off his feet is successful, Whirl smacking hard onto the floor again. And his claws? They're grabbed up in the Combaticon's hands, twitching and flexing as if threatening to shred anything unfortunate enough to get in their reach.
"What do you plan on doing now, Blast Off?" Whirl stares directly at the shuttleformer, his optic seeming to burn brighter than normal. "Are we going to stay in this bar and fight until we get kicked out? You said I deserve an answer, I still haven't gotten it yet. Do you ever plan on sharing that information with me?"
Blast Off succeeds, and for once it's HIM on top of soemone else, pinning their hands-er, claws, in his own. He likes this view. Whirl down there, so close, so... vulnerable-looking. His own engines rev up again and the Combaticon most definitely DOES see this as /something/ as he leans in, making sure the roar of his engines vibrates against the chest of the other. He seems to smirk under the faceplate. Yes, he's probably also quite drunk by now, but he actually made his decision before he even stepped into the bar. The drink just gave him the ability to follow through with it. Still close, he growls, "Come outside with me and I'll GIVE you that answer."
With that, he suddenly pulls himself away, stands up, and with a haughty look at the watching crowd he brushes his hands together as if cleaning himself of the matter and strides (a little unsteadily) outside. There he waits in a secluded spot not far from the entrance, leaning against a wall with arms crossed.
And there they are. Whirl pinned against the ground, Blast Off on top of him, hands wrapped tight around those mutilated appendages that have replaced the cyclop's hands. As he looks up at the mech he finds that he's... surprisingly okay with this. The view is nice, at least; and the pain, while noticeable, it's not too bad that he can't enjoy it. The vibrations reverberating through him via Blast Off's roaring engines elicit a low rumble of his own engines, the two of them making quite a racket in the small bar.
Blast Off draws in close. SHEESH, now look who's invading people's personal space. Normally Whirl would point out the hypocrisy but the Combaticon's growled invitation stirs certain feelings inside the mech and, well, he just stops thinking about it. He stops thinking about a lot of things actually, all of his attention is focused on Blast Off; his almost stunned gaze never leaving him, even after the shuttleformer stands up and leaves the bar.
"....." Whirl just STARES for a long while, trying not decide if that really just happened or if he imagined it. "...Woah! Wait! Wait up!" He scrambles up onto his feet and books it to the exit, elbowing a couple of people on the way by and even knocking a tray of drinks over at one point. He stumbles outside, head darting around in every direction before catching sight of Blast Off and hurrying over.
Blast Off ...is a complicated individual. A VERY complicated individual, with more layers than even HE probably realizes. Many of them in conflict with each other, too. But right now the conflict has subsided to a dull roar, drowned out by the roar of his and Whirl's engines joined together as one. He waits for Whirl to come to him, looking askance as the other mech draws near again. There's a long stare off into the distance as the shuttleformer just leans silently against the wall. But eventually he breaks the silence, voice quiet and measured.
"...One time. This one time." He turns his head to Whirl, and there's now a somber look in his optics. "....For... Shiftlock. And for.... us, before war begins and everything goes crazy."
Dear god, if only this world wasn't so screwed up. Whirl feels a connection with Blast Off, one not experienced in what feels like a lifetime. Maybe it's their shared experiences, the falling from grace and the terrible things they were forced to endure. Maybe it's the people they know, shared friends that bring on a sense of comraderie. Maybe it's Shiftlock, and the strained relationship they both have with her. Maybe if things were different, they'd be able to enjoy life together and experience a deeper understanding of their feelings.
But the world is a cruel place and none of this can ever happen. This offer, this one time thing, is the only thing they'll have together before everything goes to crap. Ah well, thems the breaks, right?
"I understand." His tone is neutral, or at least it tries to be; there's a hint of sadness in there. "..And I'm glad. About your decision." He scuffs the ground with a foot, looking the other way. "It will mean a lot for me."
As Whirl glances away and starts scuffing a foot awkwardly, Blast Off also finds himself staring awkardly in the other direction... Uh oh, here they go again. This might take another few hours to get past the awkward stage, and there aren't any more drinks to help speed things along. But he does WANT to do this. He believes he'll never see Shiftlock again, and this is a way to share those memories- memories he never got to have. It's wrong, and messed up, but.... it seems to him a last little way to get to know who she really was before... well, before the Autobots got their hands on her. But that isn't even all of it- he has begun to feel close to this mech, and genuinely wonder who is he. Who he was, maybe even who he will be. And share something with what does indeed seem like a strange sort of kindred spirit. IT's been strange and unexpected and troubled and... kind of wonderful too.
As for that awkwardness, it appears to be a lost cause- that is, until Blast Off finally gets the courage (or maybe he's just drunk enough) to say, "I know." Worthy of Han Solo, there. Then he turns to give Whirl what appears to be a smirk under that faceplate. "So... well, you said something about.... hardlining?" There's a half-nervous, half-anticipatory glance towards those claws before he starts staring into the distance again- and waiting.
Even after all this totally emotional stuff happened, Blast Off still manages to be so.. so.. so damn aloof! When Whirl first met him he thought it was annoying and kind of condescending, now he understand that it's sort of Blast Off's coping mechanism, something he does to keep himself from getting to close. You know, kind of what Whirl does except it's more violent and scary.
"Hm?" Whirl looks back at the Combaticon and coughs a totally real and convincing cough. "Ah, uh.. yeah, I did say something about that didn't I? Well.." He shrugs, finding fewer and fewer reasons to be coy about this sort of subject. "Yeah, I'm into it. I want to make you overload, is that such a bad thing?" The mech turns himself so that his back faces the wall so he can casually lean against is as he continues. "You know, it's funny.. You're super jealous of me because I got to interface with Shiftlock. I never got to hardline with her though. Never got to do much with her after that. Younknew her better than I did, you should've been the one to experience that with her. Not me."
If you look "aloof" up in the dictionary, you'll find a picture of Blast off there. Or at least he'd like to think so. He certainly goes for that effect often enough. He's a little surprised when Whirl just leans against the wall near him, but yeah, he's cool, he's aloof, he can roll with. Besides, gives him a little more time to feel at ease with the other mech's close proximity. Though the outright mention of "overload" brings a blush to the shuttleformer's face. Oh my~. This time he allows the cooling fans to start up. Might as well.
He's also a little surprised at the rest of Whirl's comments, and he glances over to him. "...Really? I... I didn't know. We... yes, we hardlined. It was... it was nice." His voice carries a mixture of pleasure and pain at the memory. "I... I don't mind sharing that with you." He pauses, then adds, "Well... I don't know if either of us has ever gotten what we "deserve". Life just ...is, I guess. But sometimes, we can... make life a little.... better for each other, I suppose." He shifts against the wall, and JUST SO HAPPENS to get a little closer to Whirl by doing so.
Whirl just.. listens. There's really not much for him to add at this point, he's pretty much said everything he wanted to say. He does notice the shift in Blast Off's position, however, and it makes him think. Hmmmm...
Suddenly, the cyclops lashes out, grabbing ahold of the Combaticon by the arm and pulling; forcing the other mech close against him. Really close. Like, screw you personal space, close. "Blast Off, I want to do these things with you. To you. But you're going to have to get close to me." He leans in, bonking his 'face' against the side of the shuttleformer's head. "You'll have to let me touch you, and you can't go freaking out about it, okay?"
Blast Off is just getting comfortable staring off into that sunset- er, distance again when suddenly Whirl lunges at him, pulling him close. Of course, his immediate reaction is to try pulling away, bracing his hands against Whirl's arms and claws- then his chest as the cyclops snuggles closer. "Get- off- I...Uh..." Pretty soon he's back to the way he was the last time Whirl hugged him... stiff with a panic he's working on suppressing. His fingers twitch and he jerks about a little....but eventually the more rapid cycling of his ventilation systems start to slow down again. His push against the other relaxes, and his hands begin to grip Whirl's arms instead of trying to push them away. After a long minute, he finally even dares trace a finger down Whirl's arm and up onto his claws. "I.... I..... Ok."
Whirl tightens his grip on Blast Off when he struggles, but once the struggling stops, so does the strength of his grip. It loosens considerably, giving Blast Off the opportunity to pull away and put some distance between them again if he so chooses. There's a shudder than runs through Whirl's frame when the mech traces his finger along his arm and it takes everything in his power not to drag the Combaticon into the alley and do all sorts of things to him right now. "I'm going to give you my personal hailing frequency so you can always reach me. Don't go too crazy with it though, I don't want you calling me up when you're drunk and professing your undying love for me."
No, Blast Off isn't going anywhere. But yes, he's just drunk enough that that last comment actually triggers one of the shuttle's rare chuckles. He just focuses on stroking Whirl's claws and trying to get another shudder. Or better. "Uh...yes. I'll give you mine, as well. Same... stipulation." The other hand's grip tightens as Whirl's loosen, and while he's still having to control some of his flightiness, he's also starting to enjoy himself.
It's been so very, very long. He hasn't even had the chance to, er, "break in" this body since he was taken out of spark extraction. Not- er, fully, at least. The idea of sharing as much as one does during interfacing is still a bit.... frightening, but it also seems worth it, too. He's willing to try. He's a shuttle, even with a new body he's still got to be, you know, /good/, right? Yes, obviously.
Slowly his engines start rumbling again, adding vibration as the two mechs embrace. "...And... thank you."