applecrumble: (Arcee is confuzzled.)
[personal profile] applecrumble
Arcee’s such a bro. I can totally see her chomping on cigars and swirling a glass of scotch while reclining on a black leather couch. She’s got bro-style. *nodnod* Like Sean Connery. Only robotic. And not Scottish. =|

Anyhow, this fic is for Kapricia as part of her Transformers: Prime fic exchange! :D She wanted some Bulkhead/Arcee, and thus this thing came forth.

Title: Feeling Restless
Characters/Pairing: Bulkhead/Arcee
Genre: General
Rating: T
Summary: Wherein Arcee finds one severely demolished training-room, along with one severely distracted Wrecker.
Warning: Implied intimacy.
Notes: Set shortly after the events of Con Job.


Arcee took one step into the training room and paused, optics rounding in momentary shock.

“Wow… Um, Bulk?”

The green behemoth jolted upon mention, glancing over his shoulder and offering a sheepish grin to the blue ‘Bot.

“Ugh… Heh, hey.”

He meekly dropped the splintered sparring-dummy he’d just used to pummel the others into slag. Arcee blinked, folding her arms and giving the room a dubious onceover. She whistled low.

“Scrap. Sure gave this place a thorough pounding didn’t you,” she muttered, cocking an optic ridge. “You could have at least left me one of the dummies.”

Bulkhead gave a gauche cough, optics dim.

“Sorry ‘Cee. Got a little carried away…” he trailed off, gaze downcast.

Arcee looked to him and frowned. It wasn’t like Bulkhead to throw his weight around so haphazardly – even in the training room. She mulled for a moment, considering.

“Something you want to talk about?”

“Nah,” he replied, idly kicking a stray hunk of metal that was once a training dummy. Arcee nodded and left it at that, neither wanting nor willing to press the matter. Besides, Miko would almost certainly make it her mission to get the full details from him later.

Instead, the blue ‘Bot stepped forward and clapped Bulkhead’s chassis with the back of her hand.

“Let’s spar.”

He looked up, surprise briefly encompassing his faceplates.

“I’m not-”

“There’s no other dummies left to practice on,” she cut him off, smiling dryly. “You scrapped them. You serve as a replacement.”

Bulkhead hesitated before conceding with a huff, returning the smile. “Fair warning. Don’t think I’ll be able to go easy on you this time ‘Cee…”

She rolled her optics and smirked, uncrossing her arms and smoothly slipping into a fighting stance.

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same big guy.”

He grinned and moved into his own position. “Help me clean this up after?”

“If you win, maybe.”

They both exchanged twin smiles and charged forward.

- - - -

Her optics onlined hazily, residual energy still coursing through her systems and scrambling her sensory input. She sighed and buried her faceplates deeper into the concave of warm neck-cables in front of them, engine softly humming while a large blunt fingertip traced over her shoulder-winglet.

At first she didn’t intend to say anything. It wouldn’t be the first time one of their sparring sessions cumulated into something significantly different, so she didn’t see the need. But the surprising intensity and, well, force Bulkhead had exuded during it was what made her reconsider staying silent. Ordinarily he’d be overly gentle, often to the point of irritation. Not as to say he was rough this time – she honestly doubted Bulkhead could ever bring himself to be rough during interface. At least not with someone he felt he could really do damage to.

After a moment more of wafting soft ventilations into his neck, she reluctantly broke the silence.

“I know I’m probably going to regret asking,” Arcee murmured into the wiring, hands lethargically trailing circles over his shoulder plating. “But are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

She could feel him subtly tense for a second before relaxing.

“It’s nothing big…”

Well, that was undoubtedly a ‘yes’. Arcee waited for him to continue, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position atop his lap. A heavy sigh filtered through his intakes and he shrugged.

“I guess… Lately I’ve just been feeling a little… Claustrophobic, you know?”

She had an idea, but asked nonetheless. “Let me guess. Wrecker nostalgia?”

He breathed a rumbling laugh, hand sliding down to settle over her lower back. “How’d you know?”

“A hunch,” she muttered, helm tilting back a little to look up at him. “Missing the glory days?”

“Don’t know if I’d call them that but… Lately… A little… Yeah,” he sighed, optics dimming. “I’m not saying I’d rather have gone with ‘Jackie or anything. I’m really happy with what I’ve got here. Working with Optimus Prime, hanging out with Miko. But… It’s just sometimes… yeah. I miss it.”

Arcee silently nodded, understanding.

“I get it. Jumping from the Wreckers to Optimus Prime’s crew was one thing. But going from that to guardian duty is something else entirely,” she mused, smiling knowingly. “You’ve been a Wrecker longer than you’ve been either of those things. It makes sense that you’d feel a little constricted and frustrated, having to constantly watch your step lest you find one of the kids stuck to the bottom of your pede…”

He huffed out a chuckle and inclined his helm down to properly see her.

“Ordinarily smashing any ‘Cons faceplates in does the trick. But when they go off the radar, I get a little antsy. And Bumblebee’s been too busy with Raf lately to spar.”

“You ever consider asking Optimus?”

Bulkhead spluttered something between a laugh and a cough.

“No! Scrap no! That’d be… disrespectful. Or something, probably.” He shrugged, looking disturbed just at the idea.

Arcee snorted and shook her helm, grinning wryly up at him.

Right. Well, in the meantime. Think any other form of stress relief might help burn off that surplus energy?” she mildly queried, hands kneading a little firmer down his chassis and energy field giving a pre-emptive flare.

Bulkhead smiled crookedly, the hand on her lower back pressing to bring her closer and his own field rippling hotly in response.

“Working so far,” he murmured, stopping down to catch her in a kiss.
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