re_alignment_logs | life is essentially a chess game

WHO:

sixmillionyears
WHERE: Swerve's room; Alpha Trion's Temple
WHEN On the cusp of the Glyphless going insane
WHAT: Tailgate and Swerve get awkwardly affectionate with each other, and then they stop being affectionate.
WARNINGS: Violence, Gore, Adult situations between robots

It's no secret that Swerve likes Tailgate. He's short, awkward, and his naivete makes him pretty cute. Tailgate is someone Swerve wants to be friends with. Close friends, when the mood strikes him. It's not really a secret that all anyone needs to do with Swerve is ask. Chances are, more people would know that if they questioned him about it, but no one does, so no one knows. He can't really bring himself to care. He's interested in everyone's business. They don't need to be interested in his.

Co-habitation with Tailgate hasn't been all that bad. They fit pretty well in the room he's been given, well enough for them to move around each other without touching, which Swerve has never bothered to do, because he's just that kind of mech. Between slowly trying to get Tailgate to open up, and a few pranks here and there, it's probably one of the best things on this planet that he's got going on. Not better than bartending though. Let's not get ridiculous.

So it's a few weeks in when he realizes that, yeah, he may be acting a little more touchy than usual. Running a hand over your roommates thigh-plating probably isn't an A-okay thing to do, but Swerve once poked a total stranger in the aft, so it's not like he's particularly sensitive to the personal space needs of others. So if he casually soothes a hand down Tailgate's thigh and lets it linger, he's not going to be the one making a big deal about it.

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Tailgate pauses from his position in front of Swerve, perched on the edge of the berth as he reaches for a shelf. He'd been counting on Swerve's hands to hold his steady, but this is a little... More than that. His vocalizer resets with a soft click as he registers the brush of Swerve's hand over his thigh.

"Swerve..?"

He doesn't dare read too much into it. Swerve was just... holding him steady. Yeah. That had to be it. No one would bother going any further with someone like Tailgate.

But Swerve doesn't really move his hand. If anything, he presses it down a little more, a little firmer. He looks up at Tailgate, tilting his head as much as he can, and smirks a little.

"Yeah? Is there a problem?"

He's hoping there isn't. Tailgate's interesting in a lot of ways, but his make up is especially so to Swerve, ever since he'd gotten the opportunity to carbon-date him. He'd hate to have to move his hand.

Oh, alright. Clearly Swerve is just... holding him steady. Nothing more to it. Tailgate can relax and stop overreacting like an idiot. He shakes his head at the other mech.

"No, no problem."

He turns back to the shelf, reaching for... Slag, now he can't even remember what he's supposed to be grabbing.

Tailgate doesn't seem to be reacting in a way that's averse. Maybe a little obtuse, but he's not shoving Swerve away or anything. Maybe the problem here is, surprisingly, that Swerve is being a little too subtle.

Too subtle? Swerve? Huh.

He vents a little and drops his voice down to something like purr, pressing his cheek to the side of Tailgate's leg. "Got what you need yet?"

Damn. That didn't sound as suggestive as he wanted. He's so painfully out of practice.

Oh, that's definitely Swerve's face against his thigh. This close he can feel the rumble of the other mech's voice through his plating. It makes him pause, hand outstretched, more than a little lost.

"I, uh. What was I reaching for again? Was it the cleaning cloths?"

Swerve pauses and presses his face a little harder against Tailgate's plating in an attempt to think. It's not really working, partially because Primus Tailgate really does have really nice legs.

"Uhhhh..."

This may or may not have been a ruse.

"...Swerve?"

Tailgate looks down at the other mech, his expression (if you can call it that) curious.

"Did you forget?"

Swerve stares blankly ahead trying to come up with a suitable explanation or reason that they did this in the first place.

"Oh!" He takes a hand off Tailgate to snap his fingers, which turns out to not actually be a thing he can do. Instead, he just skims a hand up Tailgate's thigh and taps the tip at the top.

"Cleaning cloths on the right, and I've got some engex on the left that I brought back from the bar."

"Okay."

Tailgate quickly locates the necessary supplies, gathering them up into his arms and looking down at Swerve. The other mech has been awfully touchy feely today, enough that Tailgate's systems have already started to respond, a low, pleasant hum rippling through his sensornet.

"Can you help me down?"

Swerve moves a little off to the side and presses the side of his arm flush to the back of Tailgate's lower legs. He leaves the other extended like he's going to catch something, which is pretty much the entire point.

"Just sorta tip back. I've got ya."

There's a short pause.

"Like fifty-fifty chance we won't fall."

"You can't be serious."

There's no way he's serious.

Wait, this is Swerve. It's entirely possible that he's 100% serious about being 50% sure he could catch him. Sigh. Okay. What's the worst that could happen? Swerve fumbles it and Tailgate ends up on the floor. Yeah, sure, that's liveable.

"Try not to drop me--!"

And then Tailgate's tipping back, wondering how the hell Swerve manages to talk him into these kinds of things with minimal effort.

The fact that he is totally 1000% legit serious is now beyond the shadow of a doubt. Normally it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but this is Swerve and Tailgate, and he's only a bit taller than the other mech. If he was Rewind's size, it would be less of an issue.

"I'm not making any promises."

If he said that he hadn't considered purposefully pulling away and letting Tailgate fall on his ass, he'd be a liar, because that would be hilarious. Still, Alpha Trion's words stick in his mind and there's this nagging feeling that he should be taking advantage of whatever time they have together.

So in the end, he does manage to catch Tailgate, but he does sort of stumble a bit. Swerve is made for the almost hilariously frustrating work of metallurgy and metal working, which is surprisingly delicate stuff. He's not really made for catching other mechs pridal style.

"That wasn't so bad. Fifty-fifty's not the worst odds, anyway. Well, actually I kind of lied a bit, since it was more like a thirty for and seventy against that I'd catch you, but it worked out for the best, right?"

He grins at Tailgate, and damn if it isn't a little cheeky.

life is essentially a chess game

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