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When Perceptor had finally worked up the ability to come forward about his feelings, in the most Brainstorm way he could manage; it was like liquid joy had been shot directly into his lines, like he’d sheared a thousand pounds of worries and baggage clean off. Not just because of the relief of speaking his feelings and having them returned…but because it was…fun. Doing something silly…making Brainstorm smile and smiling right on back.
It felt good.
And so he kept doing that, or trying at least; it was a learning process. He still felt the need to retreat into familiar patterns regularly; Brainstorm jokingly referred to them as Perceptor’s version of happy hour, which was of course, not what anyone else would refer to it as. Ever. Funnily enough Brainstorm often told Perceptor he was trying too hard to loosen up. Which was another thing no one else would say ever, but the scope appreciated the lack of pressure; because apparently “removing the pole from your exhaust pipe” takes a great deal of time.
But he still felt good. They were still happy and content, even on days where Perceptor had no energy or patience for tom-foolery. Brainstorm still greeted him cheerily and kissed him, even when Perceptor woke from recharge like death from his crypt.
And one day Brainstorm came to him with an idea, a terrible, foolish, very slim chance of doing anything beneficial idea, and he wanted to know if Perceptor wanted to test it with him.
And to the surprise of both of them he said yes, only having thought about it for a moment.
And it was worth it to see the sparkle in Brainstorm’s optics, and the way his smile got lopsided and goofy. The way his wings fluttered and his field wobbled.
And it was still worth it an hour later when they were covered in scorch marks and a harmless but sticky substance, and an entire table in the lab was all but gone.
It was still worth it when moments later half the crew busted the door down expecting the worst and Brainstorm hurriedly tried to explain that everything was fine and no one was hurt.
It was absolutely worth it even when he found himself starting to giggle uncontrollably and everyone just stared at him, Brainstorm looking the most owlish of them all.
It was worth sitting through all the tests because everyone was worried he’d damaged his brain somehow.
It was worth spending hours in the washracks scrubbing at schmutz and grime, and picking things out from his transformation seams; eventually having to help Brainstorm clean his wings, which trembled softly under his precise and gentle touch.
It was still worth it in the morning when Brainstorm asked him what crazy thing they should try next.
And it would continue to be worth it every day after that.