re_alignment_logs

WHO: Drift and Wing
WHERE: Near the Badlands (the new/nearer patch?)
WHEN: A short time after this, during January's plot event.
WHAT: Wing returns from his 'walkabout' only to discover Drift is missing. Also, Badlands are Bad. :c
WARNINGS: None yet.

After reading the messages on the Link, Wing had sped home hoping this was some fluke, a mistake, and that Drift was just otherwise occupied. But Drift had said he'd be here when Wing got back; he'd made an appointment with Ambulon, yet he wasn't here in Haven for either of them. His concern had only grown as he'd searched all the places he could think of, only to turn up empty. Which left him with two thoughts...Tarn or the Badlands.

The jet crouches now on the highest point of Vector's tower, one hand clinging to the spire's needle while the magna clamps in each foot keep him steady on his perch. He leans out, flight surfaces shifting fretfully while he scans the surrounding territory, as if he'd see some hint or clue if only he looked hard enough. There's something about the echo of Drift's name in his own voice as it rings out over the crystal bridges and through the gorge itself... It seems like a fruitless endeavor, simply calling his name, but something in it fortifies Wing's hope and determination. His spark pulses anxiously, even moreso as he tries to reach through the old link to his former Great Sword, his last gambit, hoping desperately for some notion of Drift's whereabouts. Please, Drift, where are you..?

Wing puts everything he has into it. At first, nothing. Then the sinking notion that the sword isn't anywhere nearby, not in Haven at least. He almost falters, discouraged, but no, Drift would never give up so easily. It was one of the qualities Wing honestly loved about the mech. So he tries again, one last push... that gets rewarded. Something...off in the distance. Roughly towards the Badlands.

It's all the jet needs, and though he's only been back to Haven a matter of hours, he's gone again, striking out towards one pinpoint of light against a blanket of darkness.

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"Y-yes. But." Drift frowns, and then Wing touches him, and he covers that hand in his, squeezing the jet's fingers in his. "I don't want to hold you so tightly that you feel trapped."

"Thank you, for that." He steps nearer, craving closeness, his voice soft. "There are times though, when being held that tight isn't so bad." Wing really doesn't care that they're in the middle of the wastelands, after all this he just wants to fold himself into Drift and be there for a while.

"I want you to feel safe, when you do release me. Not just that I'll always come back to you, but that you're the one I'll always need." His chin dips, optics dimming. "I want a home Drift. Not just a haven among chaos, or a shining city free from war, or even four walls simply for shelter. But a place to rest my spark. A person to give it to."

He shivers a little, because it's a bare, potent truth, brimming with emotion. It's been too much to ask, in the past with others, and he's been turned away. Maybe it's the same here, maybe it's too much to ask anyone, but Wing said he'd hold nothing back from Drift, so here he stands, wanting to find love and shelter in imperfect things, because he and the world are just as imperfect.

Drift doesn't know what to say. It's one of those things where he can't think of the words that might work, might express what he's feeling. He doesn't know if this is one of those moments for Wing, but it is for him, so he steps closer, pulling Wing against him.

"Yes," he said, finally, his voice breaking the word into little splinters of sound. "I want that too."

Maybe it's a moment that doesn't need words. Wing falls against him, forming a shape that fits with Drift's, grasping at the plating like he can't get close enough. A soft, happy noise is pressed into the dark neck cables at Drift's response, somewhere between a sob and a chirr.

Wing's plating is covered in a gritty film and he smells of Cybertron: mineral dust and hard acrid water, but that's so far from his processor right now it doesn't even register. When the words do come, they fall trembling from his vocalizer. "...you have it."

Drift has smelled worse--he's smelled worse himself for that matter. What does matter is Wing, here, holding him and letting himself be held.

And he could stay there forever...in theory. But his starved systems begin to protest, his limbs shivering in Wing's embrace, and he can hear, distantly, the sounds of movement in the outer shadows. "Maybe we should head back now."

And in theory, were conditions ideal, Wing would take this further and put action behind those words.

But conditions are far from ideal, and as much as he'd like to continue, Drift is right. "You'll always be my pragmatic other half." His smile promises more as he pulls away, leaving a kiss next to Drift's mouth as he goes.

"Best plan. I need a washrack and good soak; I have grit in crevices I didn't even know I had." Wing pulls a face and does and odd little wriggle, the kind when you have an itch you just can't scratch. "Are you fit to travel?"

He sees you shivering Drift. There's plenty more provisions still.

Maybe the delay will sharpen both their anticipations. That's what Drift hopes, at least.

"Because I want you to be around to be happy." It's cheezy but sincere. And as he pulls away, he realizes, well, he's hardly an exemplar of attractiveness himself. A washrack sounds really good. And a washrack with Wing...? Oh, the jet might, if he's sharp, catch the ideas forming in Drift's head.

"Yeah, I can travel." No he can't. He's just stubborn.

It will be all the sweeter for having ripened...as long as there are no interruptions.

Wing chuckles, "I need it sometimes, to be honest." Like right now, when he's thinking way more about the potential of washracks or wondering how deep those energon pools are and not nearly enough about the potential hazards out here.

Someone is definitely on the same wavelength though. Wing needs a good buffing too, but he fully aims to pamper and indulge Drift, not the other way around.

"Well, could you relieve me of some of this extra weight at least? I thought I'd be gone a whole lot longer than I actually was." Not that it's much weight really, but he still presses several packets against Drift's chest with an uneven grin. "Besides, you'll need your energy later."

"Someone has to keep an optic on you." Drift volunteers. All the time.

Drift will make sure there are no interruptions. Especially for the opportunity to touch Wing. All over.

But not here. As much as his hands ache to.

He can see through Wing's ploy. Really, the jet is almost as obvious as he is. But he can't really refuse, and he is, really, hungry. "Really," he says, opening one of the packets. "You know I always win these endurance tests."

"You sound like Axe." In truth, he's grateful for it, and it shows.

The trip back will simply be time to...plot things. Yes. Like choosing from the number of interesting things he knows how to do fully submerged.

At this rate, anticipation will be high by the time they get back. That's what happens when you choose a dreamer as your lover.

"Oh-ho," Wing doesn't outright disagree, but oh, he does like the challenge. "Maybe I'll have to make sure you arrive with a small handicap then."

"Not quite loud enough," he said, with a grin. His impression of Axe had been a bit of a boisterous one.

And Wing may be a dreamer, but Drift relied on the fact that Wing's presence itself was a source of, well, inspiration.

"That would be cheating, Wing. Thought you Circle mechs were above that." The energon is hitting his systems, a warm, enjoyable fuzz. It's getting harder and harder to resist touching the sleek jet.

"Not quite. You're missing the guffaw at the beginning." And maybe the 'lad' at the end, for full effect.

It's the great way they compliment each other: sky and ground, meeting in the middle. Wing is working on being an inspiration right now for sure, just not the philosophical kind.

"You saying you can't come up from behind?" Wing cocks a hip along with his helm. Why argue knightly fairness when you can make tawdry innuendo? He smirks more than a little since the energon--which is a bit more potent than usual--should be doing be doing its job now.

"And the size." Axe was huge, the kind of mech who'd give you a friendly slap on the back that would stumble you forward a few steps.

"Oh. So you're admitting you'd need the extra advantage." He tries for a saucy wink, which probably comes off a little goofy.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I could handle you at his size." Though trying would be very, very fun.

Yes, just, not in so few words. "Maybe I just like giving you a nice view." And goofy just means adorably charming when it's coming from Drift. Have a little smile back that's maybe not-so-coy.

[Closed]

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This called for a joltacon, I couldn't resist. Also...I need to color these.