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Reconnaissance has never been Breakdown’s favorite mission type, let alone on Earth, in his alt form, with Knockout glitching over every hideously dressed human that passes them over comm.
“Red with-- what do humans call that? Mustard-- mustard yellow? ” Knockout scoffs. “Revolting. Absolutely shameful. Not even I could pull that off.”
Breakdown loves his Conjunx, he really does. But he’s driving him nuts.
“Ugh, will you look at--”
A human slides in between the two of them, slick as oil and just as shiny.
“Uh.” Breakdown says, as the human, as you tilt his mirror in order to pout at your reflection. You run your fingers under your eyes, remedying the smudged silver makeup. Your cheeks are dusted by something iridescent, like the mica flecks Knockout uses in his polish, and that is the only reason he looks at you so long, he swears.
“Well. At least this one understands basic color theory.” Knockout says slowly. He’s startled , which is not a usual emotion for him. His field radiates shock and amusement.
“Are you fucking serious?” One of (who they assume to be) your friends asks from the sidewalk.
You pull out a dark red tube, shrugging rather indifferently. “What?”
“That’s not our car! Can’t you just wait for the uber like a normal person?”
You glance over at your friend coolly. “Nah.” You turn back to his mirror and begin ever-so-carefully applying your lipgloss.
(and it’s. It’s gross, right, how your squishy human lips are manipulated by the wand as you swipe on the color. And it's gross how your cheek caves when you poke at it. Revolting, really)
(But… a small part of him wonders what that would feel like under his own servos)
Knockout interrupts that train of thought before he can go too deep, thankfully. “BD, I think I’m in love.” He deadpans.
He tries very hard to remain still as he laughs at his Conjunx’s sudden switch.
You make a kissy face before smiling and capping the lipgloss. “It’s not like they can arrest me for fixing my makeup.” You say, straightening up. You trail your hand over Breakdown’s side as you walk back to your friend, “What’re they going to do? Hello, 911, what’s your emergency? ‘Someone outside a nightclub fixed their makeup in my side mirror!’ Um. Well, were they attempting to break in? ‘No, but--’ Ma’am, this line is for emergencies. ”
You friend, despite obvious frustration with your antics, quickly joins in your joke, “ Ma’am , what are they wearing? ”
“That’d be uhhhh, Bad Apple from the colourpop Villains collection,” You laugh.
“That’s not--!” Your friend breaks off mid-sentence to laugh, and you smile rather proudly. “You’re so dumb, oh my god.”
You don’t disagree. Instead, you simply wrap your arms around your friend’s waist and give them something to lean on as they continue laughing. It’s very… caring? What’s that word humans use for bonds like the combiners and trines have? Breakdown can’t remember what it is, but that’s what the gesture reminds him of. Like Conjunx Amica, almost.
They rest their head against your shoulder after they’ve calmed down, and you sigh. “Really is a nice car though, huh?”
Your friend shrugs. “What about the red one?”
“Oh, definitely. Fancy cars like that can’t be hotwired as easily though. Usually have security measures and tracking bullshit. If they’re smart, at least.” You clearly speak from experience.
“Noooooo, you can’t commit a felony, you’re so sexy.”
You gently smooth down their hair, “Wasn’t planning on it, and that is such an outdated meme, holy shit. Can’t I just admire some pretty cars?”
Knockout preens at the compliments. “ Definitely ,” He repeats. “It’s good that some humans are advanced enough to appreciate aesthetics.”
Breakdown sends the EM field equivalent of a side eye. “ Your aesthetics. If they said Starscream was ‘pretty’, you’d say they’re tacky.”
“It's the heels. They’re so three millennia ago, and he doesn’t need the added height!”
Oblivious to Knockout’s criticisms, your friend buries themself further into your neck, mumbling, “I’m drunk.”
You pat their shoulder, “I know. Come on, I’m pretty sure that’s our uber.”
Knockout continues rambling about Starscream’s tragic frame decisions while you drag your friend over to your ride, and Breakdown doesn’t expect to see you again.
As a general rule, Breakdown thinks most humans sound the same, with their weird single layered voices and lack of an EM field. They’re basically indistinguishable from one another.
But he’s pretty sure the same human who says, “Hey, wait a minute!” is one who basically flirted with Knockout. The same human who smudged his mirror with their tiny human servos in order to mix their makeup.
“I know this car!” You’re saying, moving over to Breakdown’s flank. You’re dressed much more casually than the last time, lacking the sequins that Knockout was so enamored with. “What’re you doing at a drag race?” You ask, and Breakdown doesn’t know if you know he could answer, or it's a weird human thing to talk to “objects”.
There’s a klick, in which Breakdown considers actually answering you, just to see how you’d react, but you get distracted again (as it seems you are want to do). He watches you return to you friends with a bounce in your step, casual as can be. Unaware you’ve now seen aliens twice , and that they’ve seen you too.
Knockout finds it oddly fitting that you have a cute little motorcycle rather than a full size car. A minibot sized vehicle for a... well, all humans are little, so he supposes the comparison doesn’t really work. But he finds it endearing.
You go out of your way to match your helmet to your outfit as well, and although Breakdown cannot see it, he laughs when Knockout informs him over comm that you continue to be a step above the usual humans he deals with during races.
“ This is the third time we’ve seen the same human. ” Breakdown says, while you scan the crowd. Knockout has never seen you actually race, but he hasn’t been looking for you before very recently either. You’re dressed to race, at the very least.
“Think we’ve got a fan?” Knockout responds.
“I think you’re getting predictable.” Which could be trouble , they both know.
Knockout brushes it off regardless, falling silent for a moment as some other organic approaches you. He scowls as he hands you a rather large stack of bills, but you shake your head. “Nah, put my winnings on the red one over there,” You say, jerking your thumb towards Knockout.
The unfamiliar human frowns. “Your loss.”
Oh , Knockout thinks. So you’re a gambler. And a risky one at that. You can’t possibly know there’s no way he’s going to lose.
“Or it’s fate.” Knockout doesn’t actually believe that, but getting a rise outta his Conjunx is always fun.
“Yeah, us meeting some random little organic was written in the stars.” Breakdown responds flatly.
And you, unaware of their conversation, tilt your head back with a bright smile and say, “I got a fortune cookie earlier that said I’m on a lucky streak, so.”
Breakdown has no idea what kind of weird powerplay this is, but you have most of your (hilariously light) weight on his hood and your palms pressed flat against him as you lean back, casual as can be. And he… doesn’t hate it.
Which is weird, right?
Knockout is too busy racing to answer, so Breakdown doesn’t bother trying. He’s a grown mech he can sort out his own strange human-centered emotions. Or at least make an attempt to.
You’re… You’re bolder than the few humans he’s had the (dis)pleasure of interacting with in the past, but you’re still clearly human. Breakdown isn’t going to start arguing you’re different or some scrap like that. Other-ing is really not his style.
“You shouldn’t lean on other people’s rides. You know how fuckin excited they get.” Your friend is saying, watching your fingers tip tap a song Breakdown has no hope of naming.
You seem to have a lot of friends, although Breakdown isn’t sure how many are actual friends or… what is the human term? Knockout has his own phrase for them but… Fair weather friends? That sounds about right.
You hum, acting as if you're actually considering her words. “Maybe this is my ride.”
She scoffs in reply. “You’re going to get cold clocked.”
“I’ll get cold clocked looking fine as hell though.”
Breakdown marvels at what a Knockout thing to say that is, while you further recline. You make a show of stretching out, and you’re-- you’re slinky. He’s never been the type to appreciate softer, unarmored things, but there’s a certain grace in your movements.
“Stop flexing and-- what is it you do, actually? Don’t you work here?”
“No one really works at a drag racing tournament. Not legally, at least. But I should get back to it, huh?” You sigh.
Your friend moves on when you don’t act on that thought. You don’t seem at all fazed by the glare she sends your way either, confirming for Breakdown that “friend” is a generous endearment.
“She’s so impatient.” You drum a different song now, the tempo softer and slower. He can just barely feel it. “What about you, blue? You the patient type?”
There you go again, with your strangely expectant questions.
He doesn’t reply, and you don’t ask again.
Knockout is used to being the center of attention. In fact, he prefers being the center of attention. But it's still a little weird to see you leaning on that tiny bike and watching him with a laser-precision.
You were here even before he was, although you only buckled down and started staring afterwards. When he first pulled in he could see you arguing with someone. You appeared more irritable than intimidated, despite your opponent being rather large compared to yourself, and shooed them off as soon as you took notice of the shiny red mech.
“Breakdown, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think our human is into me.” Knockout says, mock scandalized.
Breakdown radiates vague surprise. “ Our human?”
“Shut up.” Knockout flashes his headlights, despite being well aware Breakdown can’t see it.
But you can. It makes straighten up out of your slouch, eyes glinting with excitement. Ready and waiting for the “big reveal”. And loathe is he to admit it, you’re cute.
He wonders how surprised you’d be.
“We really can’t keep meeting like this,” You say, your voice breathy and weird. Excitement? Exhaustion? Knockout has never bothered to learn human tells, but your jerky movements are similar enough to how a cybertronian expresses stress to clue him in.
You duck behind his driver side (not that he would allow anyone to drive him) door, your serv-- hands slick with sweat. One is messily pressed against his door, while the other scrambles for the handle. “Please, please, please, be open.”
And Knockout. Knockout makes a split second decision.
He unlocks the “car”, and before he can regret it, he hears you sob in relief as the door opens. You throw yourself into the seat, yanking the door closed behind you perhaps a little harder than you should’ve.
You curl in the seat, breath coming out in gasps. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You’re trembling, your entire frame practically vibrating against his interior. It’s… distressing.
And, maybe if it were anyone but you, he’d be repulsed, but for the most part, he’s just worried. He scans you, almost automatically, although he doesn’t know what to do with the data. A heart rate of 115 is bad , right? And your core temp probably shouldn’t be that high, either.
“ Fuck. ”
He silently seconds that, while you shudder and attempt to bury yourself in his interior.
He almost breaks the silence with a why, but the sound of pounding feet outside draws his attention. A group of humans, snarling and cursing as they search for you, runs by. At least one of them has a knife in his hand.
Primus.
He might’ve just saved a human’s life.