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Perceptor’s optics burned. No that wasn’t right, it was more like his entire frame burned. The cheap engex in his drink refused to settle, it was oily in texture and if he encountered Swerve right now, he would probably punch him for serving this slag in his bar. He leaned onto the cold metal in front of him, trying to hold onto something to ground his floating processor. He was drunk. He made a mistake and drank too much of Swerve’s horrible but strong engex and now he was paying the price.
Perceptor didn’t like being drunk, he was more vulnerable in that state, more open. The last time he even touched a flask was back in his time with the wreckers, drinking himself through liquids that would probably kill a normal mech. But that was the atmosphere, alcohol was a staple of being a wrecker, one does not simply be on that hellish team without drinking a gallon of engex before and after every mission. It was the only way to deal with the numerous deaths around him, by forgetting. But now? Well now he was on a ship filled to the brim with bots who couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended on it.
Speaking of rooms being filled to the brim, the bar was extremely crowded, more so than usual. The ship was coming off of a high victory and Rodimus had loudly proclaimed to everyone in the vicinity “PARTY AT SWERVE’S, DRINKS ON ME!”
And now it seemed that the entire crew had crammed themselves into the bar, bots in every corner dancing or drinking as Swerve rapidly moved through the crowd trying to hand out orders quickly. It seemed he ran out of the good stuff, hence why Perceptor had been served military rations. Legs and arms were sprawled everywhere and Perceptor bit back a hiss of irritation as Rodimus ran by, nearly knocking his drink over in his clamor to talk to Drift about important matters. No one had even bothered to clean themselves up before descending down here, ready to flood their processors. It’s not like Perceptor could judge though, he himself hadn’t even washed off the blood staining his frame. Pink and red liquids covered him, the spots already flaking and drying quickly. The rifle attached to his back was heavy and still hot from use.
A laugh broke him out of his thoughts, directing his attention to the table in the corner. His fellow lab dwellers were all seated together, talking animatedly. Nautica and Velocity were cheering each other on it seemed to see who could consume more of the strange cloudy pink liquid stored in the purple femme’s large glass. And across from them were Nightbeat and Brainstorm. A large smile painted across the teal mech’ features. His mask was off, placed on the table and he was sprawled against Nightbeat’s frame. He looked comfortable, with the way he practically melted into the yellow bot, lips curling in delight at something Velocity said. He looked good happy.
And Perceptor knew he was staring, that single thought managed to get through his inebriated mind. But he didn’t really know how to look away from the scene, his foggy processor tried even to focus on something else but his optics were always drawn back to his partner at the other end of the bar. Brainstorm laughed at Nautica again and Perceptor couldn’t help but think to himself that no mech should have a smile like that. It was so rare that Brainstorm took off his mask, Perceptor couldn’t help but trace his face. From the unique mouth holes accompanying his cheeks to the tip of his nose. His lips were extremely filled to the point one could say they were overly plump and they were hypnotic to watch. The way they punctuated and curled as he spoke was fascinating, the way light shined off them when he wet them with his glossa or when he bit into them while thinking, punctuating just how soft they were. Before Perceptor could stop to think that these thoughts about a colleague were less than professional he was jolted with the image of what it would be like to personally touch those lips. Would they be pliable like soft protoform or was there more push there?
Perceptor lowered himself back to his drink, choosing to focus on the viscous liquid instead and ignoring the simmering heat beginning in his gut. Hunching his shoulders he watched as Nautica said something to Nightbeat nudging him, the detective chuckled and stared at the table for a second before pushing an arm over the shoulders of the gunsmith hanging off him, pulling him in closer. Perceptor felt the engex go sour in his gut, turning over rancidly. He spat out any extra traces of it and tried to calm his nauseous processor, his spark turning uneasily at the display. He felt sick, the urge to purge was overwhelming. All of this over a measly display of intimacy in public.
But it wasn’t just any intimacy between two random mechs, it was between Nightbeat and Brainstorm. Brainstorm who was his partner and nothing more, Brainstorm who only spoke to him in the lab constantly trying to one-up him, Brainstorm who Perceptor admired after his tryst with the space time continuum, Brainstorm who Perceptor spent long hours of the day secretly watching, the same Brainstorm who managed to launch Perceptor into hour long thoughts about lips.
He shouldn’t be so worked up over this, Brainstorm wasn’t anything of importance to him. But his stomach turned again watching as Nightbeat lowered his arm more, brushing Brainstorm’s hip softly before coming to rest around his waist.
He should leave. No he needed to leave. Before he did something he would regret. The crushing of the glass in his hand was enough proof of this, he was applying enough force to shatter the damn thing. Forcefully uncurling his servos, he let out a shaky vent. He was acting stupid and Perceptor was not a mech known for stupidity.
The ugly jerking of his spark at the display meant nothing, he didn’t even know why or when this started. Brainstorm could do whatever he wanted and if he wanted Nightbeat then that was fine.
Maybe Perceptor wanted it to be him. To be the one nudging his arm across Brainstorm’s wings, for it to be his servos around Brainstorm’s hip, to have the flier so comfortable and happy against his side. Maybe Perceptor just wanted Brainstorm to want him.
His helm was starting to pound at the overwhelming feelings and realizations he was coming to. He didn’t need this.
It’s not like Brainstorm would want him either. They were as different as night and day, constantly defined by how at odds they were with one another. From their palette to their inventions to their personalities itself. Brainstorm was a social creature, a jet who thrived on warm touches and exciting emotions. Perceptor was not that. He was cold and solid and unfeeling. Wheeljack had once compared him to a brick wall in anything but the physical sense. Brainstorm couldn’t want that, they were incompatible. To him Perceptor was just his rude and serious colleague, a mech who for the longest time no one could even process had feelings. Brainstorm couldn’t possibly even imagine Perceptor doing any of the things one could want from a relationship, for Perceptor to be in place of Nightbeat right now.
And that was the end of the conversation.
Perceptor clocked away his feelings and finally managed to pry his optics from the teal jet before him. The scene of Nightbeat caressing Brainstorm seared into his processor. He shoved the rest of the glass away and pushed himself from his seat. Swerve quickly marched by and took the greasy engex with him. He was tired for the day and he wanted to just get back to the lab. Coming out here with everyone else was an obvious mistake. Perceptor shoved his way to the exit, ignoring a “Hey watch it!” from Whirl.
The hallways to the Lost Light were cold and silent, the complete opposite from the previous atmosphere. It seemed his suspicions were correct that everyone was down in the bar. The large windows highlighted the glittering stars outside, it was so clear tonight that Perceptor could make out some of his favorite constellations. Slowing his movements he paused to track one of the constellations, a cluster of stars that resembled a turbofox paw. It looked brighter tonight. The turbofox was commonly used for location in this region, Perceptor could remember sitting on the top of the wrecker’s ship tracing these stars with his optics. It made him feel better to track his movements in the vast emptiness around him. He stared at it longer, analyzing the hues of deep space around it before eventually turning away.
When he finally made his way back to the lab he breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut with a ‘click.’ The antiseptic air was familiar, safe. Making his way to his seat he grabbed a spare invention resting on a shelf, fiddling with the wiring. He made a point not to stare at Brainstorm’s side of the lab. Brainstorm who was still at Swerve’s in Nightbeat’s arms. Perceptor pinched his nose and turned to a spare datapad, finishing up some calculations. It wasn’t as hard as his processor was making it out to be. These emotions were simply distractions. He would be over this soon or at the very least he would get used to the ache in his chest. Feelings caused issues and the last thing Perceptor needed was an issue in his own lab. He just had to make sure Brainstorm kept his mask on more often and everything would be fine.