Chapter Text
“We should probably tell Optimus and the rest of the Autobots that we’ve been together, Mirage.”
They’re sprawled out on the bed, thighs tangled together, breathing slow, bodies covered in condensation. Noah’s arm dangling over the edge with a lit blunt in his hand that he’s been working on for a solid three minutes. Like a Tattoo by Sade Adu is playing softly in the spring air, the occasional scratch coming through from the old radio in the corner of the bedroom. Mirage sits up with a slow start, processor lagging on the smoke filling his vent systems. He’s always found it funny that cannabis affects him the same way Nuco did while he was on Cybertron. However, Noah’s request has shocked him into latent lucidity.
“What?”
“I think we should tell them at some point. My family knows now, it’s only fair. I know they’re not really your family, and that the concept is still kinda foreign to you, but they are your people. And they’re the only ones looking out for you, besides me and mine.”
Mirage winces at the remark, especially at the word family . From what he’d seen in Earth media, family is far too intimate a relationship for Mirage to count for anyone on Cybertron, let alone his current team on Earth. The only mech he got along with was Bee, especially now that they both have human partners they can gush about on occasion. But Mirage wouldn’t still consider him close. The others seemed to look down on him. Considering his shady past and current issues, he can’t say he blames them entirely, but it would be nice if he wasn’t always put on a short leash. Or treated like a problem child.
“Also I think the Joes would want to know too. There might be a conflict of interest or at the very least some paperwork. Y'know since we’re technically co-workers.” Mirage chuckles at the mention of paperwork.
“Yeesh, you’re making it sound like we’re getting conjunxed soon.” He exvents softly, wistful look on his faceplates.
“Conjunxed?”
“Cybertronian term for getting ‘married’, like you guys call it. It’s different because there’s all sorts of rites you gotta perform before you and your partner are considered conjunx endura . I knew a couple of people back home who had done it.” He thinks about Jazz’s conjunxing to Prowl, just before the war. It stung a little at the time, considering the very complicated relationship he had with Jazz, but he’s since gotten over it. Being with Noah has helped ease that pain too.
“You think we could do that, become conjunx endura ?”
The hopeful tone in Noah’s voice gets something soft and sensitive in Mirage’s sparks spinning wildly. He clears his intake and shrugs, feigning nonchalance at the thought.
“We’d need a bunch of things to do the rites anyways, I know we could technically do some substitutions since we’re not on Cybertron and you’re a human.”
“You’ve been thinking about getting ‘conjunxed’ for some time, huh, big guy?” Noah’s smile is cheeky as he nudges the mech with his elbow. Mirage gets flustered by the question. He has in fact daydreamed (more times than he’s like to admit) of being bonded with Noah but is never sure if it would be something his human would even want. He’s been burned badly with rejection in the past, after all. He’s never been sure how to even bring up the topic.
“I mean y’know, it’s whatever. I mean we’ve been together for like eight months, that’s not a lot of time, at least not for me, but it’s probably a lot for you, I think. I’m indifferent to the whole thing, unless that’s what you want. I don’t wanna assume and it’s not a big deal if we don’t—” Mirage stumbles across his words, processor spiraling with nervous trepidation. The word vomit only stops when he feels soft fingers fill the space between his digits.
“Hey, hey, hey, chill out,” Noah takes a puff from the lit joint, and lets the smoke push through his lips. “We can just take it slow and see where things go from there. No need to run that processor of yours into a rut.” He gives Mirage a soft kiss on his cheek, and Mirage is blushing.
“Oh o-okay.” He squeezes the hand tightly and leans against Noah’s shoulder, spark slowing down inside him. A particularly harsh CD scratch fills the silence for a little while.
“But do you think they’d be fine with it?”
“Hmm?”
“The Autobots. I mean, do you think they’ll be okay with this?” Noah gestures his free hand in the space between him and Mirage. Mirage shrugs.
“Ehhh. Bee’s super cool about it, especially now that he’s been seeing his girl on the down low. But Arcee and Prime? I don’t think so. Especially not Prime. The guy’s got a stick up his port the size of a sequoia tree.” Noah laughs at the imagery of Mirage’s words
“I still think we should let them know. For transparency’s sake.”
“Fine, fine, we will. But don’t come crying back to me when Optimus has us filling out a report on every single detail of our relationship.” Noah giggles as Mirage taps his digit onto Noah’s shoulder to emphasize every single detail .
“Should we include the time with the jumper cable to the report or not?” Noah asks in a mocking formal tone.
“Maybe we should omit that one. I think poor OP’s spark will give out at the mere thought of that.”
They both burst out into belly deep laughs, clutching at each other for support. When their laughter dies down, they look at each other for a moment, basking in the presence of one another. Mirage leans forward and kisses Noah softly on the lips. He places his servos on Noah’s chest and pushes him till his back is against the bed and Mirage is hovering over him. Noah takes a last puff, and flicks the roach on the ashtray on the makeshift night stand. He kisses Mirage roughly, sucking onto his yielding glossa, and pushes his thigh up against Mirage’s exposed valve. Mirage breaks off from the kiss with a hum.
“Now, where were we, mi amor ?” Mirage purrs against Noah’s neck.