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“I cannot believe a bot can actually, genuinely be this dense.” Getaway slumped onto his berth, draping an arm over his faceplate with a sharp exvent. Atomizer didn’t respond immediately, staying slouched at his desk as he absently took his bow apart. If Getaway wanted Atomizer to respond, he’d make it plenty obvious.
“And Tailgate just can’t keep other bot’s names out of his intake, even on our ‘dates’. I’ve been laying it on extra thick and it still hasn't gotten through that stupid helm of his that he’s basically being served exactly what he wants, if he’d just take it.” Ah, it sounded like his friend was winding into a proper rant. Atomizer stole a quick glance over. Getaway had rolled onto his side, head propped on a servo.
“It’s all for the better though; didn’t you say that it was exactly those traits that made him perfect for the ‘mission’?” Atomizer’s attention drifted back to his bow, because frankly, he didn’t care. He carefully checked over the joints and fasteners for looseness or stress.
“That doesn’t matter now, not if he keeps missing every one of my advances. Y’know, Tailgate likes those Earthian films. And well- he seems fixated on the idea of romance and happy endings, but Primus, he sure doesn’t act the part.” Getaway emphasized the words with another dramatic exvent. Atomizer was going to go back to ignoring him, since it didn’t seem Getaway was even listening to his input, when the sportscar suddenly sat up.
“Atom.”
“Getaway?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Getaway always had ideas.
“That so?” Atomizer could play along. It's why Getaway kept him around, anyways.
“Yeah, if you want to know, how about you guess?”
“I’m not doing that. Just tell me.”
Getaway sighed, and swung up onto his pedes. “Fine. It’ll probably be easier to just show you anyway.” He stalked over to his own desk, popped open one of the lower drawers, and began to dig through his belongings. After a few sparkspins, he straightened up with a triumphant noise. “Pspspspss. Atom.”
Atomizer cycled his optics under his visor, but obeyed the command regardless. Getaway closed the drawer, the lock clicking back into place, before Atomizer could take an opportunistic peek. He leaned down to look at what Getaway had fished out. It took him a few seconds to sort out what exactly he was looking at, and why it seemed so familiar.
It was a nondescript purple container, but it was easy enough for him to imagine what was missing. A label; no, a prescription. “A pill bottle? What- you going to start taking painkillers to make hanging out with him tolerable?”
Getaway’s optics narrowed. “No, and these aren’t painkillers.” He opened the bottle, and carefully extracted a small grey tablet. “I’m no medical expert, but back when I got my servoes on these, they called them bluescreeners.”
Atomizer perked up. The tablet certainly wasn’t familiar, but the name was. He’d never personally dabbled, never had the extra shanix for any illegal boosters, but he was well aware of the Cybertronian underworld. “You’re going to drug him.”
The pill was returned, and Getaway nodded. “That’s about the gist of it. Imagine it with me, will you?” An arm was slung around Atomizer’s shoulders, and he overrode the instinctual combat protocols that tried to flare up in response to the sudden touch.
Despite himself, Atomizer was actually curious. “I’m imagining.”
“So, you- imagine you’re Tailgate- You wake up, hung over, in a dear friend’s hab. He’s so accommodating, and so worried! He says stupid, sappy things, and it’s the perfect time for you to finally connect the dots. And it’s an even better segway for him, because he has important things to tell you!” He gestured wildly with his other servo. “I suppose it may be a bit unnecessary, but I really am getting impatient.”
Atomizer was only half-listening. He latched onto a few keywords, and though he managed to retain his politeness and wait until Getaway was done chattering, Atomizer couldn’t quite resist. “You’re planning to frag him?”
Getaway stiffened, for just an astrosecond, and then he shrugged. “If it happens.” Atomizer didn’t find that as funny as he thought he would. What a waste of something that could be... He pulled away from Getaway, crossing his arms over his chassis. Tailgate, of all bots.
“You just planning to slip it in his drink then?”
“When a good opportunity arises, yeah.”
“What exactly does an opportunity look like to you?”
“It’s not relevant now. I’m sure you’ll know when it happens. I’ll make sure to keep you updated, seeing as I'll be needing your assistance. Roommates, and all.”
Atomizer huffed. “Yeah, yeah. I know how it is.”
Getaway somewhat roughly ‘bomped’ Atomizer under the chin. “Attaboy.”
+==+==+
The opportunity, it turned out, was Swerve debuting a new drink. Not only was this a good excuse to go get some drinks (not that the Lost Lighters were ever low on reasons to get drunk), but it’d also neutralize the threat of Tailgate recognizing any changes in flavor or color. And so, Getaway invited Tailgate to try the new drink with him and Atomizer.
Atomizer was the third wheel, but it didn’t bother him. He got their drinks, giving the two even more alone time, and returned with the three glasses to present with a flourish. The new drink was a mix of engex and high mileage oil, with oil foam on top. Atomizer didn’t care to learn the name of it.
Tailgate rarely drank immediately. He didn’t watch his drink either. Atomizer was. He caught the moment a pill slipped over the rim of the glass. He watched intently as the tablet dissolved to be almost invisible.
Atomizer was the third wheel. The other two talked intently, occasionally pointing out other bots they recognised at the bar, or on the dancefloor. Tailgate didn’t pay attention to his drink, going so far as to get up and temporarily abandon it to interject himself into a conversation with Huffer. Getaway, ever a loyal companion, followed after the mini-bot. Atomizer waved them off as brightly as he could.
Atomizer was left to his own devices, tapping a digit along the glass of the spiked drink. Tailgate thought they were friends. Getaway didn’t think much of Atomizer at all. He hated Getaway sometimes. He didn’t care at all for Tailgate, he was pretty annoying, actually. To be honest though, Atomizer had made up his mind a while ago. Back when he’d first heard this plan spoken aloud.
Two drinks were switched.
+==+==+
Tasteless. Invisible. Fast acting.
“Getaway?” Tailgate almost whined the word as he set his own emptied glass down. “Are you alright?”
“Huh. Ah- did I.. miss something? Scout.” Getaway straightened, plating fluffing up and out as if trying to regain his balance. It was almost cute, seeing as he was sitting down.
Tailgate looked more concerned. “Well, I was asking if you maybe wanted to visit the oil reservoir after this. If you don’t want to, that's fine.”
Getaway shook himself off. “No, it’s-”
Atomizer interrupted. “Tailgate’s right. You seem a bit off. Are you feeling well?”
Getaway’s vents were heaving, and it took him nearly a groon to collect himself. “Fine. It’sshh.. fine.” There was a pause, and Getaway’s vents clicked shut.
Tailgate didn’t look convinced, but he stayed quiet. Good thing Atomizer hadn’t been expecting him to contribute to begin with. He reached across the table to grab Getaway’s servo. It didn’t earn him either the complaint or struggle he would’ve usually expected from the bot.
“You’re cold. You haven’t caught a bug or something, have you?” Atomizer stayed stern, even as Getaway weakly tried to pull his servo out of Atomizer’s grasp.
“You think he’s sick?” Tailgate’s concern has mounted to a new level, and now he sounded almost guilty. He turned back to Getaway. “You should go visit the Medbay. Just for a checkup at least.”
“I… Don’t think-” Getaway was drooping like some kind of organic plant. Suddenly, he didn’t seem nearly as mad about the held servo, instead he clung to it. “I don’t have to! I’m fine.. I… am fine.”
Atomizer sighed, and turned to Tailgate. “I think that’s a pretty good idea. The poor guy seems pretty wrecked.” He pulled his servo free, ignoring the hazy glare sent his way, and gestured at Getaway. “Would you mind us calling it a night now? So I can play chaperone for him.”
It didn’t matter what Tailgate said. Just that the bot said yes. Atomizer helped Getaway up, and laughed when he almost toppled over immediately. He said goodbye to Tailgate for both of them, promising to make up for this at some point. Slowly, Swerve’s music and lights faded into the background.
+==+==+
The poor bot could barely walk. Getaway clung heavily to Atomizer, too out of it to complain about the servo kneading at his waist. The sportscar was running cold, so Atomizer kept him tucked close against his chassis. His engine purred.
It was a short enough walk back to their hab, and Atomizer wasn’t worried about being seen or anything like that. Nobody would be concerned about someone just helping a clearly very drunk friend back home. Getaway stumbled, and Atomizer didn’t even bother to adjust his gait. It was easier to just half-drag Getaway than adapt to the bot’s newfound clumsiness.
They reached the hab and once the door slid closed, Atomizer finally pulled Getaway flush against him. Atomizer’s warm codpiece pressed against the cool surface of Getaway’s plating. He sighed softly, and tilted Getaway’s helm up. He tugged at the manual release tucked near his chin, until that faceplate shifted aside. Atomizer didn’t care to look, he leaned his face the rest of the way in, and their mouths met. Slack lips were pushed open, and Atomizer hungrily explored every inch he could with his glossa. He ran his servos over Getaway’s frame, tweaking at the lines of biolights, and prying at transformation seams as he went. He bit into Getaway’s bottom lip, groaning at the taste of energon, and he grabbed a finial to drag Getaway impossibly closer. Atomizer wanted more. He moved away enough to glance down.
His panels were still closed.
Getaway probably didn’t have the wits left to handle it himself. Atomizer shifted, simultaneously pushing Getaway away, and getting a more solid hold on him. Atomizer dragged Getaway to berth, and shoved him down onto his back. He sat down, servo going straight back to the closed codpiece. Atomizer wasn’t nearly as good with locks as Getaway, but leaning over the other mech, and calling upon his limited medical knowledge, he managed to locate the medical override switch.
Click!
Metal folded back. Getaway’s spike was still tucked into its housing, and his valve didn't have much sheen to it. Atomizer got to work fixing that, he had to if he wanted to get a good look at what he was working with. He slowly encouraged the spike out, and once it was erect enough, he wrapped a servo around it. Atomizer gave it a quick pump, then another. He worked Getaway roughly, twisting on each stroke down.
It was a pretty spike. Grey mesh, and red biolights, mainly smooth. When he’d got it all the way up, he made note of the length. He also proudly noted that Getaway became more eager with each motion, trying to buck into his servo on instinct, despite not having enough control left to do so anymore.
He pressed in on the transfluid slit, hearing Getaway whine. Atomizer would love to spend more time on the spike, but his patience was thinning. He leaned in for a quick kiss. All the while, his servo drifted down to Getaway’s valve. Slowly circling the valve lips, before nudging in and up to massage the node that had been blinking fitfully since he’d been handling Getaway’s spike. He kept his thumb focusing on the node, while he forced his pointer digit in to the joint. Curling against soft mesh, and then fitting another digit alongside the first. He slowly thrusted his digits in and out, pressing against the valve walls to stretch the callipers. Atomizer rubbed against the anterior node again, and Getaway shuddered into an overload with a gasp. Atomizer watched as transfluid spilled across Getaway’s chest. Frag. His own spike pinged insistently for release as mesh rippled around his digits. He didn’t let himself get distracted, and kept thrusting his digits through the process.
Getaway went limp, face pressed into the berth as he panted. Atomizer sat up, shifting his panels away, spike pressurizing quickly with a hiss. The excess lubricant on his servo went straight to slicking up his spike. He got a hold on Getaway’s waist, planning to flip him onto his stomach. “I’ll try not to waste time, seeing as this is the best part.” He didn’t get a response, and Atomizer paused. He leaned forward to get a better look at Getaway’s face. Getaway had been barely conscious for a while, so it wasn’t surprising to see his optics dimmed and face tranquil. Atomizer just hadn’t expected it to matter. He’d never seen Getaway so calm.
Atomizer wanted to kiss him again. Badly. He was acting stupid. His spike throbbed, reminding him sharply of his need. Don’t waste time. Atomizer lay back on the berth, and carefully hauled Getaway up so the bot was half-lying on top of him. He carefully rearranged the recharging frame, and when satiated he leaned in to kiss him on the helm. The shaft of Atomizer’s spike ran along the surface of Getaway’s valve. Atomizer bit off his moan as just some of that desperate desire was finally answered. He adjusted the angle of his hips slightly, and maneuvered his spike between the valve lips. He held Getaway still as he thrust up, sinking into tight warmth.
His vents hitched; falling still to give himself a moment to collect himself. As he started moving again, he rocked in and out, never fully exiting the valve, but working further into the channel with decisive movements. As their nodes lined up just right, Getaway whined into Atomizer’s plating, the sound more real now it was pressed directly against him. He faltered for just a second. But then he kept going, speeding up as much as he could until Atomizer managed to bottom out. He absently bucked up, his urgency temporarily burned out. Atomizer pet Getaway’s kibble idly, feeling strangely affectionate towards the mech.
Of course, this softer mood didn’t last long, though it didn’t break as suddenly as he’d assumed it would. Slowly, his focus shifted back to the warmth around his spike, and the rhythm of Getaway’s vents. He shifted upwards to get a better angle. Atomizer thrusted in with quick movements, adjusting his angle until he settled on one that left Getaway making even more of those cute breathy whines. Getaway’s valve cycled snugly around his spike each time he thrusted back in. He felt heat build faster in his tank, spike warming as he got closer to the edge. But he wouldn’t reach that edge like this.
He reached down, servo blindly rummaging until he found Getaway’s spike. He kept his thrusts up as he wrapped his digits around the spike head, and began to work it in time with the motions. It wasn’t the best handjob he’d ever given, it was clumsy and distracted, but the dual stimulation would do its job. Remembering what got the best reactions from earlier, he teased the transfluid slit, edging the tip of a digit against it. The response was immediate, and Atomizer felt Getaway topple into an overload. His valve clenched down tight on Atomizer’s spike, and it sent Atomizer right into his own overload. He had half a mind left to be concerned about overloading inside, before he flooded Getaway with transfluid and suddenly worrying about the future really didn’t matter anymore. It felt like Getaway’s callipers were still trying to milk his spike for all it had, but the feeling was pleasant against his freshly overloaded systems, so Atomizer sat back and decided he’d stay put for a while.
Getaway was slumped against him, vents whirring wildly as he slowly came down from his high. Atomizer stared up at the ceiling, processor drifting. Before he meandered too far, Getaway nuzzled closer; curling into him with a soft murmur. Atomizer sighed. Getaway was asleep. They’d made a mess, and Atomizer would need to clean up before turning in. He sat up, nudging Getaway aside so the bot could lay down. One of his hands was still covered in transfluid, and he rubbed it on Getaway’s chest. He’d have to haul Getaway to the washracks anyways, it didn’t matter now.
He’s terrible. To think he’d once wanted to turn over a new leaf on the Lost Light. Megatron ruined that. Maybe Getaway did too, because Getaway’s the one who wanted Atomizer to be a weapon for him. Atomizer stared down at Getaway; he still looked too peaceful, and it seemed so strange. Atomizer had never imagined that Getaway could look so… adorable.
Atomizer was stupid. He did this because Getaway deserved it, and just having that thought was enough reason to believe that he, himself, may also be too far gone. But maybe that meant he deserved this too; deserved to be trapped here with Getaway.
Atomizer needed to focus. There were things to do.
He stood up, stalked over to Getaway’s desk, and crouched to examine the lock. He remembered the conversation. Getaway had only brought one pill, so as not to be caught with the evidence on his person. Atomizer didn’t even bother to try with the lock. He threw the broken metal aside, and dug through the items. An escape kit, a few energon rations, handcuffs, and then the pill bottle. He tucked it into his subspace. There, at least he’s done one good thing. “Right.”
He stood and returned to the berth, scooping Getaway up into a princess carry. He should get the cleaning out of the way; Getaway would probably be pissed if he woke up with transfluid behind his panels. Well, he’d probably be mad anyways if he realizes any of what happened. “Time for a bath. Then I’ll let you get some sleep.”
It was definitely not a good sign that he couldn't seem to stop talking to himself, it’s a worse sign that he wishes he could talk to Getaway instead. But that was one of tomorrow’s problems. Maybe one day he’d fix what’s wrong with him. For today, Atomizer’s not sure he even cares.