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re_alignment_logs2013-05-21 09:05 pm
winged_knight) wrote in re_alignment_logs2013-05-21 09:05 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] Share and share alike
WHO: Perceptor, Wing and Drift
WHERE: Vector's tower, Wing and Drift's room
WHEN: Shortly following this.
WHAT: Wing doesn't want Perceptor excluded from Drift's life. Neither does Drift or Perceptor! Now they figure out how it all works.
WARNINGS:All the shippy things you can imagine? Probably angst, schmoop and stuff in-between.
Wing cruised the air currents in pace with Perceptor, low to the ground but at a companionable distance. Not certain whether the scientist had seen this part of the Haven yet or not, he called out points of interest along the way via comm link. The white crystal bridges and cables of the temple environs shone in the sun as they entered the rock framed gorge that is Vector Prim's primary domain. Once inside, Wing pointed out as much as he could on the way to lift, an elevator with nothing but a simple railing that ascends the hollow interior of the tower.
Playing tour guide might seem odd given the measure of seriousness in what's ahead, but keeping things light and companionable is what Wing prefers. For himself and Perceptor. He wants, desperately to make this work and be a benefit to everyone.
Wing's quarters, now housing Drift as well, are near the top of the tower, high enough that they crest the edge of the gorge and can be touched by the rising sun. His balcony doors, as always, are open to the fresh air, the long tail of a red pennant marking his landing point flapping idly in a small breeze. He's cleared out most of the books, and even a fair amount of the colored glass collection he'd assembled, keeping on the best pieces and on the balcony where the sun would catch them. The berth seems more sized for a mech like Ultra Magnus, indeed most of the whole room does, which might be Wing's secret in getting ceilings so tall as well.
Wing enters, telling Perceptor to make himself at home, gesturing to the two chairs near the small table (thankfully, of more average size). He pulls the Great Sword from his back, stowing in a rack on the wall before claiming one of the chairs himself. That probably leaves Drift with the berth, but well, it's fitting?
WHERE: Vector's tower, Wing and Drift's room
WHEN: Shortly following this.
WHAT: Wing doesn't want Perceptor excluded from Drift's life. Neither does Drift or Perceptor! Now they figure out how it all works.
WARNINGS:
Wing cruised the air currents in pace with Perceptor, low to the ground but at a companionable distance. Not certain whether the scientist had seen this part of the Haven yet or not, he called out points of interest along the way via comm link. The white crystal bridges and cables of the temple environs shone in the sun as they entered the rock framed gorge that is Vector Prim's primary domain. Once inside, Wing pointed out as much as he could on the way to lift, an elevator with nothing but a simple railing that ascends the hollow interior of the tower.
Playing tour guide might seem odd given the measure of seriousness in what's ahead, but keeping things light and companionable is what Wing prefers. For himself and Perceptor. He wants, desperately to make this work and be a benefit to everyone.
Wing's quarters, now housing Drift as well, are near the top of the tower, high enough that they crest the edge of the gorge and can be touched by the rising sun. His balcony doors, as always, are open to the fresh air, the long tail of a red pennant marking his landing point flapping idly in a small breeze. He's cleared out most of the books, and even a fair amount of the colored glass collection he'd assembled, keeping on the best pieces and on the balcony where the sun would catch them. The berth seems more sized for a mech like Ultra Magnus, indeed most of the whole room does, which might be Wing's secret in getting ceilings so tall as well.
Wing enters, telling Perceptor to make himself at home, gesturing to the two chairs near the small table (thankfully, of more average size). He pulls the Great Sword from his back, stowing in a rack on the wall before claiming one of the chairs himself. That probably leaves Drift with the berth, but well, it's fitting?
no subject
Rather, it's keeping him from dwelling too much on the possibility of alienating Drift and losing him. Again.
Wing quarters are both like, and unlike, what he'd expected. Spacious, with high ceilings, but, somehow, Perceptor had imagined him with more... effects. More belongings or trinkets. The colored glass he could see through the balcony door seem fitting, but Perceptor had expected a mech with Wing's natural ebullience and cheer to... to collect things.
It suddenly strikes him why he'd been expecting it: Wing reminds Perceptor, just a little, of the way he used to be once upon a time. When every strange crystal and every flicker of aurora would fill him with a curious wonder that he would giddily examine and cheerfully share with anyone. He'd been a bit of a pack-rat, then, collecting anything that sparked his scientific curiosity. That's why he'd expected to see the walls filled with shelves of bits of oddities and sparkling wonders.
Perceptor settles to the seat Wing offers, and sets the decanter and glasses upon the table.
"You have an extraordinary view, here."
Not much one for small talk, anyway, he's finding it even harder, now. Here.
guys i am so sorry but yesterday kinda sucked i'm here now though ;-;
The other two are already there, and he takes a moment to try to read the mood between them...before remembering he had absolutely zero ability to do that sort of thing.
"Uh. Hi."
/gathers you up. No worries it's totally understandable <3
Still, for now he's enjoying the wide open feeling, letting the wind and energy circulate more, and the fact that he's sharing it with a loved one on a permenant basis now.
He nods at Perceptor's observation. "We were in the first group of refugees to arrive. Well, this time around. I had my pick of the rooms then, there were only about five of us." It's strange to realize he andDrift have spent more time in each other's company here now than in Crystal City.
Wing pushes down the feeling of homesickness that suddenly threatens, knowing it for what it is. Thoughts of home do make him wonder though, if there's the potential to convert some of these rooms into suites. Barricade would certainly help if Vector would allow it. A private washrack would be nice...
He's about to ask Perceptor what he's looking for by way of quarters when there's a noise at the door. He beams when Drift walks in, but there's a weight of seriousness that keeps the lift out of his pinions. He rises to greet the swordmech, taking both hands into his own for a companionable and reassuring squeeze, "Thank you for coming, I hope I didn't interrupt anything?"
No need to apologize! *HUGS TIGHTLY*
He won't allow Drift or Wing to become failures. No matter what it takes.
"Only five?" He's about to comment about how lonely that must have been - which would have been so wonderfully smooth, even for him, in light of Wing's sudden burst of homesickness. But Drift enters and saves him for making an (even bigger) ass of himself.
"Drift."
He means it as a greeting, but, belatedly, realizes that his soft voice makes the name sound more like I love you. He coughs, embarrassed, and fiddles with the glasses as he mutters, "Hello."
"Engex?"
no subject
He can tell, by looking at them that they've spoken to each other before and it makes him suspect, strongly, that he was a topic of conversation. Because why else this meeting? And he can't help but feel they've been comparing notes, and looking at them both, all he can think is how he's let them both down, how wonderful they were and how little he deserved them.
He nods, around a lump in his throat. "Engex would be good. Yeah." A lot of it.
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Drift's comment does make him realize something. "I never questioned that before. Now we know why I suppose." He's wondering now who, if anyone, might have had this room before him in the previous groups of refugees.
It's impossible for this not to be a little tense for everyone so the engex is a definitely welcome, with the added benefit of just being companionable. He nods to Perceptor, more than willing to take his own glass.
He can't miss Perceptor's tone though. It just further cements his decision to make this work. Because the bashful way the scientist tries to cover it up makes Wing a little sad. That kind of fondness should be celebrated.
"I bet you're wondering why we asked you here." He says it with a fondness of his own, entirely benign.
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"Well, having rooms ready to put their 'guests' means that they can keep a closer optic on us all," Perceptor offers as he begins filling the glasses. "Easier to keep us from wandering where they don't want us to see. At least at first."
He's learned to be a cynic. It was rather a harsh lesson.
He slides a glass to Wing, first, and then hold another out to Drift. Not because he's too lazy to stand up and walk over to hand Drift his, but because he wants Drift to come to... to them. Sort of a symbol. Kind of.
Perceptor wishes that they had a third chair now. And he hopes there's enough Engex, because this could get rather tense. Scratch that. It already is rather tense.
"We spoke." He waves the hand not occupied with the glass he's holding out for Drift to indicate Wing. "About... uh... us." Another wave, to include Drift now, too. All three of them.
Even when he'd still been a talker, this would have been unbearably difficult.
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He nods at Perceptor's words. "Closer eye with the rooms and all the Acolytes." Not that he's suspicious or anything.
Hey, Perceptor: Drift needs that engex WAY more than Wing does, but he recognizes the ploy, stepping forward to take the glass.
And then finds that he's...too nervous to throw the whole contents down his throat, holding the glass nervously, fingers seeking out the traces of heat from Perceptor's touch.
"Oh. Us." Sure, there's no way that's not just a bucket of awkward. Drift looks around and spots the only open space on the berth, oozing over into it, trying not to hide the sudden weakness in his knees. Zombies? Spidarghs? no problem! Relationships? Total wuss.
"So." And then he runs out of things to say, staring nervously at the engex in his glass.
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"This is true." He can't refute that, not with the amount of trouble they've seen from refugees. "But I do like to think it's also them taking some responsibility in caring for those here against their will." Namely everyone but the First Forged themselves.
Wing gladly retrieves the glass from the table and gives a grateful nod to Perceptor in return. It's then that an idea strikes him. He spins his chair around into the space between them--shooting Drift an encouraging and expectant look--and pulls a nearby storage crate away from wall and arranges himself on it.
Well, if anyone here is a talker, it's Wing. He doesn't want to speak for Perceptor, but he does want this to come across as the burgeoning team effort that it is. "Us. I think it sounds nice." He says it like he's tasting it, not just word but the idea, before using the engex to wash it down. He sobers a little, before starting in earnest.
"Drift. I know that Perceptor would be with you given the choice. I. Want to give him that choice. But I don't want to give you up either." He looks down at his drink a moment, quietly, "Quite the opposite, actually. AND. I know that Perceptor," He looks over at the other mech, inviting correction if need be, "does not wish to make you choose."
It started easy and grew harder as he went. The reality of this, settling in. Vandal had been different, growing in tandem and committing that way as well. He has his own whispering fears now, that perhaps a relationship with less obligation, less complicated history, sharing a bond of faction and war-time causes, might be more appealing. But he hopes his willingness to try, to have faith, to risk what he loves most will shine through with more force than those smaller, darker fears.
no subject
Hey, he'll get better, right?
ANYWAY.
"I am leaving Liege's temple to move here," Perceptor blurts out, then frowns. He waves a hand around the room. "Not here, here," he corrects hurriedly, "but here, to Vector's temple. This floor."
He doesn't want either of them to think that he's expecting to just barge right in to their lives, entirely, and just insert himself. He's grateful just to have the chance to hover around the edges and maybe slowly slide into an orbit of their relationship, really.
He takes a fast, hard swallow of his Engex, needing a bit of it's flush to fortify himself.
"I..."
"You asked me to... to be open to the idea of... To be willing to... be happy. Wing asked me the same."
He's fiddling with his glass again, and a hint of the mech he was before that day on Turmoil's ship peeks out as he shyly glances between both Drift and Wing.
"I would like to make the attempt. Please."
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He nods, still a little uncomfortable. "I just worry that one day they're going to call in all this, like a debt."
For someone who's never had much, it's hard to let go of the idea that everything given has a price.
He looks between the two of them, takes his glass to his mouth, but barely manages to wet his suddenly parched mouth before lowering it, blinking.
"Wh-why are you asking me?" He controls neither of them: all he wants is for everyone to be happy, and now, he's acutely aware how much they're offering, and to him, the one who probably least deserves it.
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For now.There was at least some karmic retribution that came Pharma's way."They might. But fair is fair; I would not be opposed to repaying in kind." It would matter, of course, what was asked of him. "And I like to think the fighting we've done has mitigated a portion of that debt, if it exists."
Wing has to smile behind his glass, taking a long sip, because Perceptor is doing that thing again which is entirely too endearing. It's a contrast to the more composed and withdrawn exterior the jet is mildly more accustomed to. Wing is certainly starting to get a broader picture of what Drift sees in the scientist.
The manner of the request is endearing as well and Wing gets the feeling it's aimed more at Drift than the swordmech realizes. The two have been apart for sometime of course.
He can also guess what Drift is thinking. Thankfully both Perceptor and Wing have different ideas about what Drift deserves. The knight chuckles a little. "Because we can't do this without you? It's a matter of teamwork. We all need to be in agreement." He smiles then, because this part comes easy. "Admittedly Perceptor and I got started already. We both agreed we want you to be happy."
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"A debt. For being brought here against our will." Perceptor scowls down into his glass. He wouldn't be surprised.
Well, of course Perceptor's question was directed more at Drift than Wing.
"Because I already asked Wing?" Perceptor replies softly, wondering if he's already managed to ruin everything. Of course, it was less Perceptor asking, and more Wing seeing through him and offering. But, still, Perceptor is nervously contemplating the complicated tangle he's made of this, wondering if it's too late to slink off and hide. He's put Drift on the spot, which isn't fair to Drift, for one thing... and might unduly pressure Drift into accepting something that he's uncomfortable with, for another.
He shouldn't have agreed to meet Wing. He should have kept his distance, and been content to simply be friends, even distantly, with Drift.
Perceptor nods, the stoic mask slipping into place again to hide his burgeoning misery. Drift had seemed to encourage this when they'd spoken alone when Perceptor had first arrived. Before Wing had been injured in the cave. Things could have changed, though, with the fright of nearly having lost Wing.
Or maybe Perceptor misread everything? Or did something that made Drift change his mind?
Drift... he trust implicitly. With everything. It's himself he doesn't trust.
He nods in agreement with Wing. Just be happy, Drift.
"How.... however that takes."
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Least of all these two.
He stares at his battered hands, at the energon in the glass, and takes a long swallow of it. It's called 'liquid courage', right? He could use some right now.
Well, he could use some going down the right way, right now, which he doesn't get, so he spends an awkward moment coughing, energon burning in his throat. Wow they've...really hitched their wagon to a dorky star.
"So. Uh." *cough* "How do we do this?" That's a yes, without actually having to choke out the syllable.
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He watches as Perceptor closes down again, wondering at the cause. He's reminded of the moon with its different phases, except these changes are hardly regular or predictable. The cadence of Perceptor's mood was something Wing would have to figure out, better understand in the future. He felt a quest of sorts brewing, not just in the learning of the causes, but in provoking the good ones.
Wing almost rises to go to Drift when he mishandles his energon. There's a twitch and he sways on his perch, as he decides to and then decides against it. He knows Drift can handle himself, and certainly in something so simple. It's just Wing's tendency to coddle further enhanced by the recent dark times.
He smiles though, at the recovery. 'Dorky' has only ever been charming in Wing's eyes, and that really hasn't changed here. "Carefully," he answers, "and with respect and compassion." That's baseline, anyway. Not anything that should really need to be said, but matters of the spark tend to make one occasionally blind.
On that note.
"The hardest part is probably sharing time." Wing ducks his head a little sheepishly, his words sounding rather like a premptive apology. "I admit with all the disappearances I may inadvertently try to monopolize you." He realizes he's been extra clingy of late, and the resounding theme of don't wait is louder than ever. He just hopes it doesn't make him seem overly territorial. "That's hardly fair."
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As for that "dorky star", Perceptor is hardly one to talk. Pun not really intended. But Drift... has agreed. He's agreed in that gruff way of his that speaks of Drift acting as he truly feels, and not as he thinks others want him to act. He's agreed in that oblique way of reaching for something without trying to be obvious, as if in fear of having it snatched away simply for wanting it, which speaks so much of his life on the streets. Perceptor can only really guess at most of that History; Drift hasn't shared much. Only enough to hint at so very much more. Only enough that it makes it easier to spot those foibles of the badly abused mech he'd once been.
Perceptor's mask softens with an air of quiet wonder. Drift has agreed, and Wing has agreed, and Perceptor... gets to touch that forbidden dream once again.
"It's all right, Wing," he murmurs quietly. "You're allowing... It's more than fair."
It's so much more than he'd ever hoped to have.
He should let them have time together now, to cement what they have before complicating the dynamic. He's an intruder here, even if both Wing and Drift allow it, and though it makes his circuits burn with envy and a desperate hunger to think about Wing and Drift together, he should leave them to themselves for now. It's only fair.
He can't seem to make himself move, though, and his optics keep sliding back toward Drift, drinking him in. He wants a taste. Just a taste, and then he'll leave them to themselves for now. It's fair. Only fair, to let them have this time for each other and not force them to accept his intrusion so quickly. Just a taste, a small kiss, and he'll... maybe go and try to find a room to claim. On the floor, but far enough away that they all maintain their privacy? So he doesn't have to hear them together - Drift deserves happiness, oh yes, but Perceptor is no saint to smile as Drift seeks another so ardently - but he can be close to Drift.
"May I..." The question trails off; he doesn't know how to ask Wing without making Drift sound like a possession - which he isn't - or how to ask Drift without seeming to ignore Wing - which he can't.
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He clears his throat, finally and then puts the glass of energon down as far away from him as he can. See? No dying? Already working on that.
"I think, you know, in the circumstances, it's better to be more together than not." Because, Wing, he is considering taping himself to you after that little stunt you pulled. Because you don't get to die, either.
He has no idea what Perceptor's talking about, other than the whole 'nearly choking to death on energon' thing he just did. "I'm fine, really. But if you want...?"
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"I'm glad you agree." There's a double meaning there the Wing keeps behind a politely amused smile. "It's why I suggested Perceptor choose a room on this floor."
He returns a grateful smile at the scientist's affirmation, thankful for the understanding and hoping he doesn't require it often.
Wing knows that other look though, the slow burn of a longing so deep it shows in the optics. That had been Wing when they'd first arrived. All that time at Crystal City, holding himself aloof thanks to some higher-minded ideal of not swaying Drift's choices for selfish personal reasons. Missing his last chance, waiting when he shouldn't have. And then arriving here and getting a second chance, resolving not to wait, only to spend months kept at a distance while a cure for the Red Rust was found.
That longing had become so spark and body deep it'd been physically painful at times. Wing doesn't know how long it's been for them, but he sees no reason to extend it. It's why he suggested Perceptor go find Drift in the first place, after all.
"By all means." He nods ascent, standing as a subtle way of offering more, "In fact I imagine you two have some catching up to do?"
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He rises, absently waving Wing back to his seat as he stalks forward, toward Drift. The bashful, reserved scientist is gone; Perceptor's optics flash with the driven sniper that guards Drift as he slips through the shadows, hunting Swarm.
The Hunter advances on Drift.
Perceptor's optics dim as he dips his head toward Drift's, one hand sliding up behind Drift's collar, the other curling over Drift's hip possessively. He's missed this. He's missed this so much.
He's forgotten Wing, forgotten the Firstforged, forgotten everything, as he tastes the engex Drift had just had on Drift's lips, and then deepens the kiss.
no subject
Lalallala that's Drift totally ignoring all the times he's emoflounced out to the badlands on his own. Those...don't count. Because, uh, because he didn't die. So there.
All he knows is that they're both just so much better at this than he was: making arrangements, talking about emotions, dealing with...stuff.
Drift was no good with stuff. Unless it needed to be stabbed.
He tries to come up with something witty, or romantic, or just not utterly stupid to say, as Perceptor approached, but Perceptor's quick thinking spared all of them what would have been an abject failure, and all he could do was make a muffled note of surprise at the mouthplates pressing against his.
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Wing is pretty sure his browridge couldn't disappear further under his helm at this next shift in Perceptor's demeanor. He's not sure what he was expecting--more shyly reserved advances?--but it's not this hunter on the move. If he could utter a syllable, it'd be the first part of 'Oh My' but he's so stunned and...taken by change all that comes out is a breathy vent.
He hovers for a moment, uncertain. Wing finds himself torn between, not jealousy--he feels no malice towards Perceptor--but envy for the moment, the act--because who wouldn't be, and a certain stirring arousal at the idea of watching this happen.
And as much as he...might not be opposed to that he's suddenly realizing, the more proper part of him says their reunion should be about them, without having to consider the social dynamic of him as an added variable.
Wing hasn't resumed his seat yet, but he hasn't managed to leave the room yet either. "I, ah, should let you celebrate on your own. I think. I can come back around the evening meal." It's mid-morning now, that should be enough time, right?
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There's also, perhaps, just a little part of him that is still angry at having been left behind when Drift had left the Wreckers. A tiny kernel of sullen fury that stokes the hunter from within. Perceptor's fingertips curl tightly against Drift's hip, holding him tight as he nips at the lip component he's sucked between his own.
Just one kiss. Yes. Just one kiss, he reminds himself as he cups the back of Drift's helm in one tense hand.
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And Drift's all too aware of how he left the Wreckers, how he'd left Perceptor, and the distance it had caused between them. He'd meant it to protect Perceptor, to keep him safe from, well, Drift and all his clumsiness.
Which he's evincing here, the way one hand clutches at the sniper's shoulder, engine giving a soft rev.
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The more he considers, the more staying doesn't seem right. Though he's starting to think coming back at the evening meal is a good idea just to make sure they refuel. They might need it. At least that's what he's thinking as he shifts quietly towards the door, not wanting to disturb them. He'll just let himself out, quietly, grab a drink at the bar and prepare for a long afternoon of Law Committee business.
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blueyonder beyond Haven in that other post. Slash fourth wall.Perceptor nips at Drift's lip again, pulling him more deeply into the kiss for a moment as he grinds himself against Drift. He wants... more. Everything. But something's off.
It's the faint glimpse of white edging out of his field of vision to one side that reminds him. Wing. Oh yes. Wing. This is... this is Wing's room. And Drift's, too, but Wing's.
"Don't," he manages to growl softly, lifting his hand from Drift's hip to wave vaguely in Wing's direction. He can't quite seem to drag himself away from Drift, completely, his lip components brushing against Drift's as he adds in a harsh murmur, "Wasn't going to..."
Perceptor leans in to rub his cheek against Drift's cheek for a moment as he shudders, trying to reign himself in.
"Wasn't going to evict you. Your room." Because, as tempting as it would be to pin Drift to the wall, it would be rude, and Perceptor isn't quite gone enough to be that rude.
Tempting as it is.
"I'll go." His field lashing against Drift's says that leaving is the last thing he wants to do. "We can... later."
Maybe after Perceptor has picked out his own room. It would only be a door or two away, but it would be his as opposed to Wing's.
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He blinks, aware of something going on around him.
"Wait. What? Wh-why does anyone have to leave? Isn't that like...the opposite of sharing?"
Don't confuse Drift. It's sort of like kicking a puppy.
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"No it's fine. You don't have your own room yet and well. If I was him--" he flashes Drift a smile, "--I'd be thinking about you all day anyway..." His voice lowers a little and he shrugs, softly. "It'd be cruel, to give you this and then...make you wait." That's how he would feel, if it was him in either of their places.
At Drift's protest though, he can't really refute the logic. Except... "I just thought..." his hands work out in front of him in some symbolic way that's best not thought on too much, "you two, the first night here...shouldn't it just be you?"
Wing still believes that but he doesn't sound nearly as certain as he did before. But he's also unsure if he'd be wanted in this so he hovers halfway to the door, indecisive.
sorry for the delay!
"Greedy," Perceptor teases quietly, nipping at Drift's lip again. The look he flicks at Wing, though, and that beckoning finger, urging Wing to take up the empty spot behind Drift, is quite serious. And quite unmistakable.
What are you waiting for? You heard what he said.
And then he slides that hand back into place on Drift's hip, and dives in for another long, deep kiss.
actually no my turn and also we're pushing the rating of the game
That's a metaphor that's probably been shoved in a blender, but, yeah, nervous.
And also the last time Wing left...he nearly died. So leaving his sight, not a good thing. "It's...it's up to you?" And he's grateful for the kiss so he doesn't have to say anything else probably dumb.
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And Drift shines no matter what he thinks. If Perceptor and Wing have to team up to help him see that? Well. Then team up they will.
The way Perceptor beckons is certainly unmistakable and after a moment's more hesitation--looking to Drift for a similar invitation--his uncertainty resolves itself into a smile, warm but this time with a hint of sultry heat. Wing moves to cover the cool empty space at Drift's back, hip skirting swaying as he walks.
He flicks Perceptor a look similar to the one he received earlier, as if engaging an accomplice. "Someday Drift, you'll learn to ask for things with more insistence."