Paratrooper and Samurai

by CoffeeBorne_Addict

Summary:

There’s not enough CrosshairsxDrift and I want to change that.

This is my collection of my fav AOE pair. Tags will be added as chapters are uploaded.

Chapter 1: Mattering

Decepticon skirmishes weren’t uncommon. Though most of the enemy faction was gone, the few and small remained. Crosshairs had the mentality that he could manage the small handful he was presently dealing with as they interrupted his patrol.

Grass and dirt ripped up in chunks around them. Four smaller Decepticon speedbikes made circles around the green paratrooper, throwing jeers at the larger Autobot. Crosshairs fired his weapon at their wheeled pedes, aiming to make them lose their balance.

One of the speedbikes launched himself at Crosshairs’ back while it was turned, but the paratrooper was quick to reach behind him and grab the small Decepticon by the scruff. He hurled him to the side.

“Not so fast, ya twerp! Think ya can pull a fast one on me, ey?”

With a small shout, another Decepticon leapt onto the green mech’s front. Before Crosshairs could counter, the remaining two took the opportunity to bombard the paratrooper.

“Rip his lines!” one of them hissed as he gouged his digits between Crosshairs’ armor pieces, aiming for the delicate lines below.

Fire bit into Crosshairs’ sensory net as sharp little claws penetrated his frame and he let out several angry growls and swears as he frantically tried to pry off the speedbikes. “Get offa me!”

Not once did Crosshairs think he couldn’t defeat the Decepticons without backup, not even as he was reduced to his knees. He could still manage this, Crosshairs told himself. Within seconds of being on his knees, a sharp pain from his hip flared throughout his frame and Crosshairs let out a shout as his joint gave out.

“We got him! We got him!”

Crosshairs snarled as he dug the opposite heel into the dirt and thrusted his frame around, rolling onto his front and squishing the speedbikes against the ground. One servo ripped off the smallest of the four, throwing him to the side as his other servo braced against the ground. Still recovering from the massive frame pressing them into the dirt, Crosshairs was able to pry off the smaller Decepticons from his frame. The paratrooper’s hip ached as he tried to get back on his pedes.

“Run off b’fore Ay think again on sparin’ tha lot of ya!” the larger mech growled, but the threat was ill-placed as he staggered to keep balance, eventually collapsing again.

The speedbikes weren’t able to respond as they were cut off by a large sword impaling the earth in between them and Crosshairs. They jumped back, helms swiveling towards Drift as he ran up on the battle, and he stood in a defensive stance in front of Crosshairs.

“I suggest you stay away from here, Decepticons. Next time, we will not be forgiving.” Drift’s voice was steady, but held a sharpness that could not be challenged. His other katana was wielded, raised and ready in the chance the Decepticons continued their assault.

Four to one were great odds, but two to one were not. Without another word, the speedbikes transformed and sped off in the opposite direction. Satisfied, Drift eased on his stance and reached for the katana buried in the dirt.

“Ya didn’t hafta show. Ay had them.” Crosshairs grumbled as he tried to move to his pedes again without any success. The ripping pain was constant in his hip and a quick internal diagnostic informed him that there was extensive damage to the supportive lines which explained why he couldn’t bear weight.

Hilting his swords, Drift turned on heel towards the paratrooper. His golden face was marred by the deep frown. “Clearly, you did not.”

Shifting his weight to the good leg, Crosshairs managed to stand upright. “Accordin’ ta who, samurai?”

“To whom.” Drift corrected.

Crosshairs sharply clicked his glossa in a ‘tch’ sound. “What made ya come find me anyway?”

“Your patrols usually do not exceed half an hour. I came looking.”

The paratrooper snorted in amusement. “Aww, ya worried about me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

A snicker left Crosshairs as he took a tentative step forward; a sharp hiss left him as soon as he shifted weight onto the opposite leg. “Dammit.”

“Are you hurt?” Drift asked as he stepped closer to Crosshairs. There were some visible, minor leaks, obvious scratching of his plating. He took notice of the gross difference in leg preference.

“Just my hip. Ay can try to transform, but diagnostics says it’s unstable. Don’t wanna risk tha strut snappin’ durin’ transformation.” he grumbled. “Fancy helpin’ me walk back?”

“Walking will take longer. I will fly us back.” Drift promptly transformed into his helicopter alt, blades spinning as soon as they formed. “Do try to not jump off.”

The swordsmech was high enough to allow Crosshairs to grab onto his skids. “Nah, mech. Won’t stick tha landin’ on ah bum leg.”

“Very well.”

Soon, the ground became further and further away as Drift lifted off towards the direction to the Yaeger farm. Crosshairs had to admit that this was, in fact, better than walking. Not to mention, the feeling of air rushing past him was invigorating. He missed the cliffs out in the desert that were tall enough for him to jump off and experience an insane adrenaline rush. All these flat lands made him sick for a thrill. For a moment, he contemplated letting go, but he countered that intrusive thought with the assurance of severing his strut from his hip.

He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Cade, not that he cared; the human could only do so much to repair them. A massive injury like a hip break required expert servos, and while none of them were medics, the injury would take ages to recover from. An annoyed sigh left the paratrooper.

“I cannot fly any faster, Crosshairs.” Drift replied.

“Naw, mate. Tha inability ta let go is killin’ me.”

“ Sokka . That would not be wise lest you want to aggravate your injury.”

“Exactly.”

The farm came into view and Drift began his descent. “Perhaps when you are back in good health, I can offer a lift.”

Drift missed the look of surprise on Crosshairs, but it was apparent in his voice. “Uh, yeah. Sure, that would be awesome.”

Once they were low enough, Crosshairs let go of Drift’s skids, steadying himself on his good leg. Drift transformed, landing with grace beside Crosshairs and offering an arm to steady him.

“You found him! What was he up to?” Hound asked from his perch against the hanger’s door frame.

“A Decepticon skirmish. Call Cade-”

“Naw, that ain’t necessary.” Crosshairs objected.

“-Crosshairs has injuries that need repair.” Drift continued without paying attention to the paratrooper’s interruption.

Hound chuckled as he headed towards Cade’s barn. “Man’s gonna throw a hissy fit, Crosshairs.”

Drift assisted in walking Crosshairs to the hanger’s aid station.

“Seriously, mate. Ay coulda done my own repairs.” Crosshairs grumbled as he took a seat on the aid bench.

The swordsmech straightened once Crosshairs was seated and he crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you call for assistance?”

Crosshairs looked affronted, narrowing his optics at the other mech. “Ay ain’t a younglin’ needin’ lecture.”

“So you understand that you could have been more injured than you are now.”

“Ay had it under control.”

“ Oi !” Drift hissed. “You could have been killed!”

Crosshairs bristled, mainly at Drift’s overbearing behavior. “Piss off, Drift. Ay’m alive, aren’t Ay?”

“Only because I intervened.”

Before Crosshairs could add another retort, Cade’s voice cut between them. “Another skirmish, Crosshairs? Seriously, man. You’re siphoning my supplies before Joyce can get us more.”

“Then, don’t waste ‘em on me.” the paratrooper said bitterly at the man without breaking his glare towards Drift. With a stubborn push off the aid bench, Crosshairs rose to his pedes. He managed to take a few spiteful steps before an audible crack sounded off and Crosshairs doubled over with a pained shout.

“Crosshairs!”

Drift leaned over the mech to offer assistance, but Crosshairs took a swipe at him. “Get away from me!”

Looking mildly hurt, Drift ignored the protest to help Crosshairs back to the bench. “Crosshairs, enough. You are injuring yourself worse.”

“Easy, man. Let me get you patched up enough so you can handle yourself.”

Crosshairs huffed angrily, but allowed Drift to hobble him back to the bench, laying back on it. Cade clambered up onto his scaffold beside the bench. “What do your diagnostics say?”

The paratrooper took a moment to respond as he reviewed them on his HUD. “Major damage ta tha femoral strut, further weightbearin’ ain’t recommended. Several spots have minor bleeds, but mah self-healin’ is takin’ care o’ them.”

“Alright. Let me see the big one.” Cade readied his shop wipes as Crosshairs removed the armor surrounding his injured hip. Wires and cables were ripped, energon continued to pour in rivulets, and Cade immediately set to work, using the shop wipes to clean up and grabbing several sets of vice clamps to stop the bleeding. Crosshairs grunted as he felt the clamps pinch his lines shut. “I’m going to start digging in. Hold still. I apologize in advance for the pain.”

“Just get on with it.”

Cade had his hands in his favor when it came to fishing for injuries. It meant he could avoid opening the injury any further. Fluorescent blue hands reappeared after spending a prolonged minute inside Crosshairs’ hip. Cade reached for a flashlight, powering it on and holding the butt-end in his mouth as he delved back in. The man made several aha’s and mm’s before he grabbed the flashlight and looked towards Drift.

“I’m going to need you to apply traction. It looks like the head of the strut is nearly fractured all the way through and the metal is compressing.”

“Of course.” Drift nodded.

“Wait, wait. In layman’s.”

Cade looked back to the paratrooper. “Your storming off a second ago nearly broke your leg off your hip and Drift is going to pull your leg to straighten it out while I made some welds. Traction hurts humans, so I imagine it’s going to hurt you too.”

“Yer kiddin’.”

“I wish. Drift?” Cade and Crosshairs looked towards the swordsmech already at Crosshairs’ pedes. “Slow and steady on the pull. Once his leg is straightened, you’re going to have to hold as steady as you can. Crosshairs, grab the bench, and don’t be a bitch and squirm. You’ll make it worse.”

“Piss off.” Crosshairs grumbled as he gripped the bench.

Drift grabbed at Crosshairs’ ankle and behind the knee, taking a bracing stance. “I am ready when you are, Cade.”

Cade put the flashlight back in his mouth, focusing inside Crosshairs’ hip. He gave the mech a thumbs up to signal he was ready.

Drift pulled.

The next several minutes felt like an eternity for Crosshairs. The mech had a high pain tolerance, but the repair to his hip went beyond the limits he was capable of. Crosshairs tried to smother his screaming without avail. With an Autobot medic, he could have been given some medication to manage the pain beyond dampening his sensors. Sensor dampening didn’t help in the slightest, his neural net overriding his sensory net. The welds to his hip were excruciating.

Once Drift was finally given the hand sign to ease up on the pulling, Cade watched to make sure his welds would hold. He noticed the tell-tale sign of self-healing nanites taking over, indicated by the speckles of tiny pink lights glittering once he turned off his flashlight. Satisfied, Cade started to layer back the intact cabling and wiring before grabbing his soldering kit to finish the last of the smaller repairs around Crosshairs’ hip.

Chest heaving, Crosshairs felt his face go numb. “Primus, kill me now.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening anytime soon.” Cade muttered during his repairs. “Maybe next time, you’ll call for help.”

“Can it, meatbag.” 

Crosshairs yelped suddenly as Cade pressed the solder to a sensitive cable. “Think again on insulting me while I’m hands deep in your leg.”

“Hmph.”

“Crosshairs, behave. You should be grateful.” Drift chided.

“Whatever.”

Drift frowned at Crosshairs’ response, but said nothing else. It took another handful of minutes before Cade took a step back.

“Alright. Bed rest for you, Crosshairs. Don’t do anything stupid to reinjure your hip.”

Crosshairs pushed himself into a seated position, groaning at the subsiding pain. Drift offered a servo to help the paratrooper to his pedes, but Crosshairs glared at it instead before getting himself onto his pedes, and ignoring the look of hurt on Drift’s face. He tested the weightbearing before taking a limping step towards the back area of the hangar where the Autobots all rested.

“Thanks.” Crosshairs muttered towards Cade.

Cade sighed as Crosshairs retreated. “Poor guy. Let me know if his injuries get worse.”

“Of course.”

-

“Damn leg, fuckin’ work right.” Crosshairs swore at himself. The limp as he walked was infuriating to say the least. He could bear some weight now, but it had been a week since Cade repaired it. General repairs didn’t take this long, but then again, this hadn’t been a general repair. Exasperated, Crosshairs gave his hip a punch and the feedback was immediate. His neural net punished him with a ripping pain down his leg. “Fuck!”

“That was very unwise.” Drift said from behind the paratrooper.

Crosshairs looked over his shoulder to see the swordsmech. He drawled sarcastically in response. “Really? Ay thought it would make it better.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Crosshairs.”

The paratrooper scowled. “Yer blatant obviousness ain’t appreciated either.”

Drift had to try his hardest to refrain from thwacking the mech upside the helm. “You are being unconditionally rude.”

Crosshairs bristled at that, but he caught himself before he could inadvertently prove Drift right. “What do ya want, Drift?”

“Nothing. I merely wanted to keep you company.”

Crosshairs turned to face the swordsmech at that with a genuine look of surprise. “Why?”

“Why not?” Drift countered.

“Hm. Ay suppose yer company is tolerable.”

Amused, Drift let out a chuckle. “It pleases me to know that I am tolerable to you.”

“Don’t push yer luck, samurai.” Crosshairs’ voice had no malice in it as he retorted back. His hip began to protest as he had been standing for some time and the paratrooper made his way to the ground. “Ay gotta sit.”

“Of course.” Drift sat into a cross-legged position.

“This shit would be better if there were meds ta go ‘round.” the Corvette said with slight annoyance as he rocked his injured leg side to side with a wince.

“Is there anything I can do to alleviate your pain?”

“Naw. Not unless ya’ve got some narcotics stashed away that yer holdin’ out on us.”

Drift shook his helm. “If I did, I would have offered before Cade made his welds. I can only imagine the pain you were in.”

“Ay definitely do NOT recommend it.”

“I hope it made you think twice about your odds of taking on Decepticons outnumbered.”

A snort left the paratrooper. “Not a chance.”

Despair flooded Drift. “You ought to.”

“There ain’t no fun in a fair fight.”

“Your suicidal tendencies will get you killed.” Drift said sharper than he had intended. Crosshairs arched a brow at him and the swordsmech had to take a deep breath before continuing. “What I meant to say is you have brash tendencies that have serious outcomes. Like now, for instance.”

He gestured to Crosshairs’ hip.

Crosshairs looked down at himself, eyeing the welds Cade had done to him the week prior. “Ya know, Drift? Ya should lay off.”

“Crosshairs-”

“No, quit it. Yer talkin’ ta meh like Ay need ay lecture er somethin’. ‘Cause Ay don’t.”

Drift raised a servo to his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose and furrowing his brows together. He had to pick his words carefully to avoid upsetting the paratrooper any further. What made the situation worse was how dense and quick to anger Crosshairs could be.

“Honestly, mate. Why do ya care?”

“Because I do care, Crosshairs. I care.” Drift said, finally lowering his servo into his lap. “Your injuries upset me. Your reckless behavior worries me. Kuso . You worry me.”

Crosshairs couldn’t hold back his surprise at the intensity of Drift’s voice. There was no mistaking the unwavering emotion behind the swordsmech’s words and it caught Crosshairs off guard.

“Perhaps you do not matter to yourself, but… you matter to me.”

Crosshairs watched Drift lower his gaze into his lap, servos folding into each other tightly. For a moment, they were silent as Crosshairs processed what Drift had said. Honestly, it made the paratrooper feel an odd sensation within his chest. Drift cared very passionately about virtually anything as it was his nature, but this, the way he was speaking to Crosshairs about mattering to him, it held more than just the camaraderie.

“Please, try to take better care of yourself.”

Crosshairs felt compelled to do something , anything to reassure Drift. He placed a servo over the folded pair. “Ay’ll try.”

-

Crosshairs noticed Drift more often than he had before. Every time the swordsmech spoke, Crosshairs listened. Whenever Drift walked by, Crosshairs’ gaze lingered.

Maybe Drift mattered to him too.

The odd sensation wiggled in his chest at the thought and Crosshairs squashed it immediately. Fawning like a youngling over a crush? Crosshairs huffed to himself at the idea of fawning. He was a grown mech, war-hardened. Casual fragging was common, but whenever he looked at Drift, it felt different. Like the swordsmech deserved more than something casual.

Of course, Drift hadn’t made any advances aside from their shared company. They exchanged the occasional touches to their servos or shoulders, smiles that held a little more emotion than usual. Drift had always had a modicum of respect towards his comrades.

Crosshairs frowned to himself. Comrade .

Today, the Texan weather took an odd turn. Summers were typically hot and humid, leaving the Autobots to take shelter in the hangar or Cade’s barn to shield from the unforgiving sun as they would wait for dusk or dawn when the weather was tolerable. Clouds were fat in the sky, heavy with the eventual downpour that was theorized to happen at some point in the afternoon. The cloud cover brought down the temperature to a bearable high 70s, but the humidity clung to everything. Every intake of air felt sticky and thick, and condensation formed on Crosshairs’ armor.

“I’ll take this over the scorching Sun any day.” Hound exclaimed before taking a drag of the smoking ammo in his mouth.

“I’m surprised the humidity hasn’t smothered what you’re smoking.” Shane added. The humidity clung onto the human’s shirt, sticking it against his body. Sweat was formed at his armpits and clung to his brows.

“This is some top quality munition.”

“Clearly.”

Cade came out of the house with Tessa in tow. He carried several duffels in hand. “Alright guys. We are going to the lake. Shane, you’ve got the food?”

“Yes, sir!” He patted the roof of his car.

“Hound, you’re in charge of hauling the grill.”

The green mech nodded. “You got it.”

“How deep is the lake?” Bumblebee asked as his optics eagerly brightened.

“Uh… about Prime’s height in depth? You should be able to swim.” Cade replied as he set the bags down by Shane’s car.

Crosshairs scrunched his nose. “Yer seriously not thinkin’ about takin’ ay dive in murky water.”

“It’s gross outside. Cold water will be a blessing.” Bumblebee replied back.

“Swimming is entirely optional.” Tessa added. “Or if you’d rather stay here, that’s on the table too.”

“Well, decide now. We’re hitting the road.”

As the Yaeger family, Shane, and Autobots started to roll out, Crosshairs had half a processor to stay back until Drift looked towards him expectantly. “Will you be joining?”

“Aw, well, sure. If yer gonna be goin’.”

“What is it that humans call it? Cabin fever? I am anxious to have a change of scenery.”

Crosshairs snorted as he collapsed into his vehicle mode. “Honestly, me too.”

Corvette and Bugatti drove down the property road to catch up with the caravan. The drive was mostly quiet and half an hour passed by before they knew it. The lake was mostly secluded with the tree line hiding the lake from view. A dock was on the northern side of the lake with a small paddle boat tucked away, a picnic table sat beside it in the grass. Cade had installed a few small fountains into the lake to keep the water from being stagnant and attracting bugs.

Within moments of arriving, the grill was fired up and Tessa was out on the paddle boat with Bumblebee wading with her.

“I shall meditate.” Drift said, mainly to himself, as he began to walk a short distance away from the lake.

“Have fun with that.” Hound waved off the swordsmech.

Crosshairs looked towards the group before shifting his gaze to Drift. He took several quick steps. “Ya mind if Ay join? Might not be good at the meditation an’ zen thing, but Ay can try.”

Drift blinked in mild surprise as he faced Crosshairs. “I do not mind.”

Walking in step with each other, the two continued.

Tessa watched them curiously as they became smaller in view. “So… what’s up with them?”

Bumblebee turned his helm towards the retreating mechs. “Drift and Crosshairs? No idea. They’ve been super friendly to each other lately.”

“Super friendly, huh?”  Tessa said with a teasing lilt to her voice. “Like Shane and I friendly?”

“Maybe? I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

Tessa made a small sound of interest, but otherwise said nothing else.

-

The lake could still be seen, but they were far enough away that the group’s voices could not be heard in the wind.

“Ah. Perfect.” Drift said quietly as he kneeled in the grass. He placed his katanas evenly in front of him before joining his servos together. He looped his middle digits overtop his foredigits, a gesture of harmony. Crosshairs knelt on the other side of the resting katanas, smoothing out his coattails,  and he did his best to imitate the woven digits on the swordsmech.

For a moment, Drift watched Crosshairs struggle before reaching towards Crosshairs’ bundled mess of digits. “Here. Let me.”

Crosshairs allowed Drift to manipulate his digits into the unfamiliar gesture.

“This is harmony.” Drift said quietly once Crosshairs’ digits were set; he held Crosshairs’ servos in his own, raising his gaze to meet Crosshairs’.

“Harmony, huh? Any reason why ya picked harmony?”

“I feel as though I am not in tune to my surroundings or myself.” Drift let go of Crosshairs’ servos before resuming the gesture. “My balance has shifted and I must recenter myself.”

“Huh. Coulda had me fooled.”

The swordsmech offered a smile. “You are quite the flatterer. Now, hush. Close your optics, empty your mind.”

Drift had years upon years of experience in the art of meditation, and slipping into a mentally quiet trance came easy to him. His sensors didn’t cling to any particular sensation as the humid breeze swept over him; he took easy ventilations in and out.

There was a subtle shift of armor. Then, silence. Another shift. Silence. Another shift.

“You are making too much movement.” Drift commented quietly.

He heard the paratrooper grumble, letting out a huff, before he was quiet again. For a moment. “How do ya empty yer mind?”

“You refrain from thinking about anything.”

“Mate, if ya knew of tha millions of things that go on in my processor…” Crosshairs muttered.n He relaxed his servos from the harmonic gesture.

Drift opened his optics, seeing the paratrooper with an expression of annoyance. “It takes practice to fully purge the mind of thought. I would not fret too much over it.”

“Ay’m probably just botherin’ ya at this point.” Crosshairs huffed.

“Nonsense, Crosshairs. I still very much appreciate your presence.” he offered the other mech a gentle smile. Crosshairs met the swordsmech’s gaze and seeing the genuinity behind the smile reassured the paratrooper, and he offered a grin of his own. Crosshairs took this moment to observe Drift, taking in the minute features of his optics. Behind the cerulean lights, the innermost pupil expanded and for some reason, the odd sensation in his chest came back to Crosshairs. 

At that moment, Crosshairs couldn’t think of anything else besides how beautiful Drift’s optics were. One of his servos moved, reaching for Drift’s golden face, and the fluttering within his chest intensified.

Drift had no idea what Crosshairs was looking for as he gazed deeply into his optics, but when Crosshairs’ servo moved to touch his cheek, he stilled. His digits made contact and Drift felt his vents catch.

“Damn…”

“ Nan desu ka ?”

“Ay think… Ay think Ay cleared mah mind.” Crosshairs finally said.

Drift let out a small laugh. “ Sou desu ka ?”

“Yeah.” Crosshairs pressed his palm against Drift’s cheek and the swordsmech allowed himself to gently lean into his touch. They knelt quietly, relishing the warmth between them as they continued to explore the depths of each others’ optics.

“Cross?” Drift whispered.

The paratrooper replied just as quiet. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Crosshairs’ opposite servo cupped Drift’s other cheek, pulling the swordsmech closer. Their kiss was chaste, too chaste for Drift’s liking. He pressed another kiss, his own servos gripping Crosshairs’ wrists. Crosshairs had a unique smell, a unique taste; copper, ozone, gunpowder. Finally feeling the other pair of lips against his own made his spark stir haphazardly within his chest, threatening to burst with emotion.

“Drift.” Crosshairs murmured between the swordsmech’s greedy kisses. He couldn’t complain; Drift kissed him with desire.

“ Nan desu ka ?” Reluctantly, Drift pulled away from kissing the paratrooper, but their noses touched, lips barely brushing each other.

“Ya have meh wrapped around yer digit.”

 

Chapter 2: A Past Marred with Blood

Summary:

Crosshairs had told Drift that he wants to bond, but Drift's past resurfaces.

The day was calm despite the gentle rainfall, and yet Drift felt his inner peace being disrupted. It was no fault of the weather, but in fact, something else within the swordsmech. A secret. The Autobot command staff knew of this secret and for the sake of everyone else, it stayed that way.

Drift had stolen friends, family, and assisted in the deadliest assaults ever orchestrated by the Decepticons. His previous identity as one of Megatron’s top lieutenants, Deadlock, was buried so deep that Deadlock could no longer exist. He used to be a merciless killer and Drift prayed everyday to be forgiven of his sins.

Crosshairs wanted to share sparks, forever and keep the swordsmech bound to him in the most sacred way possible. How Drift wished he could, but Deadlock had killed countless innocents and Autobots. The swordsmech had turned a new leaf, spending more millenia amongst the Autobots, seeking atonement.

The romance with Crosshairs caught Drift by surprise. The paratrooper was difficult to work with at times and his attitude was challenging, but the mech cared deeply about protecting his friends and was loyal to the Autobot cause. When their feelings for each other became more apparent, Crosshairs was fiercely loyal to Drift. Whatever the swordsmech needed or desired, Crosshairs delivered. Crosshairs loved him deeply and Drift did too.

The one question kept lingering in Drift’s processor: would Crosshairs’ love for him go beyond the revelation of Deadlock or would that be the end of their courtship?

Drift’s spark ached at the thought of being without Crosshairs. Drift would be ostracized and forced to leave. 

No , Drift shook his helm. Drift would ask to be killed.

Drift was pulled away from his innermost thoughts when he felt a servo intertwine with his own. He turned his helm towards the Crosshairs and was immediately greeted with a kiss.

“What’s mah cherry blossom doin’ over ‘ere?” Crosshairs asked as he delivered another kiss to Drift’s helm crest.

Drift’s throat became swollen as he tried to formulate words to respond. He hesitated. “Ah… thinking, just thinking.”

“Of?”

The swordsmech felt undeserving of the affectionate gaze that Crosshairs offered. His face looked so relaxed, not marred by the weight of the world and the war they fought. Drift’s spark ached as he raised his free servo to touch over Crosshairs’ chestplates. “Us, my love.”

Drift felt the spark beneath his servo flutter and he couldn’t stop the weak smile from forming.

“I… I would love to share my spark, my essence, my life…” Drift began.

Crosshairs flashed a look of hurt as he gathered Drift’s servos. “But?”

Drift squeezed their servos tightly as he felt his frame tremble. “But I have kept something from you.”

“What?”

The swordsmech found Crosshairs’ optics; he wanted to see every reaction, regardless if it hurt or not. “I served Megatron in the first half of the war. I was one of his higher lieutenants, his personal assassin. My original designation is Deadlock.”

The more Drift spoke, the greater look of horror he saw. Crosshairs had dropped Drift’s servos, jaw slack as the paratrooper tried to speak. Brows started to furrow, nose crinkling as anger fueled the paratrooper. “Deadlock. The most dangerous Decepticon next to the DJD, that’s you?”

“Yes.”

Crosshairs’ face twisted even more as his servos balled into fists. “You. You! You murdered ay whole Wrecker unit while they slept! My friends!”

“Yes.” Drift felt the starts of coolant collecting in his optics before they spilled over and streaked down his cheeks. He swallowed the lump that kept forming in his throat.

“Strongarm, Bulkhead, Seaspray, Kup.” Crosshairs listed off, each name spoken with more venom. The paratrooper’s armor bristled. “This whole time- And Ay-”

“Cross-”

“Shut yer mouth! Ay don’ wanna hear ya justify their deaths! Their blood is in yer servos!” Crosshairs snapped, his arm thrusting out and grabbing the swordsmech by the throat. Drift gasped, instinctively grabbing at the servo around his neck, but the urgency to remove it quickly died away. Crosshairs had every right to be angry.

Pedefalls quickly came towards the pair, Hound crying out at Crosshairs. “Ease off, Crosshairs! What the hell has gotten into you?”

Hound ripped the paratrooper off Drift as Bumblebee came to Drift’s aid, steadying the swordsmech as he recovered.

“You mind explaining why you’re grabbing Drift like that?” Hound demanded.

Crosshairs didn’t spare the larger Autobot a glance, his glare heavily fixated on the swordsmech. “He’s ay filthy Decepticon assassin.”

Blinking in shock and surprise. Hound looked towards Drift. “What?”

“His name is Deadlock.”

“ Douzo , I have not used that name since my defection.” Drift pleaded.

“I thought Deadlock was killed in the siege of Darkmount.” Hound said, still confused.

“I faked my death so that I could re-emerge as an Autobot.” Drift said, his voice almost quiet. “I made an agreement with the Prime and the command staff accepted my defection.”

Hound processed this, blinking as his optics brightened once he came to the realization of several things. “If you’re Deadlock, then-”

Drift saw Hound’s face turn too. Anger, malice, hatred. The weapons specialist stepped towards Drift, rearing a fist and running it forward. A resounding metallic clang was heard as Hound made impact to the side of Drift’s face. The swordsmech allowed it to happen, accepting the blow and letting it stagger him.

“How dare you walk along us?” Hound bellowed. “How dare you come to bear our trust knowing that you have taken from us?”

“I have taken. I have taken so many sparks, following orders or enjoyment.” Drift saw the Autobots bristle at that. He looked towards Crosshairs, his voice wavering. “Every night, I am haunted by my own actions. Every day, I seek penance. I pray for it. If you must kill me so that I can give you closure, I will not object.”

Crosshairs felt a ripping pain in his spark, conflicted. Shortly after his friends’ deaths, Crosshairs swore vengeance. When he had heard of Deadlock’s alleged death at Darkmount, he could finally grieve. Millenia upon millenia had passed since then. During his time on Earth, Crosshairs met Drift, fell in love with him, and wanted to share his spark with him. As much as he felt betrayed by Drift’s hidden past, he couldn’t fathom being without him.

“Crosshairs.” Hound looked towards the paratrooper. “This one is all yours. Whether or not you kill him, I don’t care.”

The weapons specialist gave Drift a withering glare.

“I will never consider you as a friend from this day forward. Don’t consider me as your friend either. As of now, you’re lower than the dirt worms shit on. Bee, let’s leave them. Crosshairs will let us know if we need to dispose of a husk.”

Hound and Bumblebee retreated, leaving Crosshairs and Drift in silence. Crosshairs stepped out of the hangar, the rain pinging off his armor; Drift followed.

The Yaeger house became further and further away.

Drift didn’t wonder how much further out Crosshairs was going to take him; in fact, he couldn’t think of anything, not even what his next words should be. Drift had lost everything.

Crosshairs finally stopped. For a moment, he did nothing. He stared out into the Texan farmland, contemplating his next actions.

Drift. That bastard , Crosshairs thought to himself.

His servo went to his hip holstered weapon, drawing it and pressing the barrel to Drift’s chest. Drift didn’t flinch. He didn’t beg or say anything; he stood there silently with tears and rain rolling down his cheeks.

“How dare ya?” Crosshairs said hatefully. “How dare ya do this ta me?”

The swordsmech didn’t offer a response.

“Ya knew once we bonded that tha truth would come out.” Crosshairs continued. “Ay’d find out about yer allegiance ta tha ‘Cons. You killin’ my friends. Ay should kill ya, right here an’ now.”

He pressed the barrel harder against Drift’s chest. Crosshairs wanted to pull the trigger; every hateful part of him urged him to squeeze the trigger and finally put an end to the murderous Decepticon, but as he looked at Drift, he couldn’t see Deadlock. Drift was remorsefully looking back at him, waiting for his execution.

He loved Drift too much.

Crosshairs grit his dentas, grunting at his inability to fire, and he holstered his weapon. “Get outta ‘ere.”

“ Kurosu-kun -”

“Leave!”

“I cannot.” Drift said quietly enough that the rainfall nearly overpowered his voice.

Crosshairs narrowed his optics. “Why not?”

“I love you. I cannot be without you.” The swordsmech couldn’t stop the emotion from pouring out in his words. “I know what I have done cannot be forgiven. I do not expect your forgiveness-”

The paratrooper let out a frustrated yell, stomping towards Drift and closing their distance by grabbing the swordsmech’s arms tightly. Drift knew better than to cry out painfully at the grip on his arms as Crosshairs shook him. “Enough! Ay don’ wanna hear anythin’. We are way past forgiveness. Yer ay Decepticon assassin, ay killer.”

“We are both killers, Cross. War turned us into killers. I did what I thought was right for a cause I once had faith in. You know that I have night terrors. I did not lie when I said that I am haunted by my past mistakes. If I had another opportunity, I would have never become the Deadlock everyone fears.”

Crosshairs let go of the other mech to pace around. There were nights when Drift hardly rested; with an exhausted smile and wave of his servo, Drift would carry on and try to make another attempt at sleeping. Some nights, the swordsmech would be gone entirely from the hangar. When they began courting, Crosshairs worried over it; sure, some mechs coped better at war than others, but the night after night interruptions were enough to have Crosshairs search the human internet for ways to lessen night terrors. For a while, Drift slept better until these last few days when Crosshairs declared that he would be honored to have Drift as his mate.

“Ay need time alone.'' The paratrooper finally spoke. He stopped his pace, arms crossing over his chest. “Ay don’t know what Ay want ta do, so just go. Fer now.”

Drift seemed to accept this decision as the majority of the tension in his frame dissipated. He wasn’t going to die today. “Very well.”

Crosshairs watched as Drift transformed into his helicopter alt and took off. Once Drift had gone into the clouds, the paratrooper dropped to his knees and began punching into the mud, yelling expletives.

Damn him! Crosshairs thought. Damn him for making me love him!

Crosshairs’ chest heaved, ragged intakes of air struggling to make its way into his ventilation system. He gave the mud one last, half-hearted punch, resigning to the emotions he held at bay.

Chapter 3: A Perfect Sire

Summary:

NSFW

Crosshairs is very enthusiastic on breeding Drift and Drift would love to have his sparkling.

Notes:

I should probably offer some translations:

Hayaku - hurry/quickly

Motto - More

Kudasai - please (used with motto)

Kurosu - Cross (used in context of Crosshairs’ name)

Daisuki - I like you a lot/I love you.

The cover of night during a new moon was all they had. Their optics and biolights were the only source of light, but the pair didn’t need much more. Drift’s back met the earth beneath them as Crosshairs knelt between his lover’s legs, servos gripping Drift’s waist tightly.

“ Hayaku .” Drift breathed out, his modesty armor folding away to reveal his interface array.

“Right to et, aye?” Crosshairs said with a chuckle. Without preamble, Crosshairs pressed two digits into Drift’s valve, relishing the squeal of delight from the swordsmech and absolutely loving how quickly Drift had gotten wet. The blue and golden-detailed spike twitched in response to Crosshairs’ exploring digits. “Tell me what ya want, love.”

Crosshairs’ modesty armor made way for the spike leaving its housing.

Drift shifted his hips at an attempt to entice his lover, but a quick stroke to a sensory node put a halt to the action. His helm tossed back into the ground as a pleasured moan left him.

“Ay ain’t hearin’ anythin’.”

“Cross… please.” Drift tried to shift his hips again. “Please.”

“Please what?” A wide grin formed on Crosshairs’ lips as he continued to tease his lover’s valve. At Drift’s whine, the paratrooper continued. “Ya don’t wanna admit that ya need me? It ain’t hard, just say the words. Ay need ya, Cross.”

With practiced expertise, Crosshairs swirled a digit around a sensory node and he watched Drift struggle to formulate the words he needed to say.

“I-I need you, Cross.”

“That’sa good mech.” He withdrew his digits, smearing Drift’s fluids on his spike before lining himself up and pushing into his lover. A deep groan left the paratrooper as he allowed a moment to feel Drift’s valve flutter around him. “Primus, yer so perfect, Drift. Ay am gonna love overloadin’ in ya.”

Drift’s spark hammered within his chest at the sensation of his lover welcoming himself inside of him and his engine revved at the anticipation of being filled. “Yes. Please, yes.”

Crosshairs began to move his hips into a steady rhythm with his servos gripping Drift’s waist. “Ya deserve this, my cherry blossom. My attention, my spike, my sparklin’. Ya’d like that, won’t ya?”

“Yes! Please, my love!” 

Drift couldn’t deny the fluttering in his chest at the prospect of carrying. It was something he craved, especially now with the Autobot/Decepticon conflict being as dormant as it was, and Crosshairs had an infatuation of sparking him. He couldn’t bring himself to legitimately ask for a sparkling since all this was just talk and play, but he could pretend that his inhibitor wasn’t working and that their spark merges could result in a sparkling.

The thought alone added charge to his compiling pleasure. Drift gasped as Crosshairs’ spike struck deep inside his valve and Crosshairs’ engine revved at the sight of the swordsmech arching beneath him.

“Did that feel good?” He purred, slowing his pace.

Drift hastily nodded, unable to trust his voice to make words.

“Say ya want more.” Crosshairs stopped entirely, his grin widening as his lover made sounds of protest at the lack of movement. Drift defiantly tried to move, but the paratrooper tightened his grip on Drift’s waist. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t be naughty.”

Drift’s engine whined. “ Motto !”

Satisfied, Crosshairs thrust into his lover and was rewarded by Drift’s calipers gripping him every time he struck the cluster of sensors deep in his valve.

“ Kudasai, motto kudasai !”

Crosshairs let go of his grip on Drift’s hips and he leaned over to claim a kiss. Drift fervently returned the kiss, his servos snaking up the paratrooper back to hold him in place. His thighs gripped Crosshairs’ sides.

“Yer mine. All mine, ya got that?” Crosshairs said against Drift’s audial with a growl of his engine. “No one else can have ya.”

“Yours.” Drift breathed out.

“That’s right. Mine. Yer mine to claim, mine ta fill.” The paratrooper whispered. His spark fluttered as he felt Drift’s valve become more slick; he rewarded his lover’s arousal with a gentle swirl of his anterior node. “Ay’ll fill ya until yer spillin’ over, swollen with our bits. Ya’d like that, won’t ya?”

“Yes!”

Crosshairs moved his servo from Drift’s node to his middle, his thumb rubbing affectionately. Drift wanted to melt away as his spark ached at the loving gesture.

“You would be the perfect Sire.” Drift mumbled out in his blissful state.

Crosshairs’ deep and easy pace paused, pressing hard against his lover as he rolled his hips. His voice sounded strained. “Careful, cherry blossom.”

His spark stirred at those words and Crosshairs had to bring himself down from overloading on the spot.

Drift leaned upwards to drag his lover down for a kiss, dentas carefully biting Crosshairs’ lower lip. “ Kudasai, Kurosu . I want to be heavy with your child.”

In their moments of fiery passion, Drift hardly made requests outside of begging for more or saying please, so this had Crosshairs conflicted on so many levels. The sight of his lover carrying filled him with such joy and an immense pride. Had they not been at war with the world, he would have sparked the mech by now. Crosshairs was all talk, no action, but the need to finally act rocked his core.

His thrusts were tender and gentle as he pressed his forehelm against Drift’s helm crest. Their optics met and Drift noticed a shift in Crosshairs’ gaze. “ Kurosu ?”

“Ya think Ay would be ay perfect Sire?” Crosshairs asked softly. Before Drift could respond, his lover kissed him deeply. Drift whined against Crosshairs’ lips as his servos clutched over the green set of chestplates, begging without words for a merge to prove Crosshairs right.

Separating the kiss, Crosshairs cupped Drift’s cheek. His voice demanded obedience. “Let me prove that Ay can be ay perfect Sire.”

The surge that blasted through Drift’s spark was almost overwhelming and in his elation, Drift dug his heels into the ground and threw his hips to the side. The abrupt change of position startled Crosshairs as Drift was now straddling his lap. Somehow, the pair never separated. Reignited with vigor, Drift leaned over Crosshairs to kiss him as he lifted his hips and slammed them down. Crosshairs groaned loudly.

He searched his code for the inhibitor with virtual lightning speed. Before he deactivated it, Drift had to be certain.

“Is that what you truly want?”

Crosshairs’ servos roamed to Drift’s middle. “Ay’ll put as many bits as ya want inside ya. They’ll be mine ta protect. Ay’ll be ay good Sire.”

Drift killed the protection protocols. “My perfect Sire.”

His spark pounded hard within its chamber, eagerly waiting for what was to come. An intense sensation coiled deep inside the swordsmech as his overload climbed and the excitement he felt drove it higher.

“Perfect, just perfect.” Drift moaned.

Crosshairs loved hearing those words. Images of what Drift would look like at the height of his carrying made him desperately want it more and more. In an instant, he located his coding for his inhibitor, powering it off.

“Merge wit’ me, cherry blossom.”

 Immediately, Drift complied. The light of his spark illuminated the paratrooper beneath him and Crosshairs was left breathless. He adored seeing Drift’s beautiful spark. Crosshairs’ chestplates folded away and they moved in tandem, chests pressing close and their sparks already reaching for the other familiar. As soon as they merged, the pair overloaded, clutching each other in vice grips, almost afraid to let go.

Crosshairs felt thrill and elation pour from Drift’s spark and the paratrooper was giddy with the knowledge that if this merge kindled a spark, it would be his.

“ Daisuki .” Drift murmured while peppering kisses to Crosshairs’ helm. “ Daisuki .”

“Ay love ya too, cherry blossom.”

 

Chapter 4: Mercy

Summary:

The DJD find Drift, but there’s an ethical complication that the DJD doesn’t care about and Crosshairs loses everything.

MASSIVE WARNING
Seppuku, fetal death, beheading, suicide

Notes:

If you believe you can’t tolerate this, please move on.

Translations/

Kurosu - Crosshairs’ name, Cross

Shazai itashimasu - a really deep form of apology, usually public

Watashi no akachan, shazai itashimasu - My baby, I’m so sorry

The Yeager property was in shambles.

Chaos had left its mark all over the house and barn, having been reduced to rubble. The hangar still held some structure, but it too would fall in time.

“We need to get out of here!” Cade said urgently.

Hound huffed, readying his weapons. “We’re pinned like rats, Cade. We go out there, the ship will rip us apart.”

The ground trembled, engine thrusters cycling down as the aforementioned ship landed.

“No matter what happens, stay behind us.” Hound ordered. “Bee, Crosshairs, cover Drift.”

Saying their affirmatives, the Autobots waited. The snow groaned as incredibly heavy steps made their marks.

“Deadlock, we know you are here.”

Whatever warmth that was in the hangar had dissipated, replaced by an intense freezing cold. The Autobots tensed at the calling voice.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Hound hissed.

“Hound, what are we going to do?” Bumblebee whispered in borderline panic.

Everyone, omit humans, looked towards Drift. He had an equal look of terror and his servos went to his rounding middle. Crosshairs stood in front of Drift, a fierce determination in his face. “We hafta fight them off.”

“Come on out, Deadlock. Your death will be swift if you hurry. We just might spare your friends.”

“You know we can’t. They’ll kill us all.”

“They can’t have ‘im!” Crosshairs growled back at Hound.

“I know, but-”

“Wait, who is here? Who is Deadlock?” Cade interrupted.

“The Decepticon Justice Division.” Drift said. “They have come to execute me for defecting.”

“I’m running out of patience, Deadlock. I am offering one last chance to come out of there on our own free will before we slaughter your friends and human pets.”

“I have no choice.” 

Crosshairs grabbed Drift’s arm as he began to move. “Yer not goin’ out there.”

“I will not allow you all to be killed because of me.”

“Our sparklin’-”

“I know.” Drift pulled his arm away and walked towards the entrance of the hangar.

Cade looked in horror between Drift’s walking form and the rest of the Autobtos. “They’ll execute him while he’s expecting? What the fuck… They have to show some mercy.”

“The DJD never shows mercy.” Hound stated.

Crosshairs angrily trembled where he stood before he let out a growl of disdain. “They can’t have ‘im!”

He marched towards Drift, throwing off Hound’s arm. Swearing, Hound looked towards the humans and Bumblebee. “Protect them. I’m going to cover this asshole.”

Before Drift could step out the hangar, Crosshairs grabbed him by the arm and strode past him. His weapon was raised towards the five intruders.

“Ya can’t have ‘im.” Crosshairs snarled.

Tarn let out a humorless laugh. “Ah, Deadlock, sending out cannon fodder? It won’t lessen the blow.”

“No.” Drift said, stepping beside Crosshairs and shoving a servo into his chest to force the paratrooper back. “I am here.”

“Drift, get back inside. Now.” Crosshairs urged.

“Cross-”

“No! Go inside!”

“A lovers’ quarrel!” Tarn exclaimed. “Oh, how I love these.”

Vos spoke, calling Tarn’s attention as he pointed to the swordsmech. Namely at the rounded shape beginning to form at his midsection.

“Oh, Deadlock.” Tarn said with a purr. “You dog.”

Crosshairs flared his arm out to try and shield the DJD’s optics from Drift’s middle, but the effort was fruitless. They had seen it. The paratrooper hated the look of glee in the DJD’s optics, it made him sick to his tank. They couldn’t have Drift. Not when they were finally at peace.

“Cross, I cannot let you interfere.” Drift pleaded.

“Ay can’t let ‘em kill ya either.”

“It is inevitable. Please.”

“Such wise words, Deadlock.” Tarn replied as he took another step closer. “Might I inform your lover that if he does decide to fire upon us, he will have sealed the fate of everyone hiding.”

“Please, Cross.”

The paratrooper grit his dentas so tight that he thought they would crack under the pressure. “Ay can’t let ya die. Ay can’t let either of ya die.”

Tarn tapped the chin of his faceplate. “Let’s do this instead since your lover insists on dramatics. Your armor, Deadlock, represents a samurai, a Japanese warrior. I’ll offer you a choice.”

From his subspace, Tarn brandished a short sword, a trophy from a previous hunt.

“Take this, use it on yourself, and we will spare everyone here. Or you can take your chances in battle and I will personally ensure your death will be most painful.” Tarn offered the hilt to Drift. As the swordsmech approached the DJD leader against Crosshairs’ protests, Tarn tutted. “No cop out suicides. I want you to perform sepukku .”

Drift’s servo froze, hesitating as he looked up at Tarn in shocked horror. “ Seppuku ?”

Crosshairs was unfamiliar with the word, but a quick internet search had him yelling. “Tarn, ya sick fuck!”

Behind him, Hound also made out several swears.

“Would you rather I gut him alive and have Tesarus dispose of your unborn?” Tarn’s voice had teasing lilt as the larger DJD member chuckled.

“I would love that.” Tesarus crooned.

Tarn continued. “This way, your unborn is spared a slow death as it suffocates in Deadlock’s cold husk. Consider it a mercy.”

Crosshairs couldn’t stop the angry tears from rolling down his cheeks. “Bastards! Ya bastards!”

“So, Deadlock, what will it be?’

Drift’s servo trembled. His sparkling, his precious little sparkling. He gave his middle an affectionate stroke as he grabbed the hilt of the short sword. A smile could be heard in Tarn’s voice.

“Wonderful. Give me your sword.”

“Don’t do this, Tarn!” Crosshairs yelled as Drift removed his sword from its sheath and passed it to the DJD leader. “Kill me in exchange! Spare him!”

Tarn spun the sword in his servo, marveling it as he gave it a testing scrape against his digit. “Sharp.”

“Tarn, please!” Crosshairs’ please fell on deaf audios. To Tarn, begging was music. He had seen all sorts of things in the last moments of their quarries, but this, this would be a glorious first. Drift took a step back before slowly kneeling to the ground. “Drift, don’t! Don’t!”

“ Kurosu. Shazai itashimasu. ” Drift said as he raised his arms. “ Watashi no akachan, shazai itashimasu. Shazai itashimasu .”

“Kill me in ‘is place, Tarn! Please don’t make ‘im do this! Please!”Crosshairs watched Drift level his arms in front of him and he lurched forward, but Hound grabbed him by the waist. “Let me go, Hound!”

“I can’t do that.”

Drift’s ex-vent trembled, a hot plume leaving him as he kept whispering shazai itashimasu , and in one swift movement, he pulled the blade into him.

Pain.

Unbearable pain immediately followed as the snow in front of him was stained bright blue. His spark ripped from the severance of his sparkling’s life force. He felt his face and servos prickle, but he had to keep going.

“ Watashi… no akachan… shazai itashimasu… ” Drift ripped the short sword across his abdomen.

He heard Crosshairs’ furious wails behind him and Drift bowed forward.

 

The night grew bitterly cold.

Bumblebee had taken the Yaegers to Shane’s to stay until they found a new home and Hound remained with Crosshairs on the property.

Crosshairs hadn’t moved in hours since the DJD left. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t leave them. Coolant rolled down his cheeks, pinging against his armor when it dripped from his chin.

“Crosshairs.” Hound said quietly. “We need to lay them to rest.”

The paratrooper couldn’t hear him even as the weapons specialist stood beside him. His optics couldn’t look away from Drift’s headless frame and the mech blood pooled around him. His life, his future, they were taken away from him.

“I was planning on killing you all, but this. This is beautiful. Killing you would be too easy. Your suffering pleases me.”

 

“My love, can you… ?” Drift pointed towards his back. “It persists on being sore.”

“O’ course, cherry blossom. Anythin’ ta make ya comfortable.”

 

“Will the bit like me?”

“Cross, do not worry about that. You will be wonderful.”

 

“Ay Sire. Ay Sire! Ay’m gonna be ay Sire!”

“Easy, Cross! Do not jostle me too hard.”

 

It was too much.

The loss was too much to bear and Crosshairs was suffocating. In a swift action, Crosshairs turned to grab any weapon Hound had on him. The weapons specialist cried out in surprise as Crosshairs unholstered one of his smaller firearms and they began to wrestle for control.

“Crosshairs, don’t! We can’t lose you too! Think about what you’re doing!”

The paratrooper was a mech of determination. When he wanted something, he got it. Crosshairs sought death and the strength flooding him to accomplish his goal was unfathomable.

With an opposite twist from Hound’s servo, Crosshairs had the firearm. Before Hound could knock it out of his servos, Crosshairs shoved the barrel against the bottom of his jaw.

 

Nature had grown over the Yaeger property, deserted for many years. No one could go back there, not after the bloodshed. Where the hangar once stood, three boulders rested.

Chapter 5: More in Life

Summary:

Short Fluff

Drift thinks too hard on the future and Crosshairs makes it simple for them.

“What do you want out of life, Drift?” Tessa asked as she sat on the roof of the house. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, eyes focused up into the night sky. A box of tissues sat beside her alongside several crumpled balls. Shane had broken up with her days ago, but the heartbreak was still raw.

The samurai stood beside her, offering her company after finding her sobbing. “I want to survive.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Tessa said. “Once everything is all over, what do you want?”

For a long moment, Drift couldn’t say anything; they were at war for so long that he hardly thought of what would happen afterwards. Life after war seemed like a distant and lost hope. 

“I… am not sure.”

 

Drift meditated on this. To seek a purpose past the war, being more than a warrior, seemed like an impossible task. There could be no telling how much longer they were going to be in conflict; it could be months, years, before it was over. In any case, what then?

In the midst of his deep thinking, Drift felt an arm wrap around his waist and a tug brought him closer to the other mech. 

“Yer too quiet over ‘ere.” Crosshairs pressed a kiss to Drift’s lips. “What’s got yer processors runnin’?”

“Is it too obvious that I am deep in thought?” Drift asked with a gentle smile. It was meant to be a rhetorical question, so Drift kept going. “I am thinking about after.”

“After? That’s ay bit grim, ain’t it?”

Drift gave him a hard poke to his side. The paratrooper hardly flinched at the action, but grinned wide. “Not the afterlife. After the war.”

Crosshairs snorted as he stepped away from his lover and he let out a sigh. “Ya really think this ‘ole mess will end?”

“It has to. Someday.”

“Someday, huh? What would ya do after that someday?”

Drift found himself at a loss again and his answer was consistent with what he told Tessa a few nights before. “I am not sure.”

Crosshairs allowed a short laugh to leave him as he took one of Drift’s servos. “Well, Ay’ll tell ya what Ay would do. Ay’d bug outta ‘ere, take you with me, and explore the universe with ya with no one tellin’ us where we can or can’t go. We’ll forge ay new life, you and me-”

“You and I.” Drift corrected. 

Crosshairs put a digit to the samurai’s lips so he could finish. “-and no one can stop us.”

The paratrooper made it sound so simple, Drift thought. However, the excitement behind Crosshairs’ expression made it something that Drift wanted too.

“But more importantly,” Crosshairs added. “What do you want? ‘Cuz Ay won’t drag ya around the universe if ya don’t want to.”

Drift chuckled. “I imagine touring the universe would be an endless adventure. I want what will make you happy.”

“And Ay want what will make you happy.”

“Well, for now, until someday happens, all I want is you because you make me happy.”

The paratrooper tugged his lover closer, kissing Drift’s helm crest. “You make me happy too, cherry blossom.”

Chapter 6: A Perfect Sire Ch. 2

Summary:

Life happens yall, undiagnosed ADHD, grew a new baby and had her; moving on up the east side lol

For my fellow DriftxCross lovers, here’s a little more.

—

It’s winter time.

Drift can’t stand the heat and the others don’t know about the sparkling yet. There’s a slight misunderstanding with Hound.

It was needless to say that seeing a Cybertronian purge its tanks was a bewildering sight, especially since the Yeagers had never seen it before. Drift had wandered away from the group to do just that at the far side of the hangar.

Cade immediately began to inquire what was wrong. “Is there anything I can do? Damn, I didn’t know you guys could come down with illnesses.”

Drift waved off their human friend, still not lifting his helm from its bowed state since he didn’t trust that he was finished. “No, this… this will pass.”

“If he’s sick, he can’t be spreading it to the rest of us.” Hound said. “None of us here are medics that can diagnose and treat whatever is going on over there.”

Bumblebee nodded in agreement. Crosshairs would have had a snarky remark, but oddly, he said nothing. Instead, the paratrooper silently made his way over to Drift and knelt by him, a servo stroking the samurai’s back.

“Crosshairs, you should be careful not to get what he’s got.” Hound warned. “Especially since the two of you are sucking faces.”

“You all mind yer business. Ay’ve got ‘im.” The paratrooper finally said.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Crosshairs had to give credit to the human; Cade was willing to provide assistance even in ways that he couldn’t. With Joyce forking over resources to house them and keep them maintained, Cade had an endless supply of things at his disposal to be a nurse for the Autobots. Drift’s groaning brought the other mech out of his musings. With the others further away, Crosshairs could finally ask the looming question.

“Did the kindlin’ take?”

Drift eased his weight off his knees and sat on his pedes. “I believe it did. I had a suspicion these last couple of days, but now, I am convinced our efforts are successful.”

There was a giddy excitement that buzzed in Crosshairs’ circuits, but he forced himself to tone it down. He opted for a lingering kiss to Drift’s helm crest.

“Then Ay suppose my lovely cherry blossom deserves extra love tonight.” The paratrooper’s words of promise nearly stirred Drift, but his bouts of nausea reeled him back.

“We will see.”

“Yes, we will. All you gotta do is lay back and Ay’ll do the work.” Crosshairs grinned widely.

With a chuckle, Drift pecked Crosshairs’ cheek. “You pamper me too much.”

“On the contrary, Ay don’t pamper you enough.” The paratrooper stood up, offering a servo to Drift. He accepted the assistance and was pulled onto his pedes before Crosshairs tugged him closely against his own frame. His voice lowered into the deep tone Crosshairs liked to reserve for their intimate moments. “Especially since now yer carryin’ my bitlet, my lovin’ Carrier deserves everythin’.”

Drift couldn’t stop his whine.

 

Crosshairs and Drift were laid out in the grass, once again under the cover of nightfall. The benefit of being in country Texas was the ability to see the night sky in its fullest without the impeding light pollution. The stars were plentiful, bright, and winking at them from above. The paratrooper wasn’t entirely focused on the stars however; he was too enamored by his lover, his free servo stroking over Drift’s chestplates. 

Drift didn’t mind the action. In fact, it felt extremely comforting and the repetitive petting helped him ease into a calmer state. So much so that the samurai’s engine began to purr. A chuckle left Crosshairs. Drift’s attention moved from the night sky to the paratrooper beside him; Crosshairs was on his side, an arm propping up his helm, and his gaze was focused.

“Nandesuka?” Drift asked softly.

“Nothin’. Just admirin’.”

“Hm.”

Crosshairs leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to his lover’s helm crest. “Ya feelin’ better?”

“Yes.” The nausea had unfortunately persisted most of the day, but it seemed like it had waned. Drift wouldn’t know for sure until he got moving again. Scooting closer, the paratrooper pulled Drift against his chest into a proper cuddle.

“Would ya like to just lay around?”

Drift moved, burying his face against Crosshairs’ chest, arms hugging the green mech and his outer leg draping over Crosshairs’ hip. “This is perfect.”

He felt another kiss to his helm crest.

“I am so fortunate to have you, Kurosu.” Drift whispered.

“If anyone’s lucky, it’s me. Yer willin’ to put up with my nonsense.”

A chuckle left the samurai. “Hardly nonsense.”

“If ya say so.”

Hardly any other words were spoken as they laid in embrace, focused on each other, forgetting about the world around them.

 

Summer turned to fall and eventually to winter.

While the rest of the northern and midwestern states were covered in snow, Texas was colder than usual. A dense layer of frost covered the ground and trees, and a human’s breath was visible upon exhale. There wasn’t a single shred of warmth as the sun remained hidden behind overcast clouds and polar winds blew over the lands. The cold air was unforgiving to human and Cybertronian alike.

The barn where the Autobots resided was equipped with decent AC, but a rather pisspoor heating system. Their saving grace was the insulation had been put in prior to the drastic drop in temperature because Cade had been proactive upon seeing the predicted forecast for the winter towards the end of summer. Joyce was working on allocating some funds for Cade to upgrade the heating system, but the authorization was taking time.

For now, their only dependable source of heat were an assortment of tubular heaters intended for livestock fixed alongside a wall. They were arranged high enough that the heat would still travel to the floor, but wouldn’t be at face level with the Autobots.

Drift couldn’t stand it.

While the others were shivering and griping about the cold, Drift was too hot. God forbid he open a barn door to relieve the heat and he was met with an angry Hound and Bumblebee. Unfortunately, it was still too cold to be outside and Drift could only tolerate it for a while before it got to him. In short, Drift was miserable. Hound and Bumblebee didn’t know the mech was carrying, so they thought Drift was being prissy; Crosshairs somehow managed to keep the peace.

Today, Drift’s patience was hair thin. He felt suffocated despite the 78-degree Fahrenheit air temperature in the main section of the barn where the heaters were located; the corner where Drift frequently stayed maintained a median temperature of 45-degrees with a window partially cracked. Hound bitched more than Bumblebee about the window being open, but Drift refused to let the burlier mech come over and shut the window.

“Quit yer brooding, Drift.” Hound growled as he caught some of the polar air blowing in. “Close that damn window.”

“No.” Seething couldn’t begin to describe Drift. He had a glare fixed on Hound as he knelt by the window.

“There ain’t no reason to have it open other than being a dick.”

“I want it open.”

“Yer sensors need to be recalibrated if yer that opposed to being warm. I didn’t see you whining over the summer about the heat.”

“That is because the air conditioning was actively running.” Drift stated matter of factly.

Hound wagged a digit his way. “You’ve got some fucking jokes on you. I oughtta beat yer ass for that.”

Crosshairs, who was off at the wayside cleaning his weapons, raised his helm and shot the other mech a harsh look. “No one’s beatin’ anyone’s ass.”

The paratrooper wasn’t spared Hound’s angry look. “And you can’t keep defending Drift’s pompous ass no matter how much yer fucking him-”

“Watch yer mouth.” Crosshairs hissed.

“-so get him to close the damn window!”

“If Drift wants it open, it stays open. So quit yer bitchin’.”

It had been nearly three weeks since the outside world was tolerable; perhaps it was the cabin fever that fueled Hound’s anger, but this seemed to take the icing on the cake. It took three strides for Hound to close distance with Drift. The samurai almost seemed to anticipate the commando’s action as he moved one leg forward to push himself up to meet Hound’s grapple. Arms wrapped around Hound’s legs and Drift tucked his helm against the other mech’s side. He felt Hound drop his fists against his backside in a futile attempt to get him to release as Drift forced Hound’s knees to buckle. He pushed forward, dropping Hound onto his back. The barn seemed to shake.

As the two continued to grapple, Crosshairs leapt from his spot, weapons abandoned. Bumblebee joined him to assist, having minded his business up until now. They couldn’t afford to have either one of them crash through a wall and all of them suffer without shelter.

Drift maintained a side control, keeping Hound on the ground, but the darker green mech fought back. He reared his outer fist, colliding it against Drift’s helm. He managed several punches before Crosshairs grabbed his forearm and anchored it back while Bumblebee pulled Drift off. Drift, having no interest in pursuing further aggression, walked off; he shook off Bumblebee, huffing. The taste of energon was in his mouth and his audios were ringing; Hound had a heavy punch.

“Quit that shit before Ay knock yer ass out!” Crosshairs snarled at Hound. He let him go once Drift was several paces away. “Go fer ay fuckin’ drive!”

Hound pushed himself to his pedes. “Yer higher than a kite on a windy day if you think I’m drivin’ out there!”

“Let it rest, Hound.” Bumblebee said. “It’s just a couple more days of polar winds and frost.”

“That ain’t the point. The point is Drift being too damn uncomfortable and he’s dragging us with him.”

Crosshairs snorted. “Yer currently the only one bitchin’.”

While they continued their exchange, Drift stood off to the side; his servos were brought up to his face. The ringing seemed to get worse as he felt his frame swirl.

“Kurosu-” he breathed out.

The ground was out from beneath him, knees loudly clanging against the barn floor. Drift braced his servos against the floor as his frame heaved.

Contents spilled beneath Drift and he felt Crosshairs’ familiar servos on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, blossom.” He heard distantly. “It’s okay.”

Crosshairs’ servo clutched Drift’s wandering one.

“The hell’s wrong with him? I didn’t hit him that hard.” Hound asked with a scowl.

Crosshairs ignored the mech as his free servo stroked Drift’s back.

“I… don’t…” Drift started to gasp, the heat of the barn starting to overwhelm him. His cooling fans engaged on high. “Outside.”

Crosshairs adjusted his position to aid Drift back on his pedes, bracing his swaying lover. “Hound, get the door.”

“But the-” he started to protest.

“Now!” The paratrooper barked.

Hound growled, but he moved for the barn door, unlatching it and pulling it open whilst Crosshairs half-carried Drift out.

The frigid air that blew in was unforgiving, but to Drift, it felt like pure relief. He clutched Crosshairs as his vents blew out the hot air causing him to overheat; the plumes swirled around him.

“It’s okay, love.” Crosshairs assured softly.

Drift leaned into the paratrooper as he slowly started to feel better once his core temperature began to drop.

“Ay’m sorry Ay didn’t intervene sooner. Are ya alright, cherry blossom? The bitlet?”

“I believe we are fine.” Drift said softly. “It is beginning to pass. You needn’t apologize.”

“Still.” Crosshairs huffed. “Ay’ll weld Hound’s aft to the floor.”

“We need to tell them. I cannot be battered without risking the spark of our creation.”

Crosshairs frowned. “Drift-”

“It is inevitable, Kurosu. They must know. I will tell them.”

Crosshairs hesitated; he wanted to prolong telling the others and the humans about the incoming sparkling. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps he wanted to keep this sparkling, this secret, to himself. They were his. His and Drift’s.

“…Alright. If ya say so.”

Drift nodded. “For now, we should head back inside. It is rather cold now.”

Chapter 7: On the Hunt

Summary:

Inspiration for the direwolves are taken with permission by Antubis0 on DeviantArt. I recommend checking out her art!

For story purposes, Drift is a she-wolf.

—

Optimus and his pack are fleeing Cemetery Wind hunters; they find momentary peace.

Crosshairs and Drift need to get along better.

The night was cold, a harsh wind blowing across the dense trees. Much to the pack’s relief, the den protected them from the outside elements. Their bodies pressed against one another as they slumbered.

Recently, Optimus had to drive his pack far north; as much as they had tried to remain out of sight from humans, these Cemetery Wind hunters were determined to claim a direwolf for their trophy case. It was a cruel sport. Optimus lost many good pack mates and to fight the hunters head on was suicide. They’ve had no choice but to keep fleeing.

Optimus was the first to wake the following morning.

He clambered out from the tree roots protecting the entrance of the den, bowing and arching to stretch his previous curled up form. A yawn left him.

Tree roots rustled again as Bumblebee made his way out. “Optimus?”

“Good morning, Bumblebee.”

“Good morning.”

“We must have a successful hunt today. Otherwise, we may go hungry again. Game is becoming scarce the further north we go.” Optimus reminded grimly.

The yellow and black wolf knew that whining about their misfortunes would do nothing. Instead, he gestured back to the den. “Would you like me to wake the others?”

“No. You and I will scout the territory for signs of caribou or other promising prey. If we find something suitable and require help, I’ll send you to fetch them. Come.”

 

Optimus’ and Bumblebee’s absence were quickly noted.

“Maybe they’ll catch something to bring back.” Hound mused. He tried not to dwell on the gripping hunger in his belly.

“We could do our own hunt in case they don’t bring back something.” Crosshairs added. “Our luck has been dwindling.”

Drift laid on a flat rock, licking at one of her front paws. She paused her grooming to respond to Crosshairs’ suggestion. “If we leave and they require aid, we will have ruined all of our chances at securing food.”

The green and black wolf grumbled. “They can figure it out.”

“The wise decision would be to remain here.” Drift reaffirmed. She returned to licking her paws.

Hound pushed himself to stand. “I’m going to see about any scraps nearby.”

Crosshairs snorted as he padded towards the burlier wolf, raising a paw to poke at Hound’s chest. “You sniffin’ about fer squirrels and hares? Good luck. They’ll outmaneuver you in a heartbeat.”

“As if.”

“Crosshairs, leave Hound be. If he wishes to hunt small game nearby, so be it.”

“Ah, so we collectively can’t go on a hunt, but Hound can hunt scraps?” A frown formed on Crosshairs’ muzzle.

“Hound has the patience to hunt while hungry. You do not.” Drift stated matter of factly as she ignored Crosshairs’ sputtering. She rose to her paws, making her way towards the other two wolves. “I also do not trust either of you to not go for each other’s throats if I went off to hunt small game.”

“So harsh, Drift.” Hound snorted. He turned away towards the east, calling back as he walked off. “I won’t be long.”

Crosshairs growled lowly, his ears pulling back against his head as he turned to face Drift. “You’ve got some real nerve. Ay don’t understand why Optimus took yer sorry carcass in.”

“Yes, you do. He doesn’t wish to lose any more direwolves to the hunters.”

“Ay’d be fine if they caught you. Yer ay bitter she-wolf. Rude. Pretentious.”

Drift’s laugh had no humor. “Deserving of death for those simple qualities? Crosshairs, you wound me. Despite your arrogance and self-serving nature, I would not wish you a humiliating death.”

“Humiliating? Ay’d die fightin’.”

“Struggling. Like a frightened animal trapped in a corner. Humiliated in the eyes of death and defeat.”

Crosshairs’ hackles bristled, exposing his teeth as he snarled towards Drift. “How about Ay tear out yer throat fer insultin’ me?”

A snort left the she-wolf as she turned away. “You are hungry, Crosshairs. Your threats are empty.”

She went back to the flat rock, laying down on it again as she resumed grooming herself. Crosshairs bit back a retort as his stomach grumbled loudly, betraying his hunger and proving Drift correct. He huffed, dropping his backside to sit.

“Pretentious she-wolf.”

 

The hunter threat seemed to have waned as several full moons had passed. While this lifted some pressure off Optimus’ pack, the impending winter weather loomed over them. The skies were overcast, the sun seldomly breaking through the clouds. The air was brisk and cold, however the lack of a breeze meant that the cold was tolerable.

The pack moved in line formation across the open field; they were out on a hunt for a migrating herd of bison. Bumblebee had picked up their trail during one of his scouts and he was leading the pack at a fast trot. Migrating bison moved fast which meant they had a small window to fell a bison or two before they were long gone.

A brush of air blew past them and with it, the scent of bison. Bumblebee felt his heart stir in excitement. “They’re not too far off.”

“Well done runt.” Hound said from behind him. The more senior tracker would estimate the herd was within the next mile. “Maintain pace. We’re downwind, so we’ll have the jump on them.”

They kept going without much word. Their senses were ready, muscles twitching to go faster.

It wasn’t long before they heard the bison snorting and chuffing, the ground rumbling at their movement. Slowly, they moved from their line formation to a flank. It was a plan they had nearly perfected. Move the herd, separate them, tire out their selected prey. They, as direwolves, were half the size of the bison. A normal pack of wolves wouldn’t dare tempt death by attacking a fortified bison herd. Optimus and his pack were enough.

The flank was maintained until there was a loud chuff, the signal that the pack was spotted. Massive tons began to move and the thundering hooves shook the earth beneath them as the bison herd ran. The pack picked up their pace, bringing up the rear of the herd.

Optimus cut into the herd, snapping his jaws at the hindquarters of their prey. Hound and Bumblebee saddled up behind him, making a ‘v’ to start splitting the herd.

The prey animals they had targeted broke off from the main herd and the five wolves quickly rounded them away from the safety of the herd. There were six of them, bellowing and chuffing as the pack urged them on. The first one to show signs of tiring would be their target.

They ran for what seemed like a mile or two before two of the bison started to slow. The massive animals heaved and huffed, and the pack quickly rounded them off; the pursuit was now abandoned as they focused on overwhelming the pair that was left behind. Circling around the bison, the wolves made sure that their quarry wouldn’t try to make an escape. Crosshairs was the first to engage; he lunged forward eagerly with snapping jaws aiming to make contact on the left bison. Distracted, Hound took advantage and his jaws made contact with a hind leg. He pulled back on the limb to try and knock over the large beast while avoiding a kick to the head. Having chosen which of the two they wanted, the pack focused. Bumblebee quickly chased off the other bison to keep it from potentially helping their quarry.

Optimus seized the opportunity to close his teeth around the bison’s throat. He held on tightly as the animal thrashed, sputtering for breath as its trachea closed unwillingly. With Optimus occupied, it was up to the rest to knock over the bison. Such a task wasn’t difficult for the four. In moments, the bison was on its side.

The belly of the animal was ripped open by eager and hungry mouths, heat from it rising and making swirls in the cold air. Optimus could finally let go once he was sure the bison was dead. Blood stained their faces, the sound of flesh ripping and bones breaking temporarily filled the surrounding area.

Little did they know that this feast would be their last for a while.

 

Notes:

Meditation by antubis0 on DeviantArt

https://www.deviantart.com/antubis0/art/Meditation-479413287

Chapter 8: A Perfect Sire ch 3

Summary:

Drift breaks the news to the rest of the Autobots and Optimus returns from his travels.

Everyone is eager for the sparkling and Drift asks Crosshairs an important question.

Smut at the end.

TRANSLATION:

Soudesu - it is so (think “I know” but not the literal translation, if that makes sense)

“Hold on, excuse me?” Cade arched his brow high as Drift finally made the declaration that he was with spark. “You are what now?”

“Carrying a sparkling. A child, if you will.” Drift clarified, but it only added to the confusion on the human’s face. The unasked question was promptly answered. “Cybertronians aren’t limited by the frame type of our species to carry the next generation unlike your planet’s species.”

While Cade soaked in this information, Hound was next to speak. “So these last handful of months, you being pissy and moody, and sick, that is all because you let shit-for-brains put a sparkling in you?”

Drift made a face at Hound’s crassness, but Crosshairs was more vocal about it. “Watch yer fuckin’ mouth. Let’s not forget you punched Drift’s head multiple times this past winter storm. The only reason why I haven’t lopped off yer servos is because Drift won’t let me.”

Hound actually bowed his helm and kicked at the dirt beneath him. “Shit, if I’d have known…”

Crosshairs grunted. “Uh huh, apologize.”

“I am sorry, Drift.”

The blue and gold mech nodded. “I accept your apology.”

Having seemingly recovered, Cade spoke up again. “So what does this mean now? How long are you going to be in this state? Are you going to have different needs? Will you require actual medical assistance when the, uh…”

Cade snapped his fingers, trying to find the word.

“Sparkling.” Bumblebee supplied.

“Yes, that, sparkling. When the sparkling arrives?” He finished.

“All valid questions. If my calculations are correct, the sparkling will emerge by next winter-”

“A whole ‘nother year?!” Cade’s eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets.

Drift paid no mind to the outburst and continued. “-and as for my needs and medical assistance, I will make do with the supplies we have here.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong.” Crosshairs’ engine growled hard as the mech crossed his arms.

“You don’t know that.” Cade said back, furrowing his brows at him. “Things happened with Emily’s pregnancy with Tessa.”

Before Crosshairs could offer more of his opinion, Drift raised a servo to interject and he gave the paratrooper a pleading look. “We will face any obstacles as they arrive. For now, all is well.”

Crosshairs huffed, but added nothing else.

The man let out a sigh, hands running through his hair as though to release some stress before letting his hands drop at his sides. “I suppose congratulations are in order. Judging how quick Crosshairs is to defend you, you’re in good hands. Which says a lot.”

“And what is that supposed ta mean?” Crosshairs stepped towards Cade in an almost threatening manner.

“You’re an asshole to all of us except Drift.” He didn’t bat an eye.

Before Cade could meet his end, Drift placed a servo on Crosshairs’ shoulder and gripped him tightly. “Yes, thank you, Cade. Crosshairs is an excellent partner and he’ll be an excellent Sire.”

Crosshairs’ engine gave a rev before he could stop himself.

Hound snorted. “So that’s how you convinced Crosshairs to spark you.”

Cade’s face turned red, mortified at the thought of Drift seducing Crosshairs, while Bumblebee laughed at the human’s expense.

—

The Texan winter came to its end as warmer weather arrived. With spring settling it, Optimus made his return and he wasn’t alone.

Flanking the semi were two vehicles, a blue-white Ferrari and a white-red ambulance. Upon seeing them come up the drive, Cade exited his house to join the other Autobots who had received the comm that Optimus had returned.

“Welcome back, boss!” Hound exclaimed as the arriving trio transformed. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Autobots, I trust everything has been well in my absence.” Optimus said.

“We have news!” Bumblebee responded excitedly.

The Prime allowed himself to smile. “Good news, I hope?”

Drift waved down Bumblebee with a chuckle. “Our news can wait momentarily. Introductions are in order?”

“Yes, of course.” Optimus gestured to the other two Autobots beside him. “In my journeys across the continent, I have found Mirage and First Aid. Following the dispersion of the Autobots after the battle in Chicago, Mirage sought refuge in Canada. First Aid recently arrived in Washington.”

“A pleasure to rejoin you.” Mirage said with a small bow of his helm. 

Cade whistled in awe. “That’s quite the mileage, Prime.”

Optimus nodded. “We have been on the road for several days, making stops in cities and obscure towns, looking for more Autobots that have hidden themselves.”

“We’ll take all the allies out there.” Cade added.

“Agreed.” Optimus returned his gaze to Bumblebee. “Now, what is this good news?”

“Well, it’s actually Drift and Crosshairs’ news to tell.”

“Oh?” When Optimus faced the pair, he noticed how much closer they were; he watched as Drift took the paratrooper’s servo into his own, digits intertwining. “You’ve bonded?”

“Ah, not quite.” Drift would have blushed if he could. “We have kindled a sparkling.”

Optimus and the two arriving Autobots were taken by surprise. The Prime slowly found his words. “I… had no idea the two of you were close.”

“We weren’t when you were still around.” Crosshairs stated. “But things happened and, well, you know-”

Crosshairs squeezed Drift’s servo as the samurai glanced back at him with a soft smile.

“-He’s everything ta me.”

Hound crooned. “Aww, that’s the sweetest thing ever.”

Crosshairs’ face soured as he glared at the burlier Autobot. “Can it.”

“You have my congratulations then.” Optimus said warmly.

The visored Autobot finally spoke, a hint of amusement sounded in his voice. “I suppose it’s a good thing we found each other, Optimus. I can be of assistance once the sparkling emerges.”

“Yes, First Aid. Impeccable timing.”

Cade seemed to breathe easier. “Oh thank god, you’re a medic! I have journaled every repair, break, and seeming illness these hooligans have put me through.”

First Aid’s mask and visor hid his expression, but the smile was evident in his voice. “I will happily review them with you. And you are?”

“Cade. Cade Yeager.”

“Excellent, thank you, Cade.”

The remainder of the day was spent socializing as Cade invited Tessa and Shane over for a grill out to celebrate Optimus’ return with new Autobots, and a proper celebration for the incoming sparkling. Mirage recounted his flee to the northern border, his change in colors in an effort to avoid being found, and First Aid told stories of his recent encounters with Decepticons in space that led him to make the voyage to Earth in hopes to catch up with the other Autobots. The young medic had grieved the death of his former mentor, Ratchet, when Optimus located him, and he vowed to uphold the code and morals of an honorable medic.

The sun had long set before the humans retreated into the house for the night and the Autobots returned to the barn, omitting Drift and Crosshairs.

The pair had gone out to the pasture, laying on the ground and peacefully watching the stars twinkle above them.

“Ay meant what Ay said.” Crosshairs broke the silence between them. “About you bein’ everything ta me.”

Drift turned his helm towards his lover, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “Soudesu.”

Crosshairs met Drift’s gaze, his servo reaching for the samurai’s. “You are everything ta me.”

“Kurosu…”

The paratrooper let go of Drift’s servo and he rolled onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. His other servo found its place on Drift’s cheek, thumb caressing gently across the gold surface. “Ay will protect you, love you, care for you and Ay will do the same for our bitlet. Never in a million lifetimes would Ay have thought that Ay would have this. But since Ay do, Ay don’t want ta lose you ever.”

Drift held the servo on his cheek, searching Crosshairs’ optics, and finding the love and adoration the paratrooper had for him. His spark ached in want and he yearned to have more. Optimus’ initial question earlier had struck Drift. It was only logical to ask it now. 

“Kurosu, will you bond with me?”

Crosshairs’ response was immediate. He pressed a fervent kiss to Drift’s lips, his engine revving hard in desire. Drift clutched his lover, pulling the green mech atop him, as he returned the kiss. Crosshairs moved his lips to Drift’s neck, biting and sucking the cabling and wiring.

“Yes.” He whispered.

A moan left Drift as Crosshairs continued to tease his neck. He spread his thighs for Crosshairs to settle comfortably between them and he tightly wrapped his arms around the paratrooper. They pressed together, an unspoken expression for more, and they each obliged one another. Crosshairs pushed himself into Drift’s valve, groaning deeply at how hot and wet he was in such a short amount of time. The samurai arched his back with his mouth wide open as he gasped. Crosshairs slowly rolled his hips, one arm wrapped around Drift’s waist as the other arm braced the ground. 

The pair moved in tandem, clutching each other as if it were their last night together. Drift didn’t dare make a sound since they were in relatively close proximity to the Yaeger house; Primus forbid if they were spotted, though Drift would bet that Crosshairs wouldn’t care. His lover remained buried against his neck, muttering quiet ‘I love you’s whilst leaving a hot trail of kisses and love bites.

“You are mine.” Drift whispered. A subsequent gasp left him as Crosshairs snapped his hips, pressing deep inside of him with a rev of his engine. “Kurosu~”

“Yer mine.” Crosshairs growled against Drift’s audio. “Say it.”

Drift whined. “I am yours.”

“Mine.” He affirmed. His free servo found Drift’s wrist and he pinned it against the ground. “All this is mine. After tonight, no one will ever have you. Yer spark is mine.”

Drift felt his spark within his chest flutter. “Yes~”

With another deep thrust, Crosshairs found Drift’s lips, smothering his moan. The pair continued their lovemaking, whispering promises and exchanging vows under the stars until they finally bared their sparks to one another. There would be no going back after this. Neither mech wanted to be without the other.

Their sparks reached for one another, their pleasure reaching its pinnacle as two shining orbs became one. This was a deeper merge, a complete melding of their sparks and firewalls being dropped to allow the totality of a bond. The silence of an unbonded spark suddenly echoed. Feelings, sensations, and emotions from either mech collided, becoming one giant cacophony. The dissonance was fleeting as the sparks began to resonate and finally became one; the pair overloaded once their union was finalized. Their senses were heightened, aware of each other through their newly forged bond. Crosshairs could feel his newly claimed mate just as easily as Drift could.

They panted hard, cooling fans working hard to lower their core temperatures.

LoveYesMine.

Unfiltered and raw emotions passed between them.

MineMineLove.

Love. 

Love.

Crosshairs kissed Drift softly. “Ay love you, cherry blossom.”

“I love you more.”

 

 

Notes:

I promise that this won’t lead to sepukku chapter. My babies will have a happy ending.

Chapter 9: A Perfect Sire ch 4

Summary:

Crosshairs feels something weird, but Drift doesn’t.

Notes:

Should I make this a standalone fic or nah?

Something was amiss and it bothered Crosshairs to no end.

 

With their sparkbond established, the paratrooper could now sense their kindled sparkling tucked safely away within Drift’s chest. Yet as the weeks came to pass, Crosshairs felt that there was something off.

 

Drift could feel the unease from his mate; some days, it was all Crosshairs could think about and it would make Drift restless.

 

The pair laid out in the grass, the sun just barely winking over the horizon. Crosshairs was flat on his back, one arm folded behind his helm and the other wrapped around Drift. The samurai was tucked under his mate’s chin, curled into Crosshairs’ side. They spent their nights like this since Drift’s frame ran hot and the spring weather dipped at night. Instead of subjecting everyone to a cold barn, the pair opted for this.

 

Once the birds started to sing, Crosshairs started to rouse. The paratrooper had always been a light sleeper, which had its benefits and downsides. As he opened his optics, he was mindful of his slumbering mate purring beside him.

 

Crosshairs’ face contorted slightly, feeling that bizarre sensation in his spark. He tried to not let his emotions ebb into their bond. Whatever it was, nothing came up on his diagnostics and his firewalls reported nothing corrupted or damaged. The little presence that was tethered to Drift’s spark buzzed softly. To distract him from his musings, Crosshairs focused on it.

 

It pulsed and wobbled, and it conveyed contentment. The sparkling didn’t have a frame yet and it was happy. The most Crosshairs felt the developing spark convey was contentment, fear, and sadness.

 

The happy wobbles were actually soothing. Crosshairs would have been lulled back to sleep if it weren’t for the bizarre sensation suddenly being more apparent. Drift stirred, a groan leaving him as he drew a servo to his chest.

 

“Drift?” Worry laced his voice.

 

Before the samurai could speak, a biting pain surged across their bond and Drift gasped sharply. Crosshairs immediately sat up as his mate rolled onto his knees, servos clutching at his chest.

 

“Ay’m gettin’ First Aid!” He pushed off the ground, bounding for the barn.

 

Drift keened, doubling over and digging his digits into the earth. Pulling. His spark was pulling.

 

Wait. No.

 

The sparkling was pulling.

 

A guttural groan left him as the pulling eased, but the relief was short-lived as the little spark tugged hard again. Incoming pedefalls told Drift that his mate was back with help.

 

First Aid dropped to his knees in front of Drift. “Talk to me. What are you feeling?”

 

“Pulling. Repetitive… pulling.” Drift hissed out. Crosshairs knelt beside his mate, wrapping an arm around him.

 

The medic was already scanning the samurai’s chest for some basic readings, then again for different energy readings. 

 

“I see that.” First Aid supplied as he briefly reviewed his findings. “I’m going to jack in alright? I need to check a few things.”

 

Drift offered an arm, exposing a medical port to allow First Aid to connect.

 

“What can Ay do?” Crosshairs asked, exasperated. His spark ached along with Drift’s spark with every pull.

 

“Comfort through your bond. Drift’s spark is under strain.” First Aid replied. His visor was dim as he reviewed lines of code and executions. “Drift, it seems your gestation chamber has been active for several days. I’m seeing commands for initialization. The pulling in your spark, this, I believe your sparkling is starting to separate and will begin its migration to your chamber.”

 

Drift’s spark felt warm from the comfort Crosshairs offered through the bond and it was easing the pain that came with every pull. “How long… will this last?”

 

“I… am not sure. By the time I became a medic, carrying Cybertronians were so seldom, I never encountered one. Literature dictates anywhere from… minutes to half an hour. Once the sparkling separates, the pain should stop and there’s some euphoria when the sparkling settles in your chamber.” First Aid didn’t like how inexperienced he was in this. For a moment, he wished Ratchet were here; he could have provided insight with his experience. 

 

It was pointless for ungranted wishing. Ratchet was gone and First Aid was here. He disconnected from the medical port, watching the pair work through the sparkling’s separation.

 

Crosshairs scooped up Drift’s servo once it was freed up. “You’re okay, cherry blossom.”

 

Drift spared his mate a glance, pain etched on his face. The paratrooper didn’t hesitate to kiss Drift’s helm crest. The minutes seemed to drag but the pain lessened the longer it progressed until Drift’s vents hitched. “I felt a pop.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” Crosshairs added. They looked towards First Aid expectantly.

 

“Give it a moment.” First Aid said; he was grateful for his mask and visor to hide his uncertainty.

 

“The pain is gone as well.” Drift eased his grip on Crosshairs’ servo, unaware of how tight he was holding it.

 

The medic was glad that this seemed to be going according to literature. “Good. The sparkling should settle momentarily.”

 

It was an odd feeling; the little spark that had been tethered to him moments ago was on its own and Drift could feel it sink within him. He was holding his breath.

 

Finally, there was a surge of energy, like a soft overload. Even though First Aid had said something akin would happen, it still took him off guard. Drift gasped, his optics brightening, and the samurai could feel Crosshairs had startled. The pair locked optics and a smile was shared between them.

 

“Drift?”

 

“It settled.” He answered First Aid with an obvious note of happiness in his voice.

 

“Perfect.” First Aid noticed the tension rolling off his shoulders and he flexed his digits; he didn’t realize he had clenched his servos. “I apologize for not being much help.”

 

“You were here. That is what matters.” The samurai assured.

 

“Let me know if anything changes.”

 

Crosshairs snorted. “Believe me. You’ll be tha first ta know if something’s wrong.”

 

A chuckle left First Aid before he stood up and retreated back to the barn.

 

-

 

The day progressed.

 

Crosshairs was grateful that the weird sensation in his chest was gone; he surmised that his spark was sensing the imminent separation and Drift couldn’t perceive it because it was shrouded amongst all the other sensations associated with growing a newspark.

 

Either way, both mechs felt lighter.

 

With the fair weather, all the Autobots were out and about the Yaeger property, save Hound and Mirage who went off for a patrol. Drift saw fit to practice maneuvers with his swords while he still could. First Aid was suspiciously nearby.

 

Bumblebee saddled with Cade; he was helping the man set up some targets for shooting practice. Cade had purchased a new rifle a few days back and the weather was finally not too windy to allow for the best shooting conditions. In the meantime, Cade and Bumblebee dug up a chunk of land to create a berm to have a protective barrier for the bullets to land in as opposed to letting them fly free. Crosshairs watched as they put everything together, quite amused.

 

“Alright! That should do it.” Cade said aloud and placed his hands on his hips. He looked satisfied at the targets.

 

“Inventor, scalawag, Autobot nurse, and now a rifleman.” Crosshairs snorted. “Ya gonna be a farmer next?”

 

“Hey now. I can’t be dependent on your safety forever.” Cade shot back. “Besides, I’ve had my eye on that beauty for ages.”

 

“Huh, sure.”

 

As Cade got himself set up to send a few shots down range, Crosshairs shifted his gaze towards Drift. Their bond was silent, the flow of calm energy passing between them. The paratrooper could feel just how focused his mate was as Drift seamlessly moved from one battle stance to the next. The sword passed between Drift’s servos with mastered ease, pedes stepping deliberately. Crosshairs found his gaze lingering.

 

It was almost like a dance, especially with the pace the samurai was keeping. He had made the mistake of trying to execute one of his more advanced techniques that involved rapid spinning and a flip. Drift ended on the ground with massive vertigo and he purged his tanks.

 

[[Yes, Kurosu?]] Drift spoke softly through their bond without interrupting his practice.

 

[[Nothing. Just admiring.]]

 

A hum came across the bond, a touch of skepticism, but Drift said nothing else.

 

The sword returned to its placeholder against Drift’s back after a while. Crosshairs hadn’t paid attention to his internal chronometer for the time, but it didn’t matter. The samurai approached his mate and he leaned in close.

 

“Let’s go for a drive before I am unable to do so.” He suggested.

 

Crosshairs chuckled, pecking the mech’s lips in a chaste kiss. “Of course. Lead the way.”

 

The pair walked towards the dirt road that led off the property before dropping into their vehicle modes. 

Chapter 10: A Perfect Sire Ch 5

Summary:

Poor Drift is just in his feelings

Notes:

Tysm to everyone who left kind notes for this fic! I think about you all the time and I felt compelled to finish this for you because you deserve more.

It’s been rough ngl and I feel just barely above water, but I have some more to you ♥️

The day Drift couldn’t transform anymore was a little bit of a spark breaking day for him. A steadily growing belly harboring their sparkling was large enough to render the transformation sequence moot. He had been at his wits end, finally fed up with his cohorts and Crosshairs being a little shit. The samurai stomped away from the group, much to everyone else’s protests.

Transforming came from a code. Running the code was innate, required a split nanosecond of sending. Every Cybertronian was able to do it without any complex thinking. Yet, as Drift attempted to transform, a bizarre error shot back at him.

TRANSFORMATION: EXECUTION FAILED

“Doushite…?” He tried again, his plating jittering in place before settling back down and the dumb error repeated its previous prompt.

TRANSFORMATION: EXECUTION FAILED

TRANSFORMATION: EXECUTE. . .

TRANSFORMATION: EXECUTION FAILED

“Fuzakenna!” He roared. “Naze kore… ga…”

The realization hit him mid sentence and Drift felt the anger dissipate into a fleeting sensation of being trapped and useless.

He wasn’t going to be able to transform until after the sparkling’s birth.

Drift chose to ignore Crosshairs’ incoming pedefalls as he stood there, helm raised toward the sky and fighting back the irrational emotions that threatened to swallow him whole. His mate kept probing their bond, the cheeky childish behavior from earlier still buzzed within him, but less so than before.

“Love?” Crosshairs called. “We was just teasin’. Ya alright?”

Anger surged again and Drift turned his helm toward Crosshairs, furrowed optics turning a harsh glare at the paratrooper. “No! I wanted to go drive, get some space from you morons, and I can’t! I won’t be able to anymore, not until I deliver this creation, and I-I-“

Crosshairs watched as his usually well-composed mate broke apart into a fit of tears and for a split second, the mech had no idea what to do.

::Hug him, dipshit.:: a text from Tessa came through, a little message blipping in the corner of his HUD. Crosshairs quickly spotted the human female being nosey from her bedroom window. She pointed aggressively at him then gestured to Drift.

Taking her advice, Crosshairs stepped closer to his mate and tugged Drift into him. Drift practically collapsed into Crosshairs’ arms, pressing his face into his mate’s shoulder and muffling the sob. Aside from the back rubs and tiny pecks to Drift’s helm crest, Crosshairs was unsure of what else to do. The paratrooper hadn’t ever seen his mate cry and to be frank, it freaked him out.

He had to get him to stop.

“Cherry blossom, let’s go fer a walk, ey?” Crosshairs murmured.

Drift blubbered miserably. “I wanted to drive.”

“Ay know, love. Walkin’s the next best thing.” He wiped at Drift’s tears with his thumbs, wiping them away from his mate’s golden face. Freeing up a servo, Crosshairs gathered Drift’s own and gently pulled to encourage the blue and black mech to follow.

Mindlessly following, Drift moved along behind his mate, mulling in his own emotions as Crosshairs guided them elsewhere. Since he wasn’t paying any attention, all of Drift’s energy was being consumed by his racing processor. Spring had only barely begun and the carriage would last at least until the middle of winter. Nine more months minimum, Drift calculated. Nine months of being deprived of an alt mode, unable to drive or fly. There would be no chance in going anywhere that wasn’t within reasonable walking distance. The lake out past the cornfields was a two-mile walk; granted, Drift would make it there faster than a human, but once the sun rose high enough, the Texan heat was NOT forgiving and Drift HATED the thought of being outside when the sun blazed against him. It was not worth wading in the lake either. The lakebed gunk would cake his gears and Drift nauseated at the reminder of the musty lake smell when the water dried off. He had no idea how Bumblebee was so casual about entering that cesspool.

Drift’s musings were distracting enough that Crosshairs had to probe their bond to redirect Drift’s attention. Quickly glancing around, the samurai realized that Crosshairs had led them to their little area; it used to be Drift’s preferred place to meditate, but now it served as their spot to hideaway from everyone else and have their moments together. It wasn’t too far away from the main housings on the Yaeger property. A half dozen trees provided enough cover to shield everyone else’s wandering gazes in the event the pair decided to be intimate. In fact, this secluded space was one of the reasons why Drift had picked it to be his spot to meditate. The trees rustling against each other in the slight breeze provided enough ambience to mask any outside noise, no one would come out of their way to bother him during meditation, and the seclusion provided great relief from his fellow Autobots.

Crosshairs knelt on the ground, gently tugging on his mate’s servo to do the same.

“Kurosu-“

“None o’ that. Sit.” A slight huff left Drift as he made his way to the ground. He crisscrossed his legs. “Lemme see yer servos.”

Obediently, Drift gave them up. He watched Crosshairs with a very curious expression as the paratrooper turned his servos so the palms faced upwards and he brought them together, right over left, and Crosshairs gently moved his mate’s thumbs to angle them into a triangle. Once the thumbs were set, Crosshairs placed his servo against Drift’s back, pressing enough to clue Drift to straighten his posture.

[[What…?]] Drift quietly mused across their bond. [[Jokai Jo-in?]]

[[Shush.]]

Feeling quite touched that Crosshairs went through the effort to help him initiate meditation, Drift couldn’t help but feel emotional again. Before he could even think about wiping the tears from his face, Crosshairs servos were already moving again. Every rolling bead of fluid was promptly wiped away.

[[Focus, love.]]

[[How can I when your endearment has me moved?]]

Crosshairs smiled softly. [[Ay’d hate ta ruin the mood. So focus.]]

It took a few long moments of cycling his vents and blinking away the tears, but Drift managed to settle down. He closed his optics once he was sure that he wasn’t going to cry anymore and Drift began to fully delve into himself. Crosshairs kept his end of the bond quiet to allow his mate the proper amount of concentration required to entirely purge his thoughts and settle all inner qualms.

The sensation of burdens being lifted began to roll off Drift’s shoulders, like a heavy blanket sliding away. A deep sigh left Drift before he realized it. There was a slight buzz of amusement before it was promptly quelled.

Peace. This was peaceful. This was perfect.

They sat in silence, Crosshairs patiently waiting and watching his mate, and Drift recentering himself.

Fluttering!

Drift gasped, optics flying open. “Dou-…”

More fluttering!

It was coming from-

Drift’s servos broke apart, hurriedly grabbing Crosshairs’ and pulling it towards his rounded belly. Too stunned at the action and placement of his servo, Crosshairs was rendered mute as he stared at his servo with wide optics, waiting for whatever just happened to happen again.

He had to focus; he didn’t want to miss this.

There!!

It was slight, so very slight! And Drift’s vents hitching at the foreign sensation indicated that this is what his mate felt.

“I-Is that-…”

Drift nodded quickly. “Yes!”

The pair became unmoving again as they waited for the sparkling to move again. At the next ghost of a movement, Crosshairs felt his spark swell.

PrideLoveMinePrideMine

Drift felt his spark swell alongside Crosshairs’ and he tugged his mate closer to him, pressing a loving kiss against the paratrooper’s lips. Eager, Crosshairs moved to sit beside his mate, still facing the opposite direction as Drift; he was close enough, allowing his servo to comfortably relax against Drift’s belly and using the other servo to hold Drift’s cheek.

[[That’s my bitty growing in ya.]] Crosshairs growled down their bond.

[[Yours.]] Drift felt breathless at the surge of arousal flooding their bond. His mate parted the kiss momentarily only to bite at Drift’s lower lip.

[[My sparkling.]] He let go of the lower lip, meeting Drift’s gaze with his own. [[My Carrier.]]

The samurai keened. [[Yours~]]

The pair were drawn together faster than polarized magnets as indulgent kisses were exchanged. Being on his knees, Crosshairs had the advantage to move up and lay his mate back against the cool ground, not that Drift minded. His knees fell apart to accommodate his mate settling between them and right away, Drift’s modesty plating folded away. His valve betrayed how aroused he was, valve lips swollen and lubricant glistening at his entrance. Crosshairs revved hard and he didn’t hesitate to slide two digits into his mate’s wetness, reaching for a sensory node within.

Drift had to break their feverish kiss to gasp and roll his helm back against the ground. His back arched, hips rolling against Crosshairs’ servo as he was desperate to achieve more sensation from the digits knuckle deep within. A wicked grin graced Crosshairs’ lips as he began to inludge his mate.

[[Eager thing, ain’t ya?]]

Unwilling to trust any form of words, spoken or not, Drift nodded.

[[Good~]]

Crosshairs thrust his digits, gently stroking his mate’s inner sensory nodes and he watched Drift’s frame melt in his hold. Drift’s jaw fell open, a strangled moan threatening to leave him as his valve greedily clenched around Crosshairs’ digits.

He leaned forward to press a kiss against the samurai’s lips as he continued to pump into his mate.

[[Kurosu~]]

[[Yeah, love?]]

Drift panted as Crosshairs pulled their kiss apart. [[Make love with me.]]

The paratrooper chuckled. [[My pleasure~]]