Snowflake

Summary: *AU* Swindle had gotten First Aid, and now Vortex was bored. He needed a distraction. Could one Autobot do the trick? Mech/Mech slash
Rating: M

Chapter 6: Monsters



These days, Fireflight seemed.....

Well, to put it simply, even more space-cased than he usually was. Sure, he could get caught up in his thoughts quickly and wander off to investigate whatever got his recent fancy, but this was definitely worse.

The phantom jet was always in a constant daze, humming joyfully under his intakes as he weaved this way and that; skipping as he went and smiling with utter contentment. Sometimes he quieted, but it was only for an astrosecond, before his cheekplates would lighten momentarily with a blush, and then he'd be back to skipping, humming, smiling and all the rest.

“.... he's weird,” Air Raid commented snidely, as they were reflecting on this.

“No, not weird, brother,” Skydive corrected, “It is more likely that Fireflight is in love.”

The other two Autobots looked at him strangely. Frowning slightly, the falcon jet turned his olfactory sensor back to his book, ignoring his brothers. Slingshot scoffed, looking over his shoulder plating darkly. “Impossible,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. “It's a monster, that's what it is. A monster stalking Fireflight. He's got him all twisted up and hypnotized, I tell ya! And soon.... soon he'll eat our baby brother. Mark my words.”

This time, it was the other two looking at the harrier jump jet weirdly. Smirking evilly, Air Raid tip-toed up behind the shorter mech, jumping into the air and screaming “BOOGA BOOGA!!”, straight into Slingshot's audio. His brother almost leapt out of his plating; whirling around and snarling at the practical joker.

Skydive wisely kept his helm turned down and his audio receptors blocked as the two began racing around the kitchen, yelling something -probably threats- as Slingshot tried to grab hold of a laughing Air Raid. Despite having the volume turned down, even the oldest flyer heard the front door slam open and frantic pedes take the stairs two, three at a time, before another door was slamming shut upstairs. Slingshot and Air Raid turned to look at the falcon jet, their expressions wrought with confusion and slight trepidation.

“If mom and dad are still out at the store.....,” Air Raid started.

“Then that must be Fireflight,” Slingshot finished. The harrier jump jet spat to the side, fists clenching at his hips unconsciously. “See? I told you there was going to be trouble! But none of you listened to me. Serves you right, you slagging m-”

“Slingshot, please,” Skydive cut in tersely. The oldest sibling put aside his book, getting to his pedes slowly. “It sounds as if Fireflight is really upset about something. Instead of bickering, shouldn't we be trying to find out what that something is? Or, otherwise, comforting him?”

The shorter youngling had the decency to look embarrassed. Grumbling still under his intakes, he nodded. “Let's go see how 'Flight is doing,” he agreed, turning and marching out of the room. The other two followed his lead.

xxXxXxx

Why, he wailed into his pillow, why did Vortex have to do that?!

Why did he want to touch First Aid the same way he touched him?

Why? Why? WHY?!

The youngling could only ask the questions, having them snap and snarl through his helm in never ending loops, gasping and sobbing as he clutched tighter to his pillow. No matter how much he cried or questioned, he knew he would never get the answers he needed, and that tore even deeper at his tender spark.

So he cried, harder and faster, his poor frame shaking with his agony.

xxXxXxx

When his brothers came upstairs, it was to find Fireflight face first in his pillow, wings and servos trembling as he pressed further into the bedsheets; wailing at the top of his intakes. They had never seen the phantom jet this distraught before and it almost scared them. Skydive, being the oldest, stepped into the room, slowly approaching the berth.

“Fireflight.....,” he called gently, “Fireflight, what's happened?”

Keening sobs met his audios.

“Fireflight,” Skydive tried again. Air Raid and Slingshot tip-toed up behind him, crowding uncertainly. “Please, tell me what's wrong.”

The falcon jet gently stroked the other's wings, trying to calm him down and get the youngest sibling to talk to him. At his gentle touch though, Fireflight flinched, throwing himself up from the bed. “H-he..... he,” he choked. He swallowed sharply, folding forwards as a sob ripped through his chassis. Tears coated his cheekplates thickly, and were still falling, his lip components curled with his misery. “H-he do-doesn't w-want me!”

The confession shocked the other three into silence.

“He, h-he.... I-i-i-i w-was, was on-only a rep-placment! H-he wanted tha-that other 'b-bot- he di-didn't re-really like mmmm-me at a-all!!”

“O-oh.... Fireflight,” Skydive sighed sympathetically. He reach forward to try and wrap his baby brother into a hug, only to have the phantom jet slap his servos away, backing into the wall.

“Leave me alone!,” Fireflight shrieked, grabbing his pillow and squeezing it to his chestplates. He let out a broken whimper, burying his face again in the damp material; rocking as he continued to weep. Little mumbles, of 'unwanted' and 'fakes', came through, clutching hard at his brothers' sparks.

Shakily, Skydive rose to his pedes, ushering the other two out of the room. “Why didn't you do something?!,” Slingshot growled as soon as the falcon jet had shut the door.

“Slingshot!,” Air Raid hissed, grabbing hold of the shorter mech's arm.

“No, I want to know why this slagger didn't bother to do something! Fireflight is our brother -we're supposed to be helping him! But you made us leave!”

Skydive stared at Slingshot sadly, more hurt than angry at his brother's accusation. “What can we do, Slingshot? Fireflight obviously doesn't want our help or our comfort..... not right now,” he explained. Pausing, Skydive took a moment to glance back at the closed door. “We'll..... w-we'll have to tell mom and dad when they come back. But for now, there's nothing that can be done. Hopefully, Fireflight will be willing to tell us more soon.”

Resignedly, the eldest flyer started down the stairs. Slingshot cursed angrily, storming off into his own room. Air Raid, torn, stood there silently, not knowing what to do or where to go.

xxXxXxx

The air was strangely dark in the Combaticon household.

“Hey, I'm home,” Swindle called, stepping into the room. He turned into the living room, noticing the odd silence. “Ummm....,” he started, glancing at his sire sitting in his arm chair, working his way from brother to brother until he saw Vortex sitting sunken in the middle of the couch. “What's going on guys?”

“That is what we're trying to figure out,” Onslaught gruffed. He had his fingers bridged before his face seriously, his attention fixed wholly on the helicopter. “Your brother here has been quiet since my return home. He refuses to say what's wrong.”

“Not as if it would do him much good anyways,” Blast Off commented snidely from where he stood, leaning against the wall.

Brawl was quiet. Swindle shuttered his optics idly, casting Vortex another worried glance. “Okay then. So..... anyone see Fireflight today? I thought I saw the kid at the store earlier and....” The tan mech cut himself off, noticing how his brother seemed to sink further into his seat, now full-out glaring at the floor. Everyone else noticed the reaction too, and leapt.

“So this concerns that Autobot, huh? Let me guess,” Onslaught said, leaning back into his seat. Now that he knew what the source of the problem was, he was more at ease. “You finally managed to scare him off, didn't you?”

“Not quite,” Blast Off piped up again. “Fireflight ran as soon as he saw Vortex making a move on First Aid.”

“Ha! So you ended up cheating on him after all,” Swindle chortled. “Serves you right and- wait! WHAT?! You were making moves on MY FIRST AID?! YOU FRAGGER!!”

Brawl hurriedly grabbed hold of his younger brother before the entrepreneur could throw himself at the unresponsive helicopter. “C'mon Swin,” the tank said, speaking softly for once. “It's not worth it. You know how 'Tex is like. 'Sides, First Aid would never go for a mech like him and you'd only get beaten up for no reason.”

The jeep still cursed and kicked, trying to claw out of Brawl's hold and for the grey mech. Sighing, Onslaught sent his son a pointed look, to which the tank responded, carrying his yelling brother out of the living room and outside. Once it was quiet again, the truck turned to Vortex. “Well, your little hunt lasted longer than I had expected. So he's gone.... you'll find someone else,” he said, in a pseudo-comforting manner. “It's not like you weren't going to toss him to the curb anyways as soon as you were finished with him.”

His piece said, Onslaught pushed himself to his pedes, heading for the kitchen and a strong drink. Leaving only Blast Off. The shuttle remained as he was for a few kliks, before he sighed exasperatedly, walking straight for Vortex.

“If.....,” the grey Decepticon growled as the eldest mech stopped right in front of him, “You're going to offer some sort of 'comfort' as well, I'm going to have to ask you to shove it up your aft.”

“Comfort would imply that you were deserving of it,” Blast Off drawled. “But we both know that's not the case. You were using Fireflight, interested only in your next frag. You've always been like that. Are you so surprised then that everybody believes you were going to just dump him once you'd finished playing with the foolish Autobot?”

Silence met his inquiry.

Shaking his helm, Blast Off folded his arms across his chestplates. “It seems the only one surprised is you.... And for what reason, I'm not sure. Somehow I doubt it's because you actually have feelings for the youngling.”

Vortex glared up at him, his fingers digging into the couch tensely. Shrugging nonchalantly, the shuttle turned away, ready to return to his room and the lengthy classic waiting for him. “Whatever the case may be, it won't matter really. After this, you'll be lucky to see that Autobot out on the street, let alone talk to him.”

The helicopter watched his brother leave silently, unable to think of an appropriate response.