Sky and Ground: Quaterne

Skywarp wriggled happily against Starscream’s hip, giving a happy sound as a bronze arm wrapped around him, a mouth brushed his wingflaps.



“You are in a good mood,” Starscream murmured.



“We go home today.” It was more than that. He had held himself together in combat. Almost entirely. He’d kept himself from succumbing to the dark rage that had boiled up inside him, only having to be called off once, and that by Starscream. This new control—or really this new not-loss-of-control—buoyed within him. He couldn’t wait to see Barricade. He’d been so afraid of having to face the grounder filled with shame and darkness at his own failing.



“Praise to Primus,” Thundercracker muttered from the far side of the bronze jet. “At least you’ll stop fragging pining about Barricade.”



Skywarp grinned. “Jealous?”



Thundercracker rolled one optic, stroking a hand down Starscream’s side. The bronze jet purred. “Why would I be?” Thundercracker retorted.



“It will be good to see him again,” Starscream said. “I find his perspective refreshing.”



Skywarp chortled. “Oh yeah, that, too.” He turned under Starscream’s embrace, tipping his face to nuzzle against the bronze armor.



“Next time,” Starscream murmured, tipping his head up to bare more of his throat to Skywarp’s attention, “we should try to find a way for him to accompany us.”



Thundercracker grunted. “I kind of like a little private time.” Starscream shot him a look. “Yes, fine,” he said, backing down. “Fine. He saved my life. He’s not…that awful. For a grounder.”



Skywarp’s grin bobbled, bloomed again, looking up at him over Starscream’s shoulder. “I knew you’d come around.”



“Shut up,” Thundercracker muttered, but his mouth loosened in a grin.



[***]



They were due back soon. Barricade didn’t know what to do. They were due back soon and he…couldn’t handle it. He was terrified, with a kind of fear he hadn’t felt even when Soundwave had hacked him. He had so much to lose. Pride? He had none. He had endured the violation from the satellite because, well, what did his pride matter? What did his will matter? But now it struck him, hard and deep, how much it would gouge at the Quaterne.



He had made it halfway to the arrival hangar four times. Turned back. Returned to their quarters, or, as now, to a closet. Hiding…in a closet. He’d never thought he’d be reduced to this. He’d hidden before, of course, the capacitor stressing panic of pursuit driving him to ground. But never like this, chased only by ghosts from the future.



He checked his chrono. Soon. Sooner than soon. He had to make a decision.



He reached tentatively along the bond, as if inching his way out on a very unstable branch.



Skywarp’s presence billowed around him, surrounding him with joy and eagerness. He froze, feeling himself grow brittle, shatter. Skywarp was bursting with anticipation. He could not disappoint that. He’d find a way to make it through.



[***]



Skywarp transformed as soon as he entered the cover of the hangar, feet skidding along the deck plating as he shed the last of his velocity. His spark felt like it was pushing against the space-cold metal of the chamber with anticipation. He looked around , optics scouring the bay.



The shipside door opened, and the small, sharp-edged silhouette of Barricade cut into the dark hangar from the bright corridor. He looked…harried. Something like unease leaked from the smaller mech.



“You okay, little spike?” Skywarp approached, magnets clacking against the deck.



He felt the optics fly up to his face. “Yeah. Fine. Uh…just wanted to be here before you arrived.”



Skywarp laughed. “So sweet of you, Barricade.” He dropped to one knee, gathering Barricade against him, the mech’s warm systems almost scalding against his space-frosted frame. Barricade went rigid in his arms. He chuckled. “Cold, huh?”



“Yeah,” Barricade lied, quietly. His arms wrapped carefully around the heavy Seeker chassis, testing his own resolve. There was no fear, at least of that. Nothing that he had feared after Skywarp’s own violation of him. He found Skywarp’s body against his nothing but comforting. Cold and hard and stable, solid. Whole and safe. His talons curled around the armor, gripping onto Skywarp’s stolidity.



The black arms curled around him, face nuzzling against his. “Missed me that much, huh?” Warmth and love across the bond, rosy and tender.



But this itself was a possible weakness—he could feel the verge of breaking rush upon him, like an ocean wave, pushing him to blurting out the truth. He pulled away.



Skywarp laughed, the sound fuzzing across the EM field between them. “Too cold for you?” He straightened up, legs unfolding easily. “Willing to help me scrub off?”



“Yes,” Barricade said, quickly. It would be long and comfortable silence. Something they had done before. That, he could keep himself together for. It was the long moments of stillness, neither of them moving, that filled him with worry, with dread that he’d blurt out the truth. And ruin them all. “I…uh…set up the brushes and everything.”



It had kept him busy, filled the long cycles between waking and their return. He’d set up brushes and a fresh load of cleansing rags, and cubes of energon and even new oil. He clutched his talons together. It seemed so banal now, but it had kept him together, filling his cortex with something other than worry. Something he’d hoped would have been keen anticipation, but…this was still better than nothing.



A long bronze arm wrapped around his midsection from behind. “And do we get any of this attention, Barricade?” Starscream’s voice was sleek and familiar and tempting in its own way. So open. Barricade stiffened at the sudden contact, optics flicking with worry.



“Sorry,” he said, quietly.



“Huh. No he’s not,” Thundercracker muttered. “Grounders and their small processing power. Quaterne equity is beyond him, obviously.”



Thundercracker’s needling was, strangely, exactly what he needed. “Set stuff up for all of you. Can only be in one place at a time, though. Just like you.” A challenging jut of his chin spires.



Skywarp’s hand stroked down his helm, talons curling over the audio. “Can you believe I missed this?” The hand slid further, teasing between the window wings. “How bout we get some of that?”



Barricade nodded, and they moved out of the hangar, the large jets moving slowly, letting him set the pace. He could feel the mix of exhaustion and homesick-healed happiness seeping across the bond from all three of them. Whether they said it or not, they were happy to be home. He would not ruin it for them. He would not be weak in front of them.



[***]



“Thank you,” Skywarp murmured, pulling Barricade against him. The cleaning of the heavy flight grease had turned into an impromptu party, the three jets scrubbing at each other, laughing, drinking more of the energon than was good for them.



Well. It was good for them. Barricade felt their loose adoration over the bond.



And they’d included Barricade—who had found his foot at one point on the receiving end of the raspy brush, wielded by a grinning Thundercracker. Or Starscream, who had dunked Barricade in the oil tub, laughing as he came up sputtering, and inviting Skywarp to attack him with a cleansing rag. And Skywarp…. Even when he was touching his fellow jets, Barricade could feel the black jet’s optics or attention on him, feel a warm bridge on the bond. Inviting trust. Inviting intimacy.



How could he resist?



They fell into an exhausted pile that smelled of clean oil, and felt like the pink fuzz of a mild overcharge. And Skywarp’s arms were solid around Barricade, like a cage of safety. Keeping him in and safe. “Missed you,” he said, as if that explained everything. In a way it did.



“Missed you, too, little spike,” Skywarp said. “It means a lot having…something like this to come back to.” A poignant push of a tremulous happiness, more powerful and sweet than energon.



“Just…stuff. You could have gotten it together.” He shrugged.



Skywarp stopped his shoulder tire with a nipping kiss. “Not the stuff. Or…more than the stuff.” Skywarp nuzzled. “You know I’m not good with words. You.”



Barricade’s secret roiled, like an oiled serpent in the darkness.



“Perfect, sweet, you.” Skywarp breathed, his engines slipping slowly into recharge.



….if only you knew, Barricade thought, glad that Skywarp was asleep, and couldn’t feel the greenish seep of despair.