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Despite wanting to do that for some time now, Nightbeat doesn't know how to approach Brainstorm and finally have the talk that they should have had vorns ago. He knows, that now, after absolutely everyone on board the Lost Light found out about the real reason behind Brainstorm's temporary insanity - and colourfully commented on it - it is Nightbeat himself that can't ignore it anymore. Not when it involves him personally. Not when it is all because of his conjunx endura's horrifying death.
Not many mechs knew about his relationship with Quark back in the day, and even less remember it now. Due to the scientist's rather aloof personality, they didn't talk about it widely – they simply didn't need the others to know, for them to be happy together. It was enough that they had each other. Even though many mechs found it weird that the loud and outgoing mech that Nightbeat was, willingly spent time with the always snippy and ill-tempered Quark, the pair simply didn't care. Why would they, if whoever needed to know, knew about them.
Of course, being Quark's co-worker and Nightbeat's close acquaintance, Brainstorm knew from the very beginning. He was the beholder of them becoming closer and their relationship forming, of Quark slowly warming up to the flirtatious hostage negotiator, and Nightbeat in turn beginning to appreciate the other's peculiar humour and rough manner.
“You two are so different, it's impossible how sickeningly cute you are together,” said Brainstorm one day, when they could no longer deny their mutual attraction.
Looking back on that moment, Nightbeat can't help but suspect Brainstorm was truly sickened by them, not just teasing.
He also can't help but wonder if maybe he should have talked to Brainstorm and Quark when he still had a chance to confront them both.
Because truth be told, he was well aware of Brainstorm's feelings even before the war. He would have to be blind to not notice the longing, sad stares Brainstorm sent Quark's way, the lingering touches and teasing words, that seemed so desperately true. But even then, Nightbeat refused to talk about it. He did everything to hide his knowledge from both Brainstorm and Quark. As for Brainstorm, he wanted to keep their close acquaintanceship, and Quark – maybe quite ridiculously, but still he feared , that if provoked by his discovery and prodding, Quark would leave him for the scientist.
“Sometimes I can't believe my luck,” said Quark one evening, when they were lying on the berth, ready for recharge. “To have you.” He touched Nightbeat's chassis, putting his hand right over the other's spark. “And to have my job, to work with Brainstorm...” He got silent. Then he added, “So lucky.”
Nightbeat has never forgotten those words. Even now he wonders, if maybe Brainstorm was the one for Quark. Or rather, now even more than ever he thinks things should have gone differently.
He feels he needs to acknowledge that, but he is too big of a coward to do so.
That is probably why, it is Brainstorm who finds Nightbeat first. The detective is sitting by the oil reservoir, hoping for some time alone – something he needs more and more, since his wounds caused by Quark's deactivation were once again ripped open.
“Are you alright?” is the question Brainstorm asks, as he approaches Nightbeat. He moves to sit beside Nightbeat, joining him in watching the flat surface of the reservoir, unmoving, but reflecting the stars of the universe above.
Only when he is seated, Nightbeat decides to reply. “Not really, no.” After a long silence, he adds in a quiet voice, “I just miss him so much.”
Brainstorm fidgets, for a moment looking highly uncomfortable. His faceplate is retracted, still a rather rare occurrence, and his optics flicker in distress.
“I miss him, too.”
Nightbeat can't stop himself from letting a small bit of hatred bloom inside his spark. His servos flex, all the wires tauten and his plating rattles. He wants to scream. He wants to shout at Brainstorm, because he has no right to feel anything for Quark. Or at least that's what he tells himself. Because deep down he knows, he can't stand the thought that Brainstorm could at least see Quark one last time, before having to let him go. He got to try to save Quark.
What gets out of his vocalizer in the end however, is a broken, “I should've been able to save him.” His fans whirl loudly and his plating clatters harder. “Primus, what sort of conjunx am I? I haven't done anything to save him, I just let him die. And you...” It's getting harder to cycle the hot air that keeps gathering under his plating and force his mechanics to work evenly. The dam is broken and he can't stop himself from letting everything out. “I should have told him back then about your feelings. I should've let him choose you, he would've, maybe he would've...” The thought itself is almost too much. “Maybe he would be still alive.”
By now not only his plating, but his whole body is trembling. His cables are so tense, they feel like they could snap any moment. “You love him so much, you did so much for him.”
For the longest time there's no reply coming from Brainstorm. Then a barely heard “But I failed.” reaches Nightbeat's audials. He glances at Brainstorm. The scientist looks broken and Nightbeat knows, it is an exact reflection of his own face. Brainstorm's optics are dim and seem almost panicked.
“But at least you tried.”
The change in Brainstorm is instantaneous. His optics flicker dangerously and he looks at Nightbeat sharply.
“Don't be stupid,” he says harshly, his vocalizer glitching. “You could do nothing. I had my genius, resources and vorns of research time on my side. What could you possibly do? Were you even alive back then, when he was dying on Grindcore?” Brainstorm's fans turn on with a loud scroop and he looks more and more distressed with every klik that passes. “And you know what, I'm happy he was not with me! I... I couldn't live... I don't know how... Oh Primus, if I knew what it was like to be his conjunx, to be loved by him...” He lets out a chocked gasp and Nightbeat simply can't take it anymore.
Before he can stop himself, Nightbeat surges forward and throws his arms around the trembling form beside him. He holds Brainstorm close, despite the other trying to push him away and fruitlessly flapping his wings. Soon however the scientist gives up. Nightbeat lets out a sigh of relief as he feels the other sag against him and return the embrace.
He buries his face in the crook of Nightbeat's neck and shoulder plate and whines in despair.
Nightbeat wants to whine, too, but instead he simply tightens his embrace, grounding himself in the present and the trembling mech in his arms.
“It's okay,” he hears himself saying. “I'm sorry I said that. I shouldn't have, it was cruel. We can't change it all, it's in the past.” He hesitates for just a klik. “He's in the past.” He doesn't believe it. And neither does Brainstorm, judging on the furious shaking of his helm. Nightbeat caresses it almost absentmindedly, hoping it is comforting.
Sometime later, Nightbeat rearranges them, so they are lying down, Brainstorm's body curled against his side and his servos still gripping Nightbeat's plating. The detective idly caresses his helm with one servo and his side with the other, his arm wound around Brainstorm's waist. It's quiet and for the first time in what feels like forever, Nightbeat thinks that maybe he could still find his own peace of processor.
They stay like this until Brainstorm calms down a little, his plating's no longer pulled in, close to his protoform, and he hugs Nightbeat, instead of desperately clinging to him.
“You're quite comfortable for a detective,” says Brainstorm and Nightbeat knows they are good.
That's why he smiles, before he answers, “You're quite clingy for a scientist.”
“You don't like that?”
“You've said it, not me.”
“You'd be an idiot, not to like me. Everyone wants a piece of that plating, even Perceptor, though he pretends otherwise.”
Nightbeat can't help but laugh. “Maybe I shouldn't risk making him jealous then.”
Brainstorm rolls fully on top of him and stretches his limbs lazily.”Let him be jealous, he deserves that.” He huffs in pretend annoyance, but then looks at Nightbeat seriously. “Thank you.”
It sobers Nightbeat. “It's nothing. I...,” he cycled his fans. “I'm here, whenever you need me.”
“Will you be always here?” Nightbeat isn't sure if he heard it right. Was it really Brainstorm, or just his wishful thinking?
“Always,” still he says, and after a klik's thought, kisses the top of Brainstorm's helm.
“Good.” Brainstorm mumbles. “It almost feels like I'm not alone.”
Nightbeat doesn't reply, he just squeezes Brainstorm's hip. It is not time to speak it yet, but in his spark he knows, the both of them, they really are not as alone as they pretend to be.