Bonecrusher:

:: .........HEY, HOW BUSY ARE YA? ::

Tracks:

::Ah, not terribly. Why?::

Bonecrusher:

:: WELL. :: *pauses* :: 'M BORED.  SHOOTIN' BUGS ISN'T ALL THAT ENTERTAININ' ANYMORE, AN' YOU DID  MAKE MENTION THAT YOU'D WANNA SEE TH' KITTEN. :: *lightly* :: IF YER NOT BUSY, MIND IF I DROP BY FER A BIT? ::

Tracks:

*pause* ::...I did. So. Feel free to come by then, I suppose.::

Bonecrusher:

:: YEAH - I'LL COME UP IN A BIT, RIGHT AFTER I FINISH MAKIN' THIS LAST BATCH OF ENERGON.  Y'WANT ME T'BRING SOME FER YA, WHILE 'M AT IT? :: *Because, as it should be clear, Bonecrusher generally has at least five cubes tucked away on his body at any one point in time*

Tracks:

::A couple would be fine, actually, thank you.::

Bonecrusher:

:: 'S MY DUTY AS ENERGON DELIVERY BOY.  BE UP IN A FEW. ::

Tracks:

::Just come in when you do, the door isn't locked.::

Bonecrusher:

*Just like he said, a few minutes later Bonecrusher is outside the door, holo sitting on his shoulder with a rather content, purring puddle of fur in his lap and a half-dozen cubes in his hands.  He manages the door easily enough, shutting it behind him with a foot*  HEY.

Tracks:

*Tracks looks to the door from organizing a shelf, smiling as Bonecrusher lets himself in, and moves to help with the cubes* Hey yourself, and thank you. It's nice to have a private supply sometimes - which is a practice you're quite familiar with, I know.

Bonecrusher:

*He smirks, letting the Corvette take whatever he wanted to take and putting the leftovers on the table*  HEY, HEY.  THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' WRONG WITH MY PRIVATE SUPPLY OF ENERGON.  *Adding, lightly*  ESPECIALLY WHEN, TECHNICALLY, MY PRIVATE SUPPLY IS TH' REFINERY IN ITS ENTIRETY.

Tracks:

*snorts lightly and finds a place for the couple he's keeping for later, turning back with a smirk* Quite a "supply" for one mech, really

Bonecrusher:

'M A BIG MECH.  GOTTA LOT OF ROOM T'FILL.  *he keeps his tone mild*  HOW'RE Y'DOIN', ANYWAYS?  HAVEN'T REALLY SEEN Y'AROUND MUCH.

Tracks:

*shrugs* Not badly, but not much to note, either. Mirage is out of stasis, which is nice, and Raoul is still around.

Bonecrusher:

YEAH?  HAVEN'T SEEN MIRAGE DIRECTLY, BUT I KNOW HE'S AROUND TH' NEMESIS.  HUNTIN' THOSE PITSPAWNED DRONES.  *he shudders a bit, shaking his head*  HOPEFULLY HE DOESN'T GET HIMSELF INTA TOO MUCH TROUBLE.   AN' 'S GOOD RAOUL'S STILL AROUND.  NICE KID.  *awkward for a moment*  NOTHIN' ELSE, HUH?  SLAGGIN' HELL, THIS PLACE GOT BORIN'.

Tracks:

*Arches an optic ridge* You don't think an Insecticon drone infestation isn't exciting, at least on a purely horrific and deeply disgusting level?

Bonecrusher:

'S ONLY EXCITIN' UNTIL, Y'KNOW, THEY BECOME JUS' ANOTHER FORM OF TARGET PRACTICE.  'S LIKE SAYIN' TH' DIRE RATS DOWN IN TH' NEMESIS ARE AN ADVENTURE.  'SIDES.... BETTER WAYS I LIKE T'SPEND MY TIME.  *He says it easily enough, but he doesn't particularly elaborate on the fact*

Tracks:

Mm, yes, I would imagine. *Nonchalant, and then he turns his attention to the holo currently in possession of the tiny purring feline, peering at it curiously* What did you name it?

Bonecrusher:

......UH.  *Looks mildly embarrassed in both forms, but not ceasing in doling out all the affection he can with his holo*  ...CAT?

Tracks:

*Blinks, then gives Bonecrusher an amused look* ...Well, I suppose that's not -wrong-.

Bonecrusher:

....'M NOT PARTICULARLY ONE FER NAMIN' THINGS.  'SIDES.  IT WOULDN'T NOTICE IF I WERE CALLIN' IT CAT OR MITTENS,  SO I HARDLY THINK IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE.  *Attention whore, thy name is Cat, however, with big wibbly eyes and all that fluffed up fur, how can you resist?*

Tracks:

*Snickers, leaning in to look at the kitten up close, one hand coming to rest on Bonecrusher's arm as he looks at the small thing in the holo's lap* Maybe it would - have you owned an organic pet before?

Bonecrusher:

*Grins*  OTHER'N JEFF?  NAH.  BUT GOOGLE IS TH' ONE THING I CAN REALLY GET BEHIND ON THIS PLANET.  *Shifts, bringing his shoulder forward a bit to give Tracks a better view - not because the other has a hand on him or anything*  Y'COULD PROBABLY HOLD IT WITHOUT YER HOLO, BUT I DUNNO IF Y'D WANNA RISK IT.  *Or, you know, if he  would want to risk it*

Tracks:

Hm? *Tracks glances up at Bonecrusher momentarily, then goes back to watching the kitten* No no, it might get something on me. It's very cute though...

Bonecrusher:

*Chuckles*  'M SURPRISED YER GETTIN' SO CLOSE, IN THAT CASE.  BUT IT IS, ITT'N IT?  *Pauses, then gives Tracks a mock-threatening glare*  DON'T TELL ANYONE I SAID THAT.

Tracks:

*The Corvette grins momentarily, squeezing the mining vehicle's arm absently* I suppose I can remember not to mention it.

Bonecrusher:

*The other's grip on him makes his processors go a little haywire with random scenarios, optics dimming almost unnoticeably at the ideas floating on by*  HOPE SO.  I'VE GOT AN IMAGE T'UPHOLD, AFTER ALL.  Y'KNOW, STRONG, ANGRY DRUNK WHO HATES EVERYTHIN'?  *Almost forced lightness in his voice*  CALLIN' A KITTEN CUTE KINDA DISTRACTS FROM ALL THAT.

Tracks:

Or it lends you a certain, selective vulnerability. *Pats his arm, apparently unconcerned that Crusher's thought processes are so specifically bent, at the moment*

Bonecrusher:

*Makes a face*  'M A BIG, MEAN DECEPTICON.  WE DON'T HAVE SELECTIVE VULNERABILITY.  'SIDES, I THINK I'VE BEEN VULNERABLE ENOUGH THIS PAST MONTH.  *He stills for a minute, his holo vaguely still petting the kitten* ....BY TH' WAY.  I... UM.  THANK YOU, FER... UH, KEEPIN' ME OCCUPIED WHEN I WAS FRITZIN'.

Tracks:

...I'm glad I could help. *sounding slightly stilted, as though he doesn't want to sound too much like he enjoyed it then (though he did)*

Bonecrusher:

*Looking awkward again, briefly, his optics land on the table*  UH.  Y'MIND IF I DROP TH' CAT AN' HOLO OFFA ME?  CAN'T REALLY SHRUG OR DRINK WHEN I RISK SQUISHIN' MYSELF AN' TH' FURBALL.

Tracks:

Of course. *Steps away almost reluctantly, dropping his hand back to his side to let Bonecrusher near the table without hanging on  him*

Bonecrusher:

*Probably wouldn't have minded if Tracks had  held on, but he just gives the other a smirk instead, moving to the table and letting his holo clamber off of him with the kitten in hand.  Once he's sure the furball isn't going anywhere, he turns back to Tracks - and finds himself without anything to really say*

Tracks:

*He joins Bonecrusher again to watch the kitten from above, standing close enough that his arm rests up against Bonecrusher's as he watches the kitten still* Does it think your holo is its owner?

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher shrugs slightly, incidentally shifting his arm against Tracks', and chuckles*  NAH, IT THINKS  'M ITS SLAVE.  IT ORDERS ME AROUND ALL TH' TIME, AS MUCH AS A TINY ORGANIC CAN.

Tracks:

Hn. *Bemusedly cocks his head, leaning very slightly against Bonecrusher as he listens to the steady, high-pitched purr of the tiny fuzzy thing* I didn't think you'd be into that, really.

Bonecrusher:

....I DON'T MIND IT.  *His holo tweaks an ear lightly and the kitten mewls, rolling about in his lap and trying to get comfortable*  ....'S CUTE ENOUGH T'GET AWAY WITH IT.  'SIDES...  *Shifts on his feet, bringing himself a bit closer against the Corvette*  I LIKE TAKIN' CARE OF IT.

Tracks:

*Smiles faintly, more focused on the slight sound of armor against armor than watching the cat - when he gets beyond the slightly shivery jump of his spark at the contact, he pulls away almost jerkily. He takes a step to the side just to make sure he's not so tempted again, and his holo appears suddenly on the table next to 'Crusher's under the pretense of a better view* Ah-- even like this, it's tiny.

Bonecrusher:

*Frowns, looking slightly put-off when Tracks pulls away, but he just tilts his head, his holo shifting to give Tracks a better view of the kitten, even patting the tabletop beside himself* YEAH, A BIT.  IT'LL GROW, SOON ENOUGH.  'TILL THEN, I GOTTA KEEP CONSTANT WATCH ON IT.  *Sighs quietly, shifting again towards Tracks, but not moving any closer, really*

Tracks:

*Tracks glances very briefly at Bonecrusher as he holds himself apart, hating to do it - his holo obliviously lifting a hand to touch the cat gently, eyes lighting up at the softness of its fur* Oh... It's softer than my waxing cloths, even.

Bonecrusher:

*The kitten wriggles up against the holo's hand, oblivious to the fact that these aren't real  humans petting it, purring nosily.  Bonecrusher himself shivers slightly, all sorts of lovely images coming up at the word "wax"*  MM.

Tracks:

*Tracks' holo "awww"s at the kitten and pats it gently, his mech self glancing at Bonecrusher at the shiver, acutely aware of his movements. He grasps at conversational straws, hoping to dispel some of the tension* ...So what does Blackout think of it?

Bonecrusher:

*That would have the opposite effect on Bonecrusher - he tenses very slightly, shaking his head a bit*  HE WAS... CONFUSED BY IT.  BUT IN TH' END, HE CAVED.  *His holo smirks and fluffs the kitten's fur affectionately*  ...'S GOT A KINDA CHARM I AIN'T GONNA EVER BE ABLE T'FIGHT.  *Like some others he could name, glancing at Tracks*

Tracks:

I can see that. *Holo grinning, Tracks glances back at Bonecrusher with a slightly abashed smile*

Bonecrusher:

*His optics meet Tracks' and he very suddenly wants to - to do something.  Throw the other on the table and take him apart with his teeth, in a very non-hostile way.  So he averts his optics to the two holos and the kitten, who are on said table, which would probably be sturdy enough-*  ....Fraggin' table.... *Mutters*

Tracks:

*Tracks drops his gaze when Bonecrusher does, but glances at him again at the faint mutter* Sorry?

Bonecrusher:

I, UH.  *He looks at Tracks for a minute, expression caught briefly between desire and embarrassment before falling completely into the latter emotion*  NOTHIN', I JUS'.... WAS THINKIN'.  BAD HABIT, Y'KNOW.

Tracks:

*The Corvette nods, optics averting after a moment so that he doesn't ask what about, though it's a strong temptation* Maybe so.

Bonecrusher:

*He files through his (very) limited list of conversational topics, but comes up short.  His conversations with Tracks usually all had a purpose, not just idle chitchat while he resisted temptation.  Slaggit, what in the pit is he supposed to say now?*

Tracks:

*Is quiet, still watching the holos pat the kitten like their counterparts above -aren't- incredibly awkwardly trying to ignore the pull of attraction towards each other* ...This is ridiculous.

Bonecrusher:

*He exhales in annoyance, shaking his head and looking at Tracks*  JUS' A LIL'.  I...  *Cuts himself off, staring at the Corvette*

Tracks:

What? *Looks at him, an optic ridge arched inquisitively - almost challengingly*

Bonecrusher:

.....Primus, Tracks.  *Shudders slightly*  I want you.

Tracks:

*He stares at Bonecrusher, taken aback by the bold statement and hard-pressed to craft a reply* You... This isn't fair. *faintly, all the challenge gone from him*

Bonecrusher:

I know, an' 's why 'm over here an' not up against you like I wanna be... Primus.  *Bonecrusher's engine growls at just the idea, but he makes no move forward or back, stuck standing where he is*  ....What did y'do  t'me?  *Honestly confused*

Tracks:

-Do-? *Tracks' look is blank and then a bit upset* --I don't know, but I would take it back if I could.

Bonecrusher:

*He takes a step forward - not a very big one, but a noticeable bit of space disappears*  I should go..... *Even though he really, really  doesn't want to, stepping more towards Tracks than the door*  I shouldn't be here...

Tracks:

*Is torn, and doesn't move but doesn't argue either, dropping his holo to leave Bonecrusher's alone on the table*

Bonecrusher:

*His holo makes a soft noise as Cat confuses itself over the sudden disappearance, drawing Bonecrusher's optics its way - then he looks back at  Tracks, weighing his options visibly*  I... I don't.....  *He takes another step forward, closer now to Tracks, definitely moreso than the door*  I don't want t'go.

Tracks:

*Tracks looks down, wings held tensely behind him, at slightly uncomfortable angles* ...You want Blackout more.

Bonecrusher:

I -- ....I don't --...  *He reaches out with a hand, claws ticking against Tracks' nearest arm, intending to bring him forward*  I...  I want y'so bad 'm imaginin' how this might go down an' prayin' yer as crazy as I am.  I don't know why.  I jus'... I jus' do.

Tracks:

*Tracks pulls back ever so slightly, but moves toward as if unable -not- to, looking at him with an edge of deep exasperation* I won't play second to him, Bonecrusher. *low, a little desperately* I -won't-.

Bonecrusher:

I don't want you to, I really - I don't know, I just like touchin' you an'... *his claws curl around Tracks' arm, holding tight and pulling him up close, tilting his head down to rest on top of the other's*  I don't play seconds, but Primus....  *Rasps again, as if the answer might've changed*  What have y'done t'me?

Tracks:

*Tracks shudders as Bonecrusher pulls him in, offlining his optics as his spark seems to clench tightly behind his chestplate, trying another argument on for size, voice subdued* You just want what you shouldn't have.

Bonecrusher:

I want you...  *He's not even sure if he should or shouldn't have Tracks, in this universe or another, but his grip tightens slightly as he says it.  He wants Tracks and he only wishes he knew why...*

Tracks:

*He lifts his free hand and rests it on the other's chestplate, fingertips digging in a little though the larger mech likely doesn't even feel it* ...You made a choice already.

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher's grip tightens against Tracks' arm, free hand sliding to the Corvette's back*  I know.  *His hand slides along the other's back, stopping after a moment, but not saying anything.  He's sure at this point that the other's humoring him, but that's okay*

Tracks:

*Tracks tenses at the feel of Bonecrusher's hand against his back, but he still doesn't disengage, just giving him a look, accusing and half-desperate for more*

Bonecrusher:

*He looks back, confusion written plainly on his face, claws pressing in against Tracks' back, bringing him in close.  Finally, he loses the last scraps of self-control he's managed to hold on to, leaning in and kissing the Corvette with a resigned sort of passion*

Tracks:

*Returning the kiss, Tracks doesn't hold back, curling his hand into the top edge of 'Crusher's armor to pull him further down. He kind of hates it and wants it badly, at the same time that he wonders grimly if this isn't something elaborately Decepticon of Bonecrusher, to make him ultimately miserable*

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher groans quietly, moving his hand from arm to neck, lightly curling claws behind Tracks' head and deepening the kiss.  He offlines his optics and even removes his holo, leaving the kitten to defend itself for the time being, just to focus all of his sensors on where Tracks is pressed against him*

Tracks:

*He bites sharply at Bonecrusher's mouth as he steps in even closer, chestplate sliding against the other mech's with a grinding sound. Whatever emotion is between them, Tracks would be hard-pressed to name it, but it makes him tremble very slightly as he deepens the kiss as well*

Bonecrusher:

*Claws at the Corvette's back slip into a seam, rubbing against wiring in slow, uneven strokes - his engine rumbles in his chest and he returns Tracks' bite with one of his own, claws on the other's neck scraping against the fuel lines under its grasp*

Tracks:

*His own revs almost angrily as he stretches beneath Bonecrusher's claws, wings trembling at the sensation he knew he shouldn't be enjoying. He lifts his hands to broad shoulders and digs his fingers in between armor seams, for balance and grip to hold Crusher down at his level*

Bonecrusher:

*He drops his hand down the seam, digging in briefly before moving it down to Tracks' aft, pulling at him and, in all visible reasoning, seems to be trying to get the other more up to his  level, than the other way around, growling quietly, feeling guiltily pleased at getting reactions from the Corvette*

Tracks:

*Tracks groans into the kiss as Bonecrusher's hands claim more of him, and he gives a little - enough to abandon his leverage and stretch his chassis against the other's as close as he can manage. His spark feels heavy though, and achey, a constant silent reminder that he should stop this before it gets any further*

Bonecrusher:

*Should, could, would - Bonecrusher feels the other move up against him and twists to move Tracks more against the table's edge*

Tracks:

*Tracks whimpers a little - the longer he waits, the more difficult it'd be to stop anyway, so he clutches at Bonecrusher's shoulders from where he is pinned, pulling from the kiss reluctantly* --Blackout will find out.

Bonecrusher:

*He groans a bit, frowning and tilting his head in to follow Tracks' movement*  'm not here 'cos of Blackout, Tracks.

Tracks:

--you're here because you just happen to want me as well as your boyfriend. *"And I want you too badly to make you leave for good," would follow that, but Tracks isn't quite ready to admit that out loud, blow to his pride it would be.*

Bonecrusher:

Primus, Tracks - 's complicated.  *He kisses him soundly, pulling back slightly after a moment*  Yeah, I want both of ya.  'm not gonna lie.  *He moves his hand from the back of Tracks' neck to the side of his face, clawtip lightly trailing along a facial seam*  But 's not like 'm here jus' 'cos he ain't around.  Primus, Tracks, yer two different people.  I don't treat ya like him an' I don't treat him like you.  *He's mumbling, the words half stumbling over each other in his attempt to get them out*  Please, jus' lemme kiss you...

Tracks:

*Tracks' optics dim so that they nearly look offlined, hands shaking a little against Bonecrusher's shoulders as the other speaks. It's not what he might've hoped to hear, or even quite expected, but it's -something-, and he feels less like an idiot -- or at least not alone in his idiocy -- as he nods*

Bonecrusher:

*His intakes heave and he bears down against the Corvette, pressing his mouth against the other's somewhat desperately - Tracks will, no doubt, have some other doubt and pull away again, and he might not have an answer next time*

Tracks:

*Even still knowing he shouldn't, he kisses back with an intensity based on much the same idea, wanting as much as he can before his conscience catches up with him*

Bonecrusher:

*The way Bonecrusher's hand is scratching at Tracks' side, digging into seams along the Corvette's side - it's clear he's working to either distract Tracks from, or altogether eliminate at least some  of his worry.  He moves his other hand over and runs it along the edge of a wing*

Tracks:

*Tracks groans softly, wings twitching a little beneath Bonecrusher's touch as he lets himself be distracted. He kisses back hungrily, hands searching out seams large enough to admit his fingers, tugging at wires he can reach - small enough sensation for him to likely not be much more than a goad to get more*

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher growls lowly, pressing himself up against Tracks' hands, pulling his mouth away from the other's to trail down to his neck, dentals scraping lightly against fuel lines.  His hands wander, taking in a wing and all of Tracks' side, touching everything he can*

Tracks:

*He lets his head fall back with a strained, needy moan, fingers tightening in masses of wires as he trembles and leans into the faint prickling touch of those claws against seams and sensitive wing-surfaces* -Primus-....

Bonecrusher:

*He bites and sucks on the fuel lines, rocking slightly on his feet to bring himself more contact, engine growling in his chest.  His claws dig into that seam between Tracks' wing and back, every bit of him set on Tracks, ignoring everything else around them that didn't include the Corvette*

Tracks:

*His back arches as Bonecrusher's claws draw lines of exquisite sensation down that particular seam, entire chassis going taut for a moment as he cries out for more, pleading a little even*

Bonecrusher:

*His hand moves at the cries, intakes coming to life and filtering through air noisily as he drags claws down between plating, ticking at the latches holding down Tracks' chestplate in silent request - either to have him do it or to do it himself, it makes no difference at this point*

Tracks:

*Tracks shudders and lifts his head to claim a kiss from Bonecrusher, shoving himself up against the other mech in assent and -demand-, almost*

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher goes into the kiss easily, pressing up and flicking his claws to undo latches, all the while dragging his other set of claws along Tracks' wing.  He traces clawtips along internal wiring even before he begins to pull the chestplate away, shifting to make it easier to place the thing somewhere without dropping  it*

Tracks:

*If Tracks weren't already kissing Bonecrusher, he would've for remembering to take such care -- so instead he kisses him harder for a moment before pulling back as well* Just on the table, for now- *Sounding breathless and following with another kiss, nearly shivering with the sudden feeling of exposure, even with just Bonecrusher there to see*

Bonecrusher:

*Taking the other's suggestion to spark, he shifts and puts the chestplate down on the tabletop, returning his attentions fully to Tracks in order to deepen the kiss.  He digs one set of claws into the wing's seam, the other set dragging and tracing now visible wires with almost teasing lightness*

Tracks:

*His engine even sounds strained as he hangs between both points of interest, wings flexing and hands gripping tightly - and his spark flaring in anticipation inside its chamber. The Corvette arches and makes pleading sounds into the kiss, wanting more still*

Bonecrusher:

*He increases the speed of his hand on Tracks' wing, growling in pleasure at the noises he's hearing.  In response, his claws go deeper, loosely gripping at wires and sliding along them, still light but not to the point of not being there - and then he digs around, tracing clawtips along the wires directly next to the other's spark casing briefly, moving away, and then repeating; once, twice, three times-*

Tracks:

*The Corvette's engine stutters and he holds tremblingly still as claws dance across parts so sensitive he's not sure -anyone- has touched them before Bonecrusher did. He shudders as Bonecrusher stops, only to keen softly as the touch returns again, alarms flashing as his diagnostics warn of something where it shouldn't be and possible spark chamber breach - repeating it just draws it out more, and by the last, Tracks is shaking, clinging tightly to handholds in Bonecrusher's armor as he whimpers*

Bonecrusher:

*Bonecrusher relents a bit, shifting his hand and scraping clawtips against the edge of Tracks' spark casing, not hard enough to bend metal, but nearly there.  He pulls back from the kiss, dimmed optics wandering over the Corvette's face as he moves against the other's spark*

Tracks:

*Engine revving high, his overload hits him hard, his spark pulsing wildly inside in a way that looks painful from the expression on Tracks' face, almost as though trying to escape, or reach out. He still clings on though, lips parted on a silent cry as blue-white energy arcs across his spark-casing and his systems begin shutdown one at a time to avoid being fried. He half-collapses back against the table as his processor goes last, optics dimmed out, and a fizzle as a tiny spark of energy fades away*

Bonecrusher:

Gorgeous.  *His voice is low, a hiss into Tracks' audios, and he pulls his hands away from sensitive areas, sliding both around to keep the Corvette from collapsing completely onto the table, pulling him close up*  Primus, Tracks, yer gorgeous...  *He looks perfectly content to ignore everything else at the minute, and deal with everything else after... after a while.*

Tracks:

*His audio receptors only barely catch that as they come online, not really processing it as diagnostics warn that his chestplate is not secured, that there's minimal damage to his spark chamber, and that his spark itself is stable and functioning. When it finally comes to him, he smiles somewhat dazedly, optics still offlined and curled against Bonecrusher comfortably, his vocalizer slurring his words faintly* I am. Glad you finally noticed.

Bonecrusher:

*He chuckles lowly, curling his hands against Tracks' back.  He tries for a smirk, but it comes out softer than he had anticipated.*  Noticed it a while ago.  Told ya it gets bad when I say it unironically.  *His engine rumbles and he kisses Tracks lightly, keeping a steady grip on the Corvette the whole time*

Tracks:

*Kisses back, seemingly content to just hold onto Bonecrusher for the moment, and smiles almost smugly when he pulls back to answer* Not bad; honest.

Bonecrusher:

*He arches an optic ridge, looking at Tracks in amusement*  Maybe I should name th' kitten after you.  Botha you have such a high opinion of yerselves, after all.

Tracks:

I'd be offended, but the kitten is adorable enough, I suppose. *muses, half-serious*

Bonecrusher:

Suppose?  *He feigns a hurt expression*  Y'know jus' how t'wound me.  Really.  *Quiets a bit, looking Tracks over again - he feels the sudden urge to apologize, even though he's not quite sure what he wants to apologize for*

Tracks:

*Quietly amused* Oh, I'm sure, Cat's honor is now impinged upon. *he catches the look and cocks his head slightly, quizzical* ...What?

Bonecrusher:

*He frowns, shaking his head slightly*  'm not sure, t'be honest.

Tracks:

Well, I'm not going to complain about you looking at me. *smiles a little*

Bonecrusher:

*Opticroll*  If y'did, you'd be completely confusin' me.  One minute yer "look at me," next yer not - that'd be a great way t'confuse me, fer sure.  *Pauses, then-* ...Not that that's hard t'do.

Tracks:

*snorts* You're more perceptive and observant than most of the mechs on base - maybe that's not saying much, but still.

Bonecrusher:

Wow, yer keen on insultin' slaggin' near everyone 'round here, aren't ya?  *Chuckles again*   's not like there's much else t'do 'cept drink an' watch everyone else run 'round.

Tracks:

I suppose. *hmph, making a slight, dismissive gesture* There's very extenuating circumstances... but even then, there seems to be a remarkable amount of slowclocked processors around here.

Bonecrusher:

Jus' a few.  *Clearly, he's thinking "few" means "a lot," "most," or "many"*  Still, it could be a lot worse, y'know.  *His claws are tracing seams again, but more instinctively than anything*

Tracks:

*He sighs, optics narrowing as he's distracted by the touch* How so?

Bonecrusher:

*His hands still for a moment and he looks at Tracks for a long moment, gauging whether or not he should answer with what he actually thinks, or just blow it off....  Ah, slag.*  Could still be at war.  *"Could not be in this situation at all," he adds to himself*

Tracks:

*Glancing up at Bonecrusher's face, mouth twitching into a slight, almost fond smile* Right.

Bonecrusher:

*Frowns a little, then kisses Tracks briefly*  What, y'don't think so?  Kinda like doin' this with ya as opposed t'beatin' th' slag outta ya.

Tracks:

No, I was agreeing. *vents air like a sigh, patting Bonecrusher's chestplate lightly* ...It's reassuring to know you prefer this though.

Bonecrusher:

Don't get me wrong.  I wouldn't mind beatin' th' slag outta some of th' other stupid morons 'round here.  But, y'can probably tell yer not 'xactly in that group.  *His claws dig into a seam again, a little too purposefully to be on accident*

Tracks:

*Shivers, pausing a moment before he replies, distractedly* I can think of some, as well.

Bonecrusher:

Really... An' here I thought y'liked niceties.  *Punctuates the sentence by digging a claw in a bit sharper than before*

Tracks:

There are some mechs I would make an exception for... *His voice is softer, still distracted, stretching under his claws*

Bonecrusher:

Mm, I bet...  Not all soft, are ya, gorgeous?  *His claws trail up the seam, more towards Tracks' wings*

Tracks:

Soft? *He makes a grimace of distaste, even as he arches his back, palms laid flat against Bonecrusher's chest as his engine rumbles to life once more* I should hope not...

Bonecrusher:

Well, I know y'can handle yerself, an' all...  *Sounding amused, he slides the tips of a few claws along the bottom of a wing*  But yer always so slaggin' polite...

Tracks:

There's... mm, nothing wrong with being polite... *He pushes himself up a little on his toes, wings angling to give better access as he presses a kiss to the corner of Bonecrusher's mouth*

Bonecrusher:

I wouldn't know.  *Bonecrusher tilts his head to get a fuller kiss, claws wandering along the flat plane easily - this is one hell of a distraction, as far as he's concerned*

Tracks:

*Gives in and claims the larger mech's mouth with a growl, motor running hot already as he stretches himself against Bonecrusher*

Bonecrusher:

*One of Bonecrusher's hands trails away from the wing, moving between them and trailing lightly once more against the exposed wiring in Tracks' chest*

Tracks:

*Tracks makes a choked sound as claws delve into him, gentle but still sharp. Pulling from the kiss, he shakes his head slightly, giving Bonecrusher a bemused, somewhat resigned look* Whatever you think I did to you, you must've done it back.

Bonecrusher:

*He stills his hands, looking back at Tracks with a slightly guilty expression*  ....We're fraggin' crazy, aren't we.

Tracks:

I thought that was already fairly well established. *ruefully*

Bonecrusher:

It was... Jus' thought I should reiterate it.  So fragged in th' head, 's not even funny...  Still.  At least we know, right?  *Accompanies that with an almost awkward laugh and a half-desperate kiss*

Tracks:

*Kisses back, hard and quick, smiling somewhat brokenly when he pulls back again* I don't know what to do... by all rights, we shouldn't be doing this.

Bonecrusher:

Yer tellin' me.  *Quiets for a moment, then sighs*  'm sorry.

Tracks:

...What for, exactly? *looks up at him, thinking of several possibilities, though none of them particularly concern him - it's all a clusterfrag now, and getting out seems almost impossible*

Bonecrusher:

...Fer... slag, fer pushin' this now - an' fer pushin' it th' first time... fer attackin' ya.  Probably more, take yer pick.

Tracks:

...Apology accepted. *Quietly, glancing down as his motor drops to a softer, less hungry purr. He wonders a little if that means Bonecrusher regrets it, and how much he does in turn.*

Bonecrusher:

*That works for Bonecrusher - he smirks and kisses Tracks again, biting lightly*

Tracks:

*Kisses back, making a small, soft noise as one hand curls into a fist, against Bonecrusher's chest - it's hard to think of anything that could help this, so enjoying it for the moment still seems like a good plan, despite the crushing knowledge that none of this is -his- and can't ever be*